Arin wiped his hands on his jeans and stood. “Depends,” he said. “If the cabin’s owner likes people, it’s probably taped somewhere obvious. If he hates people, it’s probably hidden inside a Bible.”
Her mouth lifted, just slightly. “That’s… depressingly accurate.”
Arin walked over to the fence. He gestured toward the side of her cabin. “Router’s usually by the kitchen window. Password might be on the sticker.”
“Thank you.” She hesitated, then added, “I’m Mara. Mara Castile.”
“Arin,” he said. “And this is Sana.”
Voir la suite sur la page suivante:
