“Your uncle?”
“He was in Afghanistan most of the time I was growing up.”
“Alice?”
Tess chewed on that notion for a moment. Alice had never been warm and cuddly, but she’d always been there, helpful and efficient. While Alice was no substitute for her mother, Tess didn’t know what she would have done without her for the past year.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “Why would she save us from Rosa, then? She’s been with us since I was little. I just don’t see it.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to look at this thing from all angles. What we don’t know could hurt us, you know.” He paused, but before she could say anything, he went on. “Okay, I’ve looked through all the music files, and there’s nothing very new. But in the video files, there’s one that’s a lot more recent than the rest.”
“Come on! What is it?”
“It’s a clip of you snowboarding.”
A chill ran through her like cold IV fluid. It brought back memories of her long stay in the hospital—and something else, too. She heard her father’s voice as clear as blue sky in August yell, “Atta girl! Nice air!” Her mother’s whoop of encouragement echoed a moment later through the speaker, the sound tinny and so much smaller than life. The embarrassment she’d felt at the time had lit up her face like a torch, but the shame she felt now burned white-hot and deep inside.
She managed no more than a whispered croak from her constricted throat. “It’s from the last time I saw them.”
“This was taken the day of the accident? Never mind. Dumb question. I’m sorry, Tess.”
As much as she dreaded it, Tess forced herself to remember that day.
What had been so special about that day that Dad would now want me to pull something relevant, something important, from a video clip? Everything, of course.
It had started out as a celebration of her SAT scores. A surprisingly crisp and clear spring day. As much as she hated to admit it, she’d had fun, too, with her parents. She’d thought that without her friends the trip would be a drag, but it had been the opposite—a relaxing respite from the grind of schoolwork and the drama of junior year. She hadn’t even allowed herself to be flustered by her father’s lame jokes or her mother’s attempts to baby her—until her father had brought out the iPod to shoot her coming down a run. She’d suddenly become self-conscious, as if the other kids on the mountain would think she was showing off for the camera. As a result, she’d almost missed a big mogul entirely. But she’d managed to catch it at the last second and twist into a nice corked cab 360. That had been on their last run. Afterward, of course, the day could not have gotten worse.
She ran through the scene again in her mind, pulling up images that her eyes could no longer see. She watched her father get out ahead of her on the long run, carving sweet turns and occasionally catching some air. She and her mother had followed, Tess the faster of the two. Her father had disappeared around a bend, and by the time Tess had reached his spot, he’d stopped far down the slope and was getting ready to video her run. Other than her discomfort, though, she couldn’t think of anything else out of the ordinary.
“What do you see?” she said.
“You snowboarding. That’s it.”
“Go through it again. See if there’s anything strange. Other boarders or skiers. Voices.”
She waited while Oliver played the clip again. It was short, less than a minute. She heard nothing different the second time through.
“Nothing,” Oliver said when it ended. “It’s nothing special. I mean, I’m sure it was a special moment for you, for your folks . . .”
Oliver’s embarrassed barely registered as she puzzled. “There must be something. Or else it must be another file.”
“That’s the most recent. There’s nothing else on here that isn’t at least a few months older.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m not a complete idiot, Tess. I think I can figure out how to work this thing.”
“Okay, okay. I just . . . There has to be something there!”
“Well, if there is, it’s really well hidden.” Oliver sounded peeved.
“Of course it is,” Tess said, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Why didn’t I think of it before?”
“What? What is it?”
Busy digging in her pocket for her phone, Tess didn’t answer. She pushed the voice recognition button on the side. After the prompt, she said, “Call Matt.”
“It’s a hidden file,” she said to Oliver while Matt’s phone rang. “It has to be.”
“Yo,” Matt’s voice said over the speaker, “Better be someone I know. If not, hang up. If so, you know what to do.” After a pause, Matt’s voicemail beeped.
“Matt, this is Tess. Call me. I need to—”
“Tess, it’s me,” Matt said, breathing hard. “Sorry, I was driving.”
“Can you come over? We really need you.”
“I can’t, Tess. I’m on my way to work. Can it wait till later?”
Tess’s shoulders slumped. “I suppose.”
“Is it something I can help with over the phone? I’ve got a few minutes now.”
“Maybe. We’ve got my dad’s iPod. The last file on it is a video clip. I think there might be something hidden in it somehow.”
“An embedded file? Sure. That’s fairly easy. There’s software on the web that can help you find it and isolate it. Is this another one of those mystery files?”
“I think so,” Tess said. “Can you tell Oliver what to do?”
“Sure,” Matt said. “But before you do anything with it, e-mail me the video so we have a copy. Remember what happened last time?”
“Right. Okay, we’ll send it now. And here’s Oliver.”
She held out the phone, and Oliver took it from her.
“Okay, Matt,” he said. “What am I looking for?”
Oliver had taken the call off speaker, and for the next few minutes Tess heard nothing but “uh-huh” and “got it” from him. She wondered what sort of hoops Matt was making him jump through.
Finally, he said, “Did you get the e-mail? The video clip? Okay, then I’m going to run this program . . . No, I copied the clip to my laptop. I’ll run it on that . . . Yeah, hang on a sec.”
