Blind Rage (28 page)

“Ah, yes,” the man said. “It must be very upsetting. My sympathies, Miss Barrett. This is Marcus, by the way. Marcus Jackson. I’m head of the security team.”

“My
uncle
is head of the security team,” Tess said.

“When he’s not here, I’m in charge.”

His tone told Tess not to push it. She remembered Marcus, a tall black man who’d trained with Uncle Travis in the Special Forces. She’d tried to ignore all the men Travis had brought in to protect them before the accident, but he’d been an unavoidable presence.

“I have strict orders from Travis—from your uncle—to keep tabs on you at all times,” Marcus said. “You should have let me know you were home from school.”

Tess’s voice rose. “How was I supposed to know—?”

“You didn’t,” Marcus said bluntly. “I’m informing you now. Please keep me advised of your whereabouts.”

“You could have just asked Kenny or Luis,” she complained.

“I could have, but I need to hear it directly from you.” His voice was cold. “Those are my orders.”

“You might as well lock me up. Then you’ll know where I am all the time,” she grumbled.

“It might come to that,” Marcus said.

Tess blinked back tears as his footsteps receded.

I watched Jackson’s broad back retreat, sinewy muscles rippling beneath his cashmere turtleneck like a panther’s. The creamy color of the pullover complemented his skin tone, like foam on a cappuccino. Black silk trousers and Italian leather loafers completed the ensemble. He moved athletically, with the graceful stride of a wide receiver or a point guard. But he had more bulk, more like a tight end or a power forward. Something about his demeanor, his less-than-sympathetic exchange with Tess despite his words of condolence, made me distrust him. Luis and Kenny had feigned friendliness, at least. Jackson had all the charm of a cobra.

“He’s gone,” I said when Marcus disappeared down the hall.

She shuddered. “They’re all so mean. Why can’t they just leave me alone?”

“You know why. We—well, you—have something someone wants.”

“These files.” She shook her head. “But we don’t even know what they are. Why did you cover for me, anyway?”

“I don’t trust him,” I said. “I don’t trust any of them, not even your uncle. Especially not your uncle.”

“You can’t be serious. Why not?”

“You don’t trust him. Why should I? I don’t
know
these people, Tess. Think about it. Who has the most to gain from getting you out of the way? The most to lose if someone screws up the business? We’re probably talking a lot of money here. Maybe enough to turn your uncle over to the dark side. He may have been in Afghanistan when you were growing up, but he’s been back now, what, a year? Plenty of time to figure out how to take control of the company.”

“He already
has
control of the company. He knows I don’t want anything to do with it.” She waved her arms in frustration. “Besides, we don’t even know what’s going on.”

“The men who came after us last night? They weren’t looking for help with homework or your advice on what to wear to the prom. This program, whatever it is, is big. Important enough to kill for.”

I paused, attention drawn to the video clip frozen midframe on my laptop screen. My mind triple-jumped to another topic. “You don’t really think you’re dad’s still alive, do you?”

Tess swallowed hard. “No, I guess not. But he could have set all this in motion before the accident.”

“If he did, then maybe he wants you to have a copy of this file for some reason. Maybe that’s why we were able to copy this. Maybe he wants you to figure out what the program is, what it’s for.”

She snorted. “I’ve never done any programming. I don’t understand it. Dad always tried to show me how, but I just didn’t get it.”

“Yeah, but you know people who do understand it. Mark might be able to piece enough of it together to figure out what it does.” I remembered something else as well. “We didn’t copy the file on the camera’s memory card before we uploaded it. Something may have been hidden in that file, too. Damn, that might have made it easier for Matt.”

Her head drooped and swung from side to side. “I guess I better figure out my homework before trying to decipher some weird computer code, or I’m in deep trouble.”

“Good point. Sorry. I’ll help you get started. You want to work here or in the library?”

“Library.”

I gathered up books, backpack, and laptop and got her settled in the library. She managed to focus for about an hour, knocking off math and chemistry assignments fairly easily and finishing most of her French homework. Just as she started to get antsy, twirling a strand of hair with two fingers and fidgeting in her chair, Alice walked in and headed straight for our table.

