Ashes and Bones (12 page)

I
T WAS WITH A STRANGE MIXTURE OF APPREHENSION
, vindication, and nerves that I told Brian about the chase when he got home. Apprehension, as if I was the one responsible for the chase and would be rebuked. Vindication, because trouble just kept coming, and sometimes, it still means something to be right, even when it’s your neck on the block. Nerves, because I had to relive the chase yet again with the second telling of it. There’s only so many ways that you can keep something at arm’s length before you have to face the reality of it. Then I realized I had to backtrack and tell Brian about what had happened at the site.

Brian let go of my hand, ran his hand through his hair. The blood rushed back into my fingers.

“Okay, whatever this is, is getting way out of control,” he said. “And this was aimed directly at you. The site, now this asshole in the car. There’s no doubting that.”

I kept my mouth shut and did a fair job of not looking like I’d finally made my point.

He squeezed me in a bear hug. “You’ve done all the right things, going to the cops, keeping your head. I’m so proud of you.”

“And I was right.” Then I blurted, “It is Tony.”

Brian looked at me quizzically. “You’re right, someone is gunning for you. I hate that it’s true, but yes, that’s what seems to be happening. As for that other thing, I don’t know. Even if it isn’t Tony, we need to be careful. I’m glad you went to the cops, glad that Stannard knows now, too. I say that we keep our eyes and ears open, do a little research into the laws about stalking or harassment laws or whatever they’re called in Massachusetts. Maine, too. Start a file, keep track of all this stuff, be extra careful about the house, your office—”

“And your office,” I persisted.

“Okay, sure, whatever.” He said it so quickly, I got the impression that he was doing that male denial thing, where an unpleasant situation is dismissed out of hand.

“I’m serious, Brian.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “This is getting…closer to home. Literally and figuratively, okay? And if it’s getting closer to me, then…you need to worry, too. About you.”

I watched him frown, but held his gaze until he nodded. “Okay. I’ll do my best.” He chewed the inside of his cheek a minute. “What if you take a leave of absence from school, this semester?”

“Brian! I can’t do that! It’s too late…it’s too much.” Talk about going from one extreme to another.

“Okay, okay, maybe that was a little much. What if…I work at home? And you work at home?”

“I can hardly teach classes from home,” I said, frowning. “And you’ve got a project deadline coming up, you know that. It’s all you can do to keep off a death-march schedule as it is.”

“I just hate the idea of someone knowing your schedule. I mean, it’s on the department website and everything, right? I could drive you to work.”

“Brian, you can’t drive me to work—it’s exactly the opposite direction of where you need to be going. And like I said, our schedules won’t allow it.”

“Hey, I’m on your side, remember? I’m trying to make sure you’re, uh, we’re both safe.”

“Yeah, but you can’t do that by locking me in the house. And I’m not going to let anyone curtail my life like that. I just can’t. Plus, I don’t want to be a sitting duck, which I will be if I confine myself to the house.”

Brian was annoyed, I could tell, but he didn’t make any other outrageous suggestions. I was glad, because not only did I not like the idea of being kept under lock and key, I hated the idea that I was responsible for making him uneasy. I also hated the notion that he might be in danger. His earlier denial of the situation was almost preferable to this new attitude, however.

“Okay,” he said finally. “But we’re both going to be extra cautious, right? There’s a weirdo out there.”

“You got it.” I could live with that: I hugged him then, a long time, grateful that I no longer felt so alone in this. Unanchored, it was all too easy to imagine that I might be making things up, seeing connections where there were none, but neither one of us could doubt it now. A gap between us had been bridged or the existing bridge made stronger, but it was terrible to think that I had to convince him of his own danger.

When I let Brian go, there was a thoughtful look on his face. I kissed him again, and went up to my office.

The next day, I got home late from errands, checked my email, and began putting together a batch of chili. I’m not a great cook, but I can do it when absolutely necessary. I even try to avoid using frozen foods, and so by most standards, I was pulling out all the stops. It made a change from working on lectures and fretting, at any rate. I set the table, cracked a beer for myself, and heard a car door slam in the driveway. And then another.

