The knitting needles kept their steady clicking. “Oh, I’m so sorry for you. Terrible thing. It’s been kind of lonely here in the waiting room. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”
I sat back down. Looked like escape was not in my cards. “Why are you here?”
“My daughter was hit by a car last night. She’s in surgery now.”
I swallowed hard. Was this woman’s daughter the pedestrian hit by Mr. Matthews? A lot of people were hit by cars every day, but I couldn’t discount the fact that there was a significantly higher statistical chance she’d have been brought to this hospital along with Mr. Matthews. Then another horrible thought occurred to me.
“This isn’t the pregnant daughter, right?”
“No, thankfully.” She stopped her knitting and looked at me. “Her younger sister.”
“I’m sorry. I hope she’s going to be okay.”
“Oh, don’t you worry. She’s a fighter, my Anna. She’s going to pull through.”
“I sincerely hope so.”
Wally wandered over and plopped down in a seat next to me, holding a bag of chips. “You’re his niece? That’s the best you could come up with on a moment’s notice?”
I jerked my head toward the knitting lady and narrowed my eyes, silently urging him to be quiet. He got the message, but rolled his eyes and opened the bag with a single pop.
Frankie returned from the bathroom and sat next to Wally. Without missing a beat, she immediately struck up a conversation about knitting with the lady, who seemed delighted by Frankie’s knowledge. They chatted animatedly while I watched in wonder. I had no idea how or why Frankie would ever want to strike up a conversation with a complete stranger on purpose, and then enjoy it, but apparently, she did.
The mysteries of life—especially those involving interacting with people—confused me.
After a few minutes, the nurse returned and walked right up to me. “Your uncle is not awake, but I’ll take you in for a moment if you still want to see him.”
Disappointment swept through me, but I nodded. “Yes, please.”
“Your friends must wait here. It’s family only.”
“Okay. I understand.”
I made eye contact with Wally, who nodded slightly before I followed the nurse. We walked down the corridor to the next to the last door on the right side. She peeked in and then motioned for me to enter.
I took a couple of unsteady steps toward the bed. Mr. Matthews lay still, with his hands resting on his stomach. He was hooked up to a bunch of machines. There were wires in his arms, on his fingers, and snaking beneath his hospital gown. The constant hum of the machines sounded like a hive of bees. The room was cool, and the air smelled like antiseptic and bleach. He seemed a lot smaller in the bed than he did in real life. His eyes were closed, dark stubble covered his cheeks, and his eyes were shrouded in dark, bruised circles.
“Is he…” I cleared my throat. “Is he going to make it?”
She patted me on the shoulder. “He’s not giving up. I understand he’s a tough guy. That works in his favor. Plus, he’s in good hands here.”
I nodded, wanting to believe her. I took a step closer to the bed and stared at him for a long moment, willing him to open his eyes. He didn’t. I touched his hand, and it was cold.
“Hey, Mr. Matthews, it’s me, Angel,” I whispered.
The nurse glanced at me puzzled. “You call your uncle Mr. Matthews?”
Oh, snap. What was I thinking?
“Uh, yeah, we’re, ah, formal like that.”
She looked at me like I was certifiable but didn’t say anything else. We stood for another minute staring at Mr. Matthews, but he didn’t move.
“Are you ready to go?” The nurse touched my shoulder. Her eyes were full of sympathy. I didn’t know how she and other nurses did it day in and day out. Taking care of people who were sick, injured, or dying and keeping a smile on your face while you did it. There had to be a special place in heaven for them.
I was about to nod when some objects leaning against the wall on the other side of the bed caught my eye. The room was dim, so I couldn’t make them out clearly, but they looked odd.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing at the objects.
She followed my gaze and walked over. I followed close behind. She unplugged one of the objects and lifted it up as I gasped and took a step back.
“That’s…a leg,” I managed to get out.
“Legs, to be exact. They’re your uncle’s prostheses.”
