Jump Cut

by Libby Fischer Hellmann

  I slumped against the back of the seat in the pickup.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Saturday

  We dropped Grizzly at the entrance gate of Great Lakes—he’d taken a cab up—and headed south. Neither of us talked. I was trying to internalize everything Grizzly had said. I’d faced threats before, but there was usually an individual or group on the other side. People with names and faces whom I knew were not my friends. But this was an entirely new script. Who was after me? How many of them were there? And who wanted the flash drive?

  Charlotte Hollander was the only person outside of my family, Zach, Luke, and Grizzly, whom I’d told about the drive. But whoever was tapping my phone, if it wasn’t Hollander, also knew since I’d called Dolan about it from home. So there was Hollander, Dolan, Luke, the phone tapper, and now Grizzly. Whom did Hollander tell? And whom did they tell? The number of people who knew about Parks and his flash drive, and the fact I had it, had possibly increased exponentially by now.

  But why? What was on it? If Parks really was a spy, had he hacked into Delcroft’s system and stolen the plans? Hollander had been pretty antsy to get the drive back, and she was Delcroft’s queen bee of drones. But was she behind the phone tap? She’d told me over drinks that she’d tapped Parks’ phone. Why not mine, too? Or had she run it up the chain of command? Grizzly had said most companies had their own intel departments now, and he’d also said Delcroft and the military were practically married to each other. Did that mean the NSA had hacked into my computer? And if they had, where did it stop? Were they also tracking Rachel? Or my father? I shivered.

  “Luke,” I said. “I want to give the drive back. I don’t want to be involved anymore.”

  He flicked his gaze from the road to me. “I agree.”

  “So what should I do?”

  “Call Hollander in the morning. Drop it off at her house.”

  “Somehow that sounds too simple. What if it’s a trap?”

  Luke didn’t reply.

  I swallowed. We passed a sign that said we were entering Lake Forest. I sucked in a breath. “I have a better idea.”

  “I’d like to get home.”

  “Hollander lives in Lake Forest. Let’s drop it off now.”

  “Why? Do you have the drive with you?”

  “You know the answer to that. Please. Pull over.” I fished my cell out of my pocket.

  Luke didn’t stop, but he did slow down. “It’s not gonna work. Someone with her security clearance won’t be listed. You’re not going to find her unless she wants you to.”

  I jiggled my foot again; I’d been doing that a lot recently. Then I sat up. “I know how to find it. Please.”

  Luke’s brows knitted, but he turned off Green Bay Road onto a side street and stopped the pickup. I fished my cell out of my pocket and called Susan.

  Thankfully, she picked up. “Hey, Ellie. What’s happening?”

  “I’m in a hurry, and I need a favor. You know people whose kids go to Lake Forest Middle School, don’t you?”

  “Sure. Jim and Carol Milgram’s kids.”

  Susan knows everyone. “They’d have a student directory, right?”

  “Yes…” Susan stretched the word into three syllables, which meant she wasn’t sure she wanted to go any further.

  “I need an address and phone, if it’s listed, for a twelve-year-old boy whose last name is Hollander.”

  “Ellie…”

  I cut her off. “Please, Susan. It’s important.”

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Saturday

  We pulled up to 1642 Greenview Place twenty minutes later. The first surprise was how modest the house was, more like a New England cottage than a Lake Forest mansion. A white brick home at the end of a short driveway, it had dormer windows, a red painted door, and an attached garage. Tidy trimmed hedges edged the front, and a big oak sprawled on one side. A spruce stood on the other, brushing against the roof of the garage. Not exactly the home I’d expected the queen bee of drones would occupy.

  The second surprise was how empty it looked. The lights in front were on, and there was a light over the garage, but I didn’t see any lights inside. A thick, soupy fog had descended, which made the house look even more dark and deserted.

  “I don’t like this, Ellie,” Luke said. “Let’s go.”

  “It’s Saturday night. Maybe she’s out to dinner. Or went away for the weekend.”