“I picked up a rental car for you,” she said, handing me a set of car keys. “Are you two hungry?”

“Not really,” Tess piped up before I could admit I was famished. “Can we take a break? I need to get out for a little while. A half hour or so, that’s all. Take me for a drive, Oliver, please? I promise I’ll finish up the rest of my homework as soon as we get back.”

I looked at Alice with raised eyebrows.

She glanced down at the books and papers on the table. “How’s she doing?”

“A lot of reading for the American studies/literature block,” I said, “but otherwise she’s pretty much caught up.”

Alice nodded. “Fine. Go for a drive. But don’t stay out long.”

“What about Marcus?” Tess said. “He wants to know my every waking move, and I just can’t deal with him right now.”

“I’ll handle Marcus,” Alice said. “But don’t leave until I’ve spoken with him. You know he has to put a detail on you.”

“What? Like,
follow
us?” Tess rolled her eyes, a gesture at once completely natural and yet somehow disturbing.

“It’s for your own protection, Tess. I’ll tell Marcus to make sure they’re discreet. You’ll never know they’re there.”

“I’ll know,” Tess said. “I just won’t be able to see them.”

I would have complimented her on at least having a sense of humor about it, except that she didn’t look at all happy.

“Come on,” I said, “let’s get you out of here.”

Five minutes later we rolled out of the drive and past the gate, a black SUV with Kenny and Luis on board not far behind. Tess wriggled into the seat next to me, getting comfortable.

“Smells funny,” she said. “It’s not as nice as my mom’s car. You miss it, don’t you?”

“Your mom’s car? Sure. It’s cool.” The nondescript gray rental sedan made me miss the BMW more than I thought I would. I’d never been attached to material things all that much, never cared too much about what sort of clothes I wore or car I drove. But I had to admit that, having experienced the performance and creature comfort of the BMW, anything less paled in comparison.

“You really never drove one before?”

“A Beemer? No, why?”

“I don’t know. I thought you were a trust-fund baby. Figured you had lots of nice things growing up.”

“Not really. Nana and Pop-Pop didn’t have a lot of money. I mean, they weren’t poor or anything. They had a nice house. Nothing fancy, but big enough for the three of us, a yard to play in. Nice neighborhood, but nothing like yours. Nice neighbors, at least. Anyway, the trust fund only paid for education, not cars. What about you? Ever ridden in a beater like this? Something the peasants drive?”

“Hey, I never said you were a peasant. As a matter of fact when I was little, my dad drove an ancient Saab he bought when he was in college. And my mom drove a beat-up Honda. It wasn’t until Dad’s company took off and we moved up here that my parents got nicer cars.”

“Nicer cars, nicer house . . . I’d say they did all right.”

“They earned it,” she said quietly. “They worked really hard for it, and what good did it do them? They’re not here to enjoy it, are they?”

I had no glib answer for that. We drove in silence for a while under low, gray clouds that scudded across the sky in search of a suitable place to dump a load of raindrops.

“I want to see Helen,” Tess said suddenly.

“Helen. As in your former cook?”

“Yes, Helen. Doesn’t it bug you that after years with us she suddenly quit?”

“I didn’t know her. Was she happy working for you? For your parents?”

“Of course she was happy. Why wouldn’t she have been?”

“I don’t know. Depends on how she was treated. It’s one thing to have a steady job with reasonable hours and nice employers. It’s another to neglect your own family to cook from morning till night for some rich folks that treat you like dirt.”

“We did
not
treat Helen like dirt. She
was
like family. I know my parents paid her well, and no, they didn’t work her to death. She always seemed happy to me.”

“Got along okay with Alice?”

Tess shrugged. “Sure.”

“So where does she live?”

“Down in Renton somewhere. I’ll get the address.”

She pulled out her phone and asked it to map the address for Helen Corday, then handed the phone to me. I glanced at it and handed it back.

“Need to keep my eyes on the road,” I said. “Will it work like a GPS device? You know, give me directions?”

