Page 100 of Too Old for This

Burke:Really?

Norma:Really.

Burke:Norma, you are incredible!

Norma:Thank you. I couldn’t have done any of this without your help.

Burke:We are so very close. You’ve been doing an amazing job.

Norma:I don’t care about doing a great job. I want to know what happened to my daughter.

Burke:You will. Stick to the plan.

The plan. Theplan. There it is again. But I can’t ask what it is, because I’m supposed to know.

I clench my hand into a fist. This is so frustrating.

Norma:Are you sure it will work?

Burke:If you do it right. Hide it where she’ll never find it.

CHAPTER 54

I tear through Norma’s luggage. Every pocket, every corner, inside and out. I rip through the lining of her suitcase and do the same with the toiletries bag. I find everything from her house keys to a pack of gum so old the sticks are crunchy.

The problem is I don’t know what I’m looking for.

No. The problem is Burke has surprised me.

Again.

I yank all the clothes off the hangers and throw them down.

Only then do I stop. Panic never helps. I sit down and close my eyes, forcing myself to be still for a minute. To stop acting like I have no self-control.

I am better than this.

Back to the question at hand. What does Burke want Norma to hide?

Two options come to mind. The first is planted evidence, something that would prove I killed Plum. But for Norma, that doesn’t make sense. She isn’t looking to frame someone. She wants to find out what happened.

Which leads to option two. Something togatherevidence, to prove I did what Burke thinks I did. A camera or a listening device, perhaps.

Could Norma have hidden it in my house the night she was there? Unlikely. She was desperate to find her daughter, but it’s hard to believe she would have planted a camera beforedrugging and tying me up. And she was drinking too much afterward.

Another cup of coffee, a few minutes of rest, and I search all over again. I pick up her clothes and empty the pockets. Next, I go through her handbag, the same one she brought to my house. I dump it out and check everything. Makeup bag. Lipstick tubes. Pill bottles. Packet of Kleenex. I look in her wallet, change purse, every compartment of the bag, and I inspect each item. Right down to that orange lighter.

And the box of cigarettes.

I turn it upside down, and a handful of cigarettes fall out. The clink comes next.

It’s a little metal container, round, with a lid on top. The kind you might use for cosmetics or lotions when traveling. Inside, I find a small black square with a lens on one side and a power button on the other.

—

I try to go back to the same computer store where that clerk was nice enough to set my laptop up with a VPN, but he isn’t there. Neither is the store. Now it’s just an empty space in a strip mall.

At home, I inspect the camera with a magnifying glass. Something I use more often than I’d like to admit these days. Over the years, the fine print has become microscopic.