I reached for the laptop and clicked on the spreadsheet again. “You really think these are private keys?”

He shrugged. “Possibly. Or they could be public keys, in which case they’re worthless.”

“Aren’t they worthless either way? I mean, even if they’re private keys, I have no way of knowing which accounts, or digital wallets, they unlock.”

“No, because unlike a typical password, a private key is tied to a public key.”

I stared at him, even more confused now than I was before.

“A public key without the corresponding private key is worthless,” he explained. “But if you have someone’s private key, it’s possible to reverse engineer their public key. Then you’d have both keys, and you could access their digital wallet.”

I rubbed my temples and took a deep breath. This was all so confusing. “Okay, let’s assume for the sake of argument this is a list of private keys. What do I do with them?”

“That depends. Do you want to steal other people’s crypto and NFTs?”

“No!” We hadn’t known each other long, but I would’ve hoped he knew at least that much about me.

“Then you have two choices. You can either give the file to your husband’s former boss—”

“No.”

Daniel’s eyebrows shot up. “Why not?”

I ignored his question. “What’s the other choice?”

“Delete the file.”

“I can’t.”

“Why? If you’re not planning on reverse engineering them so you can access the digital wallets they’re tied to, then they are worthless.”

I stared at him with my lips sealed. I hadn’t told Daniel that Alex accused Jake of working with the Russian mob or that Brian Sullivan had figured out I’d given him the wrong flash drive. And I had no desire to share that information with him now. “I just can’t.”

“Grace, if these really are private keys, then the owners of these keys will want them back. They can’t access their digital wallets without them.”

I kept my lips pressed together.

“If you really believe someone broke into your house to try to steal this file, then don’t you think keeping it is dangerous? Maybe you should turn it over to the police.”

“I’m not giving it to the police. Not yet at least.”

“Why?”

“What do you think the police are going to do with it? They told me the break-in was neighborhood kids pulling a prank.”

“Then call the FBI.”

And possibly implicate Jake? No way. I still didn’t believe he was working for the Russian mob, but it wouldn’t surprise me to learn he’d done something he shouldn’t have. “No.”

Daniel threw his arms up. “What reason could you possibly have for wanting to hold onto this file? It’s worthless to you and potentially dangerous.”

“Because it’s the only lead I have.”

“Lead to what?”

“To finding out why Jonah and Amelia were murdered.”

Chapter 24

Daniel held up his hands as if they could physically stop my train of thought from running over him. “Hold on. You told me the guy who killed them was nuts. That they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Because that’s what the police told me.”

“And you think the police lied to you?” Daniel said, incredulous.

“I’m not saying anyone lied intentionally. Maybe they just got it wrong. Maybe we all did.” I jumped up from the couch and started pacing the living room. I felt like I was trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle, but I was missing too many pieces and there was no picture on the box to guide me. Yet I could no longer ignore all these coincidences.

“Grace, do you think maybe you’re overreacting?”

“I’m not overreacting!” I screeched.

“Sorry, wrong word. What I meant was you’re jumping to a lot of conclusions—and I think I know why.”

His condescending tone was really starting to grate on me. “Do you now?”

“Yes.” He leaned back, spreading both arms along the top of the couch, clearly pleased with himself. “You’re still searching for meaning in your family’s death. You can’t accept that there is none.”

I stopped pacing and stared at him. “What on earth are you talking about?”

He leaned forward, eager to explain. “After we started seeing each other, I did a little reading up on grieving.”

Reading up on grieving? “Excuse me?”

“I wanted to learn more about it. So I could help you.”

“Help me how?”

“Based on the data, people who lose a loved one suddenly, especially if it’s a violent death like it was for your family, grieve longer. The researchers concluded it’s because they have a harder time making sense of the loss. They’re constantly searching for meaning where none exists.”

Based on the data? I stared at him with my mouth ajar.

He stood up and walked toward me, but left some distance between us as if I was a wild animal he was trying to assist but didn’t trust not to attack. “I want you to know I get it. I understand why you’re doing this.”

“Really?” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yes.” He grabbed the laptop off the coffee table and held it in the space between us. “Grace, this is just a spreadsheet, nothing more. But you’ve convinced yourself it’s the reason your family was killed. You’ve spun this elaborate tale that someone broke into your house to steal a flash drive.”

“Someone did break into my house! You saw it yourself. You helped me clean up the broken glass.”