Bouncing (38 page)

Slipping through the small hole in the cinderblock wall, he flipped a light switch and found himself facing the large, black vault door. The video camera he’d installed had paid off, as he was able to watch Greg open it. He entered the same combination he’d watched Greg use, and the huge door opened when he tugged.

His dilemma was deciding how much to take. He could walk away with all of it—Greg would likely not complain to the police. But one day, he’d get out of jail and might wonder who’d robbed him. Better to just take a fraction of the money and hope Greg was unsure of the total. Or better yet, let him think the police had siphoned some.

Wes stuffed both suitcases with boxes of money and zipped them closed. It was a tight squeeze through the hole in the wall, but he and the money made it. He stashed his treasure in his trunk and looked around one last time.

The computer crimes might be traced back to him; he could have left an electronic fingerprint that an expert might find, but he doubted it. There were no direct links to him. Everything he’d done had been with Greg’s money, at Greg’s office, using dummy accounts, or on the laptop he’d planted in the garage. When Greg went down, he’d look like the mastermind who’d not only planned the crime but executed it as well. Unless, of course, he ratted on Wes. But then, of course, Greg would have to admit to even more wrongdoing, involving the threats to his brother.

It was ironic that Greg would be thought a criminal genius, because he was really stupid, and greedy, which Wes was beginning to appreciate was a fatal combination. How did such an idiot get so far in the world? Wes could only assume Greg had inherited everything, because the way he ran his business, it was doomed to fail. No wonder he’d been pushing P.J. harder into criminal activities—they seemed to be the only way he could make a living. Now, P.J. wouldn’t have to worry.

With the money in his trunk, he drove away thinking that he didn’t, either.

Breaking News

The first Sunday in May was warm, and Brit had nothing to wear. Everything in her closet was wool and heavy and suited for the winter. Instead of spending yet another day moping, she figured she should put all that stuff away and haul out her spring clothing. Even if she felt miserable, at least she could look good.

Nearly two months had passed since basketball ended, and the last spring snowstorm was now a memory. The sunshine kept trying to force a smile from her, but it wasn’t having much luck. Inexplicably, she loved Alex. She loved
her
Alex, the person Alex was when they were together. But that person was an illusion, and she needed to let her go.

Her ringing phone pulled her away from folding sweaters. The tone told her it was Sam calling, and she debated for a second before answering. Then she decided she should. Sam’s self-centeredness was just what she needed at the moment to distract her from the misery she’d made of her life.

“What’s up, sis?” she asked in greeting.

“Were you one of the teachers whose tests were stolen?”

“Huh?”

“Didn’t you see the news? Your school’s email was hacked and tests were stolen. Some guy was selling them to students.”

A chill coursed through her body as Brit ran to the television and turned it on, searching for a news channel. She couldn’t find one.

Shit! What if Alex was in trouble? What if she was, too, because she knew about this but never said anything?

“Where did you hear this?”

“It was on the news. And it’s one of the headlines in today’s paper.”

Brit ran to the front door and opened it. The
Times
was there in a plastic bag, untouched. She’d lost interest in most things, and reading the paper was just one of them. “I wanna read this, Sam. Let me call you back.”

Dropping onto her couch, she looked at the headline.
Police Raid Nets $200,000
. She read the first of three related stories.

In one of the most bizarre new stories in memorable history, a highly profitable crime operation was busted up yesterday in Dickson City. The tale involves a phony Amber Alert, an iPhone and tips to local and national media, who were on-scene to witness the police raid that resulted in the arrest of nine men, the seizure of over $200,000 in cash and recovery of evidence including computers and copies of exams given by local high-school teachers.

Police say they were summoned to the Merck Bakery on the Scranton-Carbondale highway by an Amber Alert, in search of a missing teen whose cellular phone was reported to be at that location. When they arrived, authorities found the suspects counting money bet on the Kentucky Derby. The race was about to get under way at the time of the raid. In just one of the bizarre twists in this story, the minor who the police were searching for apparently does not exist, and a cell phone that led police to the scene is linked to an untraceable post-office box. Police can’t seem to locate the couple who claimed to be the girl’s parents. The license plate of the Porsche they were driving is registered to Greg Merck, owner of the bakery and one of those arrested.

