Page 54 of Crush
I stop short, one of the men banging into me. “Would you two chickadees cool your hormones and start paying attention to your surroundings?” he grumbles.
“Only if you get out of our comfort zone, you creep,” Aiko retorts. “Only pervy old men stand this close to schoolgirls. Buzz off.”
“Aiko.” I put my hand on her shoulder, steering her away from the bushy-browed fisherman quickly growing red in the face. “Forget it.”
Unfortunately, the man doesn’t. His brows lower. “’Ey, you’re Nakamura’s girl, aren’t ya? Why haven’t you moved back to your country along with him, you chin—”
I knee him in the balls. The large man clutches himself and crumples like an overused paper bag.
Aiko gasps, jumping back until a huge smile crosses her face, and she starts to clap.
“Finish that sentence, and I’ll twist them off next time.” I resist spitting on him to further seal my promise.
“Holy crap!” Aiko rushes to my side, bouncing. “That was epic! What made you do that?”
That’s the problem—I don’t know. It could be my pent-up rage and frustration at Savannah dating Thorne, me being kidnapped as a baby, Malcolm being my father and a kidnapper himself, or me catching feelings for a family enemy, Thorne Briar. Take your pick.
Either way, it felt fucking good.
“Um, ladies?” A barista I recognize as Samuel, my usual guy, inches forward, his hands clasped around two coffees as he takes in the writhing man on the ground and the two giddy females standing over him. “I’m all for supporting racist bigotry, but we can’t have this kind of behavior inside. I finished your order right about the time his ass hit the ground.” He shoves two cups of hot coffee in my hands. “See you Monday. Please leave.”
“Thanks, Samuel,” I whisper. Aiko clutches my elbow as we dart out of the cafe among a mix of approvals and admonishments from other patrons.
“Sorry about that,” I say to Aiko, handing her one of the coffees as we hit the street. She takes it and sips, then sticks out her tongue and gags. “Sorry about that, too. I guess he only knew to make caramel lattes.”
“I think I just got high off this thing,” she garbles out but takes another dainty sip. We start our stroll down the sidewalk, heading to the clothing shops at the end of the street. “No apologies needed. You defended my honor, and I’m forever in your debt.”
I laugh, elbowing her in the ribs.
“What made you stop so suddenly in line, anyway?” Aiko cups the coffee with both hands, like that will make it change into her usual iced americano. “Did you have an epiphany about Savvy?”
“Yes… well, no.” I use my latte to collect my thoughts, taking a long-drawn-out sip. I asked Aiko about the spreadsheet I found on Savannah’s computer almost as soon as I discovered it. She repeated that it was probably a business assignment she was never able to hand in. And I didn’t correct her. I couldn’t voice Malcolm’s involvement. Not then, and not now. It’s too raw, too unsure, to plant in Aiko’s head. It’s better we focus on Damion Briar tonight and his involvement. All signs point to that family and their running of a dangerous secret society that contributed to Savannah’s disappearance and a possible cover-up. A basic spreadsheet can’t take away from their suspicious activities.
“What does ‘yes… well, no’ mean?” Aiko frowns up at me.
“I was thinking about Savannah’s cloud. The syncing of her electronics,” I clarify at Aiko’s confused look. “You mentioned the police confiscated her phone and laptop as evidence, right?”
“At first, yeah. They gave it all back, though. But like I said, we’ve all been through her phone—her parents, the police, me—and there’s nothing there.”
“And nothing on her computer, either.”
“Right.” Aiko nods. “So what’s the big deal?”
“Everything syncs onto the cloud wherever you decide to save it, whether it be your phone or computer. Documents, text messages, jpegs. But if you’re like me, it saves both on your desktop and the cloud. Since Savannah was a business major, she probably did the same thing. That way, you can save your information on both a backup disc and the cloud—tangible and intangible ways to preserve your documents. A backup to your backup.”
“Uh-huh.” I’m staring at Aiko’s profile, but I don’t have to see her face to know her eyes are glazing over.
“Okay, what I mean is, the spreadsheet wasn’t on her phone. Right?”
“I guess not.” Aiko takes another drink, then winces when she realizes what she’s still holding. “I didn’t really look for it.”
“Can you? When you get home, charge her phone and look for it?”
“Sure. But why?”
“Because I have the feeling it was scrubbed from her phone but not from her computer. Yet everything else on her phone will match up. The number of documents, the exact text messages, gifs and memes, and whatever. That’s how the police files read. The spreadsheet must’ve been overlooked by them as unimportant.” I would’ve overlooked it as unimportant had I not seen Malcolm’s copy first. The thought weighs heavy on me. “But it’s still on her laptop.”
Aiko’s steps slow. Her shoes scrape against the sidewalk as she turns to me. “What … what are you saying?”