eighteen

“They’re gone!” I groaned, after checking the computer’s disk drive. “Nigel, the tapes are gone!”

Nigel skidded into the room two seconds after me. Normally he would have beaten me—at six four, Nigel’s legs are much longer than mine—but Skippy had joined in the race. Two people barreling down a narrow hallway is one thing; add in a hundred-and-thirty-pound bullmastiff with questionable depth perception, and it becomes a mini Pamplona.

Despite my announcement, Nigel checked the computer for himself. I didn’t take it personally. He pressed already lit elevator buttons, too. “Damn it,” he muttered as he smacked the hard drive in frustration.

“Would these missing tapes be the ones from A Winter’s Night?” Officer Hax asked.

Nigel flung himself in the desk chair and began frantically clicking open all the computer files. “Damn it, damn it, damn all to hell!” he now yelled.

“How much is gone?” I asked.

“I don’t know for sure. But I’d say three, maybe four tapes. And yes, Officer Hax, we’re talking about the tapes from A Winter’s Night. DeDee said she was going to work on a few of them while she was here,” Nigel said as he rubbed his hands over his face in frustration. I moved next to him and put my hand on his shoulder. He put his hand over mine, but he didn’t say anything.

“Did anyone know that Ms. Evans was here and working on the tapes?” Officer Hax asked.

Nigel shook his head and started to reply, when I cut him off. “Nigel,” I said. “The phone call.”

Nigel jerked his head back, his startled eyes meeting mine. “Shit,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said. “Shit.”

“So, I’m guessing that that’s a ‘yes’ as well,” said Officer Hax, flipping open another page of her notebook. “Do me a favor, Kelly. Go get me my cup of coffee. I have a feeling that we’re going to be here a little while longer.”