Then Connor moved the mouse to bring the computer to life, and found himself confronted by a request to log in. “Rickety Rat” wasn’t going to work here.
“What have you got?” he asked Olin.
“I’m not really sure,” Olin said as he flipped through one of the binders. “But nothing with Roland’s name on it.”
Connor got up to have a look. The binder contained the same sort of information the folders had, and he assumed that the binders were likely composed of completed bids whereas the folders represented those that were still in process.
“How about you?” Olin asked.
“Nothing.”
“Did you check the computer?”
“It’s locked.”
“Can’t you get in anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be a hacker or something?”
Connor had told Olin about his extracurricular activities on the drive over. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“Can’t you try something?”
Without answering, Connor returned to the computer and did his best to guess his father’s password. After three attempts, the computer locked him out.
“Finish going through those binders,” he told Olin. “I’m going to see if Victor has a way to get us around the login.”
CHAPTER 23
Olin found nothing suspicious in the binders, and Connor didn’t do much better getting his father’s password. Victor had said he would be happy to help, but their only IT person was out of the office and wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours.
A couple of hours seemed like an eternity right now. Maybe they would come back later.
“You said you found the information about Roland on the computer at home, right?” Olin said when they were back in the car.
“Yeah. And his phone.”
“Maybe there’s more.”
“I checked that computer. If there was anything else there, I would have found it.”
Olin shook his head. “Not on the computer. In the house.”
Connor thought about the money he had stashed in the back of his sock drawer. Was it possible there was more information about Roland offline? Connor doubted it. He and Frank had been careful. Then again, he also had nothing to lose by looking.
For a brief moment after they stepped through the front door, Connor worried Olin would judge the house as being inferior to his own. He wasn’t sure why he cared. This house had been more than enough for him growing up. Still, when Olin said nothing, he was glad.
They went through every room methodically. They looked under the furniture, examined every item in every closet, looked in every drawer.
By the time they were done, they had found exactly what Connor had expected to find: nothing.
They sat down at the dining room table. It was still littered with the items Connor had found in the box in his parents’ closet.
“What’s all this?” Olin said, leaning in to get a closer look.
“Pictures, mostly. Mom kept saying she would get around to framing them.”
Olin sifted through the items with one finger, sliding them around so he could see everything without moving much. “I take it you went through all this already?”
Connor nodded.
When Olin got to the plane tickets, his brow furrowed and he leaned in closer. Then he picked them up so he could get a better look. “Your parents went to the Czech Republic?”
“My mom’s family comes from there. She wanted to see it.”
“So did mine.”
“Your parents are from the Czech Republic?”
“No, but they went there.” Olin looked from one ticket to the other. “Right about the same time, too, if I remember correctly.” Then he looked at Connor. “Do you think they went together?”
Connor thought it was almost inevitable. The Czech Republic wasn’t exactly on the list of the top ten tourist destinations. Was that what tied these abductions together? Connor had his doubts. That trip had been so long ago, and his parents had never gone back. But it might mean his parents knew Olin’s parents. And that, like Frank’s relationship to Roland, would be something to look into.
“June 12, 2007,” Olin mumbled, his attention again on the tickets. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s when they went.”
“Wait. What was that date?”
“June 12, 2007. Why?”
Connor snatched the ticket out of Olin’s hand to see the date for himself. “I would have been four years old then.”
“So what?” Olin said, now looking more carefully through the pictures. “I would have been five.”
“Look at my mom’s last name.” He pointed to it. “It’s Jones.” He grabbed the other ticket off the table. “And here. This one. This is my dad. Frank Callahan.”
“What’s your point?”
“They weren’t married. I thought this whole time they had gone before I was born, but that’s not what happened.”
“That’s your big revelation? You do know you aren’t the first person who was born before his parents got married, don’t you?”
Connor was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to catch the sarcasm. “Of course. But she was married before. Maybe . . .” He trailed off, trying to make sense of the possibilities.
“You’re thinking she had an affair?”
“Maybe. But maybe I’m not Frank’s son. Maybe the guy who runs that website—TruthSeekers—maybe he was right. What if I’m Matt’s son?”
“But your last name is Callahan, isn’t it?”
“It is.” Connor leaned back in the chair, let the tickets fall onto the table. It didn’t make sense. He wished his mom was here so he could ask her to explain.
“Well, they definitely knew each other,” Olin said. Connor gave him a look, and Olin tapped one of the pictures. “Those are my parents. They’re younger here, but that’s them, all right.”
Connor leaned in to get a better look at the picture. There were six people in it, all standing together. “And those are mine,” he said, directing Olin’s attention to