  “Well, you can’t just leave it on her doorstep.” He paused. “In fact, don’t even think of getting out to sniff around.”

  “Why not?”

  “First off, there have got to be surveillance cameras all around the place. There’s probably a silent alarm to call the authorities, too, which might or might not be the local cops. In fact”—he revved the engine and pulled out from the curb—“hold on.” He rolled to the end of the block, about fifty yards from the house, turned the corner, and parked.

  I smiled.

  “This still doesn’t mean you’re getting out.”

  “Why not? I have a hoodie.” I reached behind my neck and flapped the hood of my sweatshirt.

  “Ellie…what happened to the woman who was scared shitless ten minutes ago?”

  “That’s why we’re here. Let me just make sure she’s not home. One minute, no longer.“ He killed the engine and squeezed his eyes shut in exasperation. “You don’t have to come,” I added.

  “Oh, yes, I do.”

  I shrugged out of my coat so the hoodie would hide my face and slid out of the pickup.

  “You’ve got exactly one minute,” Luke said, pulling a flashlight out of the glove compartment. “Listen…,” he added. “If you spot a camera, don’t, for God’s sake, look into it. And no talking. Not one word. If you need to get my attention, wave. If that doesn’t work, bark like a dog.”

  “Seriously?” When he nodded, I said under my breath, “I’m better at catcalls.”

  I wasn’t sure if he heard me, but he shot me a look, so I lowered my head in a silent apology.

  We walked back to the house and stopped at the edge of the driveway.

  I pulled my hoodie over my face as far as it would go and pushed my hair back. Luke turned his jacket inside out to avoid revealing the North Face logo on the front and pulled his hood over his head. We examined the front of the house. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

  I headed for the garage. On one side was a window. I peeked in. A car was parked inside. A full-sized sedan, it looked like an updated version of a Volvo, which I used to own, but I’m notoriously bad at identifying cars. Luke followed me over and turned on the flashlight. Whatever model it was, it sat in the middle of the garage, and the light from the flashlight glinted off the front bumper. Maybe she was out for the evening. Dinner, likely. With friends who’d picked her up.

  Luke backed away and ran his flashlight up and down and across the garage door. I didn’t notice anything, but he zeroed in on something, and I heard a sharp intake of breath.

  “What?” I whispered.

  “He raised a finger to his lips, pointed to the door, and aimed the flashlight at the door.

  I looked. A black X had been scrawled in magic marker near the middle of the garage door, which was painted white.

  “Someone’s been here, Ellie.” He whispered. “Someone who wants another person to make sure they see this.”

  I frowned. “Are you saying someone is spying on Hollander? Besides us?”

  He nodded. “We really need to get out of here. Now. And no more talking.”

  I raised my index finger. “I’ll be careful,” I mouthed and went back to the curb where the mailbox stood. That was the third surprise. The mailbox was crammed with what looked like three or four days of accumulated mail. I motioned to Luke and pointed. He nodded. I held up my palms. He hunched his shoulders. Maybe she’d taken her son away for a long weekend. Door County. Or Michigan.

  Luke checked his watch and made a circular motion with his index finger, meaning I should hu
rry. I held up my palm and trotted around to the back of the house, determined to make a full circuit. Maybe in the back we’d see a light on inside. Not that it would make me feel better, but at least I’d know someone was there. Cloudy wisps of fog hampered our view. But I was able to make out that the land in back extended farther than the land in front. There must have been an acre of property, most of it surrounded by an eight-foot wooden fence that hid a patio from prying eyes. So much for a modest home.

  Bushes and evergreen shrubs were planted in front of the fence, at least on three sides. The cold air sharpened the aroma of pine and spruce. I found a gate on the side facing the house. It was locked, but not with a normal latch or padlock. A numeric keypad was attached to one side. Luke pointed to it, as if to say, “I told you so.” I squinted and looked through a crack between two slats of fencing. I saw a good-sized swimming pool covered for winter. And what had to be a grill, also covered, although the fog might have been playing tricks on my eyes.