According to a press release issued by the Pennsylvania State Police, a man and a woman claiming to be Melvin and Martha Waters walked into the police station and reported their 13-year-old daughter, Melody Waters, had been abducted. They traced her cell phone to the location of the bakery and requested the Amber Alert. When police arrived they discovered evidence of illegal gambling, and the suspects were taken into custody. Further arrests are expected in the case.

The Scranton Times
and other news outlets were made aware of the raid beforehand, via the following email, sent on Friday afternoon:

Dear Reporter:

If you want to be one of the first to report an incredible story, be at 36842 Scranton-Carbondale Highway tomorrow (Saturday) by 12:00. The Merck Bakery is the front for a large illegal sports-betting operation. The manager, Greg Merck, is also the leader of a group selling exams to local high school students. Police will be raiding the bakery just before the start of the Kentucky Derby, when it is expected that hundreds of thousands of dollars in bets will be confiscated.

This is a top-secret raid. Please do not make any inquiries regarding police action or YOU MAY ALERT THE CRIMINALS! Just trust this tip, and you’ll have one of the best stories of your career. For a front-row seat, I suggest you buy a coffee and a pastry at the bakery and settle in to watch the race. Police will probably come in through the front door.

Nike

Nike is the name of the company founded by Phil Knight in 1971 and a world leader in the manufacturing of athletic clothing and footwear. It is also the name of the Greek goddess of victory.

The Times
’ Cam Kelly was one of the recipients of the cryptic email, and he was on hand to witness the raid. “I figured, why not show up? The worst that could happen was I have a good cup of coffee and a pastry. And maybe I might get a story out of it. What a story!”

According to Kelly, reporters from
The New York Times
,
The Philadelphia Inquirer,
and a few premier horse-racing papers were also on hand for the action. “When I walked in, I recognized Zam Russell from
USA Today
, and I thought this was either one heck of a scam or going to be one heck of a story.”

Kelly says he sat and talked with Russell and two other reporters for about forty-five minutes before police stormed the café. One reporter had set up a live video feed and recorded the first twenty minutes of the police action, until officers discovered the camera and disconnected it.

Police are studying a surveillance video from the police station to see if they can identify the couple who initiated the Amber Alert. An anonymous source told reporters the Amber Alert was used to draw the police to the location to bust up the gambling ring. Authorities have been cracking down on illegal gambling in recent years. Video-poker machines netting millions in illegal gaming dollars were confiscated two years ago from local businesses, and our source tells us this bust could be even bigger.

What troubles authorities most about this case is that it seems the criminals were targeting vulnerable teens. Computers and paperwork at the scene tell a tale of a very organized system operating in local high schools. Betting records list initials, but no names, and authorities say it is unlikely the students involved will be prosecuted. “These kids are the victims, not the criminals,” said one investigator. Charges for filing a false police report would be considered against the couple who started the ball rolling, but an insider close to the investigation thought it unlikely charges would be filed. “They’re heroes.”

With regard to exams recovered, police say at least 10 school districts are involved. None of the school officials contacted would speak to
The Times
for this story.

For more information on this raid, see Cam Kelly’s story.

Brit sat back and looked again at the letter to the editor. It was signed Nike. Her jaw dropped as she thought back to the evening she’d met Alex at Sal’s house.

How about Nike, the Goddess of Sport?
Brit had suggested
.

I thought Nike made basketball sneakers?
Alex asked.

Her whistle was inscribed with those four letters. And then at Christmas, Brit had given her the
Nike of Samothrace
.

