Geektastic

by Mary Frame

  I won’t tell Annabel everything, not yet, but I could give her some information and then let her choose her own path. Sneaking around like she is, she could fall into something worse.

  It doesn’t take me long to decide. If I keep her close, maybe I can keep her safe.

  Laughter distracts me for a brief second as a door opens, and music along with some preteens spill out of a door down the way. I tug her by the elbow back behind the tree, blocking us from view. “We should go somewhere to speak on this privately.”

  “Nope. Somewhere public.”

  “You don’t trust me? You’ve been in my room alone before, if memory serves.”

  Instead of answering, she purses her lips at me. “Meet me at the Finer Diner. They’re open till eleven and usually pretty slow at this time of night.” It’s close to nine. “I’ll give this back if I decide your story is worth it.” She holds up the thumb drive. “And no lying.”

  “I’ve never lied to you.” Withheld information, surely, but never lied.

  We walk in silence away from the school. She’s parked right behind where I left Reese’s VW.

  Without a word, we get into our respective vehicles and I follow her to Main Street.

  I have no doubts Annabel was following me to find a story. She’s been digging into my past, sneaking around the house. She even broke into my room before.

  I guess there’s just one question, really. Can I trust her? Even if she doesn’t trust me?

  I know she’s not indifferent to me. But she buries everything so deep I’d need an excavator to find her real feelings. Because with feelings come pain and fear. What happened to make her afraid of life?

  The Finer Diner is nearly empty. There’s only one other car in the lot. I follow her inside, through a haze of greasy burgers, onions, and coffee. She leads me to the rear of the restaurant. I slide into the red vinyl booth across from her and against the wall in order to keep an eye on the patrons coming and going.

  She watches me for a few beats, her brown eyes dark and inscrutable. “Talk.”

  I take a breath and adjust the silverware in front of me so the napkin is perpendicular to the table edge. “I’m going to tell you everything I can.” I speak slowly and carefully before meeting her eyes directly. “But first I would like the liberty of posing my own questions.”

  “What kind of questions?” Her arms cross over her chest.

  “Nothing untoward, I assure you.”

  Her lips purse. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  Our gazes clash for a long moment and I try not to focus on the pink lushness of her lips, remembering the feel of them.

  “Fine,” she says finally. “But I reserve the right to not answer.”

  I nod. She wouldn’t answer if she didn’t want to anyway, and I wouldn’t press her into anything uncomfortable. “Why do you work for the paper?”

  She blinks and her head tilts to one side. “What do you mean?”

  I fiddle with the butter knife on the napkin. “Let’s just say I’m questioning your journalistic integrity before I spill all my secrets. If I’m giving you something, I need a little something in return, and I’m not asking for much.”

  She watches me carefully, but before she can respond, the server comes over with a couple of waters.

  “Annabel, darlin’, how are you, honey?” The waitress side-eyes me. She’s in her midseventies, her white hair pulled back under a bandana. She’s wearing a matching red-and-white-checkered apron with Finer Diner scrawled on the front.

  “I’m good, Cathy. How is it going tonight?”

  So she doesn’t care when other people call her darlin’. Her aversion for the term must be specific to me.

  “Oh, you know how it is, there’s a football game, so we won’t get any traffic till the game lets out. Who’s your friend?”

  “Jude, Cathy. Cathy, Jude,” Annabel monotones.

  But Cathy is all smiles. “Oh, I just love that name, reminds me of the song.”

  “Thank you kindly, ma’am, but I don’t believe you are nearly old enough to remember any songs with my name in the title.”

  She giggles and pats my hand. “Oh, bless your heart, you just made this old lady as happy as a tick on a fat dog.”

  Annabel is scowling at me and I widen my smile.

  “Annabel, you’ve found a good one here. And I’ll tell you, I know you are gonna be a highfalutin writer someday, but we sure do miss you round these parts.” She leans in my direction, like she’s letting me in on a secret. “Annabel here was the best when the soft serve was acting up. She could get in that machine and work it like you wouldn’t believe.”

  Annabel’s scowl has deepened and she’s turning a delightful shade of bright pink.

  “I bet she excelled at many aspects of her job.”

  “Oh yes, the customers loved her. She could memorize orders no matter how many there were in a party, and on busy nights, she was a lifesaver. All while she was in school, too. Girl has more stamina than any of us, I reckon.”

  “Stamina is an important ability,” I add, for the sole purpose of watching Annabel’s face turn scarlet.

  Cathy nods at me. “When you’re on your feet all night, you bet your bottom dollar it is.”

  Annabel coughs. “Thanks, Cathy. That’s so nice of you. Uh, can we get two burgers and fries with chocolate shakes?”

  “Oh right, of course, honey. No problem.” She takes our menus and gives us both a beatific smile, patting Annabel on the hand before waltzing off to the kitchen to put in our order.

  “How much stamina do you have, darlin’?”

  She narrows her eyes on me. “Don’t call me that. I think there was something else you wanted to talk about?”

  Still smiling, I hold up my hands in supplication. “Right. You were telling me why you want to be a highfalutin writer someday.”

