Unauthorized Access (40 page)

“As for the other dead guy,” Steeves continued, “we’re still working on putting a name to him. But let’s suppose for the sake of argument you’re telling the truth about him. He was hired to track you down and get the keyword. And that turned out to be genuine, by the way and thank you for finally giving it up. The bank is busy as we speak restoring all their accounts to normal. Right off the cuff I can come up with a couple of reasons you might have had for killing the guy. He could have seen you shoot Tim, so you had to get rid of the witness. Or you could have been angry about the beating he laid on you earlier. And that’s just for starters. Give me a few minutes and a couple more motives might occur to me.”

“You can’t do this. You’re just making this stuff up.”

“If you don’t like it, then give me something else,” Steeves said. “Is there anything other than the say-so of you and your girlfriend to refute my version of how things went up at that cabin?”

Rob thought furiously. In the end it boiled down to one simple fact. The only person who could verify that Rob hadn’t sabotaged the computers was now dead. He felt completely deflated.

* * *

After two more interminable hours of waiting, the pudgy officer was still standing outside the room rather than within. He had apparently memorized as many details of Rob’s appearance as he could handle. Rob had done his best to wear the wax off the industrial tile floor by pacing in a circle around the table. He was in the middle of yet another lap when the door opened and Steeves came in.

Rob scowled at him. “You won’t get anything more from me,” he said. “I want to see my lawyer.”

The FBI agent did something Rob had never seen him do before. He laughed.

“That won’t be necessary,” Steeves said.

He moved to one side and Rob was astonished to see Lesley standing behind him with a grin on her face.

“Your girlfriend here is quite a lady,” Steeves said. “I’d hang on to her if I were you.” He looked at Lesley. “You want to tell him, or should I?”

“Shayna loaned me some video equipment,” Lesley said. “I recorded what happened at the cabin.”

“It was a slick set-up,” Steeves said. “She’s got this purse with a glass bauble on the front that doubles as a camera lens.”

Rob stared at them, dumbfounded.

“We just watched the most relevant parts of the video,” Steeves said. “With this kind of evidence, I have no choice but to suggest to the U.S. Attorney’s office that we drop all charges against you. I have no doubt they’ll agree.”

A balloon of euphoria welled up inside Rob. “You mean it’s finally over?”

“Looks that way,” Steeves said. “There’ll probably be another court appearance to dismiss the charges, but that should be it.”

Rob gave the agent an appraising look. “But why are you so happy? I thought you were dead set on putting me away.”

Steeves grinned. “That’s when I thought you were a scumbag. You have no idea how refreshing it is to have someone turn out to be telling the truth.”

He shook Rob’s hand.

“I’m sorry you had to go through so much,” Steeves said, and with that he turned and left the room.

Rob grabbed Lesley in a bear hug.

“You’re amazing,” he said.

“It helps when your best friend is a video techie.”

“I owe Shayna a big hug.”

“At least.”

They stood holding hands and grinning at each other. After a few seconds Rob said, “A video, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Of you and Tim.”

“Uh huh.”

“On the foldout bed.”

She pursed her lips and slowly nodded.

Rob looked at her in an appraising way for a moment. “Can’t imagine I’d ever want to watch it.”

“No,” she said slowly, “I wouldn’t think so.”

Rob nodded.

Lesley’s grin faded and small worry lines formed between her eyebrows.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you right away,” she said. “I can’t imagine how that must have hurt you.”

“No, I’m the one who has to apologize. I should have understood what you were going through. And you obviously believed on some level what I told you about Tim, even though it must have sounded far-fetched.” He squeezed her hands. “No one could show more faith in me than that.”

“But I should have—”

“Don’t suppose you want to get married, do you?”

Lesley seemed taken aback at first, but then a smile spread across her face.

“More than you’ll ever know.”

E
PILOGUE

Six Weeks Later

ROB RETURNED THE silver tray to the buffet table. With the small number of guests at the intimate affair, it had not taken him long to distribute the groom’s cake. Lesley was still moving among the tables with a tray piled high with slivers of white cake. Rob smiled broadly. Even after the ceremony and an excruciatingly long photo session, the sight of Lesley in her gown still made him stare in wonderment.

“It’s too much,” Shayna said.

He turned to find her at his elbow. She practically glowed in a peach maid-of-honor’s dress.

“What’s too much?” he said.

“This.”

She opened her clutch purse and pulled out a pair of plane tickets. Boston to Nassau, return. Four nights, all-inclusive.

“Lesley said this was your doing.”

Rob grinned at her. “Did I mention you look positively radiant today?”

