The rain continued to beat against the glass windows.

At midnight, the smart-home system switched the lights to night-mode.

The hallway bathed in a dim, blue glow.

I stood up, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floor.

I crept up the stairs, holding my breath with every step.

The master bedroom door was cracked open.

Inside, I could hear Julian’s slow, rhythmic breathing.

He was asleep.

I bypassed the bedroom and walked to the end of the hallway.

The door to his study was slightly ajar.

In his haste to deal with the detective, he must have forgotten to lock it.

I slipped inside the dark room.

The silver laptop sat on the mahogany desk, a tiny green light pulsing slowly.

I sat in his leather chair, my hands shaking.

I touched the trackpad, and the screen flared to life.

A login prompt appeared, asking for a password.

I closed my eyes, trying to think.

Julian was a creature of habit.

He used a specific combination of numbers and letters for all his professional files.

It was the date we bought the house, followed by his initials.