Free Not Even Past by Dave White Page B

kissed him long and hard. When she pulled away his cheeks were red.
    “I don’t need a trial run,” she said.
    Now, she played with her engagement ring while she searched his computer. The Find My iPhone app wasn’t along the bar on the bottom of the screen. She stopped twirling the ring and reached for the touchpad. She scrolled through the finder and the app popped up. She clicked on it and it opened.
    The laptop prompted Kate for a password. She tried “KateJan14” again. Rejected.
    She typed it one more time, watching for typos, and was rejected again. The password the computer asked for was the same as his iTunes account, according to the window on the screen. He’d had iTunes long before he met her.
    Kate blew a strand of hair out of her face, placed the laptop next to her on the couch and got up. Pacing would help clear her mind. Trying to guess what Jackson liked before they met was a needle in the haystack. She leaned back over the computer and typed in “Molson.”
    Rejected again.
    Would an iTunes account lock you out?
    The last vestiges of wine sloshed in her stomach. Maybe if she ate something, it would settle her stomach. She wasn’t hungry, though. Not even a craving for chocolate. Rubbing her hands together, Kate circled the couch. A number of password combinations ran through her head, but none of them seemed right. They all keyed on names and events that had occurred after they met. Jackson wasn’t the kind of guy who spent time switching his passwords around to fool hackers.
    Pictures of Jeanne were still spread across the coffee table. Jackson with her in a park. At a Christmas party. In an office. They were all smiles. They were all touchy-feeling, arms around each other. Kate sat back down, picked up the stack and started to flip through them again. A chill ran through her.
    Tossing the pictures back on the coffee table, she watched them scatter and flip on to their backs. On the back of one was scrawled “I love you—10/15.”
    And then it clicked.
    Kate grabbed the laptop and typed in “JeanneOct15.” The pinwheel whirled for a moment, and then a red pin appeared on the computer screen map. It said “Jackson’s iPhone.” The address was in Perth Amboy. An option popped up on the screen to send the phone a text.
    Kate’s heart started to pound again, just like that night when they started their trial run. She clicked the mouse and sent the text.
    Then she grabbed her purse and ran out the door.

M ARTIN PASSED the gun over to Donne. Donne took it and hefted it once, twice. It was a police issue—a glock like he’d used in the past. It felt comfortable in his hand. More comfortable than he expected.
    They sat about three-quarters of a mile away from the warehouse, waiting for the last legs of the sun to fade away. In front of them, it was mostly dark, only two streetlights illuminating the dark asphalt ahead of them.
    Despite the car’s air-conditioning, Donne was sweating. Life could change in an instant, and he wouldn’t be surprised if tonight was one of those instances. No cars passed them either way. In fact, there hadn’t been any movement around them for at least twenty minutes. And, then, it was only seagull landing, picking something off the ground, then flying away.
    Martin shook his head. “Dammit. I thought at least one of them would have left for the night.”
    “That makes sense.” Donne hefted the gun again. He tried to remember the last time he fired one. Was it just two years ago, along the Passaic River? Before his mother died? Didn’t feel that long.
    “Say what you want to say.”
    Donne sighed. “If Jeanne is in there, do you really think they’d leave her alone? I mean, it seems they want her alive. They want me for God knows what. Someone has to feed her, give her water. Let her use the bathroom.”
    “I thought at least one of them would have taken Juan home.”
    “Might they did already. And came back.”
    “Or maybe they’re still gone.” Martin