Frowning, I looked out the back door window, and saw my sister’s boyfriend, Joel, getting out of his Beemer, which was parked behind Brian’s pickup truck. There was no sign of Bucky. Strange enough that Joel should stop by unannounced and without my sister; it was odder still to see Brian and Joel do the handclasp–back slap greeting that’s become de rigueur among males of a certain generation.

Brian and Joel don’t get on all that well. I loved them both, but they’d never quite managed to become friends.

As I watched them talking in the drive, I was struck then by the similarity between the men. The physical likeness was limited to similar height and brown hair—Joel’s was blonder, cropped close to his head, his almost stylish small beard was a bit too self-conscious, and he had a slight paunch developing. Brian was looking a little more cut these days from the exercise at Krav, and he needed a haircut to disguise his cowlicks. I couldn’t help but notice that they were both wearing polo shirts, baggy shorts, and sports sandals. Both were geeks by trade, by nature and inclination. Both loved music and were devoted to good food. Both were problem solvers, both tended to be alpha, leader-types…

Maybe that was it: They were far too similar to find it easy to be friends. And then there was this protective thing Brian had going with Bucky: not having any siblings of his own, he’d adopted my sister as his own, and in some ways, the two were close friends, as close as my perennially guarded sister allowed. Brian’d been happy to hear about Joel being in Bucky’s life, but had never warmed to him personally.

And yet, here they were, looking for all the world like…friends.

I opened the door. “Hey, guys! Joel, this is a nice surprise.”

Brian started guiltily.

Joel waved. “Hey, Em. Yeah, well, when Brian called me last night, I figured I should come as quick as I could.”

Now I was really confused. “That was nice of you. What did Brian tell you?”

Brian was now shifting from one foot to another. “Uh, well, I told Joel the whole situation. That we’ve been worried that someone’s been watching the house or stealing our identity, and somehow they knew you’d be at the site. So figured, maybe they might have left bugs or spyware on the computers, or something. I thought maybe he could help me…us find out.”

Joel nodded. “Yeah, and after Carrie told me what happened—”

To me, my younger sister Charlotte was Bucky; I often forgot that the rest of the world not only saw her as a functioning adult, but called her Carrie. I was still surprised that my somewhat asocial sister was living with a guy; I had no idea what she told him, and every time I tried to guess, I got it wrong.

“And what with the fire at the vet clinic and everything? Well, I figured I could sneak out of work early, give you guys a hand. Like I was telling Brian, I’m not sure what I can do, but I’ll have a look, you know? I mean, we computer guys talk a good game and occasionally threaten to hack someone’s credit report, but—really? I’m just a software engineer. I’ve got a few tricks, but I don’t like hackers or what they do, so I’m not all that sure I can do anything much for you.”

“Still, it’s nice of him to come all the way up from Connecticut to help us,” Brian said. He glanced at me nervously, hoping that I’d be polite enough to refrain from arguing in front of Joel.

“Sure. You want some chili, Joel?” I said, standing back so they both could come in.

Joel entered the kitchen, sniffed and said, “Hey, are you sure that’s not spaghetti sauce?”

I got the hot sauce out of the cupboard for him. Joel likes his food with a kick. He put hot sauce on pancakes, once. “You’re very funny. Never insult the one who is feeding you, boy.”

Brian jumped in, eager to keep things going smoothly. “Joel, do you want to eat first, have a beer first, or start snooping?”

Joel shook his head. “I’m starved. You got any wine?”

“Uh…” I said. “We got some white in the fridge. Sauvignon blanc, I think.”

Joel made a face. “With chili? I’ll stick with the beer, thanks.” He glanced at Brian, who shrugged, as if to say “Hey, I’ve tried to teach her.”

We sat down and ate quickly.

“Do you have any bread?” Joel was sweating profusely now, the beads glistening on his pale skin more to do with the extras he’d dumped onto his chili than anything I had put into it. Red pepper flakes, Tabasco, and something scary-looking he poured from a bottle he kept in his briefcase.

“Yeah, but I made the rice to go with it…” I gestured to the bowl, but he’d already eaten it.

“Just to mop up.”

I got him the bread, and another beer for myself and Brian, who was more than usually chatty. Again, trying to prevent me from saying anything in front of Joel.

