Five in a Row

by Jan Coffey

  “Not too many people know what we’re working on right now. There have been no media leaks, either,” Adam said. “Are you saying someone is trying to make a point? Are you saying Ben’s accident was a scare tactic?”

  “I know it sounds far-fetched, but I hate coincidences.” She shrugged. “I have a sick feeling that this might be bigger than we think…that this person is more powerful and more dangerous than we might be giving him or her credit for.”

  Emily found it necessary to speak her mind. “Gina’s hypothesis could be right. If there’s a person or a group of people behind this, it’s entirely possible that they could pick out anyone’s car and take control of it.”

  Adam frowned. “It is pretty coincidental that Ben’s car took a short flight into a cow pasture.”

  “Then why hasn’t our guy done this more often,” Ben challenged. “Why six cars and not sixty or six hundred? If this psycho can do this at will, why not make some extortion demands? With just a few key accidents, this guy could shut down the nation’s entire transportation system, extort zillions of dollars from the government and industry?”

  “Maybe this is the tip of the iceberg,” Gina answered. “Maybe he’s working himself up to that.”

  “It could be that he’s testing his capabilities,” Emily suggested.

  Gina’s face was grim. “We need to issue some kind of preliminary report. At least, warn the people who hired us what might be happening.”

  Ben shook his head. “We don’t know what’s happening. We have no proof yet. And you know as well as I do that these companies aren’t going to recall four million or more cars based on mere suspicion of foul play. Unless the proof is demonstrable, the automakers will circle their wagons and start shooting.” He turned his gaze on Emily. “I hate to put this much pressure on you, but we have to get something concrete before we go any further.”

  “Get me to the body shop where they took your car, give me a mechanic to help me and I’ll start on it tonight.”

  “I didn’t mean tonight,” Ben objected. “You have enough on your plate, as is.”

  “I agree with Gina about the urgency of this. We can’t waste time. Besides, I’ve already gotten the names of a couple of engineers who are experts on Aston Martins. The six-hour difference in time with England will even work to our advantage.”

  He shook his head.

  “I can access the disk-imaging tools,” Emily continued, “at a computer forensics lab in Meriden any time of the day. That’s a half hour from here. If I get started on it soon enough, we might have something to work with by tomorrow morning.”

  She gave him an “end-of-discussion” look. She was a professional at work.

  “No,” he said. “I don’t want you working alone in some body shop or lab overnight. Tomorrow morning is soon enough.”

  She looked at him coolly. “I’m starting right away.”

  “I’ll check myself out of this hospital and postpone tomorrow’s surgery if that’s what I need to do. Remember what happened at the track yesterday? Your answering machine this morning? He’s out there, and he may be following you.”

  She saw Gina and Adam exchange looks. Neither had been told of Emily’s stalker. She didn’t think this was a good time to bring it up, either. That was a personal problem. She hadn’t done anything regarding security that she’d planned to do today, but Conor was out of harm’s way, and Emily didn’t think she’d be any more vulnerable working at the lab than she would be at home.

  “I’ll stick with her, Ben,” Adam said, breaking the long pause. “Also, I think I can round up the same crew who worked on the Petersons’ car for a few extra bucks. They were a pretty knowledgeable bunch.”

  “Look,” Emily said gently, drawing Ben’s tired gaze. “You’ve done a great job recruiting me into your merry band. I’m here. Let me do my job.”

  Nineteen

  “No fatalities. Too bad.”

  Lyden continued skimming the early coverage of the accident on the Wickfield Herald online. The article listed the unnamed driver as being in guarded condition. Satisfied for now, he dialed Emily’s home number. Just like the last dozen times he’d tried today, there was no answer. She’d obviously disconnected her answering machine, too. He tried her cell phone number again, but hung up when her voice mail kicked in.

