Page 74 of The Five Year Lie

“What a mess, yeah?” he says, straightening and pointing at an overflowing garbage bag in the corner. “Who knew how much junk I could accumulate in ten years? That’s not even the first bag.”

“You could have had help,” I point out.

“Not really. Lots of tricky decisions were made. For example—how many issues ofWiredmagazine dating back to 2014 does a guy need?” He points to an overflowing box against the wall.

“Please tell me you pitched them.”

In answer, he steps over and slaps a bright orange sticky note on the pile.RECYCLE,it reads. “Promise me you won’t lift that box yourself? Maybe the moving guys can help us haul it away.”

“I’ll ask,” I promise. “They’re due in an hour.”

“Good. I have meetings out of the office for most of the next two days. Just put things where you think they should go, and I’ll sort the rest out later.”

“No problem,” I say.

Except there is a problem. A big one. When I leisurely unpack Ray’s boxes in the new space that afternoon, something important is missing—the tapes aren’t in any of the boxes. By four p.m., I’ve unpacked every single one.

The tapes are just gone.

“They have to be in the building somewhere,” Zain says during our whispered conversation in front of the new coffee station upstairs.

“You’d think,” I hiss. “But every box has been emptied. I went back downstairs to look for the stuff he decided to throw away, but it’s already gone.”

Zain’s eyes widen. “You think he threw themaway?”

“I don’t know!” I yelp. “But they aren’t here. On the off chance that he moved them into a storage closet, I checked all of those, too. On both floors.”

“Fuck.” Zain rubs his temples. “That’s so odd. Especially since there’s a backup set at our server farm in Westbrook.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They’re important enough that we don’t keep our only backups here. Still, I can’t believe he’d take them out of easy reach. What do you think he’s up to?”

“No idea. But you always could ask,” I point out. “Can’t you dream up some reason for needing one of them?”

He chews his lip. “Eventually. But swiping a backup copy would draw less attention.”

“That’s your call.”

“I find it suspicious that he hid them somewhere. Now Ireallywant to know what’s on that next one.”

I glance over both shoulders to make sure nobody else is nearby. But the new office space is quieter than the old one, and we’re the only people in sight. “You think he hid them intentionally? That doesn’t sound like Ray.”

“Yeah, that’s what I used to think, too,” Zain says darkly. “But this thing gets shittier with every rock we turn over. I want to know why. I’ll go to Westbrook tonight.”

I can’t decide if that sounds wise, or melodramatic. “What if you get caught?”

Zain shrugs. “If anyone asks me why I made a trip to the server farm, I’ll just say I was trying to investigate a backup anomaly.”

“All right,” I say slowly. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Keep looking for those tapes,” he says, his face clouding over. “If he’s hidden them for a reason, I’d say that looks bad.”

When I arrive home from work, my mother invites Buzzy and me to stay for dinner. “I got the most beautiful tomatoes at the farmers market, so I’m making bruschetta and a bean salad, and I thought we could grill some chicken.”

“That sounds nice, Mom. Thanks. What can I do to help?”

“Peel that cucumber?” She hands me a peeler.