“Do you remember tractor beams, the things the bad guys used to grab something and drag it back to their mother ship?”
“I guess.”
“My pet worm works the same way. I deploy it by putting it on your computer, the one he’s targeted. It sits there until he tries logging on to your system. That carries it into his system, where it’s programmed to do two things-retrieve all his files and shoot them back to us while it’s trashing them on his end.”
“We end up with his files?” Ali asked. “Is that legal?”
“Would whatever we retrieved from there be admissible in a court of law?” B. asked. “Probably not. That’s what I meant when I said we’d be bypassing the justice system. But I guarantee you, this is some jerk who thinks he’s smarter than everyone else, and when we outwit him, he’s going to be annoyed as hell. It’ll drive him up a wall.”
“Driving him up a wall sounds about right,” Ali said. “What’s the turnaround time?”
“Once I install the worm program on your computer, all it takes is for him to try opening one of your infected files. As soon as he does, it’s kerblammo, and his computer system is toast. So it’s up to you. I’m happy to do it either way-fast or slow, through legal channels or not. And until we know we’ve nailed him-I’ll know as soon as the worm is deployed-then you should probably operate on an outside computer.”
Remembering her father’s gunslinger comment, Ali was glad to have B. and High Noon Enterprises on her side. It didn’t take long for her to make up her mind. “I’m all for instant gratification,” she told him.
B. grinned at her. “So am I,” he said.
Once the file transfers were completed, B. began disconnecting his cables and stowing his gear.
“You’ll let me know as soon as anything happens?” Ali asked.
“You bet,” he said. “Night or day.”
B. left a few minutes later. As he drove his Saab out of the driveway, Chris was waiting to enter.
“Who was driving that 9-7X?” Chris asked. “He’s got great taste in cars. Which reminds me, you and Dave don’t seem to be spending that much time together lately. Is this a new boyfriend, by any chance?”
“Hardly,” she answered. “His name’s Simpson-B. Simpson.”
“Oh, him,” Chris said. “I remember now. He’s that friend of Grandpa’s who’s the computer security guru. I didn’t know guys like him made house calls”
“He stopped by because he found a Trojan horse on my laptop.”
“Whoa!” Chris said. “If you’ll pardon the expression,” he added with a laugh. “But a Trojan horse? I’ve heard of them, but where did you pick one up?”
It wasn’t lost on Ali that there were certain similarities between having her computer infected with a virus and picking up an STD after an anonymous one-night stand. Not eager to admit to her son about having logged on to an Internet dating site, Ali shook her head. “I’m not sure.”
“Still, he stopped by to help you get rid of it?” Chris asked.
“Not exactly,” Ali said. “There may be some kind of identity theft scheme at work. He’s planting a couple of countermeasures on my computer, and he dropped off one of his spares for me to use as needed in the meantime.”
Before Chris could respond, Ali’s phone rang. It wasn’t late, but it was after nine. Thinking it might be bad news, Ali hurried to answer.
“Is this Ali Reynolds?” an unfamiliar woman asked.
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“It’s Beverly Forester,” the woman answered. “Bryan’s mother.” Her trembling voice faltered.
“Is something wrong?” Ali asked. “Are you all right?”
“No. We’re not all right,” Beverly managed, pulling herself together. “We’re still at the Best Western. The cops were here a little while ago. They put my son in handcuffs, loaded him into the back of a patrol car, and drove away.”
Ali’s heart fell. If Dave had gone so far as to place Bryan under arrest, then the evidence he had collected from the back of the truck must have been damning.
“The girls didn’t see that,” Bev Forester continued. “But they’re dreadfully upset that their father isn’t here with them right now, and I don’t know what to do. Lindsey’s crying like her poor little heart’s broken. Lacy’s locked herself in the bathroom and won’t come out. They’ve been through so much the last few days, but I can’t do a thing with them, and right now I’m at my wits’ end!”
“I’m sure if you just talked to them-” Ali began.
“I already tried that,” Beverly returned. “So did Harold, Bryan’s father. He didn’t get anywhere, either. We were wondering if we could convince you to come see them.”
“I can’t see how that would help,” Ali objected. “I don’t even know them.”
“Oh,” Beverly said with a disappointed sigh. “Bryan speaks so highly of you, I thought maybe you knew his girls as well.”
“I don’t, but it’s possible I know someone who does,” Ali said. “I met their teacher at a function last night. Her name is Mindy Farber. Her roommate is my son’s fiancee. Mindy seemed to be concerned about the girls. Maybe she could help.”
“Do you have her number?”
“Let me call her and explain the situation,” Ali said.
Once off the phone with Beverly, Ali called Athena’s number. While Chris listened with considerable interest, Ali enlisted Mindy’s help and made arrangements to come get her.
“Thank you for picking me up,” Mindy said twenty minutes later as she buckled herself into the Cayenne’s passenger seat. “You didn’t have to. I know where the Best Western is. I could have driven there myself.”
The truth was, Ali wanted to go, too. Bryan Forester was part of her life; so were his girls. If there was anything she personally could do to help them, she would. As a consequence, on the drive there, Ali filled Mindy in with as much background information as she’d been able to piece together.
At the hotel, Ali drove around the building until she spotted Bryan’s Dodge Ram. A man smoking a pipe stood leaning against the front bumper. “Mr. Forester?” Ali asked as she stepped out of her car and into the parking lot.
He straightened. “Ms. Reynolds?” he asked. “Thank you for coming. Bev’s not very good at this kind of thing. Completely out of her league. I don’t know how much more she can take.”
“Where is she?”
“Bryan and the girls were staying in the next room over,” he said, pointing toward the adjoining door. “I don’t know what we’re going to do about that tonight. We can’t very well leave them there by themselves.”
As Ali walked through the low-lying cloud of pipe smoke, Mindy Farber was already knocking on the door. “Come in,” Bev Forester called.
As soon as Mindy opened the door, Ali saw a gray-haired woman sitting on the edge of a bed. A little girl lay on the far side of the bed, crying inconsolably. When the woman reached out to touch her, the girl shrank away. The woman stood up, then, wringing her hands, she hurried to meet Mindy.
“She’s been like this ever since her father left,” Bev Forester said. “What should I do?”
In answer, Mindy walked past her and took Bev’s place on the bed. “Lindsey,” she said softly. “It’s Miss Farber. Are you all right?”
Without warning, Lindsey sat up and flung herself at Mindy and buried her tearstained face in her young teacher’s breast. “Did you hear?” she hiccuped through her sobs. “Our mother is dead. Somebody murdered her. I heard some people talking. They were saying that they think Daddy is the one who did it. I wasn’t supposed to, but I was peeking out the window when he left. They put handcuffs on him, put him in the back of a car, and drove away. Oh, Miss Farber, if Daddy’s in jail, what’s going to happen to us? Where will we live? Who will take care of us?”
“Maybe your grandparents-”
“They don’t like us,” Lindsey sobbed. “They don’t like Lacy.”
“That’s not true,” Bev interjected. “Of course we like Lacy, we just don’t understand-”
Just then the bathroom door swung silently open. Without so much as a glance in Bev Forester’s direction, Lacy emerged from the bathroom. She went straight to the bed and sat down next to her sister. With a dignity that belied her age, Lacy silently took one of Lindsey’s hands and held it tightly with both of hers while two fat tears