Chapter Fourteen
ANGEL SINCLAIR
Wally and Frankie took one look at my face when I came out of Mr. Matthews’s room and didn’t say anything. I waited until we were in the parking lot before I spoke.
“You aren’t going to believe this,” I finally said.
Wally put a hand on my arm. “The expression on your face is killing me. Was it that terrible? Is he going to die?”
“No.” I closed my eyes, took a breath. “I mean, I hope he doesn’t die. He had so many tubes and machines hooked up to him, it’s hard to tell. He’s badly banged up, but the nurse said even though he’s unconscious, he’s not giving up. But that’s not the issue. I saw his legs.”
Frankie clapped a hand over her mouth. “OMG! Were they crushed?”
“No. They were plugged into the wall.”
“What?” Frankie and Wally exclaimed at the same time.
“He has prostheses,” I explained. “Two legs, to be exact.”
“Oh, no! He lost both legs in the accident?” Wally’s expression was horrified.
“No.” I shook my head. “I think he’s had them for some time.”
Frankie looked at me, stunned. “Mr. Matthews has fake legs?”
“Yes. But these are remarkably lifelike legs and feet.” I ran my fingers through my hair and started pacing behind the car. “That’s why he didn’t feel the bleacher when it rolled up on his foot.”
“A bleacher rolled on his foot?” Wally asked. He looked between me and Frankie in bewilderment. “What don’t I know?”
“I’ll tell you about it later. I need to think for a moment.” My mind was racing. I needed to rationalize, put everything in order. “I didn’t get a chance to examine the prostheses thoroughly, but from what I did see, they were highly advanced. Not like a lump of plastic or a metal contraption. It was simulated skin that looked totally real. The limbs appeared fluid, bendable. They’re rechargeable. I had no idea he had them. His walk was normal, not stiff or jerky at all. He drove a Corvette, for crying out loud.”
Wally still looked stunned, but after a moment he nodded. “Do you think he was in the military?”
“There’s only one way to know for sure.”
Wally met my gaze over the trunk of his car. He understood exactly what I was getting at. “Time to get hacking.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “The sooner the better.”
Since Wally and Frankie had their laptops in their backpacks, we decided to go to my apartment. We had three hours before my mom came home from work, so we could focus in peace without interruption. Plus, I had excellent Wi-Fi speed.
On the way, Frankie and I caught Wally up on the incident with the bleachers. Then I told them about the mysterious man in Mr. Matthews’s office the day of the accident.
“You and Frankie almost became bleacher pancakes?” Wally said. “Are you kidding me?”
“I wish I were. Even worse, I don’t think it was an accident,” I said. “Someone slipped out from behind those bleachers.”
Frankie shuddered. “If it hadn’t been for Mr. Matthews, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”
Wally took a right at the next corner, then slid a thoughtful glance at me. “Do you think it was the guy in Mr. Matthews’s office?”
“Why would he try to hurt me?”
“Maybe you weren’t the target. Maybe Mr. Matthews was.”
That hadn’t crossed my mind, mostly because he hadn’t been between the blea
chers when they started to close. But what if someone had figured he might step in to save us? It was hard to say. People didn’t go around trying to murder high school kids and teachers.
Or did they?
All of this meant we didn’t have answers, only more questions. Questions we needed to start finding answers to before anyone else got hurt.
When we got to my apartment, Mr. Toodles started yipping like a maniac. Fierce guard dog that he was, he made instant friends with Frankie. She volunteered to take him out for a short walk while Wally and I set up the computers on the dining room table. I crawled under the table connecting everyone and making sure we were all logged in to the Wi-Fi.
“I like your place,” Frankie declared after returning from the walk. She held Mr. Toodles in her arms, and he licked her chin. She didn’t seem to mind. “Do you have any snacks?”
“Check the kitchen,” I said from under the table. “Coke and water bottles in the fridge and potato chips in the cabinet to the top right of the sink.”
