Page 33 of Torin

Enough coincidences to fill an entire folder.

I look at their faces for another moment, then turn to my laptop.

No Wi-Fi.

I click the network icon again.

No networks appear.

“Great.”

I find the router on a bookshelf in the living room. One of the lights is dark. I unplug it, wait a few seconds, then plug it back in and watch the lights blink through their sequence.

The same one stays dark.

I try my laptop again.

Still no connection.

My phone isn’t any better. I hold it up, walk toward one of the open windows and watch the top corner of the screen.

No signal.

Torin’s number is in there now.

Not that I can do anything with it.

I set the phone beside the laptop and look at the folder again.

The router isn’t coming back to life, which means I’m stuck here without internet until Professor Bennett gets home in two weeks.

That was always the plan. Get to the cabin, stay out of sight until he comes back, then show him everything and let him help me figure out where to take it.

There has to be someone my father can’t get to—a journalist, an editor, state investigators. Someone who can look at what I found and make sure it doesn’t disappear. I just don’t know who that person is, and Bennett will.

I knew when I came here that I’d have to wait for him. Last night, two weeks sounded manageable.

Today, with all these women staring up at me from the table, it feels like forever.

I pick up my phone again, but I still don’t have a signal.

I wonder how Torin’s getting on with the truck, whether he’s found somewhere to put it—and whether he’s still coming back.

I catch myself.

Of course he is.

I put the phone down.

Then, a few seconds later, glance at it again anyway.

I turn back to the laptop.

Fine. No internet doesn’t mean I can’t work.

I open the document I’ve been using to keep track of the cases and spend the next hour going through everything again. I add dates to the timeline, clean up some of my notes and cross-reference the paper files against the copies on my computer.

It’s useful work, technically, but after a couple of hours, I’m sick of looking at it. I close the laptop and push my chair back.