  I turned around, deflated, ready to leave. I’d learned nothing new about Charlotte Hollander, except that she wasn’t home and had a nice car and a swimming pool. Luke yanked his thumb toward the front, and we started back around the house. Suddenly, a pair of headlights swam into view, and an SUV cruised down the street and stopped at Hollander’s house. Whoever was driving killed the engine. A second pair of headlights followed. The doors to the vehicles slid open. Luke and I exchanged panicked looks and dove into the bushes.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Saturday

  Although yews are evergreens, they tend to look threadbare in winter. I crouched behind two and hoped like hell no one would see me. Despite the fog, I had a view of the sidewalk in front of Hollander’s house, but my sight line was limited. Fog muffles sounds as well, so it was hard to hear. I thought I heard the click of car doors closing. Footsteps crunched on the few remaining snowy patches of ground. But no voices called out, and I heard no conversation. Only the persistent bark of a dog a few houses away—at least I hoped it was a dog and not a coyote. Whatever it was, apparently it realized that “human” scents had invaded its turf.

  As my eyes adjusted to the dark, three figures that appeared blacker than the night around them materialized, heading toward us from the front of the house. I tried not to move, but it was cold, and my only outerwear was the hoodie. I shivered, afraid my quivering would somehow translate to the yews. I tried not to breathe either. Little clouds of vapor coming from the bushes would not be a good idea.

  The three figures clustered at the side of the house, and then, like those videos of dividing cells you see on Nova, they split apart. One of the figures headed across the yard toward the garage. But the other two came our way. My heart slammed against my chest, and my pulse raced so fast I felt dizzy. I tried to tell myself to hold on.

  As the two figures skirted the oak tree, their indistinct shapes sharpened and resolved into men in dark-colored clothing. Both had solid builds, even bulkier because of quilted jackets, wool hats, and thick boots. For one frightening moment, the angle as they strode across the yard made me think they’d spotted us, but at the last second they cut toward the gate. They seemed to be doing the same thing Luke and I had been: casing Hollander’s house.

  When they reached the gate in the fence, they stopped. They were fewer than twenty feet away. Their backs were toward me, and the odor of stale cigars wafted over.

  All of a sudden a bright light crashed through the dark. My breath caught. One of the men had snapped on one of those ultrabright halogen flashlights. Thankfully, the man aimed the light toward the house, but how long would that last? I ducked down further and tried to shrink into a ball.

  The beam danced across the back door of Hollander’s house, played over the windows, then rose to the second story and swept back the other way. God, please don’t let him shine the light this way. I had a feeling Luke was mentally saying the same prayer.

  But the light did turn in our direction. It darted from left to right across the fence about five feet above the bushes behind which we were hiding. In a few seconds they would find us. I couldn’t breathe. One of the men let his gaze drift from side to side. He was going to point the flashlight our way. I bit my tongue. We were doomed.

  Without warning the dog started barking again. It sounded closer than before. Was its owner taking it for a walk? I know a dog’s sense of smell is five hundred times more powerful than humans’. It had to be scenting the men…and us.

  The men must have thought the same thing because they jerked their heads up. I heard a growl followed by a “What the fuck?”

  “Let’s go!” the other man said. Both men jogged back to the side of the house they’d come from. A moment later they were out of sight. The dog was still barking; in fact, its howls were coming faster and were higher pitched. The men were actually closer to it now than they had been in the back.

  A man’s voice cut in. “Barney, settle down! It’s just the fog.”

  I was about to take a relieved breath when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I whipped around.

  Luke.

  “C’mon,” he whispered. “Let’s get out of here. Now.”

  He emerged from behind a nearby shrub and started to run. I followed. Instead of heading to the garage or the front of the house, he took off in the opposite direction. We ran farther back along the fence line. In thirty yards, the side of the fence ended and made a ninety degree angle. We found ourselves at the property line of Hollander’s neighbor. A fence cordoned off their yard too—this was Lake Forest, after all.

