Unauthorized Access (32 page)

Rob appeared beside the Pathfinder so suddenly that it took Landry a second to react. Landry dropped the cell phone and reached for the door handle. Then he realized he wouldn’t have time to run to Rob, who was already inside his car. Instead Landry cranked the Taurus to life, yanked it into gear and zipped out to try to block Rob’s car from moving.

* * *

Rob’s heart hammered a staccato rhythm on the inside of his ribs as he tried to jam the key in the Pathfinder’s door lock. His hand shook so badly that it took him two attempts. Once inside he placed the gun on the seat beside him and started the engine. As he put it in drive, however, a white car flashed in front of his own. The figure inside had a black goatee, but Rob still recognized Landry’s face.

A jolt of adrenaline blasted through Rob. Without thinking he grabbed the revolver, shouldered open his door and started spraying bullets in the general direction of the white car. Landry’s head dropped out of sight behind a windshield that turned into a spider web of smashed glass. The reports from the shots were unbelievably loud to Rob, who stood half in and half out of the Pathfinder. He had no idea what he was hitting, if anything. He just kept pulling the trigger.

Rob realized the gun was empty after two fruitless clicks. He dropped back into his seat, slammed the door shut and floored the accelerator. The Pathfinder rammed the front fender of the Taurus with a sickening crunch. The smaller car rocked to one side and Rob was able to escape from the parking spot. He let up on the gas long enough to swerve in the direction of the driveway, then stepped on it again and shot out onto the street.

* * *

Landry had his nine millimeter out by the time the shooting stopped. The windshield of the Taurus was impossible to see through, so Landry started to get out. Just then the Taurus gave a violent lurch to the left, pitching Landry back into the car and jamming his shin as the door slammed into it. His right hand whacked the steering wheel but he was able to hold onto the gun. He pushed the door open again and stepped out in time to see Rob’s Nissan fishtail out of the driveway. There was no chance to squeeze off a shot before Rob disappeared down the street. Besides, Landry didn’t want to shoot him. He needed to talk to him.

Landry’s cell phone lay on the pavement at his feet. He threw it back in the car, dropped into his seat, and leaned in various directions trying to find a patch of windshield clear enough to see through. No luck.

He leaned the seat back until he could get his feet high enough to kick out the glass so he could see where he was going. When he sat up and tried to drive off, however, the front left tire wobbled in a sickening manner. Landry clenched his teeth in frustration and got out to have a look.

Not only did he find a ruined tire, but a spreading puddle of liquid lay under the Taurus. He dipped a finger into the puddle and smelled. Anti-freeze. The Taurus wasn’t going anywhere.

Landry retrieved his cell phone, the GPS device and his backup gun from inside the car. He left the key in the ignition and hurried from the parking lot. With all the shots fired, some of the neighbors were sure to summon Boston’s Finest. Landry had no desire to explain this to the police. They could have the car. He had rented it using a false name anyway.

Once on the sidewalk he pulled out his cell and tried to call Gourley back. The phone seemed to be busted. He got nothing but static. Seething with frustration, he looked around and spotted a gas station two blocks away. He sprinted the entire way and got the pimply teenager behind the cash register to let him use the phone hanging on the wall.

“Come get me right away,” he said after Gourley answered. “Donovan’s got his car and mine is broken down.”

“How’d that happen?” Gourley asked.

“Never mind. Just get here as quickly as you can.”

Landry told him his location and then hung up. He hustled back outside to check the GPS unit. It showed Rob heading west. Landry’s jaw muscles convulsed with barely controlled fury.
That’s twice I’ve underestimated the little prick,
he thought.

* * *

The car in front of Rob stopped as the light ahead turned red. He looked frantically out the back window to see if anyone was following him. No way to tell. Too much traffic. He had to get to a quieter street so he could be sure.

While he had the chance he lifted his hips as much as the steering wheel allowed and wiggled the box of bullets out of his pocket. His hands shook as he tried to reload the gun. A few bullets fell into his lap. The light turned green just as he finished so he snapped the gun shut and started moving.

Up ahead on his right were a series of small side streets. He decided on the second one. As he entered the intersection he swung abruptly to the right and roared halfway down the block, where he stopped and sat in the middle of the street. No one made the turn behind him.

What if they were going around the block and would catch up with him on the other side? This thought got Rob’s heart hammering harder and the Pathfinder moving again. He cut a zigzag path through the neighborhood, barely stopping at the stop signs, constantly looking in his rearview mirror.

At last he was satisfied. There was no tail. He pulled over and stopped beside a small deserted playground. His insides shook as he leaned his head against his hands on the top of the steering wheel.

A few days before Rob had just been an ordinary guy—doing his job, having a good time, minding his own business. Now he was in the middle of an action movie. The only thing needed to complete the picture was for Arnold Schwarzenegger to show up with grease paint on his face and a massive hunk of ordnance in his hands.

“I’ll be back,” Rob said out loud in his best Terminator voice.

He had been right to avoid his apartment the night before. Man, had he been right. So much for the idea of popping in to pack a few clothes after he got the car. At least he was mobile, though. Now he had to find out where Tim and Lesley had gone.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-
T
WO

SHEILA’S FACE REGISTERED shock when she opened the front door of the Dysart’s home.

“Rob … your face.”

Rob managed a weak smile.

“Well don’t just stand there,” she said. “Come in.”

She closed the door behind him. Rob smelled cigarettes, which was unusual in this house.

“What happened?” she said.

“Sheila, I, uh … I came to ask for some help.”

“Do you need Stan? Because he’s—”

“No, I came to talk to you.”

“Oh … okay. Come on into the living room.”

Rob slipped off his shoes and followed her through the capacious entryway. His sock feet whispered across the marble flooring. He felt like he was intruding into his old life, into a place where he no longer belonged.

