This Time

by Amy Reece

  “No one wants to break into my computer. Who wants to read a bunch of history stuff?”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. “How can you be so smart and yet so dumb? Every credit card and bank account you’ve ever used to buy anything or pay a bill online is here in your computer, not to mention your tax returns.”

  “Shut up!” She angled her computer away from him. “No one asked you. I hate having to remember a bunch of different passwords and you told me not to write them down. What am I supposed to do?”

  “Okay, look.” He softened his tone. “I’m going to teach you a simple system to create strong passwords that are easy to remember, okay?”

  She sighed dramatically. “Fine, but it better be really easy.”

  “Don’t be such a baby! All right, here’s what you do: the basic password should describe the name of the site, like Facebook or Amazon, but find a symbol or two to substitute for some of the letters.” At her blank look he continued. “Like use a dollar sign or ampersand instead of an s. But be consistent with those symbols across your passwords. And don’t forget to capitalize at least one of the letters.”

  “Okay, like this?” She wrote ‘AmaZ@n’ on a notepad and showed it to him.

  “Yeah, exactly, but never write them down. It’s a memory system.”

  “Okay, got it.” She tore up the piece of paper.

  “We’re not done. You need to figure out four numbers that mean something to you, but aren’t well-known to others, and use them at the beginning and end of your passwords. Those numbers stay the same across all your passwords. Like this.” He took the notepad from her and scrawled 36AmaZ@n24.

  “What’s 36-24?”

  He grinned and tore the paper into small pieces. “Kira’s bust and waist measurements.”

  “Seriously? You’re a pig, Neal.” She grimaced as she realized if she used a similar system for her own measurements, the numbers would be a lot closer together and a lot closer to the smaller one.

  Her brother grinned. “Yeah, well, now you know my secret. I better not catch you shopping from my Amazon account.”

  She smiled as she remembered their conversation and his resulting exasperation with her lack of interest in securing her computer and internet browsing. She’d tried to implement his system, but found it too complicated and a general pain in the ass. She’d quickly gone back to her old favs: the girls’ names, her former pets’ names, etcetera. But she’d always felt a bit guilty about it. All right. She pulled the computer closer and set her hands on the keyboard. Let’s see if Neal followed his own advice. She typed in 36 then stared at the keyboard. “What did you call your computer? Hmm.” She tried LapT@p followed by 24. It jiggled back and forth. “Shit.” She tried 36LapT0p24, but the damn machine simply mocked her by jiggling again. “Ugh!” She tried several more combinations, all to no avail. I have no idea why he told Kira I would know the password. And why on earth would he even bring it up to her? The thought that perhaps he had been planning to kill himself for days and they’d all somehow missed the hints and clues haunted her. If he said that to Kira, what had he said to me and why was I so oblivious to his pain? But she’d never in a million years have expected him to do anything like this. Neal had always been so grounded, so sure of himself. Sure, he wasn’t always jolly or up about everything, but neither was she. Her brother had been the extroverted one, always pushing her to get out more, to have more fun. Of the two of them, she was much more likely to have been depressed, or at least she’d always thought so. Maybe he just hid it better than me. She glanced at her cell and cringed. It was time to stop this nonsense and go pick up the girls. She snapped the laptop closed and carried it to the living room, where she stashed it on a bookshelf, determined to forget about cryptic clues and unfathomable passwords. What possible good could it do now anyway?