  But behind both fences was a small passage, bordered by the fences on one side and a stand of evergreens on the other. There was just enough room to squeeze through. Empty beer bottles, trash, and dead tree branches that landscapers had failed to remove littered the area, making it a small dump. I wondered if the homeowners even knew it was there. Given the cigarette butts and fast-food wrappers, their kids did. But none of that mattered.

  Luke and I ran through the passage, which extended to the end of the block. Then we turned left. We were about to race to the pickup when Luke froze. I was behind him and nearly stumbled into him. He shook his head. I regained my balance and looked. One of the men from the SUV was lurking by the pickup, a revolver in his hand.

  I whimpered and covered my mouth with my hand. Luke shot me a fierce look that clearly meant “Shut up.” I cowered behind him, wondering what the hell we were supposed to do now. We couldn’t go back. We couldn’t go forward. We were trapped. Why hadn’t I listened to Luke in the first place?

  Slowly Luke backtracked into the yard of the house on the corner. I followed. The man with the gun shifted his feet and looked both ways but didn’t appear to see us. Suddenly the dog started to bark. In short, low-pitched growls.

  “Barney!” A voice said. “Stop that. Everything’s okay.”

  But Barney kept barking, and the dog and its owner emerged from the fog directly in front of us on the sidewalk. I squeezed my eyes shut; we were going to be discovered. Luckily, though, the man with the revolver saw them too, hurriedly slipped the gun into his waistband, and took off around the corner in the direction of the car.

  Barney’s owner stopped, and the dog, instead of barking, began to whine. It was scenting us. Thank God a human’s sense of smell is so much weaker than a dog’s. Barney’s owner looked around, pulled the leash tighter, and murmured, “I don’t know who that was, but I don’t think I want to know. Let’s go home.”

  We waited until it was quiet, and I dared to take a breath. Luke clicked the key fob and the doors to the pickup opened. We ran over and flung ourselves inside. I grabbed my jacket and threw it over my shoulders, then rubbed my hands together. Luke started the car and started to pull out, which was when we hit our next surprise.

  Greenview Place had no outlet. Like my street, it ended in a cul-de-sac.

  “Shit…shit…shit,” I said.

  “You can say that again,”
Luke said.

  We would have to drive past Hollander’s house on our way out. “The men casing her house are going to see us. They were heading toward the front, remember?”

  “Maybe not,” Luke said. “Let’s wait.”

  “And make ourselves a target?”

  “We’re around the corner. Just hang on.”

  We waited for what seemed like an eternity. The dog and its owner made their way back to their house. Barney was a Rottweiler. Its barking had subsided, but it was still alert. Five more minutes passed. Barney was back inside. A minute later all three men appeared in front of Hollander’s house. The fog and the dark made it difficult to see, but it seemed as if they had discovered the mailbox full of letters. Especially after one of the men turned his palms up and shrugged.

  Finally, they returned to the back of the house. Luke started the engine, and we turned onto Greenview and sped out the way we’d come. As we passed Hollander’s house, I checked out the SUV parked in front. It looked familiar. My gaze went to the license plates. My stomach lurched. The SUV was the same one that had been outside my house.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Sunday

  When Luke and I got home, we tumbled into bed, both of us exhausted. I didn’t even try to make sense of what had happened in Lake Forest. Like Scarlett, I’d think about it tomorrow.

  After breakfast the next morning, Luke said, “I think I should stay here for a few days.”

  “I thought you had a meeting up in Lake Geneva tomorrow.”

  “I do, but given what happened last night, I’m going to reschedule it.”

  “That’s not necessary. I’ll be all right. I’ll put on my big-girl pants.”

  “I don’t know.”

  I walked him to the door. “Luke…I can survive without you for a day or two. Really.” Still, I stayed in his arms longer than usual, fear and loneliness already setting in. I felt like Janis Joplin; he was taking a little piece of my heart with him.