That’s where Tim’s crystal ball grew somewhat foggier. He wasn’t sure how Lesley was going to react when she heard her boyfriend was a criminal and had caused such tremendous hardship for a member of her family. Tim grinned as he dropped a fresh ashtray next to his father. He had every reason to expect this revelation to drive an unfixable wedge between Lesley and Rob, which would open the door quite nicely for Tim.
“I seen your bank on the news while you were out,” his father said as he reached for his pack of smokes.
Tim felt a small spike of anxiety flutter through his gut.
“Oh yeah?” he said, trying to sound unconcerned. “What’d they say?”
“Something about terrorists,” Eldon said. “Some kind of attack.”
Suddenly it felt like all oxygen had been sucked out of the room. The small spike in his gut mushroomed into a tsunami of adrenaline.
Eldon squinted at him through a fresh tendril of smoke. “You feeling okay?” he asked. “You’re looking kind of pale.”
“I’m fine,” Tim managed to choke out.
“Hey, here it comes again,” Eldon said.
Tim watched in disbelief as CNN cameras panned outside a First Malden branch while a voiceover described the breaking story of what was apparently the first known case of cyber-sabotage at an American bank.
When the piece ended, Tim turned and floated back toward the kitchen, unaware that his feet were moving. He dropped slowly into a kitchen chair, planted his elbows on the table and held his swimming head in his hands. How had this happened? Yesterday Dysart had made it clear he had no intention of letting the truth become public.
But then, Tim realized, it didn’t really matter how it had happened. He had to figure out what it meant for him. After all, Tim had always known there was some chance the news would leak out. He had just managed to convince himself through months of self-argument that the chances of such a leak were negligible. All his scheming had been based on the assumption that the bank would handle everything internally. But now the authorities would be involved.
Which meant a much more intensive and sophisticated investigation.
And the possibility of criminal charges.
And jail time.
Tim’s heart pounded as his mind raced back over all his actions, through the evidence he had left behind, both intentional and otherwise. Was the trail leading to Rob convincing enough? Thank God he had gone beyond just leaving clues in Rob’s desk at work. And Rob’s fingerprints. Tim had felt a bit on the paranoid side when he collected them, but suddenly they seemed like an inspired idea.
An involuntary groan escaped Tim’s lips when he thought of his plan to text the keyword to the bank. Would that cell phone really be so untraceable when FBI agents started interviewing the sales staff at the store where Tim bought it? Should he use snail mail instead? Or would they find some way to trace that back to him as well?
Tim buried his hands in his hair as the paranoia settled in for a long stay.
CHAPTER TEN
The headlights of Stan Dysart’s Lexus swept across the interlocking bricks of his doublewide driveway in the deepening gloom of twilight. He hit the garage door opener and slipped the car inside.
Yelps from Elke and Kara greeted him as he walked into the back yard.
“Well hello there. How are Daddy’s girls?”
Dysart crossed a strip of lush grass and put one hand against the wire fence that enclosed the dog run. Two Siberian huskies milled up against the fence, whining and yipping in excitement.
“I know,” Dysart said. “I’ve been busy for a few days and you need some attention. Let me get out of this suit and we’ll go for a walk.”
Kara tried to move closer to where Dysart stood but Elke shouldered her out of the way, asserting her role as the more dominant. As always, Dysart found himself amused at Elke’s insistence on being the leader. He knew it helped maintain peace in the family. Two doghouses stood at one end of the run, but the dogs often ignored Kara’s, preferring to curl up together in Elke’s.
He found a pot of pasta sauce simmering on low heat in the kitchen. The dirty plate beside the sink meant Sheila had already eaten. He found her in the living room reading a book and ignoring the TV, which was tuned to a medical drama with the volume turned off.
“I think the dogs need a walk before I can eat,” he said.
“I expected that,” she said, looking up from the paperback. “I’ll cook some linguine for you when you get back. And we won’t be playing tennis tonight. Daniel called to cancel.”
Doubles tennis was one of the few activities the Dysart’s did together. Stan’s long hours at the bank made it difficult to fit in much else.
“Just as well,” he said. “I need a quiet evening, see if I can forget about the zoo I ran around in all day.”
“I’m sure the dogs won’t want to talk about money problems.”
“They’ll be the first ones today.”
The dogs could barely contain their excitement when Dysart returned to the back yard holding two leashes. Elke barked and put both front paws up on the gate, while Kara bounced back and forth behind her.
“All right, all right,” Dysart said.
Soon the dogs were pulling him around the side of the garage. The threesome made it as far as the other side of the street when the dogs stopped for an intensive inspection of a telephone pole. Then they headed on to the next pole and repeated the process. While they sniffed, Dysart saw a small car squeal around the corner at the end of the block and head toward him.
He barely had time to frown at the speed of the car when it made a wide turn into his own driveway. The passenger-side wheels missed the edge of the driveway and bounced up over the curb. Dysart recognized the car as Lesley’s. He saw her swing the steering wheel sharply while at the same time the brake lights came on. The Toyota ended up parked at an angle, barely a foot from his garage door.
Dysart started to head toward her. The dogs, however, were intent on continuing their walk and milled around the pole, pulling hard in the other direction. Both leashes ended up wrapped around the pole. He sorted them out, turned back toward the house and was surprised to see Lesley still in her car. She appeared to be slumped over the steering wheel.
A cold dread washed through his body. Had she been in an accident? Was she sick? He rushed across the street, shooed the dogs away from the car door and pulled it open. He found Lesley leaning her head against her hands on the steering wheel and sobbing. She looked up at him. The wetness on her face glistened in the streetlights.
“Oh Uncle Stan they took him you have to help I don’t know what to do I was going to call but then I couldn’t so I—”
“Whoa, hold on,” he said. “What’s the matter?”
“You have to tell them it’s a mistake it has to be I mean—”
“Lesley. You have to calm down. I can’t understand you.”
Elke tried to push her snout past Dysart to get a closer look, but he grabbed her collar and pulled her back.
“Are you hurt?” Dysart asked her.
She shook her head and wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand.
“Can you stand up?” he said, grasping her upper arm gently with his free hand. “Why don’t you get out and we’ll go inside.”
She let him guide her out of the car, and then pressed herself against his chest as the heaving sobs started again. He put an arm around her shoulders.
“Whatever it is, we can fix it,” he said. “Now take a deep breath for me. Can you do that?”