And then we got to work.

We all went from room to room—there was no way that I was going to be left out—and in each instance, Joel looked in the most likely places for a camera or bug. He told us why he was looking where, and we were able to give him the recent history of most of the rooms, having been intimately acquainted with the woodwork as its installers. After I told him about what had been in the room before the new molding, he looked approvingly at me.

“You really pay attention to details.”

“Brian did most of the finish work,” I said.

“Yeah, but it’s good, you know when things happened and how. You know what cracks are old and new.” He struggled to find the words for what he meant. “You pay attention to your surroundings. Most people don’t.”

“I’m sure it’s the archaeology,” I said. “Or maybe the up-tightness. Maybe paranoia, these days.” I looked over at Brian.

My husband frowned and shook his head, wondering if I was going to start something.

Joel waved the comment aside. “You know, a lot of scientific types are a bit paranoid. It’s a part of being tuned into trends and paying attention to detail. It’s not always a bad thing.”

“No,” Brian and I both said quickly.

“Okay, that looks good, far as I can see,” he said when we finished the last room. We’d spent a long time looking at the new plumbing and electrical box. “Let’s see your office, Emma, then we’ll figure out where to put the cameras outside.”

“Cameras?” I asked.

“We can put some cameras up, keep an eye on the outside,” Joel said. “It was a good idea that Brian had.”

“Cameras?” I repeated at Brian, who pretended to be paying rapt attention to Joel.

“Sure,” Joel said. “I’ve got a couple that will do the trick—Freddie the Freak will have to watch other people’s porn for a while—”

“Dude, we don’t want to know your friends’ habits,” Brian said.

Joel laughed. “Seriously not my friend. Co-worker. And it’ll be good for Freddie to watch professional pornographers for a while. And these cameras are out of date for what he’s into anyway. As for your present problem…you know, most hacks are worked inside the company, not outside. So if the facility is secure…then that helps. You keep the place locked up, right? And you use your alarm system?”

Brian and I both nodded.

“Good. No one with keys you don’t trust? The guy doing the work on the house?”

“I haven’t given him a key,” I said, but suddenly, I wondered about Artie and his unreliable nature.

“Good to hear.”

“You said you weren’t an expert?” I asked.

“I’m not, I’m just a guy. But I know enough to be paranoid and I know plenty of security freaks and I know my way around a Radio Shack. I can fake it good enough for your purposes. So, lead me to your office.”

I hurried up ahead, and quickly cleared a path to my desk. This resulted in a new pile off to the side. The CD I’d left playing while checking my email before I’d started dinner was still cycling.

Joel cocked his head thoughtfully. “Beethoven?”

“Yep. You need me to turn it off?”

“No, turn it up.”

I obliged, he sat down, cracked his knuckles and got to work. After a glance at the router, he looked at the monitor and frowned. He tapped the keys, bringing up screens I’d never seen before and didn’t know existed.

Finally he looked up, wary disbelief on his face. “You don’t have your encryption enabled?”

“Oh, the router has a firewall,” Brian said. “Don’t worry about it. Kam helped me with it when we set up the network.”

Joel went even paler than usual. “Brian, how long have you had this wireless network?”

The panic in his voice scared me.

“Not long, just about a month,” Brian said slowly. “We put it in just before we went to Hawaii.”

Joel shook his head. “With the wireless access wide open, anyone can see all your machines from behind the firewall. Damn it, you could have all sorts of crap on there.”

I exchanged a look with Brian: this was all news to both of us.

“Dude, you need to encrypt your wireless network, and install a firewall
and
some spy-detecting software on each machine.”

Brian looked at me, one eyebrow raised so high it was lost under his hair. He needed that haircut soon. Maybe I was trying to ignore the note of anxiousness in Joel’s voice.

“Why?” Brian said. “You really don’t need encryption if you’re as far out in the country as we—”

“No, man, that’s not true. Anyone could get on your network from outside the house. And the firewall in the router is wimpy-assed; you should have them on each of your machines as well.” Joel explained in detail what was wrong as he worked. “I didn’t find anything too suspicious, but I think you’ll be a lot safer from viruses and stuff, at the very least.”