“Oliver . . . ?” Tess said.
“Working on it. Here it goes. Yes! Another file, embedded in the video. Matt, you’ll want to look at this when you have a chance. More code . . . Okay, we’ll talk to you later. Thanks.”
“He hung up?” Tess said.
“Had to go to work,” Oliver said. “But we got it, Tess. Another piece of the program. Have you checked your e-mail lately?”
Tess pressed the voice activation button on her phone and said, “E-mail.” The phone responded in that robotic voice, “You have one unread e-mail.”
“Open e-mail,” Tess commanded.
“E-mail, sent today at 10:48, from Dad. Bitly slash seven-eight-four-Q-X.”
“Bitly . . . ?” Oliver said. “What’s that?”
“It’s a link to a web address,” Tess said. “Here we go again. Guess you better upload the file and see what happens.”
She waited while Oliver pecked the keys on his laptop.
“There it goes,” he said. “And, yes, it’s really gone. Took the file on the laptop with it, but I still have the original video clip.”
Tess frowned. “He made a mistake. That’s not like him.”
“No, someone made a mistake. Which suggests it might not be your dad. I mean, come on, Tess, you can’t really believe he’s still alive.”
A man’s voice came from across the room. “Believe who’s alive?”
Tess heard footsteps on the tile floor and caught the strong scent of men’s cologne, something with notes of coconut, hazelnut, and caramel. She recognized it, but couldn’t remember where she’d encountered it or who’d worn it. A second whiff triggered a memory from middle school. She must have been in seventh grade. Bert Shirovsky had s
at next to her in earth science. Big for his age, when so many girls were so much more developed than boys, he’d cornered her in the hall one day and had tried to kiss her. She might not have minded, except for the major crush she had on Toby Cavanaugh—and the fact that Bert’s breath had smelled like Yoshi’s compost bin out in the greenhouse. She’d managed to slip out from under his grasp and had shied away whenever the strong scent of his deodorant appeared close by.
“No one,” Tess said, thinking furiously.
“We were just talking about the boy who was killed last night,” Oliver said quietly. “Tess is having a hard time accepting the fact that he’s dead. I don’t blame her.”
“Ah, yes,” the man said. “It must be very upsetting. My sympathies, Miss Barrett. This is Marcus, by the way. Marcus Jackson. I’m head of the security team.”
“My uncle is head of the security team,” Tess said.
“When he’s not here, I’m in charge.”
His tone told Tess not to push it. She remembered Marcus, a tall black man who’d trained with Uncle Travis in the Special Forces. She’d tried to ignore all the men Travis had brought in to protect them before the accident, but he’d been an unavoidable presence.
“I have strict orders from Travis—from your uncle—to keep tabs on you at all times,” Marcus said. “You should have let me know you were home from school.”
Tess’s voice rose. “How was I supposed to know—?”
“You didn’t,” Marcus said bluntly. “I’m informing you now. Please keep me advised of your whereabouts.”
“You could have just asked Kenny or Luis,” she complained.
“I could have, but I need to hear it directly from you.” His voice was cold. “Those are my orders.”
“You might as well lock me up. Then you’ll know where I am all the time,” she grumbled.
“It might come to that,” Marcus said.
Tess blinked back tears as his footsteps receded.
CHAPTER 32
I watched Jackson’s broad back retreat, sinewy muscles rippling beneath his cashmere turtleneck like a panther’s. The creamy color of the pullover complemented his skin tone, like foam on a cappuccino. Black silk trousers and Italian leather loafers completed the ensemble. He moved athletically, with the graceful stride of a wide receiver or a point guard. But he had more bulk, more like a tight end or a power forward. Something about his demeanor, his less-than-sympathetic exchange with Tess despite his words of condolence, made me distrust him. Luis and Kenny had feigned friendliness, at least. Jackson had all the charm of a cobra.
“He’s gone,” I said when Marcus disappeared down the hall.
She shuddered. “They’re all so mean. Why can’t they just leave me alone?”
“You know why. We—well, you—have something someone wants.”
“These files.” She shook her head. “But we don’t even know what they are. Why did you cover for me, anyway?”
“I don’t trust him,” I said. “I don’t trust any of them, not even your uncle. Especially not your uncle.”
“You can’t be serious. Why not?”
“You don’t trust him. Why should I? I don’t know these people, Tess. Think about it. Who has the most to gain from getting you out of the way? The most to lose if someone screws up the business? We’re probably talking a lot of money here. Maybe enough to turn your uncle over to the dark side. He may have been in Afghanistan when you were growing up, but he’s been back now, what, a year? Plenty of time to figure out how to take control of the company.”
“He already has control of the company. He knows I don’t want anything to do with it.” She waved her arms in frustration. “Besides, we don’t even know what’s going on.”
“The men who came after us last night? They weren’t looking for help with homework or your advice on what to wear to the prom. This program, whatever it is, is big. Important enough to kill for.”
I paused, attention drawn to the video clip frozen midframe on my laptop screen. My mind triple-jumped to another topic. “You don’t really think you’re dad’s still alive, do you?”
