They didn’t need the rest.
They were looking for numbers.
They saw numbers, grabbed them, and left in a rush. They had an idea of what they were looking for. They didn’t have time to check it.
Just took it.
By now, they must know it wasn’t what they had hoped for. It’s nothing. Some kid’s drawings and maybe a recipe or two at the bottom.
Yes… They didn’t find what they were looking for, but they knew what they were after. And now I know what they were after.
A notebook with numbers. And without a cover.
Why?
Because they’d already found the cover in Raven’s house.
* * *
KAI
I didn’t planto do it today. And I’m fairly certain I’ll find nothing conclusive in terms of material things, but in the light of what just happened in Francisco’s home, I need to go there and see it for myself.
So I call Gloria and tell her I won’t be coming to the office today. I go to my apartment in Manhattan, inform the people in the building that Francisco Barreto will arrive this afternoon, change my clothes, and leave my place.
This time I wear jeans, a long-sleeved thermal top, a winter jacket, gloves, and boots.
I arrive at Andrew’s cabin before four in the afternoon.
I locate the neighbor his mother had talked about and pick up the key.
The place is surrounded by pure, untouched snow.
My footprints lead to the entrance, where moments later, I crack the door open.
The old latch groans.
I stop in front of the door and take a look at my surroundings. The stream his mother was talking about is partly covered in ice. The bridge is short but high enough above the water to facilitate a fatal accident.
The wind blows the snow off the trees, the cold sticking blades into my cheeks.
I push the door open all the way and walk in. The floor creaks under my boots. The space is dimly lit, the only light coming from outside. I reach inside my jacket, retrieve a small flashlight, and turn it on.
It’s a typical wooden cabin with minimal furniture. A bed. A chair. A table. The small kitchen looks functional, although I doubt the appliances work.
I turn on the water, and the faucet makes growling noises before the water starts to drip. I turn it off and move away.
Just as I thought. There is nothing to be found.
Most things have been removed, although they kept the bed the way it used to be, I assume. It looks as if it’s waiting for its owner to come home and take a nap.
What was he doing here that day?
I walk around the place, looking for a desk suggesting that he was doing some work, or a bookcase hinting at reading.
Why was he spending time here? There is no TV in the cabin. An old radio sits on the kitchen counter. It’s plugged in, so I switch the power button on. A light comes on, and music starts playing.
Country music. He must’ve liked it, and his family kept the radio the way it used to be when he was alive. The same radio station.