  ***

  By two a.m., she realized sleep was an elusive little bastard. The old conversation with Neal and Kira’s recent drunken comments kept swarming through her mind until she knew she had to have another go at the damned computer. She donned a sweatshirt against the chilly, high desert night and peeked in at her sleeping daughters. Lily had thrown her covers off, as usual, so Nina pulled them up, tucking them snugly around the little body and kissed her forehead. Iris was still covered and curled into a tight ball in the middle of her twin bed. Although it was a four-bedroom house, the girls were more comfortable sharing a room. Nina picked up Iris’s stuffed elephant from the floor and tucked it back under the girl’s arm. She kissed her also and left their door open a crack before tip-toeing to the kitchen. She filled her electric kettle and found a box of chamomile tea. While the tea steeped, she searched for her charging cord and hoped it would work in Neal’s computer. He’d helped her choose hers, so she hoped he’d recommended the same thing he used. She was in luck and soon had his laptop plugged into her charger. She tried a few more iterations of her earlier password attempts, then stood to stare out the window while she racked her brain for any other possibilities. Would he really call his laptop ‘Laptop’? Wouldn’t he choose something a bit more specific or personal? She sat again and typed in 36NealsL@pT0p24. The box jiggled. Dammit. She tried a few more times and was nearly ready to give up and go back to bed when a memory flashed across her mind. NealzRoom. KEEP OUT. He’d hand-lettered and decorated the sign for his bedroom door to keep his nosey sister from prying into his business. As if I’d ever had any desire to poke around his smelly, teenage bedroom! She sat up straighter and typed 36NealzL@pT0p24 and held her breath as she hit enter. It jiggled. Goddammit! She tried a few more times with no success. She stared at the keyboard, willing it to give up its secrets, until the letters blurred. She felt in her bones she was on to something, but couldn’t figure out which symbols he’d used. Then she spied the little arrow thingy on top of the number six. She frowned as she realized it reminded her of a capital A. Maybe. She typed 36NealzL^pT0p24 and pressed enter. The screen went black for a split second and then his desktop loaded. Oh, my God! Okay, now what?

  She browsed through his Finder, noting he had organized all his files neatly with many folders and subfolders. It’s like looking for an unknown object in a giant digital haystack. What am I supposed to be looking for? She figured it depended on what it was Neal thought she might need, if he’d really told Kira that Nina would know his password. It was entirely possible—probable even—that Kira had misconstrued his comment. Well, I have controlling interest in RiskCom now, so maybe I should see if Neal kept any of the financial records on his personal laptop. She found a folder on the desktop labeled ‘Accounts’ and opened it to find multiple subfolders for the three years RiskCom had been in existence. Each year had its own subfolder for the various months and Nina spent nearly an hour looking through them. I have no idea what I’m looking at. She knew Seamus’s older sister, Izzy, was an accountant and wondered if she might help her make sense of all this sometime. But not right now. She yawned and shut down the computer then took her empty mug to the sink. As she crawled in her bed, she wondered if she ought to forget about poking through Neal’s computer. She didn’t much like the way it made her feel, as if she had broken into his bedroom and searched for illicit items. I should just let it go. He’s gone, and nothing is going to bring him back. I’ll just drive myself nuts.

  Chapter Eight

  Seamus

  He let himself in his apartment door, juggling the two bags of groceries he’d stopped to pick up on his way home from the station. It had been a fairly quiet shift, so he’d been able to get nearly six hours of sleep and was looking forward to getting some work done around his apartment and washing his car. He’d bought the Dodge Charger, his first new car, last year. He’d shopped around and had nearly decided on a Mustang until he took a test drive in the shiny black Charger. God, the speed and power had been such a rush! He’d struggled to maintain his poker face while he negotiated with the salesman. Cara had scoffed when he showed it off proudly at the weekly family dinner, snide
ly adding her opinion that he must be compensating for something. Brat.

  He put his few groceries away, wondering why he’d never bothered to stock his kitchen with more than the absolute bare minimum of dishes, pots, and pans. He wasn’t a great cook, but he enjoyed it and was a hell of a lot better than Sloane, who could barely boil water. She rarely wanted to eat in and tended to pout if he insisted, so he hadn’t had much practice beyond what he did at the fire station. But his mother’s comment about taking a few casseroles over to the Bradens had made him wonder if anyone had bothered to take food to Nina. She had two little kids with no husband to help, and she’d had to handle nearly all the funeral arrangements by herself. So, he’d spent an hour the night before at the station—it had been really quiet—looking for a few recipes online that seemed within his skill set. He’d picked up a couple of those foil pans his mom always used to take food to people and headed home to cook some things for Nina and the girls.