Could it be? She shook her head. The idea was ridiculous. It had to be a coincidence. Someone else who was fond of sports had probably gotten involved in the gambling and decided to bring down Greg Merck. Just because Alex knew about the tests and Brit called her Nike didn’t mean she was the one behind this. Did it?

And then Brit thought of the night she’d found her test in Alex’s bag. Alex had told her she was going to handle it. And the next day, at Alex’s apartment, she’d asked Brit if she trusted her. Brit hadn’t been sure enough of Alex to stick by her, to learn her plan.

Is this what Alex had meant by handling it? Brit had to know.

The Hand Is Quicker Than the Eye

Alex climbed down from her SUV and walked around it, grabbing the kayak on the roof and pulling hard. Satisfied that it was anchored firmly enough to make it to the state park four miles away, she touched her toes to stretch her back, then headed into her apartment.

In addition to Greg’s arrest, the one thing she had to be happy about was her back. Alex had seen Brit’s doctor friend, and even though he’d agreed with the diagnosis of ankylosing spondylitis, he’d suggested a change in her meds. Since the switch, Alex felt better than she had in years.

As she walked into her living room, Alex heard her cell phone ringing. Not just any ring, though—this was a jazzy rhythm she’d assigned to a special woman so she’d always know it was her on the line. So she would know to stop everything and take that call, no matter what. Because, back then, that woman had been the most important thing in her world. She hadn’t heard that ring in months, since Brit had stopped calling her.

She picked up the phone to verify what she already knew, and Brit’s smiling face appeared on the screen. Cringing at the sight, Alex dropped the phone onto the counter. She had no intention of answering.

In her bedroom she didn’t even consider what to wear, just grabbed the first golf shirt and shorts she pulled from the drawer. She needed to get out of the house. The weather was beautiful, and several friends were heading to the park to cook out with real charcoal and toss horseshoes and paddle kayaks around the lake. It would be an excellent diversion for Alex to get away for a few hours and relax. Perhaps she might meet a cute girl at the lake. A new woman might help take her mind off Brit. She needed to think about something else and to get Brit out of her mind and out of her heart.

Alex supposed in the back of her mind she hoped that when the mutiny was over and Greg was arrested and the exam-selling exposed, she might tell Brit what had happened and see if they could work it all out. Start over. But then she’d realized there was no point in starting over—she and Brit were just too different. And Alex was angry. Brit had done nothing but judge her, from the first. The insults to Alex’s integrity were unforgivable. That she didn’t trust her, though—that was the worst thing.

The beeping of the phone indicated Brit had left a message, and Alex deliberately walked over to the phone and deleted it without bothering to listen. Now it couldn’t taunt her. The message was gone, just like Brit, and she couldn’t do anything about either one.

As she walked into the living room, the phone beeped again. This time it alerted her to a text. She sighed as she looked at the screen and saw a text from Brit.

Call me. PLEASE!

Alex had spent the last months trying to forget her, so why would she call? And then she paused and thought about that reaction. Hadn’t she actually spent all of that time hoping Brit would call, just to say I do trust you. To say I love you and I’ll stand by you? It was a fantasy, to think Brit would blur her moral lines, even for Alex. So Alex hadn’t even tried to see her at school or contact her in the evenings. Still, she’d hoped and prayed Brit would come to her senses and give Alex a chance. She’d wanted that, and now Brit had not only called but sent a text, too. Why was she so hesitant to talk to her?

Then another thought occurred to her.
Why
was Brit calling? Had someone died? Her parents weren’t young. And accidents happened all the time. Every night the news reported explosions and car crashes and terrorist attacks, all claiming innocent lives. Had one of her family members been in an accident? Or maybe one of their players? Or Sal and Sue?

Suddenly, Alex felt panicky. After all this time, Brit had to be calling for a reason, and it couldn’t be good. With trembling hands, she pressed the green telephone icon next to Brit’s name and initiated the phone call.

She answered almost immediately. “Was it you, Alex?”

Alex had expected news of death or dismemberment. This question completely baffled her. But then again, so did Brit. “Huh?”