Chapter 51
CLINT WALKS BACK into the main room with only his cell phone.
“Did you get the hot spot running?” I ask.
“Not a problem. Ready for Reid when he’s done.” Clint lays his phone on the island. “You find a snack?”
“No. I don’t need it.” I glance around the cabin.
It’s starting to feel very small. We’ve looked at the data and the contracts every which way.
We’re not going to solve this tucked away in the woods.
Maybe Clint is right about an email to Betsey.
I can just ask her to call me on the sat phone.
If I need to show her the contracts, I will.
Maybe we can get to the bottom of what she and I both know.
“It’s not about need.”
“What?” I shake my head, realizing he’s still talking about food.
Clint opens a cupboard above the refrigerator. “A snack is not about need.”
“Did you check? Do you know who won?” Erika pops her head back over the couch.
“Nope. I’ll let Reid do the honors.” Clint shifts what looks like a first aid kit and then a small tool bag inside the cabinet.
“You have too much willpower.” Erika flops back down.
“Hardly,” he says and then spins around. “Here you are, my lady.”
“Dark chocolate?” I scowl at the bar in his hand.
“Amano seventy percent.” He hands me the bar with a beautiful rendering of a cacao tree on the wrapper. “Thought you’d be more pleased.”
“I am. Sorry. How do you have this?” I peel open the wrapper, and the thin foil knocks something loose in my brain. My taste buds tingle.
“Actually, Dave.” Clint busies himself in the sink. “He gave us some goodies when we shared our latest business plan.”
I break off a square, not letting its provenance ruin my bite. I slump on the stool and let my eyes close as I savor the smooth bittersweetness.
The bathroom door bangs open. “I’m ready,” Reid announces. “How do I get Wi-Fi?”
“I’ve pulled up your coach’s email to the team and parents, but I haven’t looked.” Clint hands Reid his phone.
Reid should never play poker. His face explodes with glee and then turmoil and then delight again. His eyes scan, and occasionally his mouth moves with silent words, but he doesn’t make a sound.
“Did you win, maggot?” Erika calls out from the couch.
“Erika.” My words come automatically in the parental tone I’ve perfected. “Give him a minute.”
As the seconds bleed into minutes, I too become anxious to hear the outcome, but since I corrected Erika, I can hardly jump in. I look to Clint, but he seems content to give Reid time.
So annoying.
Finally, Reid looks up. “We won on speed and agility, but the Pinepoint team won on creativity and efficiency. Which is totally wrong, because I wrote the code, and it was clean and logical.”
“So, you tied?” I ask. “That’s great. Right?” I look around the room. My family hates to tie. Every sport, every game, even an empty wager is met with a fight to the finish. I understand because I’m one of them.
“They don’t allow ties. A team has to win. They had to do a speed round. Just us and Pinepoint. Bobby was our lead programmer, and I wasn’t there to do any of it.” His face falls.
“Sorry, buddy. I wish you could’ve been there for your team.” Clint hugs Reid around his shoulders, jostling him against his hip.
“You’re irreplaceable.” I walk over to hug my little guy.
“No, I’m not.” Reid scrunches up his nose. “We won.”
Clint pulls Reid away and holds him by his arms. “Way to fake us out. Congratulations!”
“Yeah.” Reid smiles but with only half his face.
Erika flops over the back of the couch. “Sucks they didn’t need you.”
“Of course they needed him.” I swat at my daughter. “He got them to the finals and is an absolutely brilliant robotics kid.”
Reid wiggles away from his dad and walks right into Erika. Her arms wrap around his still-small body. She gets him.
Clint slides in next to me. Sometimes you just need someone to understand. The encouragement, even the celebration, can come later.
The sentiment surrounding the hug they shared doesn’t last long. Insults skewer the air as they settle into their twin beds. Exhaustion clear as they both curl onto their sides, Erika looking younger and Reid older, their age difference almost immaterial.
“Stop staring at me,” Erika grumbles from behind closed eyes.
I stumble away from the doorway.
At just after nine thirty, Clint and I are back at the island.
“Maybe it’s time to contact Betsey,” I say.
“Okay?” Clint pours us each a glass of water.
“Betsey said she found the sales data.”
“And Dave told you it was fake. So did Hardwin and Terrence, but then you overheard Hardwin and Terrence saying they lied.” Clint smiles as if he is proud of his ability to remember.
“Maybe the data was the insurance policy and not the payment.” I look up from my current list of what I know.
“You’ve lost me.”
“I’ve been thinking about the data as partial payment or perk for whatever securities were being lent, and what if . . .” I flip through the pages to find my notes from Alyssa.
Aunt May
Retirement home in Florida
New return address
Nothing in letter
Aunt Mackie wants to borrow rose dishes
“Alyssa only had moments to come up with this. Incredible. She was scouring the income reports from our custodial bank, which should have been coming from Minneapolis. What if someone was scrubbing those reports so they only looked like they were coming from there? What if they were coming from the Meymack ops center in Florida?”
“She also said nothing in letter?” Clint points to my scribbled words on the note.
“Yeah, I can’t quite remember her exact words, but it could mean that there was nothing strange about the reports themselves—just an address she found on one or more of them?”
“So, backing up. Someone is collecting revenue from Meymack but making it look like it’s coming from the bank in Minneapolis. For what purpose?”
“Exactly. Someone, probably from within Garman Straub, could be acting as an independent lending agent.”
“But couldn’t Meymack just borrow the securities from your custodian?”
“Maybe we offer subpar rates? The funds are still getting paid. Maybe it’s not the entire fee but something. I’m still missing the motivation. Why would someone risk it?” I slam both my hands down on the pile of papers and folders.
“You’ll figure it out.”
“But in the meantime, is Alyssa all right? Where’s Betsey? And why is Candace after us?”
“Maybe we need to sleep on it. Store all these bits away and take them out to examine them in the morning. If we can’t figure it out, we’ll contact Komoroski.”
“Oh! I forgot to text him our address.”
Clint’s eyes drill into mine.
“I know. He insisted I come into the station, and then I didn’t message him.” I tent my hands over my mouth and blow hard. “I’m done with all of this, Clint.” I dig into my bag and hand him the officer’s card. “Can you just text him the address?”
Clint nods and starts typing. “What about Betsey?”
I keep thinking about those pictures of Lucas and me.
Threats of something she didn’t understand.
She was desperate, and I don’t trust her.
“No more hiding. First light, we are out of here. We’ll connect with Komoroski, and then we’re finding Betsey.
And I’ll lay all of this on the table. Someone is going to answer for it. ”
“Everything we have has your name or fingerprints on it. You sure?” Clint glances up from the phone.
“Absolutely. The truth has to be enough.” I just wish I was sure that it would be.