  She bites her lip and plays with the napkin on the table in front of her, flipping up one edge with her thumb before adjusting it to be perpendicular to the edge of the table. The same way I have mine set. I suppress a smile at her subconscious mimicry.

  “I . . . I’ve just always been drawn to writing.”

  It’s a true statement, but I can’t shake the sense she’s hiding something. And so I give in to my intuition and give her a little nudge. “Do you even want to be a journalist?”

  She blinks at me. “What do you mean?”

  Definitely hiding something. “Why do you want to be a writer?”

  “Why does that matter?”

  Defensive. I adjust tactics. “What made you think I’m not just your friendly, neighborhood party guy?”

  Her shoulders relax slightly. “The computer equipment in your closet. It’s a high-tech setup. Why would you need all of that?”

  “You really are a snoop, aren’t you?”

  She shrugs and takes a sip of her water, her eyes darting away.

  “I’ll answer your question if you tell me how do you feel about ethical grey areas. Things that are morally . . . ambiguous.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What if someone does something illegal, but for a good reason? Do you think exposing them is fair and ethical when the person could go to jail for it?”

  “Like what, specifically?”

  I wave a hand. “Like someone stealing a loaf of bread to feed a hungry child.”

  She blinks. “I don’t think someone would go to jail for taking a loaf of bread from the grocer.”

  “Let’s say it’s a lot more than a loaf of bread but for just as good a reason.”

  Her head tilts as she considers the question. “I guess it would depend on the details of the situation.”

  “So if I were to tell you about something with moral ambiguity, something that could potentially hurt someone I care about, would you keep those bits to yourself?”

  Her mouth thins and she taps the table with a finger. “I don’t want to get anyone in any kinda trouble, but if you’ve done something ille
gal and you’re expecting me to—”

  “No. Not me.” Our eyes lock. “I’m trusting you, Annabel. I’m trusting you to understand how good people sometimes do what they must to survive and protect those they love.”

  She doesn’t counter right away, thankfully. I won’t get her full cooperation until she considers all the implications of what she might be getting herself into. And I need that cooperation, not just for her sake, but also for Grace’s.

  She nods and her expression is smooth and serious. “I understand what you’re saying. I can keep certain aspects confidential as long as it doesn’t hinder the integrity of the story.”

  “It won’t.”

  “Fine then. I won’t betray your trust.”

  The bell over the front door gives a jaunty jangle and we both turn and watch a group of teenagers spill into the diner, laughing. They head to a booth near the front window, and once they’re seated, I turn back to Annabel to find her watching me with somber eyes.

  Now it’s my turn to take a drink of the water in front of me. Where do I begin? I suppose I’ll stick to what’s relevant, for the moment.

  “I came to Blue Falls at the direction of a friend who may be in trouble.”

  Her head cocks to one side, throwing a long strand of blonde hair onto her cheek. I tighten my hand to avoid reaching out to brush it away. “A friend?”

  A pause fills the air between us, lingering a moment, then two. “Grace.”

  Annabel blinks rapidly and then takes a sip of her water, the only sign my words have any significance. “Grace?”

  “Yes.”

  “You . . . don’t know if she’s in trouble or not?”

  “It’s a bit complicated.”

  Her eyes roll so hard they might tumble out her head. “Break it down for me and we’ll see if I can comprehend.”

  “Grace has”—I spread my hands on the table—“unique talents.”

  One elegant brow lifts. “Really?”

  “Before you start feeling jealous,” I can’t help but smile at her clear displeasure at the mention of another lady, “let me assure you that Grace and I are merely friends.”

  “I wasn’t jealous,” she clips.

  Well, now I must tease her a little. “I understand it might be difficult for you to hear me speaking of another woman, but I promise she’s more like a sister.”

  She groans. “I don’t care, Jude. Get to the point. What are these unique talents?”

  Still smiling, I continue. “You mentioned seeing the setup in my closet. What I have, what I can do . . . I’m like a toddler compared to what Grace is capable of.”

  “So she’s, what, a hacker?”

  “Yes, but it’s more than that. She’s not just some script kiddie.” I glance around the diner. The teens over in the corner are using their straws to blow wads of napkin at each other. Cathy is yelling something at the cook in the back. I lower my voice anyway. “Grace has the capacity to crack into the most secure servers. She’s obtained backdoor access to literally every alphabet agency you can think of and a few more most people don’t even know exist. She can get in and out without detection as easy as you or I walk through a door.”

  “Okaaay.”

  “She’s here in Blue Falls, and she’s been sending me messages periodically, and I’ve been trying to assist her with her ventures here.”

  Her eyes are shrewd. “But you don’t know what she’s up to?”

  I wince. “I have an inkling.”

  “Which is?”

  “I’m afraid I’m unable to give you more information unless you decide to help. If you’re all in, I’ll trust you. But I can’t risk Grace by revealing too much until you’re sure you want to be involved.”

  “Fair enough. But I have more questions and you’ve got to give me a smidge more before I can make any kind of decision.”

  Cathy comes over with our plates. “Here’s two classic burgers and fries and milkshakes.” She takes the items from the tray she’s holding and sets them in front of us along with ketchup and some extra napkins. “Anything else I can get y’all?”