Frankie set Mr. Toodles down, to his great disappointment, and went in search of snacks. He followed her into the kitchen. Once we had fuel and drinks, we got to work. After less than twenty minutes, I shot Frankie a couple documents for review that I’d been able to obtain after two laughably quick hacks. Wally said he’d work on the Department of Defense connection because he had an established method in. I didn’t ask how or why. I wanted to review the latest report from the police station and see what I could find, if anything.
We worked steadily for two hours, stopping only for bathroom breaks and more snacks. Frankie and Wally made a lot of notes on the pads of paper next to their laptops, but other than some random calculations, I kept everything in my head. Finally, I glanced at the time on my computer and called a stop.
Standing up, I stretched my arms above my head. “Let’s compare what we’ve found so far, guys. My mom should be home soon, and I don’t want her to know what we’re doing.”
Frankie stopped typing and looked up from the keyboard. Mr. Toodles snored softly from her lap and she petted him lightly. “I take it she doesn’t approve of you hacking.”
“She doesn’t know I’m hacking. But in case you were wondering, there is an important distinction to be made here. What I’m doing is hacking, not cracking. Cracking involves malicious intent. I’m what people in the industry call a white hat. I’m just looking. Not changing anything, not stealing anything, not hurting anyone.”
“It’s still an invasion of privacy,” she pointed out.
“True, but this is a desperate situation. We’re trying to help Mr. Matthews, clear his name. He’d probably give us his information if we were trying to help him, right?”
She nodded reluctantly. “I guess so.”
Wally pushed back his chair and stood, rolling his neck. “Well, I think there’s nothing more exciting than a good hack. Do I go first in reporting my findings?”
“Sure. Fire away.” I lifted the water bottle to my mouth and drained it. After wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I screwed the top back on. “Did you find anything in the DoD database?”
“I did. Ryan Matthews enlisted in the marine corps when he was eighteen years old with both legs intact.” Wally picked up his notebook and referred to his notes. “He went to boot camp and graduated at the top of his class. After that he went SOI, which stands for School of Infantry. After an exemplary performance, he was picked up for the marines’ security forces and went through special training. He had a couple of years stateside in various positions before he received his first overseas duty assignment—Iraq.”
“No wonder he’s so tough.” I picked up another water bottle. “He was in the Special Forces. Continue.”
“He was given the designation of a critical skill operator, or CSO. I guess the CSO guys are tough as nails and multitalented. These guys are trained to execute different kinds of missions, so Mr. Matthews would be considered well rounded in terms of expertise with weapons, hand-to-hand combat, and evasion. Without being an expert on the exact differences, I would say it’s kind of comparable to what the Navy SEALs do.”
“Mr. Matthews is a stud.” Frankie picked up a chip. “Not like we didn’t know that already. Still, how extraordinary. To think that after all that amazing training, he ended up at our high school. I hope he’s not too disappointed with us.”
Wally took a swig of his Coke and continued. “Mr. Matthews served three tours in Iraq. During his last tour and on a trip between two of the bases, his Humvee was ambushed and the vehicle disabled. The driver was shot and killed. According to the report, Mr. Matthews, Private Rick Johnson—a working-dog handler—and his dog, Ruby, escaped and notified others of the attack. They were eventually rescued. On the way back to the base, Ruby alerted them of a suspected improvised explosive device, or IED. When the team dispersed to determine a safe route, Private Johnson stepped on an undiscovered IED. Private Johnson was killed instantly, Ruby was badly injured, and Mr. Matthews, who was standing next to Private Johnson, lost both legs.”
He paused. The room had become deadly quiet. Tears shimmered in Frankie’s eyes. I understood what she was feeling, because I was dangerously close to tears myself, and I never cried.
Wally cleared his throat and continued. “Anyway, Mr. Matthews was given an honorable discharge. He spent the next three years in medical recovery, much of it at Walter Reed medical center in Bethesda.”
