Page 108 of The Five Year Lie

My gaze drops to the coffee table, where my laptop usually lives.

It’s gone.

Shit.

Maybe a smarter girl would turn around and walk out. But anger rises inside me as I climb the stairs. This is so...violating. And the second level is much the same. All my bathroom cabinets are plundered.

And then I see Buzz’s room. His toys have all been tossed out of their baskets. The mattress is askew on the bed. My little boy’s stuffed animals are mashed into his rug.

Buzz will freak out if he sees this. I want to howl at the sky.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I dial my mom. And when she answers a second later, I keep my voice low and calm. “Mom—don’t scare Buzz. But someone has broken into our apartment and made a huge mess.”

I hear a sharp intake of breath.

“Easy,” I say quietly. “Can you give Buzz a video to watch? I’m going to have to call the cops.”

“Of course,” she murmurs. “Are you safe?”

“Yes, I promise. See you in a few minutes.” I hang up.

Before I call the police, though, I take a deep breath and walk into my bedroom. And it’s bad. Every drawer is ripped out of the dresser and dumped on the floor, along with the contents of my nightstand.

Hell. My vibrator is right there beside the bed, yanked from its case andcracked. Like someone beat it over a rock, or stomped on it with steel-toed boots.

I yank it off the floor and toss it back into the open drawer. Then I have to force myself to breathe. The violence is getting to me. A petty thief wouldn’t bother with destruction. This just looksmean.

My gaze snags on my open closet door. With growing dread, I tiptoe over heaps of my clothing to peer into the closet, mindful not to touch the handle. Even in my terrified haze, I know better than to ruin any fingerprints.

The first thing I see is Drew’s army uniform mangled on the floor. Several buttons have been torn off it. They are scattered on the closet floor, their threads tangled.

The jacket looks trampled. I’m on my hands and knees without thinking, gathering the buttons into the torn satin lining of the jacket. I fold it into a ball and gather it to my chest. Shaking, I stagger to my feet and back out into the bedroom again. My overturned laundry hamper is still more or less in place in the corner. I cross to it and place Drew’s uniform in the bottom, for safekeeping. Then I gather a wad of my dirty clothes and drop them on top, concealing the dark blue fabric.

Think, Ariel.Who did this? What else did they take?

In the closet, the cardboard box of Drew’s belongings is among the detritus on the floor. I lean over and place his copy ofThe Hobbitback into the box. Then I add the cigar box, the cuff links, the leather tray and all the other bits and bots.

My breaths are coming in gasps now. I shove the box back onto the high shelf where it had been before.

Then I walk out of the closet, pull out my phone and dial the police.

37

FIVE YEARS AGO, AUGUST

After leaving the HR office, Jay gets a cab at one of the hotels. He pays cash for the trip to Chime Co.’s brand-new server farm in a renovated mill building in Westbrook.

When he waves Ray’s ID past the reader at the door, the light flashes immediately to green.

He’s in. That was simple.

And then it’s shockingly easy to convince the bored young man working alone here—a kid named Jed—that downloading some network data onto a thumb drive isn’t that weird of an errand. “It’s a sensitive matter, Jed,” he says gravely. “Ray sent me here so I could review it privately.”

When Jed frowns, he pulls out his ID and also Ray’s, side by side. “He’s hoping I’ll be back inside of an hour, though, so if you’re going to call him, make it quick.”

Instead, Jed waves him toward an admin terminal and logs it in. “You know what you’re looking for? My job is server maintenance—I don’t really touch the archive.”

“I’m good,” he says. “Thanks.”