“She said everything is fine and that I shouldn’t worry.”
“Easier said than done.” He followed her to the kitchen.
Brenda put a slice of pizza on a paper plate and picked at it, the idea of taking an actual bite making her queasy. “I keep asking myself where else Scott would hide anything in my house. I mean, we’re assuming he wrote that address on the Barbie elevator, but what if he wasn’t the intruder?”
“Taking a broader look, the one issue I’m having with him being the intruder is why—if he hid something—threaten you to find it for him? He would know where it was. And if his goal was to give you clues to its location, why all the subterfuge?”
“That’s a very good point.” She did take a bite of the cheesy pepperoni pie then. The nibbles had roused her appetite. “Offand on all day I’ve been mulling over where he would have hidden something so important or valuable to the cartel.”
“That is the one point,” Ben offered, “I believe we can safely assume without question. Scott has something they want. Depending on what exactly it is—files, a storage device of some sort—it would likely need to stay dry. Safe from fire. And, obviously, hidden somewhere we haven’t looked.”
“Given we and the police have gone through this place with no luck it has to be a really good place.” God, she was so sick of this mess.
Maybe it wasn’t even in the house. She thought of the flowerpots on the patio that the intruder had pilfered through. But if Scott was the intruder, was all that for show? No doubt the police had gone through those as well, maybe with just a tad more care for the plants. She needed to take care of that jumble of potting soil and abused plants. Good thing they hadn’t dug around in the ones in her home. Her attention rested on the snake plant sitting in the white porcelain pot next to the sink. That would really have been a mess.
But why hadn’t they? Even if the police hadn’t, why didn’t the intruder dig around in that plant? He’d gone through the ones on the patio. She left the half-eaten pizza on the now greasy paper plate and walked over to the sink. She stared at the potting soil for a moment. It looked undisturbed. Then she touched it, scratched around. The surface was firm enough she felt sure it hadn’t been recently disturbed. So she moved on to the philodendron in the turquoise pot next to it. Soil looked undisturbed. Surface was firm to the touch.
The only other indoor plants were in the bathroom, she considered, her feet already taking her in that direction.
Another philodendron and a fern. The fern was her favorite. Nothing disturbed in the philodendron. Disappointment tagged her when she felt around the base of the fern. The soil aroundit felt firm and undisturbed as well. She stood back a moment, stared at the two plants. But there was a difference between the fern and all the other plants. The philodendrons and the snake plant were in pots with built-in saucers for drainage. The vintage terra-cotta pot the fern was in had a separate drain saucer.
It was a long shot, but she might as well look.
Holding her breath, Brenda picked up the pot. The saucer was stuck, so, with effort, she tugged until she pulled it free. Right there stuck in the saucer was what appeared to be a piece of folded plastic with something white inside. It was hard to tell since the water that had seeped from the drain hole had stained and yellowed the plastic. Obviously, whatever this was, it had been here for a while.
Heart thudding like a drum, she pulled the plastic free. Not plain plastic, a sandwich bag. Fingers fumbling, she unfolded it and pulled the plastic open then reached into the bag.
“Ben!” She held the paper with the tips of two fingers, too afraid to open it for fear of somehow damaging whatever it was. There were darker areas in the folds that made her think there were written or typed words on the paper.
Ben appeared at the door.
She held up the paper. “This was stuck inside the drain saucer under that fern. If they picked up the pot, they probably thought it didn’t come apart since none of the other pots do. But it does, it just took some effort.” Who would have thought anything of it…save for her—the person who bought it. This vintage pot was her favorite. She found it at a flea market in Chelsea on one of her trips to New York forever ago. Scott had been with her.
Her gaze met Ben’s, and she asked, anticipation making it hard to breathe, “Do you think this is what we’ve been looking for?”
Chapter Thirteen
9:25 p.m.
Ben stared at the piece of paper and his lips spread into a grin. “I think maybe you’ve found it.”
Could be an old girlfriend’s details, but Ben’s instincts were humming. This had to be theitthat was causing all the mayhem.
It wasn’t that large. Maybe three inches by three inches. But it was folded at least once. He took the paper from her and placed it on the counter. “You have tweezers?”
“Somewhere.” She pulled out a drawer and prowled through it. “Here you go.” She extended the tweezers toward him. She was breathless with anticipation. He had to admit to feeling a bit like that himself.
He hoped this wasn’t going to be another letdown, but he suspected that was not the case.
Being as careful as possible, he picked at one corner until the top layer came free of the one beneath it. Using his forefinger to hold the paper down, he slowly drew back the fold. Then he did the same with the next one. As he’d estimated, the page turned out to be about a six-by-six that had been folded in half in two directions. On the paper, written in two columns on the top half, were three names. Beneath those were three series of numbers.
“That’s his handwriting.” Brenda’s eyes were bright with rising emotion.
“Do you recognize any of the names?” He pulled out his cell phone and snapped a pic in case the paper got damaged orstolen. At this point there was no way to know when the police or someone else would barge in.
She scrutinized the list. “I don’t. No. Do you think this has been hidden here for a long while?”
“I think—” he refolded the paper “—we can safely assume it has been here since he started talking to the Bureau.” He tucked the paper back into the bag and handed it to her. “Put that somewhere you think no one will look.”