  Two hours later, he had three casseroles stacked in the fridge, ready to deliver to her later that afternoon when she got home from work. His stove and sink were full of dirty dishes and he spent the next half hour cleaning his kitchen. He was still in the zone, so used his excess energy to clean up the rest of the apartment, pausing only to run back and forth to the tiny laundry room tucked behind his bedroom to put his whites in the dryer and his colors in the wash. When did I turn in to such a domestic god? He chuckled and decided to just go with it. It felt good to get his environment in order. He grabbed a burger on his way to the self-serve car wash and spent a couple hours washing and waxing his Charger, enjoying the way the sun glinted off the chrome.

  When he judged Nina had had sufficient time to pick up the girls and get home, he sent a text, basically inviting himself for dinner. He knew it would be wiser to stay away that evening, to put some space between him and his best friend’s sister, but couldn’t make himself take his own advice. Spending time with Nina and her girls was enjoyable and made him feel useful, needed even. If Nina was sick of him hanging around, she’d have to be the one to push him away. His phone dinged and he grabbed it, wondering what she’d say.

  Nina: Of course. We’d love to have you. I have not been to the grocery store, though. Maybe we can order a pizza.

  He grinned and typed:

  I’m bringing dinner.

  Nina: Oh, Seamus.

  He was amused, but not surprised at her excellent grammar, even in a text message. He never would have thought to use a comma after the ‘Oh’ and would normally have said ‘o’ with no capitalization.

  Seamus: Oh, Seamus what? BTW your college professor-ness is showing.

  Nina: What can I say? It’s hard to compartmentalize. C U 2nite. There. Happy?

  He laughed aloud and sent a clapping hands emoji. Then he got in his shiny, clean car and drove home.

  ***

  “Three plus seven equals…ten!” Lily smiled across the kitchen table at Seamus.

  “Very good. Your turn, Iris.”

  She shook her head. “We’re not supposed to count on our fingers, Lily. Teacher said we had to amember it by heart.” Her words sounded sorrowful, rather than accusatory.

  Seamus fought valiantly to hide a smile. “Okay, Miss Lily. Let’s try it again, this time with your hands on the table.”

  Lily frowned but dragged her hands out of her lap and spread them on the table. “I hate math.”

  “Aww, don’t say that, Lils. Math can be pretty fun when you get to use it for interesting stuff.”

  “Like what?” She sounded suspicious.

  “I use math all the time at my job. I have to calculate tank volume and pressure, flame height and wind speed, stuff like that. But Iris and your teacher are right: you have to memorize your basic facts. It will make the rest of it a whole lot easier. Trust me.”

  Lily seemed unimpressed. “Fine,” she said sulkily.

  He continued to quiz the girls on their addition facts while the chicken and rice casserole he’d assembled earlier baked in the oven, sending delicious aromas wafting through the kitchen.

  “I’m hungry, Momma. Can we eat yet?” Iris spoke quietly, as always.

  Nina turned from where she was slicing a cucumber for the salad. “Soon, sweetie. It smells great, Seamus. You’re spoiling us.”

  He glanced up at her slim figure as she stood at the counter, not failing to notice how lovely her breasts looked in the strappy little top she wore—what did his sisters call them? A cami. Yeah. Nina’s was a soft red—she obviously favored that color—and it was driving Seamus crazy. You definitely shouldn’t be thinking about her that way, asshole! He dragged his eyes back to the stack of flashcards on the table in front of him. “You deserve to be spoiled. Okay, Iris. Four plus eight.”

  The casserole was a hit, although Lily picked out the chicken and left it in a pile on the side of her plate. He made a note to chop the pieces smaller for her next time. He remembered she’d done the same thing at his parents’ house the week before with his mother’s Chicken Marsala, eating very little of the meat. When the meal was finished, Nina stood to clean up and Seamus knew she would send the girls to get their bath.

