Agent Paul nodded.
“Well, okay.” Agent Finney stood, and Gin did the same. Her legs felt creaky, like she hadn’t moved for hours. “That was very helpful, Gin. Thank you. We’ll continue the investigation, and we’ll be in touch.”
Gin’s dad walked them to the door and paused. “Is my daughter in trouble?”
“No.” Agent Finney shook his head, reassuringly. “Gin hasn’t done anything wrong. But we do strongly advise that you not have any more contact with the Gartners while this is going on. Is that doable?”
Gin nodded. Everyone shook hands, and the agents left. Gin sat back on the sofa and picked up the remote but didn’t turn on the television.
Her dad joined her on the couch, close, so their shoulders touched. He breathed in a few times as though trying to figure out what to say. Then the door burst open.
“Gin? Gin, honey?” It was Gin’s mom, still in her scrubs. When she saw Gin in the living room, she rushed over and sat next to her, smoothing back her hair.
“Oh, sweetie. Are you okay?”
Gin sighed, trying to keep her eyes from welling up. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” Her mom sighed, exasperated. “That’s a ridiculous thing to say. FBI agents were here talking to my daughter. Because of something with that ridiculous family. As if they don’t have enough money in the world to just live their own lives.”
Gin blinked hard, barely holding the tears back.
“It’s okay,” her dad broke in. “Really. They wanted to ask Gin about some data the Gartners have. About their trained crows. Gin’s not in trouble. I asked, and they assured me that she’d done nothing wrong.”
Her mom put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed, tight. “Want to tell me about it, honey?”
“Dad kind of covered it. Maybe we can talk about it more tomorrow?”
“Okay. Well, I’m here whenever you want to talk. In the meantime, I’ll make popcorn. And ice cream sundaes. And we can watch a movie and forget the whole thing.”
Her mom stood up and started bustling around in the kitchen. Gin and her dad stayed seated on the couch. Eventually, her dad took the remote from her hand and clicked the television on.
After modeling class the next day, Gin told Ms. Sandlin what had happened. Ms. Sandlin wasn’t surprised.
“My associate took a look and passed the data along to the FBI. The FBI has been quite interested in the data,” she said as she shut the classroom door. “This idea that the birds were trained to wait outside of certain locations, possibly to gather sensitive information is not farfetched. Consider InTech. They have a very secure building with an extremely secure perimeter.” She sat at her desk, pulled out a piece of paper and a sharpie, and drew a square in the center. Then she drew a larger square around the first one.
“You need all sorts of credentials just to get in the gate.” Arrows were now going on the crude sketch, with big Xs in front. “But even InTech uses a local wireless network. It’d be nearly impossible to hack into. But maybe you could get the access credentials if you spied on someone who worked with the company and brought some work home.
“Now, to get into the network and access information, you’d have to be physically close. You could plant a device, perhaps in a closet or outside on a windowsill, but if you used a person, or even a drone, you’d be flagged by security cameras. A bird, however, could leave a device that connects into the network and pick it back up. Or a bird could just sit there. And you could be working nearby, going through InTech’s drives, finding anything you’d like. No one would ever know. It’d be elegant, to be honest.”
It made Gin shudder. Because it was elegant. Just like Felix’s thought process. Maybe Mr. Gartner was stealing information from InTech. And all anyone had ever seen were a few crows flying around.
“But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Ms. Sandlin sat up straighter and folded her hands on her desk. “Even if the data suggests an illegal behavior, it may not be reality.”
The halls were loud with lockers clanging and students talking. Gin couldn’t help thinking that she should be there, too, pushing her way through the crowd of students, thinking about starting Harvard in a few months. Not stuck in Ms. Sandlin’s classroom, worried about investigations and court cases and high-tech secrets.
“Gin.”
Gin’s attention snapped back to Ms. Sandlin.
“You still aren’t in trouble, and you did the right thing. Okay?”
Gin sighed, her body sinking into itself. “I wasn’t trying to find this. I was just looking at data.”
Ms. Sandlin’s expression softened. “Ah, yes. Looking at data. Funny how a few numbers can lead us to truths we never imagined.”
That night, Gin was reading in bed, trying to go to sleep. Lately she’d been too tired to even check in with TimeKeeper; anyway, she’d have to rework every single assumption for it to make sense. Her old life had basically dissolved.
Her phone pinged, and Gin sighed. Somehow, her email alerts must’ve gotten turned on. She reached over to her nightstand for her phone and saw the email on the screen. It was from Grant Gartner.
She sat up, hands shaky.
“Hey, Dad?” she called before opening the note.
“One second,” he said. He was in his room. Close.
She hadn’t received an email from Grant Gartner before. And though she had no idea why he’d be emailing her now, she was certain it couldn’t be good.
She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, then opened the email.
Dear Regina,
I have recently learned that you did not heed my advice, but instead decided to use my painstakingly gathered, proprietary crow data as part of a school project. That is simply unacceptable. Not only is it illegal, but it shows that your character and morals are to be questioned.