  Distance was getting to be a problem. Lyden sat back in his chair and started cracking his knuckles, his eyes focused on her picture. She was so beautiful. As much as he was tempted to go, he couldn’t drive to Connecticut and get back and make it to work tomorrow. He was two days in the hole for sick time, had no vacation days left and he’d been warned more times than he could count about coming in late. They were watching him now.

  The company he worked for was downsizing. Since starting there, right out of college almost two and half years ago, the number of software engineers had been cut in half. And they weren’t done. Luckily, seniority meant nothing to the sharks running the place. Still, when they wanted to get rid of you, the ax fell. Every week, it seemed like pink slips were being passed out.

  Money was important to Lyden. He liked the idea of having a paycheck every other week. He also benefited from the variety of security clearances working there gave him.

  It had occurred to him a while ago, that it was important for him to have somewhere to go, a place away from Emily. There were times when he had to occupy his mind with something other than her. He was in love with her, and he knew it was only a matter of time before she fell for him, too, and they’d be together. Still, it was matter of sanity. Dwelling on her too much played with his mind. It made him do stupid things. He was a rational person, in charge of himself and his life. He wanted to keep it that way, and he reminded himself of that right now.

  His mental pep talk dissipated like smoke in the wind, though, as Lyden noticed the activity on Emily’s computer at the café. Three computers at home, one at work and a laptop she took on the road with her. He monitored her systems twenty-four/seven, wherever she went. He knew who she sent e-mails to and who e-mailed her back. He knew which sites she visited and how long she spent on which page. He found it interesting that she’d been doing all that work on drive-by-wire systems first thing this morning. That was a new interest for her, and he liked it.

  Following the action on the screen, Lyden frowned, disappointed. It was her son online. Almost immediately, Emily’s son was talking simultaneously with seven other kids.

  Lyden picked up his remote and switched on the stereo. Eminem. Just right. The music faded into the background, though, as he read the text of the instant messages Conor was exchanging with his friends.

  The teenager had to postpone having Jake come and stay with them. Conor wasn’t going to be home. He was supposed to stay overnight at his aunt’s and maybe even go there after school tomorrow. Conor’s mother was tied up with some work. Important stuff. A girl from one of his classes wanted Conor to stay after school tomorrow to help her with a lab.

  Lyden felt his patience wearing thin as he followed along. He didn’t care about this shit. He wanted to hear about Emily. He wanted to know where she was, what she was doing, when she was coming back.

  He decided to get into the act. Kicking off the girl with the science problem was no problem. Signing on using her IM identity was even easier.

  Twenty

  It wasn’t a date. Ashley was only asking for Conor’s help with the lab. Still, the teenager felt his face growing hot. One foot had started a soft tap dance on the floor. His fingers moved briskly over the keyboard. He just hoped he sounded casual, making sure to pause a beat or two before responding to Ashley’s comments.

  Just be cool, he told himself. Don’t sound overeager.

  He was giving Jake the name of a song he’d just downloaded on his iPod when he saw Ashley’s IM disappear off the screen. His friends came on and off all the time. He sometimes kept track of the traffic, sometimes he didn’t. Ashley’s screen name, though, he always kept an eye on.


  “Crap,” he whispered, hoping she didn’t think he was ignoring her.

  It was only seconds before Ashley was back online. Conor let out a sigh of relief when he saw her box flashing at him.

  is ur mom out of town?

  no, Conor answered. she’s around. how did you do on the quiz today?

  okay.

  did you get the last problem?

  not enough time.

  Conor paused. Ashley was one of the first ones who’d handed the quiz back. The thumbs-up she’d given him afterward contradicted what she was saying now.

  is she at ur aunts 2?

  dunno…maybe…depends on when she gets back. what size poster board do you want me to pick up?

  whatever.

  what color, Conor asked. The two of them had to make a presentation on the lab they were doing at the end of next week. Ashley had given him a long lecture this morning about how their work had to be colorful, exciting. She’d made it clear there was no way in heck she was going along with some typed-up text and graphs on a boring white background.

  white.

