Page 87 of Hacking the Holidays
My eyes burned. “How are you doing? Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m settling in nicely.” His tone was almost light, conversational. “I have some wonderful roommates—one ofthem even gave me tips on winning a bar fight. And I’m looking forward to dinner because I hear the jail bratwurst is to die for.”
I couldn’t believe he still had his sense of humor. Locked up in a jail cell, facing federal charges, and he was making jokes.
“When you get out,” I said, fighting the lump in my throat, “we’ll have to celebrate by going back to München Haus and getting you the real deal again. And I’ll do my best not to punch you this time.”
“Count me in—I can practically smell those sandwiches from here.” He paused, and when he spoke again, his tone shifted slightly—still casual, but more deliberate. “Speaking of which—remember that interesting scent at the library the other morning? The one you tried to get rid of with the air freshener?”
Why on earth would he want to talk about Beverly’s perfume of all things? The sudden change of topics made my eyes twitch.
“I remember, of course,” I said carefully, curious about where this was going. “Why?”
“Sniff around and see if you can figure out what it’s connected to, you know, the source of the problem,” Sam said. “Because where you find a single bloom, you often find the roots of the entire garden. It might be worth digging deeper into the soil beneath the original source to see what unexpected branches are drawing water from the same place.”
Sam was definitely talking in code. The call was beingrecorded—he couldn’t say anything directly incriminating or give me specific instructions that would tip off the police or FBI.
He wanted me to do a background check on Beverly and see if she was connected to someone with authority, someone corrupt, someone higher in the ranks, maybe someone who was giving her the actual orders.
“Okay, I can do that,” I said.
“And I hope you won’t let the fact that I’m in jail stop you from continuing to volunteer for us,” Sam said, his voice casual. “I have a new project at the library, if you’re interested.”
“Of course,” I said. “Whatever you need. Just ask.”
“You’re too kind,” he said. “I want to take some exterior shots of the library for social media. Shoot them from across the street at Kaiserhof restaurant. They have the best view of the library, especially in the morning when the sun is coming up and hitting our building. It’s practically a spotlight.”
It was amazing how easy it was to dissect his words.
He also wanted me to get the security footage from the restaurant that would show the street and the library entrance. Footage that might show Beverly breaking in during the morning hours before the library had opened that day to access his computer and plant evidence.
“Sounds like a fun project,” I said. “Speaking of fun, I want to jot down some ideas on how you can improve the library database. Do you have any notepads at work that I can use?”
“Not me—I don’t use them,” he answered, giving me everything I needed to know. “Ask Eleanor, she may have some.”
I knew it.
Beverly had planted the notepad at his desk.
The smoking gun was actually a smoking mirror.
“Thanks,” I said.
“None of this is your fault,” Sam said. “Remember that?—”
“That’s enough,” the correctional officer said to Sam, then the line suddenly went dead.
I stood there frozen, the phone still pressed to my ear, listening to the silence where his voice had been. Around me, the carolers launched into “Joy to the World,” their voices bright and triumphant.
My mind was spinning through everything Sam had just told me in our carefully coded conversation. He’d given me a roadmap. He’d handed me the keys to dismantling Beverly’s entire case and getting him out of jail. All while being recorded. All without saying a single thing that could incriminate either of us.
I lowered the phone and looked at Chloe, shaking my head.
“Zara?” She grabbed my arm. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Not a ghost.” I started walking, pulling her with me. “A trap.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