  “Thank you, ma’am. You’re so good at your job we have everything we need before we even have to ask.” I smile at her.

  She pats me on the shoulder. “You let me know if you need anything, sugar,” she calls behind her as she walks off.

  We dig into our food for a few quiet minutes. A couple of the kids push buttons on the jukebox and strains of “What’s New Pussycat?” fill the diner.

  “What are the rest of your questions?” I finally ask.

  “Why did Grace guide you here? To help her? If she’s so good, why does she need you?”

  “Grace is a genius. She can do nearly anything with a computer. But she’s also just a kid.”

  Her brows lift and she stops midchew. “Wait. A kid? How old is she?”

  “Seventeen.”

  She watches me for a full ten seconds and then goes back to her burger and we continue our meal in silence. I glance up at her periodically, watching her chew on the information I’ve given her.

  “Your question to me, about the moral ambiguity.” She’s moved on to her fries, dipping one into her chocolate shake before tossing it in her mouth.

  “What about it?”

  “Grace. She’s participating in illegal hacktivist-type activities. Yeah?”

  “More or less. You should probably know, it’s not only for herself. Or for me. She also has a brother whom she’s taken care of her whole life. She feels responsible for him, for a variety of reasons.”

  “He’s younger than her?”

  “No, actually, he’s a couple years older, but he’s got a bit of a problem with communication and Grace is his only real family left. I consider them both family even if we aren’t blood relations.”

  She stares at me, realization crashing over her face like a wave. “Grace is Beast’s sister.”

  Chapter Five

  When falsehood can look so like the truth, who can assure themselves of certain happiness?

  ―Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

  Annabel

  Jude nods at my proclamation and pops a fry in his mouth, all nonchalant, like he’s not dropping one bomb after another right in my face. “Grace had been using her skills to . . . appropriate funds from other hackers who had nefarious intent. At least, that’s what she had been doing before we became acquainted.”

  “So Grace was breaking the law in an effort to support herself and Beast?”

  He wipes his mouth with his napkin and settles it back down on the table, leaning forward. “She didn’t really have many choices. She and Beast were too young to get any kind of legitimate work. When we left Valdosta, I was seventeen. Grace was only nine and Beast was thirteen. At that point, I was able to step in and help support us so she could cut back on some of her extracurricular activities.”

  I consider his words for a second. “But not cease them altogether?”

  His smile is rueful. “Not quite. Old habits die hard, and Grace obtains too much personal satisfaction from besting bad guys. But I did convince her to go to school—online—and that’s when she also started working on a special project. One that I think is the reason she ended up here in Blue Falls.”

  Curiosity eats at me, but I know he won’t feed me all the details quite yet. “I just don’t understand why any kind of hacker would need to come here. Nothing exciting ever happens in Blue Falls.”

  He shrugs. “The program Grace was working on would be beneficial to many. Government agencies, businesses, and also those with more malicious intent wanting to get an edge on their competition.”

  Malicious intent? If there’s something illegal going on . . . “Why don’t you go to the police?”

  “I was specifically advised that may not be a viable option.”

  I snort. “Really? Like someone on the Blue Falls PD is a bad guy? The cops in this town aren’t exactly IT professionals.”

  “Be that as it may, I don’t
have enough details at this juncture to be making those kinds of decisions. I took the liberty of reviewing the background checks conducted on everyone who works at the local station, but they’re all squeaky clean. Which is what I would expect, considering most people of a villainous nature would excel at covering their tracks. I’m trusting Grace. Whether that choice proves itself to be a poor one remains to be seen. Although she’s never steered me wrong before.”

  “Before? Has she done this before?”

  He shakes his head. “While Grace is endowed with a strongly independent nature and in the past would sometimes take off for a day or two, it’s never been like this. And to be quite frank, I’m worried about her.”

  “Why?”

  “Grace is the smartest person I know. She can do nearly anything with a computer, but she’s still just a kid and she needs help with more . . . basic needs. She’ll get so involved in work she’ll forget to eat and the like. Brilliant on computers, yes. Brilliant when it comes to more common-sense issues, not so much. When I found her and Beast, he was half starved because she has no comprehension about how much a fella his size needs to eat.”

  “Why do you need my help?”

  “You have my flash drive.”

  “Oh, come on, Jude. You and I both know you could take it from me if you really wanted.” I pull it out of my purse and hand it over.

  He takes the drive from me, slipping it in his pocket. Then he waves an airy hand. “I could use another person in this game. You know people in town. You can help me accomplish some of the tasks Grace has set for me. I’m an outsider. You have established connections I just don’t have. And you’re a reporter. We may need someone to tell the story when it’s all said and done.”

  I snort. “I don’t know what kind of townie power you think I have, but I can barely get people to tell me what their favorite ice cream flavor is.”

  “I think I can determine whether your helpfulness is worth the risk.”

  I bite my lip, thinking hard. This could be dangerous. Yes, it’s a story. Yes, it could potentially save my job. Yes, it would mean not telling Fitz he’s back to sleeping in his truck next month or Momma that her daughter is a big, fat failure. But is it worth getting involved? “I need to think about it.”