“Where are the children?” Detective Vasquez asked.
Laura stared at me.
“What children?”
“Mia and Ben.”
“They’re upstairs.”
“No, they aren’t.”
The color left her face.
She ran toward the stairs before an officer stopped her.
“They left this morning,” I said. “They were walking down the street.”
Laura’s knees buckled.
“He found out.”
Detective Vasquez caught her arm.
“Found out what?”
“The copies.”
I looked at the flash drive in my hand.
“Copies?”
Laura began crying.
Mia and Ben had not hidden one drive.
They had hidden 12.
One under a bush at my house.
One behind Mrs. Alvarez’s mailbox.
One inside the loose stone wall near Mr. Patel’s garage.
Others were spread along the street.
The children had been placing them every Sunday for nearly three months.
That was what they were really doing.
The trash bag was a disguise.
They picked up enough litter to make the routine look innocent, then hid a drive at one house each week.
