waved her hand. “That’s okay. Maybe one of the others will free up.”
He turned his head to the side to take in the other two users, and his lips twisted into a smile. “Looks like they’re here for the duration. I’ll just be a few minutes.”
“I’ll be over by the magazines. Don’t let anyone sneak in ahead of me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Thanks.” She pivoted toward a collection of love seats scattered in front of the magazine rack. He must have thought she was a real pain—or worse, that she’d been trying to come on to him. Attractive man like that probably had women making up all kinds of excuses to get close to him and exchange a few words.
She snatched a celebrity magazine encased in plastic from the rack and sat on the edge of one of the love seats, facing the computers.
True to his word, about five minutes later, the man stood up from the computer and stretched. He tapped on the keyboard and tucked his notebook under his arm.
She jumped to her feet. On her way back to the computer tables, she replaced the magazine. “That was fast.”
“It’s all yours. Have a nice evening.”
“You, too.” She settled in the chair, warm from his presence. She still had a password from the previous time she’d used the computers here, so she clicked a few keys and swore. The computer was locked and asking her for a password. The guy hadn’t logged off.
She shrugged off her jacket and hung it on the back of the chair and tromped off to find the reference librarian.
The librarian looked up from her own computer behind the reference desk. “Can I help you?”
“I’m trying to use computer number one, but the person before me didn’t log off and now I’m being prompted for a password that I don’t have.”
“That keeps happening. He probably did log off, but we’ve been having issues with that computer. If you don’t mind, you can access with the same user log-in so we don’t have to shut it down and restart it. The password is timberline4, the number, not the word. And it’s all lowercase with no spaces.”
“Thanks.” Caroline returned to the computer and entered the password. As the computer digested her entry, she scooted her chair closer. She’d do another search on Johnny Diamond and try to dig a little deeper this time—beyond the article about his murder.
The computer monitor woke up, and she didn’t even have to launch the search engine since the previous user hadn’t closed out, thinking he’d logged off.
As the window filled the screen, an icy fear gripped her heart. She didn’t have to search for Johnny Diamond—the man sitting here before had already done so.
With her hands shaking and her belly in knots, Caroline scrolled through the display. Specifically, the man before her had done a search of Diamond’s social media sites.
Did drug dealers really post pictures of their meals and funny cat videos? She clicked on the same links he’d accessed, but found nothing. No wonder he hadn’t spent much time at the computer. Diamond didn’t seem to have a social media footprint.
But why was that guy even checking? What was Diamond to him? She slumped in her chair and closed her eyes. He didn’t look like an associate or fellow drug dealer. Too clean-cut for that, but what did she know?
Too clean-cut. She gripped the arms of the chair. A cop?
She forced herself to breathe. There was no way the cops could’ve traced her here. She’d hitched different rides to get to Timberline, avoiding bus stations and cameras.
Her fingers dug into the fabric on the arms of the chair. Unless the cops knew something about Diamond’s destination. Her search of his background hadn’t turned up anything on Timberline, so what connection could he have to this town except through her?
What connection did she have to this town? Why had she scrawled its name on a piece of paper and slipped it into the pocket of her jacket?
Her nose stung with tears as she pushed away from the table. She’d been a fool to come here. Nobody had recognized her yet or provided her with an identity, and she might’ve walked right into a trap set by Johnny Diamond and his cronies. The man using the computer could be one of those cronies. There must be plenty of clean-cut, attractive drug dealers out there. She’d have to leave this town.
Then what? She had no place else to go. Maybe she should just turn herself in. Could she really be charged with murder if she had no memory of the act? If she had no memory of her life?
She hadn’t discovered much more about herself other than she knew Spanish. She’d come across a Spanish-language TV show and could understand every word they were saying. With her pale skin and light brown hair she didn’t look Latina, but she could be half or have spent time in a foreign country. The possibilities were endless.
Blowing out a breath, she did a hard shutdown of the computer, just in case it didn’t log her out, either. She didn’t need anyone snooping into her browsing history, and Mr. Clean-cut would probably be none too happy if he found out someone had been snooping into his.
Maybe he was just interested in the murder. He didn’t seem to recognize or have any interest in her.
She looped her purse across her body and squared her shoulders. She wasn’t going to run. She had some digging to do first.
Ten minutes later she was seated at the bar of Sutter’s, a local restaurant, flipping open a menu. She’d used the money from Diamond’s bag—the drug money—to buy a few clothes, a purse, and pay first month’s rent to Linda for the duplex. Once she got her life back, she’d return all the money she’d used to the police...anonymously.
The bartender tossed a cocktail napkin on the bar in front of her. “Are you ordering dinner?”
“I’ll have the Sutter’s burger and a root beer.”
He took the menu from her and tapped it on the edge of the bar. “Caroline, right?”
“Good memory.” Unlike some people.
“Part of my job. I’m Bud.”
“I’ll take that menu, Bud.”
Caroline jerked her head to the side and almost slid off the bar stool.
The man from the library straddled his stool and took the menu from the bartender. He nodded at Caroline. “Were you able to get your work done on that computer? I think the library needs to upgrade.”
“I—I was just—” she zeroed in on the menu “—looking up restaurants.”
His green eyes flickered. “And you found this one.”
He must’ve heard Bud say her name. She twisted the napkin in her lap. “Oh, I’ve been here before. I was checking out a few other places.”
“Are
