No One Needs to Know. Debbi Rawlins

see you there.”

      “Thanks. I won’t be long.”

      Annie picked up her coffee mug, then set it in the sink without taking another sip. She hesitated at the door as if she was working out what to say to him, but in the end, she stepped outside. He watched her walk down the path, his phone to his ear.

      The minute she was out of sight, he headed straight up the steps. His heart was beating too quickly, but there was nothing he could do about it. He wasn’t used to subterfuge. He’d always believed in facing his problems head-on. But this case was the exception to all his rules.

      He saved the obvious for last, moving quickly around the room, looking at the floorboards, the wall for any possible nook where she could have something stashed.

      With no paintings and no closet, there wasn’t much territory to explore, but he took his time. The dresser was filled with clothes, packed tight. Still, he pulled each one all the way out to look underneath the drawer. Nothing.

      The bed was intact, as far as he could tell without stripping it completely, but underneath…

      Coffee cans. Four of them. And an old-fashioned suitcase. That’s what he opened first, checking his watch, appalled at how long everything was taking. She could come back any second, and she’d have every reason to call the cops on him.

      The suitcase was full of paperback books and music CDs. He checked every pocket twice, flipped through the books and popped open the CD cases, but he didn’t find anything noteworthy. Disappointed, he shoved the case back under the bed.

      He hit one of the cans of coffee, and just to be sure, he checked. It was unopened coffee. So was the next, and the next.

      The fourth one had an unsealed envelope. Inside, it was a single sheet of paper with a typed number and password. He was certain the number was for a bank account. There was also a driver’s license in the name of Alison Bishop, with a picture that sort of looked like Annie, and a roll of cash thicker than his fist.

      After he took a picture of the license and the account number, he put it all back under the bed just the way he’d found it. Then he got the hell out of there before she caught him red-handed.