  Conor frowned at the screen. He made a couple of quick replies to other friends as the boxes popped up.

  Ashley wrote again. whats she working on now…your mom?

  Conor remembered Ashley telling him how impressed her parents were with what his mother did for a living after the back-to-school night.

  stuff, he wrote. He decided to change the subject. we’re getting a dog.

  kewl…what stuff is she doing?

  not a stuffed one. a real doooooggggg, he repeated, making sure she’d read it.

  keeewwwlll, she wrote back. what stuff is your mom doing?

  security stuff. Conor stared at the screen. Something wasn’t right. Something definitely wasn’t right. she has a new project and a new boss.

  who is it?…i thought she works for herself.

  Conor’s fingers drummed on the desk for a couple of seconds. Ashley was crazy about dogs. The inside of her locker was plastered with a hundred different pictures of them. She was like a walking encyclopedia when it came to different breeds and temperaments. And she always had an opinion when someone was interested in getting one. Still, she’d ignored his comment. Conor didn’t like it.

  He could hear his aunt Liz talking to Detective Simpson out at the café counter area. The restaurant was closed. Their voices echoed in the open space and snatches of their conversation reached him. Conor knew the detective had stopped by to pick up a box of stuff that someone had sent his mom. Liz had been reading the detective the riot act from the minute he came through the door. She was upset about why nothing had been done already about the weirdo.

  Conor thought for a second and then started typing. u met him at the racetrack yesterday.

  There was a pause. The teenager ignored the rest of his friends’ flashing IM boxes. His heart was pounding in his chest. He felt a knot starting to tighten in his throat as he waited for Ashley to deny it.

  oh yeah…I didnt know he wuz her boss…whats his name?

  “Aunt Liz?” Conor shouted over his shoulder in panic. He didn’t want to lose the connection or end the discussion.

  didja see me in the pace car? he asked, stalling.

  “What’s wrong?” Liz rushed into the office with Detective Simpson right behind her.

  “I’m talking to him. Mom’s stalker. I’m sure of it. He bumped my friend Ashley offline, and now he’s pretending he’s her. He’s asking all kinds of questions about where Mom is.”

  that was very kewl, the answer came back.

  Simpson moved right behind Conor, looking over his shoulder. The teenager scrolled up quickly, giving the detective a look at everything that had been said.

  “I’ll save the text of it,” he said.

  “Definitely do that,” Simpson said. “Say something. Don’t lose him.”

  it wuz the kewlest thing ever, Conor typed.

  “Can you trace him?” Liz asked.

  “No, he’s too clever for that. We can’t even chase down the damn phone calls.”

  who got u into the pace car??

  Conor looked up at the detective and saw his nod before answering.

  same guy…my moms new boss

  “Say nice things about Ben,” Simpson instructed. “Praise him. Brag. Make up stuff, if you have to. Don’t give him Ben’s name, though.”

  That wasn’t too tough, and he didn’t even have to lie. Conor typed away about what a great guy he is and how he knows all these racing people. He kept Ben’s name out of it.

  wow, was the only response.

  “Now tell him, on top of it all, he and your mom are an item.”

  “What are you doing?” Liz asked, obviously shocked by the direction. “The creep will only get pissed off if Conor tells him that. He’ll try to hurt her.”

  “Conor can’t ask the stalker to meet us somewhere. Not when the weasel is pretending to be someone else. I want to take this guy in a different direction.” Jeremy nodded to Conor, and the teenager started typing.

  funny…after all these years my mom has a boyfriend…thats kewl 2 tho…he could b good for her.

  Conor paused when Jeremy put a hand on his shoulder. “Wait.”

  maybe…2 bad about the accident…is he hurt bad??

  “Bingo,” the detective said, banging a hand on the table. “And just how do you know about that, scumbag? We haven’t released any names.” He looked at Conor. “Did you tell anybody online about the accident?”