  “Why don’t the girls and I do the dishes? It won’t take long, and I’ll bet you could use a few minutes to yourself.” He took the dirty plate out of her hands as he spoke. “What do you say, girls? You wanna help?”

  They slid from their chairs and took their plates across to the sink. They weren’t quite tall enough, so Seamus grabbed a chair and slid it next to the cabinet. Iris rinsed, and Lily stacked the plates in the dishwasher.

  “See? We got this. Go.” He shooed Nina from the room, then searched for her Tupperware so he could put the leftovers away. “Great job, girls. Now, one of you needs to wipe the table and the other can wipe the counter. I’ll wash the knives and the cutting board.” They finished cleaning up the kitchen and Seamus sent them off to get their bath. He found the bottle of wine he and Nina had opened the other night and poured them each a glass, wondering if she’d be angry with him for interfering.

  “Thanks.” She accepted the glass and sipped. “How did it go in there?”

  “Good. You’re not mad?”

  “For interfering in my parenting? Hmm. I guess not.” She sipped again and reached to click off the television. “It took me by surprise, that’s all. Do you think I’m too soft on them?”

  “Not at all. I’ve just never seen them do any chores around here. Kids need responsibility. It’s good for them. What?”

  She was chuckling. “You always surprise me, Seamus. Never in my wildest dreams would I have pictured Seamus DeLuca making casseroles and helping little girls do the dinner dishes. Huh.” She appeared surprised and turned back to her wine.

  “Maybe you’ve been underestimating me.” He tried not to be offended by her comment.

  “Clearly.” She was quiet for a long moment. “So, you’re good at math. How are you with computers?”

  “I’m okay, I guess, in that I know how to use one fairly well. Why? Is yours giving you trouble?”

  She shook her head. “Not mine. Neal’s.”

  “The one Kira brought over?”

  “That’s the one. I managed to get in, but I have no idea what I’m looking for.”

  He frowned, wondering what she was trying to say. “What do you mean? Why would you be looking for anything? We’ve already seen the sui—the note.” He didn’t want to say the word aloud and ruin their evening. She seemed so much better than she had a few nights before, after the funeral, and he didn’t want to spoil it.

  She pulled the afghan from the back of the sofa and tucked it around her bare feet. “I don’t know. But he told Kira to give it to me if anything happened to him and—”

  “Wait.” He put his hand up to stop her. “Did Kira say that? I don’t remember her saying that.”

  “Well, it was something along those lines.” She waved her hand dismissively, as if it didn’t matter.

  His stomach
tightened as he took in her tired eyes with the purple shadows beneath them. He knew she wasn’t sleeping well yet, but if she was staying up late to dig through her brother’s laptop…crap. “No, it matters, Nina. Kira said she knew he’d want you to have it. That’s a lot different than telling her to give it to you if anything ever happened to him. A lot.”

  “I’m not so sure.” She sat up and leaned toward him, imploring him to understand. “What if there’s something on that computer, something that might help explain—”

  “Explain what?” He grabbed her hand and put it between his palms, trying to rub some warmth into her soft skin. “Nina, sweetheart. Neal took his own life. We’ll probably never understand the reasons, but we need to accept it and start to move on. It’s not healthy for you to…to obsess over it like this.”

  She withdrew her hand and glared at him. “I’m not obsessing! I just need—”

  But the girls trooped back into the living room at that moment with a stack of books. Seamus knew Nina well enough to know she would regroup and give him an earful as soon as Lily and Iris were asleep. How could he make her understand this wasn’t healthy? She was going to drive herself crazy if she kept this up.

  They listened as each of the girls read them a story, then Seamus scooped them up under his arms and carried them, giggling madly, to bed. He tucked them in and made sure their nightlight was on before returning to the living room.

  Nina had refilled their glasses and was sitting, cross-legged, with a small silver computer on her lap. “I’m not obsessing, Seamus. I just want to be sure there isn’t something somewhere in all his files that Neal wanted me to know. At the very least, I need to know what was going on with the business. Maybe he was in debt or something and didn’t want to tell anyone.”