Detectives Grant Summers and Stan Seymour eyed the crime scene. Jack Denninger, a handsome thirty-five-year-old, had been found slumped over the desk in his home office, his notebook computer smashed on the ground beside his chair. It was a typical home office in a typical suburban house. Nothing seemed out of place, here or elsewhere in the house.
“Not much chance it was a robbery gone bad,” Stan said.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Grant said. “Nowadays, a flash drive is all you need to steal something of value. Denninger was a writer—there could be lots of valuable stuff on his computer.”