Unauthorized Access (33 page)

* * *

“Get moving,” Landry said as he jumped into Gourley’s car. “West, out to Newton.”

Gourley pulled a U-turn and raced to the stop sign at the end of the block. He barely slowed down as he checked for cars in both directions and then blew through the intersection.

“What’s going on?” Gourley said.

Landry’s eyes were glued to the tracking device.

“While you were taking your sweet old time getting over here,” he said, “Donovan’s car has been sitting still. He’s started moving again, though, away from us, to the west. If he gets much further away I won’t be able to track him with this thing.”

Landry took some slow, deep breaths as Gourley was forced to stop for a light. The tiny screen showed Rob was also making stop and go progress. There was still a mile or so to spare in terms of range. Landry began to think they might actually catch him. Then the distance on the screen started increasing more rapidly.

“He’s really moving,” Landry said. “Must be on the Mass Turnpike.”

Before long
No Signal
appeared on the screen.

“Shit,” Landry said. “We lost him.”

“Relax,” Gourley said. “We’ll cut over to the ’Pike and reel him in.”

“No we won’t. He’ll make it to I-95 before we’re anywhere near him. From there he could go in any direction and we wouldn’t know which way to go to try to pick up his signal.”

“So he’s gone?”

“Not quite,” Landry said. “Let’s head for the spot where he stopped for a while. Someone there might know where he’s headed.”

Gourley followed Landry’s directions as they used the device to close in on the proper coordinates.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Landry said as they drew near and he recognized where they were headed. “Hand me your phone, will you?”

Landry dialed Dysart’s cell.

“Hello?” Dysart said.

“It’s me.”

“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you.”

“My phone’s busted.”

“I was talking to our young friend a few minutes ago,” Dysart said. “He’s headed for some cabin in the woods outside Worcester.”

“You know where this cabin is exactly?”

“I tried to get it out of him, but he wouldn’t say.”

“No matter,” Landry said. “I’ve got a bug on his car. I should be able to find him.”

“He won’t be alone, though. He’s going to see a friend, the one I told you about, Tim.”

“Won’t be a problem for me, as long as it’s not for you.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning it tends to be unpleasant for whoever I end up talking to.”

“As long as you come up with that keyword, I don’t care who you have to go through to get it.”

“This could actually work out better,” Landry said. “Our young man turned out to be surprisingly tough. Sometimes people like that give up their precious secrets far more easily when they have to watch someone else take the beating.”

“This is more than I need to know.”

Landry snickered. “Whatever you say.”

C
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T
HIRTY-
T
HREE

LEAFY BRANCHES MADE scraping sounds on the sides of the Camaro as it jounced along the dirt track that led through the woods and eventually, or so Tim claimed, to the cabin. Tim grimaced every time the undercarriage of the car bottomed out on a rocky hump. Lesley came to the inescapable conclusion that the engineers who designed the Camaro had not been trying to create an off-road vehicle.

“Are we close?” she said. “My tummy says it’s definitely dinnertime.”

“Almost there,” Tim said.

Before long they turned into a small field surrounded on all sides by trees. The cabin sat near the middle of the field. Knee-length grass dominated the open areas of the field, except where sandy gravel had been spread to form a rough driveway and parking area directly in front of the cabin. The structure itself did not look to be expensively built. A number of gray cinder blocks served as the foundation. Still, the paint was fresh and the whole place gave the impression of being well looked after.

Tim pulled up in front.

“I hope Martin gave us the right key,” he said. They had stopped at his uncle’s place in Worcester.

While he went to try the cabin door, Lesley opened the car and tried to coax Leo out. She saw him huddled among the plastic grocery bags.

“Hey, now,” she said softly. “You don’t have to be scared. Come see Mommy.”

At the sound of her voice he emerged hesitantly from his hiding place. His curiosity seemed to get the better of his caution as he approached the open car door. He stared out in big-eyed wonder at the new world before him. Lesley picked him up.

“Let’s see what you make of this place, my big brave hunter,” she murmured.

She set him down in the gravel and stayed close in case he decided to bolt. She needn’t have worried. Leo found a sandy spot, scratched himself a hole and squatted over it.

“Good boy,” she said.

Tim emerged from the cabin looking satisfied. “The power’s on and the water works,” he said.

Lesley watched Tim pull a suitcase from the car and carry it toward the cabin. She wondered once again how she really wanted this weekend to turn out. In truth she wasn’t sure. It seemed the only certainty in her life was that nothing had gone her way all week. She scooped up Leo, grabbed a couple of grocery bags and followed Tim into the cabin.

The relatively neat exterior of the cabin did nothing to prepare her for the disaster inside. The cabin consisted of three rooms. The outer door led into a large room that included a kitchen area as well as an open sitting area with a long brown sofa and assorted chairs. A stuffed deer head hung on the wall over one of the chairs. Two doors on Lesley’s left led to a bathroom and a bedroom, in which she could see a set of pine bunk beds and a small closet.

Some sort of mess covered every available surface. A dusty pile of beer boxes full of empties took up half the tiny counter next to the sink. Unwashed dishes rested on the other half. Lesley didn’t want to think how long they had sat there. An even larger pile of bottles sat on the floor next to a full garbage bag. Based on the shape of the bulges in the bag, Lesley assumed it was stuffed with beer cans. The windows that had glinted so nicely in the early evening sun from outside looked grimy and spotted from the inside.