“I need to talk to Lesley,” he said as Sheila turned right through an archway into the living room, “because—”

Rob stopped dead when he reached the archway. Lesley’s mother sat in an armchair smoking a cigarette. Her face was grim.

“Can I get you something cold?” Sheila said to Rob. “I have a pitcher of ice tea in the refrigerator.”

“No … thanks,” Rob said, still standing in the archway.

“Well have a seat, we won’t bite.” Sheila headed for the doorway into the kitchen. “I think I have some sugar cookies, too.”

Rose still hadn’t looked at Rob. He had a sense of déjà vu, remembering the anger on her face during the arraignment.

“Am I interrupting something?” he said.

“Don’t be silly,” Sheila said as she returned with cookies on a plate. “We were just chatting, weren’t we Rose?”

Rose looked up at Rob as Sheila placed the cookies on the coffee table.

“Lesley’s not here,” Rose said.

“I know,” Rob said. “I was hoping Sheila … or you, I guess … could tell me where to find her.”

Sheila took Rob by the elbow and moved him gently but firmly toward the couch, where he reluctantly sat down. Sheila headed for the kitchen again.

“She went away for the weekend,” Rose told him. “Said she needed some peace and quiet so she could think.”

“Do you know where she went?”

Rose studied him as she took a leisurely drag on the cigarette. She tapped the ash into an ashtray and blew smoke up and to the side, never once looking away from Rob. He had the urge to squirm under her intense gaze.

“She’s awful upset,” Rose finally said.

Rob’s stomach rumbled at the sight of the cookies.

“I just need to talk to her, okay?”

Sheila reappeared with a tall glass, set it down on a coaster in front of Rob, and then settled into a beige wing chair across the table from him.

“She wanted to get away from her problems,” Rose said, “not spend the weekend talking about them.”

“Oh,” Rob said, “and I
am
the problem, right?”

“Come on, you two,” Sheila said. “There’s no need to—”

“No,” Rob said, glaring at Rose, “I want to hear what she thinks.”

Rose refused to be hurried. She took a last drag on the cigarette and stubbed it out. Rob took a sip of the ice tea to be polite, then drained half of it.

“I’ve known you a long time,” Rose said. “As far as I can tell you always treated Lesley good. She never told me different, anyhow. But this business about the bank … it’s hurt her real bad.”

“I know, and I would never do anything to hurt her like that.”

“That may be true. I have no way of knowing. And to be honest, it doesn’t matter. You and Lesley have to work that out for yourselves.”

“Which we can’t do unless you tell me where she is.”

Sheila looked anxiously back and forth between the two of them.

“It might be best if you gave her some space for a while,” Rose said.

“And she went with Tim, right? Is that part of the reason you don’t want to tell me?”

Rose didn’t answer. Sheila took advantage of the pause and said, “Are you sure you want to barrel into the middle of that?”

Rob sighed. “What if I told you there was a chance Tim could be behind the attacks on the bank.”

Sheila’s lips formed a small
O.

“I don’t have proof or anything,” he said, “but I’ve heard some curious things about him over the last couple of days.”

Rose just looked at him with a steady, noncommittal gaze. The silence dragged on for several seconds.

“This was a bad idea,” Rob said, starting to get up. “If you’re talking to Lesley, you can tell her—”

“They went to Worcester,” Rose said. “Something about Tim’s uncle Martin having a hunting cabin.”

Rob dropped back onto the couch. “Lesley went to a hunting cabin?”

“Apparently,” Rose said.

“I’ve never known her to stay anywhere with less than three stars on the sign out front.”

“I guess she liked the idea of going someplace no one could find her.”

“Okay,” Rob said slowly. “I know where the cabin is. I’ve been there a few times.”

Rose nodded curtly and busied herself with lighting another cigarette.

“Thank you,” Rob said, standing up fully now.

Rose put down the lighter. “Don’t make me regret telling you.”

“Did you ever get a chance to call Stan?” Sheila said.

Rob shook his head. “I’ve been on the go all day.”

“He really wants to talk to you. Why don’t you call him before you leave. He’s still at the bank.”

“I should get going.”

Sheila gave him the look that only mothers and aunts know how to use to make young people feel guilty.

“You said you would call him,” she said.

Rob sighed. “Okay.”

Dysart picked up on the first ring.

“Hi Stan, it’s me.”

“Rob! I’ve been trying to track you down all day.”

“Yeah, Sheila said.”

“Where are you?”

“At your place.”

“Really?”

The surprise was evident in Dysart’s voice.

“Sorry I had to run off last night,” Rob said.

“No problem. Look, I’m on my way home soon. Can you wait there for me?”

Dysart’s friendly tone struck Rob as odd. It hadn’t been that long since Dysart was furious with him.

“I’m just on my way out, actually,” Rob said.

“Oh yeah? Where’re you headed?”

“I need to track down Tim Whitlock and … well, ask him a few questions.” There was no sense getting into details.

“So you’re, uh … meeting him somewhere?”

“What’s with the twenty questions, Stan?”

“Hey, it’s no big deal. You said some guy was trying to track you down. That just got me curious, you know? Maybe a little overprotective.”

“Well you don’t have to worry. Tim is at his uncle’s hunting cabin, out in the woods a few miles the other side of Worcester. I should be safe enough out there.”

“Sounds like it,” Dysart said. “This cabin must be … quite a ways out of town, is it?”

“I guess. Listen, how are things at the bank? Have the guys managed to fix all the account records yet?”

Dysart hesitated so long that Rob wasn’t sure he was going to answer. Finally Dysart said, “That’s probably not the most appropriate thing for us to be talking about.”

Rob sighed. “I’ve got to go, Stan.”