“Don’t change the subject. Just because we’re almost family now don’t mean I can’t box you round the ears if I need to. Now you two can’t afford this sort of thing. You got a wedding to pay for.”

“You helped give us our life back. We could send you on a trip every week for the rest of your life and it wouldn’t be enough.”

Shayna leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

“Lesley’s a lucky girl,” she said.

“Now that I happen to agree with.”

“But there’s one thing you better understand.”

Shayna had a hand on one hip and her head cocked at a don’t-mess-with-me angle.

“When the two of you start poppin’ babies, I’m the first one gets to hold them. Okay, after the proud momma and papa, and maybe after the grandparents, but that’s it. Then it’s me. And I’m going to hold you personally responsible for that.”

Rob laughed. “It’s a deal.”

She gave him a wink and wandered off into the crowd.

Rob started to head for Lesley, but Stan Dysart caught up with him first.

“Welcome to the family,” Dysart said, shaking Rob’s hand.

“Thanks.”

“It was a beautiful ceremony. All the hustling the ladies did over the last few weeks paid off.”

“Yeah, it was a push,” Rob said, “but after everything Lesley and I went through, we didn’t feel like waiting.”

“Can’t say I blame you.”

“So are things back to normal at the bank yet?”

Dysart grimaced. “I don’t even know what normal means anymore, but enough of our customers stuck with us so it looks like we’ll be okay.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Are you sure you won’t consider coming back to the bank?”

“I’ll do all right where I am,” Rob said. “It’s only a small consulting company, but we’ve got potential.”

“That’s too bad. I still think you could have a great career in banking.”

“There was a day when that sort of offer would have been impossible to resist,” Rob said, “but now it feels like it’s time to stand on my own.”

Dysart shrugged as if to say: Can’t blame a guy for trying.

“One thing still bugs me, though,” Rob said. “That FBI agent—Steeves—he called me a couple of weeks ago. They found out the guy who kidnapped me was named Landry. Used to work for the CIA.”

“Really?” Dysart said.

“Yeah, but they have no idea who hired him.”

“Oh, you can’t worry about that sort of thing,” Dysart said. “Just be happy it’s all over.”

He put an arm around Rob’s shoulders and started walking him toward the others.

“After all,” Dysart said, “you’re with your family and friends now.”

* * *

The walk from the bus stop winded the old man. His pace had slowed considerably by the time he left the sidewalk and entered the cemetery. He plodded with grim determination, though, along the paved drive and across the grassy expanse covered with gravestones, careful never to tread on any space directly in front of a stone. When he reached his destination, Eldon Whitlock placed a small bundle of flowers on Tim’s grave.

This was Eldon’s first visit since the funeral. Knowing that Tim would have attended the wedding today was hard for him to bear. After much restless pacing in the desolate apartment, Eldon had donned his overcoat and ended up here.

He stared at the tombstone as a chilly breeze riffled through what remained of his hair. The dates inscribed on the stone’s surface increased the ache inside. No one should have to die at such a young age.

“I should’ve helped you,” Eldon said.

He paused as if he expected a response, but the only reply came from the wind and the fallen leaves rustling at his feet. After a moment he went on.

“A better father would’ve been there for you, but I didn’t understand what you were going through.”

Eldon lapsed into silence again. He stared at the grave, remembering, thinking about what might have been. Then, before turning away and heading back to the emptiness, he said, “I love you, son. I was always proud of you.”

With that moment came the painful realization that his son might still be alive if he had offered these words sooner. Eldon lowered his head and walked away from the gravestone. As if offering feeble comfort, the blowing leaves followed him back to the bus stop.

A
BOUT
T
HE
A
UTHOR

ANDREW MCALLISTER, PH.D. writes both fiction and non-fiction, including the relationship advice blog
To Love, Honor, and Dismay
. He has a psychology degree and over twenty-five years of experience in the IT industry as a professor, consultant, and software company executive. In other words he can fix your computer software … but only if it really wants to change. He lives with his family in New Brunswick, Canada, where he is busy working on his next book.

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A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

THANKS TO MY colleague and computer security expert Rod Cooper, who helped me understand how a cyberattack on a modern bank might conceivably occur. Any factual errors are mine, not Rod’s.

I owe an immense debt of gratitude to my early reader group. A big thank you to John Ball, Mary Ann Casey, Rob Doucette, Rik Hall, Linda Labine, Ted Logan, Stephen McAllister, Greg McCarthy, and David Perry. You helped improve the story in countless ways and your enthusiasm gave me the energy to make it to the finish line.

Thanks to Norb Vonnegut for his promotional support during the early days, when it mattered the most.