The Wharf by Carol Ericson Page B

look at this file...”
    “It’s just words on paper. It’s not like the coast guard ever found his body and took pictures.”
    She disengaged her hand from his and pulled her chair to his side of the table. “Okay, then. Let’s take this from the top.”
    Facing her laptop, she pushed it back on the table. The movement woke up the display, and Kacie jerked her head up and gasped.
    His gaze darted from the blue screen to Kacie’s tight face. “What’s wrong?”
    “Someone’s been in my room.”

Chapter Seven
    Ryan’s body tensed and he looked ready to tackle someone. That was what she liked about him—he was always ready.
    “How do you know? Is something missing?”
    “It’s my laptop.” She jabbed a finger at the blue display with the log-in prompt glowing white against it. “When my computer goes to sleep, it displays my screen saver, that picture of my parents. The log-in prompt stays there only after several incorrect log-in attempts.”
    He pushed back from the table. “You’re sure?”
    “That’s how I configured it, or at least that’s how the self-described computer geek in my apartment building configured it.”
    “Look around. Is anything else different? Missing?”
    She hopped up from the chair and took a turn around the room. Everything seemed as it was. She yanked open the dresser drawers and poked her head in the closet. She flipped on the lights in the bathroom and ran her hand along the vanity. She called over her shoulder. “I don’t see anything different.”
    “Are you sure about the laptop?”
    “Yes.”
    “You know how computers are. They act up, have glitches.”
    “Are you trying to convince me someone wasn’t in my room?”
    “There’s no other evidence.”
    “This isn’t a case you have to bring to the D.A., Chief Brody. I just have a feeling.”
    “But you didn’t have this feeling until you saw something unexpected on your computer. Do you also have a feeling it’s Walker?”
    “Maybe the warden had a talk with him, but Walker hasn’t gotten the word to his minion yet to lay off.”
    “You said failed log-in attempts. So let’s say Walker’s minion was in here. Did he fail to log in to your computer?”
    “Yes.” She entered her password and her folders popped up on her desktop display.
    “Why would Walker want to get in to your computer?”
    “Just to mess with me, Ryan. Put me on edge.”
    “Do you want to call hotel security?”
    “I wouldn’t know what to report. I don’t even know what this guy looks like. Walker wouldn’t send someone who stands out into a hotel. He wouldn’t get past the front desk.”
    “Why don’t you check your files to make sure everything’s okay?”
    She did a cursory check through her folders, which she backed up every day anyway, and again nothing was amiss.
    “Okay, maybe it was a computer glitch, but next time I leave the room I’m going to put some trigger in place, a thread across the door or something.”
    “Maybe you need a full-time bodyguard. Too bad my brother’s out of town.”
    She looked at him through her lashes. She already had one Brody looking out for her.
    Finding nothing else, they returned to the file on the suicide, reading aloud snippets of paragraphs.
    Kacie tapped a pencil against the page. “It was foggy that night. I’m wondering if Cookie was closer than she claimed to be.”
    “Why would you think that?”
    “You know how it can get on the bridge with the fog rolling in. Sometimes you can’t see your hand in front of your face, and yet Cookie saw a man throw himself over the barrier from twenty feet away.”
    “What’s your point? Why would she lie about her location?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe she was close enough to stop him and didn’t do anything. Then felt guilty about it later.”
    “Maybe.” He folded the corner of that page and flipped to the next. “She used one of the emergency phones on the bridge to call—no cell phones back then.”
    “The coast guard