I am disappointed to say that I have no choice but to press legal charges. Your family should expect to be served with a lawsuit in the coming week. And unfortunately, I’m no longer able to support your enrollment at Harvard University. Instead, I must alert the Harvard admissions board to what can only be seen as unlawful behavior.
It goes without saying that you must cease all use of the crow data, immediately.
Grant Gartner
// Forty-Five
Her dad was there, as soon as he heard her crying. Because as much as she hated to cry, there was nothing else she could do.
“Bastard,” he said, ushering her into his room. “Here, sit down. I’m calling the police. And Mom.”
Minutes later, Agent Finney was there. He studied the email and took a report.
“It’s not a threat, and in a way, it’s a reasonable response. But given the circumstances and the ongoing investigation, we’ll pull a patrol team to monitor your house tonight,” he said. “Just as a precaution.”
“And that’s it?” Gin’s dad folded his arms across his chest, his face knit up in concern, a bit of toothpaste still on the corner of his mouth. “That’s all we do?”
“For now, yes.” Agent Finney nodded. “We’ve accelerated work on the case. Hopefully, we’ll have everything wrapped up quickly.”
Gin and her dad watched out the windows as the overnight officers drove up and parked in front of the house. Minutes after Agent Finney left, Gin’s mom flew into the driveway and jogged inside.
Before she even set down her purse, she hugged Gin, hard.
“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry,” she said. “This whole thing is terrible. Don’t give a second thought to his talk of a lawsuit. He’s exaggerating everything. You’re just a kid.”
Gin sat on the couch while Gin’s dad told her mom everything that Agent Finney had said. Then her mom disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a mug of warm milk in hand. Gin took a small sip, and her mom rubbed her back, just like she used to do when Gin was a child.
“How about it, honey—can
you sleep?”
Gin looked at her mom as though seeing her for the first time in weeks. She looked exhausted—dark circles under her eyes, face pinched and dry. Gin didn’t know what to say. Now that she’d ruined her dream of Harvard and gotten her family mired in a legal case with the wealthiest man in the country, she’d probably never sleep again.
“Why don’t you sleep in our room tonight, okay sweetie? I promise, everything will seem better in the morning.”
Gin took a deep breath, resolving not to cry, then went upstairs and lay down on her parents’ bed. She felt like she was five. Her dad put on the History channel, which was playing a gray and white movie about advancements in farming. Her parents talked quietly in the bathroom, and Gin pretended to be asleep so she wouldn’t have to say anything. Eventually they came to bed, and somehow, after an hour or so of being wedged between her parents, Gin slept.
There was nothing for Gin to do at home besides sit and worry, so she went to school. Though being at school seemed just as pointless: all she could think about was Mr. Gartner’s email.
When she got home, she wasn’t surprised to see Agent Finney there in the living room with her dad and mom. The other agent, Paul, was there, too, as well as a third officer who stood by the door. Maybe they had news on the case.
From the looks on her parents’ faces, it wasn’t good.
“Gin, honey, why don’t you sit down.” Her mom was trying to smile and failing entirely.
“Is everything okay?” Gin asked even though she could see it wasn’t. “Did something happen?” Maybe they’d have to enter a witness protection program. Maybe everything was really falling apart.
Agent Finney sighed and leaned forward. He looked too folded up in his chair, like he needed another six inches on every side.
“Nothing yet on the case with the Gartners. But there’s another matter we need to talk with you about. About another model you wrote.” He gave her an apologetic smile and motioned to Agent Paul, who set a recorder on the table and opened a notebook.
“Another model?” Her voice cracked. She scanned the list of every model she made with Felix. Nothing seemed strange about those.
Agent Finney cleared his throat. “Gin, is it correct that you’ve been working on a computer model known as . . .” he looked at his small notebook, “Love Fractal?”
“Love Fractal?” She was surprised that Agent Finney wanted to talk about Love Fractal. It couldn’t possibly be connected to the crows. It didn’t do anything except match people up for a few dates. It was harmless.
“Are you the creator of this program?” A slight crinkling of his eyes, like he hoped she’d say no.
“Yes . . .” Her answer trailed off, hesitant.
“And would you like to explain to us what it does.”
Gin glanced at her parents, and they nodded for her to go ahead. She tried to keep her voice even. “It’s a model that matches people together for dates. It uses algorithms, just like other dating services. But it also matches people based on an analysis of facial structure, as well as their gut reactions to pictures of other people. I’m still testing it.”
Agent Finney’s expression was steady. He paused, waiting to see if she wanted to say more, and Agent Paul finished scribbling his notes.
“And the algorithms in your model are lots of lines of code designed to figure out what type of date someone prefers?” Agent Finney asked.
“More or less.”
“So, for the gut reactions—there are photos of real people that flash up on the screen?”
“Yes.” Gin felt like she was being led down a long, dark hallway.
“And these real people, they’re high schoolers? In this area?”
Gin nodded. “I wanted the photos to be realistic. And there’s an automatic database for information on high schoolers, because of yearbooks and school ID’s. I compiled those photos. No names are attached—they’re just pictures.”
