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Chase didn’t stay after dinner, no matter how much Gran would have wanted it. He claimed he still had work to do, and Odelia wondered if he was referring to the Frey case. She’d wanted to pick his brain, but it was obvious he wasn’t going to allow her to do so. She tried to turn the conversation to themurder, but Chase had brushed off all her attempts, much to Uncle Alec’s amusement, who’d taken his new prot?g?’s cue and also decided to keep this dinner Frey-free. Usually he enjoyed discussing ongoing cases over dinner, but apparently tonight he’d decided not to talk shop in front of Chase.

She just hoped this wouldn’t be the new normal, or else she’d have a lot less stuff to write about in the paper.

Chase quickly excused himself, and when Uncle Alec and Dad settled themselves on the couch to watch a football game, she suddenly felt an uncharacteristic fatigue sweep over her. All this trudging around today had made her long for a good night’s sleep, and after finishing the wash-up with Mom and Gran, who both couldn’t get enough of gabbing about Chase, she bade her family goodnight and returned home.

She checked on Max and Dooley, but they were still passed out, and she decided not to disturb them. Tomorrow was another day, and they could resume their sleuthing efforts with renewed vigor. She was out like a light before her head even hit the pillow and may or may not have dreamed of handsome hunky cops warding off nosy reporters from their investigation.

The next morning, she drove to the office and parked her car. After checking her emails, she decided to walk down to the police station. She needed to check that laptop, to see if there were any clues to other enemies Frey might have made. When she arrived, she was surprised to find Chase already there. He was seated in front of Frey’s laptop, intently staring at the screen, his hulking frame dwarfing one of the chairs in the evidence room. The rest of the evidence was spread out across the table, and when she walked in Chase didn’t look up. Instead, he growled, “Morning, Miss Poole.”

“How did you even know I was coming in?” she asked, her eye falling on the poker that indeed had a slight dent in it.

“Your uncle told me about the invitation he extended you,” he said a little gruffly, and she wondered if he’d been up all night, going over the evidence.

“Yes, well, I thought perhaps there was more evidence to be found on Frey’s laptop.” She hesitated, then decided not to hold back. Chase might not be willing to share, but she wasn’t going to be so stingy. “After I talked to Gabby Cleret and Aissa Spring, I checked Frey’s social media pages.”

“And?”

“Well, turns out Paulo Frey was doing his darndest to earn himself the prize for the world’s nastiest social media troll. The guy actively trolled women and gays, and was engaged in online warfare with dozens of people.”

“Yeah, I saw that,” Chase said, taking a break from checking the laptop.

She drew up a chair.“So I figure that maybe whoever killed him might have been one of his victims. Someone who decided enough was enough.”

He stared at her.“And you hoped to find a lead on his laptop?”

She nodded.“There’s only so much you can glean from a public Facebook page. If I could use his laptop to log into his accounts, I’ll bet I’d find a treasure trove of stuff, and maybe a lead to his killer.”

“Just what I was thinking,” he admitted. “Which is why I’ve been going over his laptop half the night.”

She didn’t know why, but the fact that they’d shared the same idea somehow gave her a little thrill of excitement. “And? What did you find?”

“So far, nothing good,” he said with a shake of the head. “You called it when you said the guy was a hardened troll. Which is surprising for a writer of his stature. You would think he’d be afraid it would affect his sales.”

“Did he have another account? In a different name, perhaps? An alias?”

“If he did, I haven’t found it,” he said, scooting over to allow her access to the computer. This greatly surprised her. Was he inviting her to actively join the investigation? Perhaps her mom’s cooking had changed his opinion about nosy reporters whose last name is Poole?

“Did you check his emails?”

“I checked a bunch of them, but there are thousands and thousands. To get through all of them will be a Sisyphus job.”

“Then we better get cracking,” she said with a grimace.

“Be my guest,” he said, rising. “Coffee?”