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PERLA

When the police showed up, wanting to get into Grant’s email account, I was like whoa, because I mean, come on. The guy is like ... who’s the guy on the show who put his shoes on and opened the door ... Mr. Rogers? I think that was it. Anyway, he’s like a grade-A nerd. Definitely wouldn’t have had anything to do with anything like this. But we went and looked at the deleted emails first, and that’s where we found the bad ones.

—Douglas Foster, internal IT, Dynamic Tech

“Oh my God, nothing on my phone is working.” I groaned and settled back on the couch, then turned my head and looked at Grant. He was at the dining table, his laptop open in front of him, his fingers busy on the keys. “Grant, can you text Paige for me?”

“I don’t know her number,” he said absentmindedly, his typing continuing at a rapid-fire pace.

“Well, I’ll give it to you,” I snapped. “Or just toss me your phone and I’ll send it.”

He closed his hand over the device, then turned to me, gauging the distance, rearing back his arm to throw, then thought better of it. He stood, walked it over, and passed it to me. Leaning forward, he kissed me on the forehead, then studied my nose. “It looks really good. The swelling is down. Do you need a pack of ice?”

“No, that was only for the first couple of days.” I carefully touched the area. “You think it looks good?”

He was already heading back to his seat. “It looks great.”

I unlocked his phone and scrolled to his contacts, added Paige as “Paige Nanny,” and then composed a text.

Hey Paige, this is Grant. Perla said you’re going to the store in the morning ... can you grab some mouthwash while you’re there?

Oh, also, please pick up a dozen of the mini cupcakes that are in the deli? I like the vanilla ones with little rainbow sprinkles on the top. If they don’t have them at our store, please check one of the others.

I sent the two texts and then waited. It was almost nine, but Paige would certainly be up.

Sure, no problem!

I typed back.

Great, thanks.

You’re the best. xoxo

As it delivered, I wondered how she was feeling about the xoxo . Flustered? Excited? Creeped out?

Maybe she hadn’t even noticed.

But then ... a heart popped up in the upper right-hand corner of “his” text.

She had “loved” the message.

Definitely not appropriate behavior, and something that would give the technical forensics team something to stew over during their investigation.

I smiled and deleted the final text about the cupcakes and the xoxo line so Grant wouldn’t see them, then did my customary checks of his call log, emails, and messages before I pushed myself off the couch and returned his phone.

“Oh, I could have gotten that.” He peered over his reading glasses at me. “You said your phone isn’t working?”

“It’s being glitchy. I just did a hard reset to see if that fixes it.” I waved my hand in the air, dismissing it. “I’m going to work out, then get in the sauna.”

“Okay,” he said, the tapping of keys resuming. This was going to be one of those nights when he worked until three or four in the morning.

I’d hide the cupcakes once they arrived. One more item from the original murder, checked off the list and ready for the upcoming event.