  He shook his head. “Jake and I were at the hospital together. But neither of us like to talk about that stuff online.”

  “Good. Let’s throw him for a loop, then.” Simpson told him specifically what to type.

  yeah…2 bad…thank god jeremy wuznt with that guy.

  jeremy?

  my moms new boss…her boyfriend…the one talking to me when u were leaving the racetrack yesterday…

  No reply for a moment. Conor held his breath.

  oh, yeah

  “Tell him—”

  “You’re contradicting what Conor said before,” Liz said hotly to the detective. “Not everything lines up.”

  “Doesn’t matter. We’re going to keep him guessing.” He turned to Conor, dictating again.

  he showed up at the track late yesterday…my mom called him from there after sumthing happened.

  what happened?

  dunno…but jeremy and this colter guy go way back…jeremy called somebody before to ask and thats how i got in the pace car

  There was no answer. They all could see the box was still there. He hadn’t logged out.

  “Tell him your mom is doing a job for the Wickfield PD, working for me.”

  Conor typed the message. “Now, tell him she might be staying at my house overnight.” The teenager smiled, following his directions. “You realize you’re setting yourself up for trouble,” Liz said, her voice sounding strange to Conor.

  “I’m going to draw this weasel out from under his rock.” The three of them waited. A few seconds later the box flashed again.

  g2g…see you later.

  “Count on it,” the detective muttered, patting Conor on the shoulder.

  Twenty-One

  Liz put everything involving Emily’s stalker in the box for Jeremy. Luckily, all the packaging from Friday’s “gift” was still sitting next to the trash can, so she gathered that together, too.

  Conor went offline pretty quickly after the instant messenger exchange, and Liz knew he was not feeling very comfortable talking to his friends. She watched the teenager go out the back door and head up the stairs to her apartment.

  Jeremy was hanging up the phone, after talking with the uniformed officers who’d showed up after the break-in on Friday night. Without a word to her, he did an inspection of the office and hallway and the rest of the café. Liz sat at the food counter and watched him working diligently, his brow creased as he concentrated and took notes.

  She’d neve
r observed Jeremy while he’d been working before. She’d been totally unaware of how focused he could be, how capable he looked and acted. There was a lot about him, Liz realized, that she didn’t know.

  Their affair had been hot and physical and brief. Maybe too brief, she acknowledged. Since their breakup, she’d thought about it a lot and realized that, during their time together, neither of them had put much effort into getting to know the other person. They hadn’t bothered with small talk or with making plans beyond the next date. They hadn’t been interested in each other’s jobs or families or anything personal in that way. It was like they both knew that passion like this was too hot to last. It was the kind of fire that burned a person out.

  So they just glanced off each other like a pair of orbiting suns, each feeling the other’s heat but unwilling to be consumed by it. Still, their paths had changed again, and now there was an attraction that kept them circling around each other, locked in some cosmic dance, no matter how hard they tried to deny it.

  She thought back on the affair. Five weeks, they’d been together. During those five weeks, Liz had enjoyed the best sex of her life, but she knew now that she’d been holding something back. Trying to keep part of herself…well, safe. Untouched.

  The end had been painful. Surprisingly so. Just before the break—which she had initiated—she’d realized that he was the first man in a long time that she’d been tempted to hang on to. There were no signals from Jeremy, though, that he wanted the same thing. That had bothered her, she now knew. Frightened her, maybe.

  Not that she really knew him well enough to read that kind of information. Still, she’d cut it off, and he’d gone along with it. No fight. No trying to talk her out of it. He’d just turned and walked away.

  A year and half later, she still had a bad taste in her mouth about that. Living in a small town and seeing him all the time didn’t really help, either. Every now and then Liz would see him standing by his pickup, or by a cruiser, or sitting in the café. Sometimes she’d catch him looking at her a certain way, and she’d get that feeling…like a hot coal had been injected into her chest. Then she’d get mad at herself. Mad at Jeremy.