Tim emerged from the bedroom.

“The sofa folds out into a double bed,” he said, “but it’s kind of lumpy. I thought you could take the bedroom and I’ll sleep out here.”

Lesley looked in at the rumpled roll of bedding that sat on the top bunk bed. She guessed it had not been washed since the last time the bed was slept in. Luckily she had brought her own sleeping bag and pillow.

“Sorry about the mess,” Tim said. “I guess cleaning isn’t a big priority when you’re on a hunting trip.”

Lesley did her best to put on a game face.

“It’s probably not as bad as it looks,” she said.

She put Leo down. He scampered off to explore.

“I wouldn’t mind if you got rid of that, though,” she said, pointing to the shotgun leaning against the wall in one corner. “I don’t even want to touch it.”

“You don’t have to worry. Uncle Martin insists on never having a loaded gun in the cabin. See? The shells are there in a box beside it.”

“Still,” Lesley said. “It gives me the creeps.”

Tim laughed. “It is a hunting cabin, you know.”

He carried the gun and the shells into the bedroom, where he put them in the closet.

After that they brought the rest of their stuff in from the car. Tim piled his things near the sofa while Lesley’s bags disappeared into the bedroom. They had stopped on their way through Worcester and stocked up on supplies, which included a couple of bottles of sauvignon blanc and a dozen cans of Bud Lite.

“You want to eat now?” Tim asked as he put the last couple of bags of groceries on the table. “I’m starved.”

Lesley looked around. “Maybe we should tackle some of this mess first.”

“I suppose,” Tim said.

He started moving beer cases from the counter to the pile on the floor. He didn’t look too happy about it.

“Can you put those outside?” Lesley said.

“Why?” he said. “There’s plenty of room for them here.”

Lesley gritted her teeth to keep from snapping at him.

“Because they smell, okay?”

Tim sighed. He picked up two boxes and headed outside.

Lesley shook her head. Maybe she should have listened to her doubts.

* * *

Stan Dysart arrived home to find his sister’s car in his driveway. He walked to the front door of the house and was about to open it when it swung inward. Rose came hustling out and almost ran into him.

“Oh,” she said, stopping short. “You startled me.”

“Sorry,” Dysart said.

Rose’s eyes were red and her face was blotchy.

“Have you been crying?” Dysart said.

Sheila appeared in the doorway behind Rose. “She’s worried about Lesley.”

Dysart pulled his little sister into a reassuring hug. “Hey, I know Lesley’s having a rough time,” he said, “but she’s a tough kid. She’ll bounce back.”

“You have to promise you’ll look out for her,” Rose said. Her cheek was against his chest as she squeezed him back.

“Don’t I always? She’s my special girl. You know that.”

They let go of each other and Rose dug in her purse for a tissue.

“You must think I’m a ninny, bawling like this.”

“Don’t be silly,” Sheila said. “This is hard on everyone.”

Rose dabbed at her eyes. “I was doing okay until Rob showed up.”

“Why,” Dysart asked. “Did he and Lesley end up fighting again?”

“No, Lesley left before Rob got here,” Sheila said. “She went away for a couple of days with Tim.”

Dysart’s eyes widened. “But … Rob said Tim is off at some hunting cabin.”

Sheila nodded. “And Lesley is there too.”

Dysart suddenly felt hollow inside. His mind raced through the ramifications of this revelation. Landry had talked with callous indifference about forcing Rob to talk by beating his friends. Surely that couldn’t include Lesley, could it? From what he knew of Landry, Dysart had to admit that it might. How could he have been so stupid as to put Lesley in harm’s way like this? He wiped his mouth with a trembling hand as he tried to think of a way to fix it.

Landry’s phone wasn’t working. Dysart wondered if he should send the police to the cabin. But that would mean no keyword, which would also mean the bank was in danger of closing forever. His analytical side immediately began to compute whether anyone, Lesley included, was worth risking the bank over. Then shame washed over him. Of course she was worth it, no question.

But getting Landry arrested would probably also result in Dysart himself going to jail. And Landry would almost certainly find a way to have Dysart killed. All thoughts of calling the police vanished from his mind.

“Stan, what’s wrong?” Sheila said.

Dysart licked his lips with a dry tongue and looked at his sister. “I don’t suppose you know where this cabin is.”

Rose nodded. “Sure I do.”

C
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HIRTY-
F
OUR

TIM SLIPPED ON a clean T-shirt and picked up the towel to dry his hair a bit more. The tiny shower stall was cramped and offered very little water pressure, but the shower had felt glorious after all the dust and grime he and Lesley had slogged through. His head swam pleasantly as he wiped steam from the tiny bathroom mirror. Cleaning the cabin had turned out to be thirsty work, and Tim had put away several cans of beer. Plus they had polished off one of the bottles of wine with dinner.

He shot a sloppy grin at his reflection in the mirror.

“Handsome devil, aren’tcha?” he said.

A couple of swipes with a comb and Tim was ready to rock.

Leaving the bathroom, he found Lesley brushing her hair back into a wet ponytail. She wore a thick white terry cloth bathrobe over cotton pajamas. With the ponytail complete, Lesley went into the bedroom and reappeared carrying a brand new leatherette holdall adorned with a round glass bauble on the front. She pulled out a tube of hand cream and sat the bag on one of the chairs near the sofa.