Eric watched Valerie head for the kitchen. Somehow it was hard not to want to do whatever the woman asked.
She claimed that she was an alibi for the man, and that his name was actually Peter, not Ron, and hers was Michelle. As if that meant something.
What mattered was that the backup Eric had managed to make onto an external USB drive was gone and the message on the screen left no hope.
Drive format complete.
Valerie’s cry galvanized him into action. He sprinted the few steps to where she stood riveted at the kitchen’s threshold.
He looked over her shoulder.
The room had been totally trashed. He recalled the desperate, tortured moans of the Ron Schmidt character.
Eric shuddered; he might never forget them.
Every single thing that was sweet or crunchy, and Eric couldn’t quite belie