She spoke some commands into the phone and it immediately spoke back, giving us the first turn. In a few minutes I was on the freeway and headed south toward Renton. Breaks in the trees flashing by on one side revealed glimpses of Lake Washington, gray under the clouds. Tess was quiet the whole way, the monotone instructions from her phone my only company. I kept checking the rearview mirror, but couldn’t tell if Kenny and Luis were still behind us or not.

Soon we were back on a city thoroughfare. The route took us close to downtown Renton, winding around the bottom of the lake and back up into the hills surrounding it. We turned off the main arterial onto a side street into a neighborhood of older, small homes. A few blocks farther, we found the address listed for Helen—a single-story Cape Cod cottage with weathered shingle siding. I pulled up to the curb across the street from the house and shut off the engine. A car passed by and turned at the corner, leaving the street quiet and still.

“What do you see?” Tess asked, fingers splayed on the dash as if to keep from being thrown through the windshield.

“Not much.” I described the house to her.

“She’s probably not even home,” Tess said. “I bet she’s at work.”

“Are you nervous about seeing her?”

“I don’t know what to say. I mean, I don’t want to accuse her.”

“Just ask her.”

I got out, circled the front of the car, and helped Tess out. She gripped my arm tightly as we crossed the street. There was no sign of Luis and Kenny.

I rang the doorbell and took a step back from the door. Curtains in the front window were drawn tight, and the house looked dark and empty. Scraggly rhododendrons on either side of the stoop clawed their way up the side of the house, looking for a grip on the gutters. Dandelions speckled the yard, poking up from grass that was badly in need of cutting. I leaned forward and stabbed the bell with a finger again.

Tess tugged on my arm. “Come on, let’s go. No one’s home.”

“Hang on a second. I thought I heard something.”

I pushed the bell a third time, and when the chime faded away, I heard soft footsteps approaching the door. It opened a crack and a woman peered through the opening, face etched with worry, gray wisps of hair trailing down her cheeks. Brown eyes ringed with dark circles widened in surprise at the sight of Tess, and the worry changed to fear. She opened the door another inch, then her eyes darted one way and another as she took in the street behind us.

“Helen?” Tess said. “Is that you?”

A soft groan escaped the woman behind the door. “Go away, child. You shouldn’t have come.”

“Helen, please,” Tess said. “Let us in. We need to talk to you.”

Helen sighed. “About what? It’s all been said.”

“No, it hasn’t. Please, there’s so much I have to tell you, so much I want to know.”

“I can’t help you. Go away.”

Helen’s face receded into the gloom, but before she could close the door, I stuck my foot in the crack. She leaned forward, her eyes narrowed.

“Look,” I said, “you can let us inside for five minutes and answer a few simple questions, or we can stand here banging on your door for the next five minutes. I’m sure the neighbors would love that—not to mention any passersby.”

Helen shivered, the same look of fright painting her face a ghostly shade. “Fine, come in. But I’m telling you, I can’t help you.”

She swung the door wide and reached out with bloodless, skeletal hands that clutched at Tess’s sleeve and pulled her in. She motioned me inside impatiently and shut the door behind me, checking the street once more before latching it tightly.

“Can’t help, or won’t?” I said.

She peered at me in the dim light. Without answering, she waved a bony hand in front of Tess’s face and got no reaction.

“It’s true,” Helen whispered. “You
are
blind.” She gulped and took Tess by the hand. “Well, fine, come on in then. Sit down. Ask your questions.”

She led the way into a living room cluttered with bric-a-brac and old furniture. A faded chintz couch sagged along one wall, behind a scarred coffee table topped with magazines, a bowl of dusty potpourri, and several knickknacks. A worn easy chair faced a small television, the small table next to it littered with newspapers. Perched on top of the pile were a remote and a pair of half-frame cheaters with a loop of chain dangling from the earpieces, as well as a chipped mug. A small dining area took up the far half of the room, an open door leading to a kitchen beyond.

Helen steered Tess to the couch and got her seated. Without looking at me, she perched in the easy chair. I sat next to Tess.

“So what’s this all about, then?” Helen said, wringing her hands. “Why the sudden interest in old Helen after all this time?”

Tess’s eyes grew big. “My parents were killed, Helen. And you can see what happened to me. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come find you, but I’ve had other things to deal with. Why did you leave us, anyway?”