Between the Noise: Scene 5 — Clearing Shadows

Gina Bauer leaned against the corner of the desk, watching Delaney Shore wring her hands in her lap. The assistant’s posture was tighter than their first interview—but not evasive. More like someone bracing for an impact that hadn’t arrived.

“Yes, I knew about the memoir folder,” Delaney said. “But I never opened anything. She mentioned she might write a book someday, and I said I’d help her organize her desktop. That was it. I didn’t even know what was in those files until you brought them up.”

Gina didn’t write anything down yet. She just watched.

“And the text you sent about cleaning out the drafts?”

Delaney flushed. “I meant her windows. On the laptop. She always left ten things open—documents, tabs, apps. I just meant I’d close stuff so it didn’t clutter her workspace.”

Valdez leaned against the doorframe. “You said you never opened the folder. But you saw it?”

“Yeah. It was right on the desktop. Called ‘Memoir – Private Drafts.’ And there was one file open once… ‘SedonaNotes_Journal.docx.’ I didn’t read it, I swear. Just saw the title.”

Gina finally clicked her pen. “You sure?”

“Yes. I swear on my life. I never opened anything.”

Her voice wavered but didn’t break. Defensive, yes—but not slippery. Gina had seen enough lies to recognize them. This wasn’t one.

---

Later, in the bullpen, CSU forwarded a recorded call: Delaney’s roommate.

“I called her that morning to ask if she could drop off my charger—I’d left it in her car the night before. She picked up, and it sounded like she had just walked into the house. I heard her footsteps, then she said, ‘Why is it so dark in here?’ Like she was genuinely confused.”

Gina leaned forward.

“Then there was a pause. A shuffle. Something clattered—keys, maybe? She mumbled something like, ‘This isn’t right,’ but it was soft. Distant.”

“This was before she found the body?” Gina asked.

“Yeah. I was still on the phone when she walked into the bathroom. I heard her gasp. Then nothing for a second. Then she just started crying. Like full-on sobbing. It scared me.”

Valdez paused the playback. “Sounds like an innocent reaction to me. The call was unexpected, so she couldn’t have staged it.”

Gina nodded. “You’re right. It’s unlikely that she knew Lena was dead.”

Another alert popped up: expanded cloud logs from CSU.

“Here we go,” Gina muttered, scanning. “The folder had a share link. Created at 2:55 AM. Deleted at 3:08.”

Valdez looked over her shoulder. “That’s after Lena fell asleep, but before her heart and breathing stopped.”

“Right. And look at this—deletion came from an unknown IP. Not the assistant’s. Not any of her devices.”

“So someone else accessed the cloud. Scrubbed the link.”

Gina sat back in her chair, eyes narrowing. “Delaney saw the files existed, but didn’t read them. She had proximity, not access.”

Valdez grunted. “Whoever deleted that link… they wanted it gone. Which means it mattered to someone. Maybe enough to kill.”

New Clues Added: Roommate call summary, CSU Cloud Access Log Excerpt, Delaney Shore eliminated as suspect.