Page 40 of Hacking the Holidays
My eyes caught something immediately.
A USB drive. High-quality, the kind with a metal casing and actual storage capacity, not the cheap promotional giveaways companies handed out at conferences.
“You carry a flash drive with you on vacation?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Rose paused mid-application, her eyes flicking down to her purse, then back to me. The lip balm hovered near her mouth.
“Oh. Yeah. Why not?” She finished applying the balm, dropped it back into her purse, and closed it with a decisive zip.
“Seems old-school,” I observed. “Everyone lives in the cloud these days. I mean, everything I do is digital, really. I’ve got one pen at my desk, a purple one, and I have never used it.”
“I have plenty of things in the cloud, but I heard internet access isn’t always reliable in the mountains. I was just playing it safe. This way, I have everything I need regardless of connectivity.”
What exactly would she need?
“You must have some valuable files on that thing,” I said, hoping it did not sound like I was prying, even though I was.
“Not really.” Rose stood, slinging her purse securely over her shoulder this time.
So much for extracting information out of her …
Eleanor had moved to the front door, jingling her keys impatiently. “Are we going to eat bratwurst and drink beer, or are you two going to discuss everything in Rose’s purse?”
“Coming!” I called out with a chuckle.
We joined Eleanor outside, and she locked the doorbehind us. The chilly evening air hit like a slap—carrying the scent of wood smoke and pine. Leavenworth glowed with warm, festive luminescence that turned the streets into something magical.
Couples walked hand-in-hand between shops. Children pressed their faces against bakery windows, mesmerized by gingerbread displays. A group of carolers sang “Silent Night” on the steps of the gazebo, their voices rising in perfect harmony. Tourists stopped to listen, phones out, capturing the moment.
Eleanor breathed in deeply, her face radiant. “This is my favorite time of year. There’s something special about Leavenworth at Christmas that just restores your faith in humanity, you know?”
“It’s beautiful,” Rose agreed with what seemed like genuine wonder. “Like the world paused the drama and became magical for a while.”
They walked ahead of me, their conversation drifting into childhood memories of Christmas mornings and favorite holiday traditions.
But my mind kept circling back.
The USB drive.
Why would someone with Rose’s technical expertise—someone who’d just shown an almost frightening level of coding ability—carry a physical flash drive in her purse during a one-month leave of absence from work? It made no sense.
People at her skill level lived in the cloud, worked in virtual environments, and accessed everything remotely.Physical storage was for people who still didn’t trust technology or those who disliked change with a passion. As fascinating as Rose was, something about her didn’t add up.
And people like me—people with brains that never stopped analyzing, never stopped questioning, never stopped searching for answers—couldn’t let that go. It wasn’t in our nature.
As we entered München Haus, the question nagged at me, persistent, and for the moment, unanswerable:
What are you hiding, Rose Thompson?
Chapter Ten
ZARA
The line at the München Haus order window snaked around the corner, with countless people bundled in coats, scarves, and gloves, their breath visible in the cold air as they waited. The smell of grilling meat surrounded us—rich, smoky, impossible to ignore.
“I can’t believe how many people are here,” I said, even though my thoughts kept circling back to Sam’s direct question at the library.
You carry a flash drive with you on vacation?