“Three years?” Frankie gasped.
Wally nodded, pressing his lips together. Adjusting his glasses on his nose, he continued reading. “About the same time, he took online courses and eventually got a bachelor’s degree in education. He taught four years at an elementary school in Bethesda while getting a master’s degree. His next job was to get hired as the vice principal of Excalibur Academy.”
The heavy weight that had settled on my chest did not let up. A lot more things were making sense now, but it didn’t make it any easier to know the difficulties Mr. Matthews had been through.
“Can you shoot me a summary of that when you get a chance?” I asked Wally.
“Sure.” He sat back down in the chair and grabbed the potato chip bag, emptying some more into his bowl. He looked paler than usual. This search into Mr. Matthews’s life was taking a toll on all of us.
I glanced at Frankie, who still looked like she was trying to pull herself together. To her credit, when she saw me looking her way, she straightened. “Okay, I guess I’m next up. I first went through the rental agreement you sent me. Mr. Matthews lives in Silver Spring in a one-bedroom apartment on the first floor. He lives alone and does not list any extended family—no ex-wife, kids, or parents—on the agreement. Ms. Eder, our school secretary, is named as emergency contact. The emergency contact number is the main number for Excalibur.”
“That’s sad even by my standards,” Wally commented. “Who would want Ms. Eder as an emergency contact?”
Frankie pursed her lips at him and he shrugged, stuffing more chips in his mouth.
“Apparently, he pays his rent on time, has never had a complaint lodged against him, and has few to no visitors, according to the comments on his tenant sheet written by the rental manager,” she continued. “He uses the facility gym regularly and has one assigned parking spot, which is included in his rent.”
“Thanks, Frankie,” I said. “Anything else?”
“Well, according the DMV, he has no outstanding tickets. He received a speeding ticket two years ago in his Corvette, but he paid it promptly without going to court. He was going seventy-three miles per hour in a sixty-five-miles-per-hour zone on the highway. Prior to yesterday, he’d never been in an accident, let alone one that caused injuries to others.”
“One measly ticket,” Wally said. “He did not run over that woman on purpose.”
“Agreed,” I said. “What did you get from his school phone and email list that I sent you, Frankie?”
“Well, naturally, he has the emails of all the kids an
d parents at Excalibur, not to mention his own contacts. When I cross-referenced the name Vincent—the name you heard Mr. Matthews call that guy in his office—I got nine hits. Four of the Vincents appear to be fathers or guardians of Excalibur students. One Vincent has the designation BL next to his name, and the three others don’t have any description, just a phone number.”
“We are going to have to run those down,” I said. “Good work. It’s definitely a thread to pull.” I put my water bottle down and perched on a corner of the table.
“Okay, my turn. But before I go, what I’m going to say stays between the three of us, okay? This is not for public consumption. I guess it’s because I’m not even sure Mr. Matthews would have shared it with us to clear his name. It’s highly confidential. But as it’s in the police report and it could be important to our investigation, I’m going to share it with you.”
I had deeply conflicting feelings about revealing this information, even though I trusted Wally and Frankie to keep it quiet. But what if they didn’t? My hack could ruin his life, and that would totally be on me. Could I live with that?
I decided I didn’t have a choice. I needed to trust someone. Mr. Matthews’s life was as good as ruined anyway if we couldn’t clear his name.
“Can I have your promise that this stays between us only?” I asked.
Wally and Frankie nodded, serious expressions on their faces. I supposed short of a signed declaration—which wouldn’t be legal anyway—that would have to be enough.
I took a deep breath. “I hope you’re ready, because you are going to see Mr. Matthews like you’ve never seen him before.”
Chapter Fifteen
CANDACE KIM
Crypto-Secure Phone
From: Executive Director, Research Directorate ED/RD
To: DIR NSOC
Classification: Top Secret, No Foreign
2320 GMT
Message Follows:
White Knights Page 8