Tess swallowed hard. “No, I guess not. But he could have set all this in motion before the accident.”
“If he did, then maybe he wants you to have a copy of this file for some reason. Maybe that’s why we were able to copy this. Maybe he wants you to figure out what the program is, what it’s for.”
She snorted. “I’ve never done any programming. I don’t understand it. Dad always tried to show me how, but I just didn’t get it.”
“Yeah, but you know people who do understand it. Mark might be able to piece enough of it together to figure out what it does.” I remembered something else as well. “We didn’t copy the file on the camera’s memory card before we uploaded it. Something may have been hidden in that file, too. Damn, that might have made it easier for Matt.”
Her head drooped and swung from side to side. “I guess I better figure out my homework before trying to decipher some weird computer code, or I’m in deep trouble.”
“Good point. Sorry. I’ll help you get started. You want to work here or in the library?”
“Library.”
I gathered up books, backpack, and laptop and got her settled in the library. She managed to focus for about an hour, knocking off math and chemistry assignments fairly easily and finishing most of her French homework. Just as she started to get antsy, twirling a strand of hair with two fingers and fidgeting in her chair, Alice walked in and headed straight for our table.
“I picked up a rental car for you,” she said, handing me a set of car keys. “Are you two hungry?”
“Not really,” Tess piped up before I could admit I was famished. “Can we take a break? I need to get out for a little while. A half hour or so, that’s all. Take me for a drive, Oliver, please? I promise I’ll finish up the rest of my homework as soon as we get back.”
I looked at Alice with raised eyebrows.
She glanced down at the books and papers on the table. “How’s she doing?”
“A lot of reading for the American studies/literature block,” I said, “but otherwise she’s pretty much caught up.”
Alice nodded. “Fine. Go for a drive. But don’t stay out long.”
“What about Marcus?” Tess said. “He wants to know my every waking move, and I just can’t deal with him right now.”
“I’ll handle Marcus,” Alice said. “But don’t leave until I’ve spoken with him. You know he has to put a detail on you.”
“What? Like, follow us?” Tess rolled her eyes, a gesture at once completely natural and yet somehow disturbing.
“It’s for your own protection, Tess. I’ll tell Marcus to make sure they’re discreet. You’ll never know they’re there.”
“I’ll know,” Tess said. “I just won’t be able to see them.”
I would have complimented her on at least having a sense of humor about it, except that she didn’t look at all happy.
“Come on,” I said, “let’s get you out of here.”
Five minutes later we rolled out of the drive and past the gate, a black SUV with Kenny and Luis on board not far behind. Tess wriggled into the seat next to me, getting comfortable.
“Smells funny,” she said. “It’s not as nice as my mom’s car. You miss it, don’t you?”
“Your mom’s car? Sure. It’s cool.” The nondescript gray rental sedan made me miss the BMW more than I thought I would. I’d never been attached to material things all that much, never cared too much about what sort of clothes I wore or car I drove. But I had to admit that, having experienced the performance and creature comfort of the BMW, anything less paled in comparison.
“You really never drove one before?”
“A Beemer? No, why?”
“I don’t know. I thought you were a trust-fund baby. Figured you had lots of nice things growing up.”
“Not really. Nana and Pop-Pop didn’t have a lot of money. I mean, they weren’t p
oor or anything. They had a nice house. Nothing fancy, but big enough for the three of us, a yard to play in. Nice neighborhood, but nothing like yours. Nice neighbors, at least. Anyway, the trust fund only paid for education, not cars. What about you? Ever ridden in a beater like this? Something the peasants drive?”
“Hey, I never said you were a peasant. As a matter of fact when I was little, my dad drove an ancient Saab he bought when he was in college. And my mom drove a beat-up Honda. It wasn’t until Dad’s company took off and we moved up here that my parents got nicer cars.”
“Nicer cars, nicer house . . . I’d say they did all right.”
“They earned it,” she said quietly. “They worked really hard for it, and what good did it do them? They’re not here to enjoy it, are they?”
I had no glib answer for that. We drove in silence for a while under low, gray clouds that scudded across the sky in search of a suitable place to dump a load of raindrops.
“I want to see Helen,” Tess said suddenly.
“Helen. As in your former cook?”
“Yes, Helen. Doesn’t it bug you that after years with us she suddenly quit?”
“I didn’t know her. Was she happy working for you? For your parents?”
“Of course she was happy. Why wouldn’t she have been?”
“I don’t know. Depends on how she was treated. It’s one thing to have a steady job with reasonable hours and nice employers. It’s another to neglect your own family to cook from morning till night for some rich folks that treat you like dirt.”
“We did not treat Helen like dirt. She was like family. I know my parents paid her well, and no, they didn’t work her to death. She always seemed happy to me.”
“Got along okay with Alice?”
Tess shrugged. “Sure.”
“So where does she live?”
“Down in Renton somewhere. I’ll get the address.”
She pulled out her phone and asked it to map the address for Helen Corday, then handed the phone to me. I glanced at it and handed it back.
“Need to keep my eyes on the road,” I said. “Will it work like a GPS device? You know, give me directions?”
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