Mary ran. She made it two steps before he had her, an arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her off her feet, the other clapping a hand over her mouth. He spun and carried her toward her car as if she were no heavier than a sack of groceries.
“Mary, Mary, Mary,” he whispered. “Always looking where you’re not supposed to. Didn’t they tell you to give it up?” A squeeze for emphasis. “Didn’t they? But no, you had to keep on digging. You had to be a snoop like your husband. Don’t you know we’re the ones who do the snooping?”
Mary squirmed and struggled. She felt like an infant in a giant’s arms. Every effort to free herself was countered by one twice as forceful. The man continued past her car, climbing a berm bordering the lot and carting her into the wide-open scrub beyond. In moments they were surrounded by clumps of mesquite and tangled brush, a wilderness of vegetation as tall as she. A hundred yards along, he set her down. When he stepped away, she saw that he had Joe’s Glock, too.
“They’ll know it was you,” she said. “I saw the security camera feeds. They’ll have your truck coming in, pictures of you leaving.”
“Put on a suit, stick a gun in your belt, and you think you’re a real Fibbie, eh? How’s this, Miss Mary? The images won’t even exist.”
“Of course they’ll exist. The cameras record everything.”
“They could have infrared cameras filming me picking you up, carrying you out here, and shooting you dead, and it wouldn’t matter. We’ll just erase it. Cedar Valley’s our territory.”
“What do you mean, your territory?”
“The security system’s hooked up to the Net. That means it all goes through our pipes. We own it.” He tucked the Glock into his belt while his own pistol hung loosely in his hand. “Besides, no one asks any questions about suicides.”
Mary held her ground. “I’d never kill myself.”
“What about the note you left?”
“I didn’t leave any note.”
“But we will,” he said. “Mommy’s goodbye, sent from her own e-mail.”
“You can’t do that. You don’t even know my e-mail.”
“Really? Then how did we know you’d be out here tonight, or that you were rushing to the morgue this afternoon, or that you had a visit from that reporter who got himself a DUI two nights back?”
“Who are you?”
“We’re the future.” Carefully he affixed a fat cylindrical tube to the pistol’s snout. A noise suppressor. She’d seen Joe toy with one at home.
“Please,” Mary pleaded. “I’ll stop looking. You have the disk. What else do you want?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Really, I am. Now come on over here. I’ll make it fast. You won’t feel a thing.”
“This isn’t necessary. Like you said, I’m a mother. I know that now. I’ll stop looking. I’ll stop snooping.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, yes. I promise.”
“No, I promise.” The man stepped toward her, his arm rising, the pistol aimed at her face. Mary stood tall, defiant, eyes wide.
Out in the darkness was a rustle in the bushes, a footfall, a grunt. She saw a shadow behind him. The man angled his head toward the noise. There was a splash of color in the moonlight, a mountainous figure crashing through the brush. The man spun and fired his pistol-once, twice-and then there was a mighty roar, a blinding flash of light, and the man was not standing beside Mary anymore.
Mary stumbled backward, tripping over her feet, landing on her behind. The gunshots rang in her ears. The man lay a few feet away, arms sprawled, eyes open, unblinking.
“You all right?” asked a familiar voice.
She propped herself on an elbow and gazed up as the shadow took form. “You?”
64
The Crown & Anchor Pub was located on San Jacinto Boulevard across from the university. It was long and narrow and dark and smelled of stale beer and burned hamburgers. A wooden bar ran the length of the room. Taps for a dozen beers protruded from fake barrels in the wall behind it.
Jessie made her way down the row of tables, searching for Linus Jankowski. If the smell was bad, the music nearly made her puke. Old English sea shanties blared from the sound system. She was six all over again, seated on the admiral’s knees as he sang “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” to her.
She found Linus seated at a round table in the back, just past the dartboards. Six or seven men were with him. Jessie recognized two propeller-heads from class. The others were TAs she’d seen around school, PhD candidates, or postdocs like Linus.
“You made it,” said Linus. “Take a seat.”
Jessie scooted around the table to the last open chair.
“Um, I’ll just stand here,” said Garrett, hands dug into his pockets.
Jessie nodded, wishing he weren’t there. It had been an awkward ride downtown. Garrett had talked the entire time as if they were on some kind of date, asking what they should do after meeting up with Linus. All the while Jess was growing more and more concerned about Grace. What if she was right about the people who’d hacked into their mom’s phone and they really were watching? Jessie had never been given responsibility for someone before. Not real responsibility concerning their safety and all that. The thoughts weighed heavily on her, and Garrett’s incessant yapping made it worse. Finally she’d had to tell him to “just shut up and drive.” Things were better after that. She’d come to the conclusion that boys liked being told what to do.
“Am I even allowed in here?” she asked, taking her seat.
“Technically, no,” said Linus. “But who’s checking?” He smiled, but she could tell from the way he made no effort to introduce her around that he wasn’t too excited to see her.
“I found something on my phone,” she said nervously. “Actually it was on my mom’s phone. But I copied it, so now it’s on mine. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Slow down, Miss Grant,” said Linus. “Start over.”
Jessie scooted her chair closer, aware of the stares coming her way. She stared right back, reminding herself that none of these guys had solved the Capture the Flag hack in thirteen minutes.
“Okay,” she said, looking Linus in the eye. “It’s about my dad.”
“Your dad? FBI, right?”
“Yeah,” said Jessie. “Before he died, he called my mom and left her a voice message. I don’t know what he said. I think it was important, but she didn’t tell me, because she thought I’d get all depressed and upset. Anyway, what matters is that someone deleted the message from my mom’s phone.”
“Someone who wasn’t your mom?”
“Yeah.”
“Really?” asked Linus, with the same dismissive tone she’d used with her mom.
“That’s what I said. My mom’s nice, but she’s a prole. I thought for sure she’d deleted it. But she didn’t. Someone hacked into her phone and wiped the message. Only that message. Everything else was still there.”
“And you want me to find it?”
“No,” said Jessie. “I mean, yes, for sure, if you could…if that’s even possible. Right now I just want you to look at the tracks I found.”
“And figure out who hacked into your mom’s phone?”
Jessie nodded. “Whoever did it killed my dad,” she said. “I mean, right?”
By now conversation at the table had all but died. Linus’s friends were paying close attention.
“Show me,” said Linus. “Not here. Outside. Away from these propeller-heads.”
Jessie pushed back her chair and stood. For some reason she grabbed Garrett’s hand and led him outside. The pub was on the main drag that ran adjacent to UT, a neighborhood of bars, bookstores, and clothing boutiques. At ten-fifteen, it was packed with pedestrians.