“Did anyone know you put it here?”
“No.”
“Think carefully.”
She closed her eyes.
“I told nobody.”
“What about Dustin?”
“No.”
“Did he ever come into the garage?”
“A few times.”
“When?”
“Months ago.”
I sat on the stool.
Something bothered me.
The toolbox had not been forced.
Our house had not been disturbed.
I was meticulous with tools. If someone had searched the garage, I probably would have noticed something out of place.
Unless the person already knew where to look.
Marcy suddenly stepped inside.
“Wait.”
She reached behind a stack of old cabinet hinges near the back of the drawer.
Her fingers touched something taped underneath.
A small flash drive.
She pulled it free.
I stared.
“You didn’t mention that.”
“I forgot.”
“You forgot you taped a flash drive to my toolbox?”
She gave me a sheepish look.
“I had a lot happening.”
Fair enough.
“What’s on it?”