Agent Finney rubbed his chin. His fingernails were short, his hands wide. “Okay, so you have a bunch of photos. And then, to match people up, you must have information on students as well?”
“That’s right. Since I don’t have a good database yet, I used basic information from the school’s connect sites. Like, what sports students play, if they’re in any honor societies or clubs or band, things like that. Then I put students into different groups and gave them different characteristics based on their online persona.” As she talked more, she started to feel a little more relaxed. Maybe he was making sure she knew enough about modeling to be a valid resource for the case with the Gartners.
“Sounds like a lot of work.”
“I guess. I had to come up with the basic assumptions. Then I let the equations do the rest.”
“And how did you get access to all of this data?”
Now she understood. That was the issue. The data.
It hit her like a wall. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. She folded and refolded her hands in her lap. “The data was from the school’s databases. I mean, data from my school was easy—we all have access to it. The other schools were a little harder. I had a program to get that data.”
Agent Paul was scribbling fast, Agent Finney was watching her, and the police officer seemed to be getting ready to tackle her in case she decided to run.
“And did you ever think that maybe getting data like this from public schools would be . . .” Agent Finney took a deep breath and rubbed his face. “Illegal?”
The word made Gin catch her breath. Illegal. Of course she should’ve thought of that.
She shook her head, fast. “The data is public to all the students. It’s not like I was getting grades or test scores or things like that. I could have gotten all this from public sources—newspapers, class lists—but it would’ve taken too long.”
Officer Finney leaned back on the couch. “I get it. And I hate what I’m going to have to say now, but I don’t have a choice. Unfortunately, not knowing something’s illegal isn’t an excuse for doing something illegal. Which is what you did when you hacked into school databases and accessed photos and information.”
His words rang through the living room. This was bad. Really bad. World-falling-apart bad. She had messed up. And she hadn’t even known it.
“You have to understand.” Her mom put an arm around Gin as though that could protect her. “Our daughter is a very good student and an excellent citizen. She would never knowingly hurt someone or do something illegal. There must be some misunderstanding here. Why did this even come up? Are there charges against Gin?”
Officer Finney grimaced. “Let’s just say we got an anonymous call from someone who was concerned. As for charges, yes, unfortunately, there are. And I’m sorry to have to do this, but it’s my job. I promise we’ll do all we can to get to the bottom of it. I don’t think you did anything bad on purpose, Gin. But this is a federal offense. So I’m going to have to arrest you.”
// Forty-Six
It wasn’t really prison that Gin went to. Just a juvenile detention center. She even had her own room. And it wasn’t made of metal bars. Though it did have a window that wouldn’t open and a wooden door that locked automatically from the outside. Sparse as it was, it was private and had a stack of books. It could’ve been worse.
But it still was devastating. Because her entire life, everything she’d worked for, was over.
Her parents were horrified. The shock on her dad’s face and the anger when he tried to challenge what was happening, along with the dampness in her mom’s eyes—it made everything worse. Her parents went with her to the center and watched her get checked in, promising they’d be back first thing in the morning. But then they had to leave.
Agent Finney was nice enough. He said that taking her in was more of a formality, that he was confident she’d be out by the next day, once a judge could set bail, which he promised wouldn’t be too high. Considering everything, he thought the char
ges would eventually be dropped or at least minimized.
But for the moment, she was in jail.
Gin sat on the thin cot in the bare, cream-colored room. The worst part was that all of this stemmed from a little side project, a stupid goal of finding a boyfriend. And now, she definitely wouldn’t be able to go to Harvard or do Ms. Sandlin’s internship or ever become a real modeler. A federal offense, even if she was cleared, would make all of that impossible. At least Lucas wasn’t in trouble. Gin had managed to keep him out of the conversation.
She should be crying. Kicking the wall. Burying her head in her pillow and yelling.
But she just sat there, eyes dry, body immobile. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, and she listened to the sounds echoing around her—banging doors and low televisions and shuffling feet. And for the first time in her life, there was no logical next step.
It smelled like bleach. And old socks. And sausage cooking.
Gin woke suddenly, blinking her eyes and looking around. She had fallen asleep on top of the cot, its thin white sheets and worn blanket still perfectly in place. The clock on the wall read seven. And she pieced together where she was.
Then she panicked.
Thankfully, there was a knock at her door—that must’ve been what woke her—and it slowly opened to reveal her parents.
Her dad was unshaven, his hair disheveled, but he was dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt. Her mom’s eyes were teary with dark circles underneath.
“Gin,” her mom said. “Oh, honey.” Her voice was so tender, it nearly made Gin cry. Instead, Gin hugged her, tight.
“We’re so sorry.” Her dad looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept all night. Which he probably hadn’t. “Would you like the good news?”
“Does it mean there’s bad news?” Gin asked even though she knew the answer. Of course there was bad news.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’” He tried to smile, but it came out more like a cringe. “The good news is you get to come home today.”
Crow Flight Page 24
