She said, “This is weird. There are no emails from Angela. Plenty from other people. Even a bunch of spam he never got rid of. But none from her. Not even from years ago. None in his inbox. None in any of his folders. And none in the trash. Which is extra weird because Sam had his mail set to keep deleted messages in the trash for a week. I just checked.”
“Are there any emails from Danny Peel?”
Hannah tapped and swiped and clicked for another minute, then nodded her head. “A few. Mostly from before Danny moved.”
“So what happened to the messages from Angela?”
“Sam must have found a way to permanently delete them. Instantly. I just can’t see why he’d do that.”
“Could an expert recover them?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Can you tell if it was definitely Sam who deleted them?”
“No one else had access to his computer. He never takes it anywhere. It’s a laptop, but he only bought it because it’s small. Not to carry around.”
“Could they be deleted remotely?”
“I don’t know. I’m no expert. They could probably be wiped off the central server remotely, I guess. But after he downloaded them? Maybe some high-level hacker could do it. Probably not a regular person.”
“Have you noticed anyone hanging around the building the last few days? Any cars you didn’t recognize?”
“Why are you asking that again? You think someone broke in here after Sam died and wiped his computer?”
Reacher said nothing.
“Oh.” Hannah slowly closed the computer. “No. You think he was murdered? Like Angela was? No way.”
“Angela was murdered on her way to meet him. In secret. Probably with some critical evidence to show him. Even if Sam believed it was suicide, he had still seen Angela’s emails. He knew something was going on. He knew what kind of material she was bringing. That paints a pretty big target on his back.”
“No. It was totally natural causes. I saw him, remember. I found him.”
“Heart attacks can be faked. There are drugs. Chemicals.”
“Not in this case. Because you know the really sad thing? When I saw him, I wasn’t even surprised.”
“I heard he was in good health. Ripped, Harewood said.”
“He worked out a lot, yes. Too much, actually. It’s how he dealt with stress. But healthy? Not so much.”
“Sam was stressed?”
“He had a stressful job.”
“He had that job for thirty years.”
“The stress had gotten worse.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“New boss? Staff cuts? Some kind of disciplinary situation?”
“None of those things. He was just…having trouble. He didn’t say anything but I know him. Knew him. Knew the signs. He wasn’t eating properly. He wasn’t sleeping. He was working out too much. Pushing himself too hard. I should have done more to help him. He was a heart attack waiting to happen and I knew it.”
“So he was stressed. More than usual. But how did that cause Angela’s emails to disappear?”
“Maybe that was done remotely, like you said.” Hannah was silent for a moment, then she frowned. “Wait. Sam had dinner at my place Monday night. I was trying to get him to eat more. It didn’t work. He just picked at his food then rushed off home. To work out. Again. What else would he be doing these days? I wasn’t happy but I gave him a good-night kiss, like I always do. At the door. And across the way I kind of think I might have seen a car. Yes. I remember thinking it must be an Uber waiting for someone, but that it was weird because its lights were off.”
“What color was it?”
“Something dark. Black, I think.”
“Make? Model?”
“I’m not sure. I couldn’t see too well because of Sam’s truck.”
Reacher thought for a moment. It hadn’t rained that morning. The previous day had been dry, too. But Monday night was an unknown quantity. It had been fine earlier in the day, when he walked into town. But he had spent the evening with Alexandra. At her apartment. The weather was the last thing he was paying attention to. Still, if a vehicle had been parked for any length of time it could have left a trace of some kind. It was worth a look. So Reacher said, “Come on. Show me where the car was waiting.”
* * *
—
The sun was high when Reacher followed Hannah outside. It was warm and bright and the air was sweet from all the plants growing in pots and urns outside the buildings. There were hardly any shadows. And the ground was bone dry. It was dusty. There were no footprints. No tire tracks. There was no possibility of any.