Tuesday
It’s heartwarming to see one’s daughter take responsibility for herself. Even if there’s an ulterior motive. By the time we got back from the diner, Rachel’s laundry was neatly folded and stacked near the door. Sure, she could have done it downtown, and she mostly does, but even my father knew the reason she was here.
“Wanted your mom to spring for some soup, eh?”
“Not true, Opa. I wanted to see Mom. And you,” she added quickly.
Dad’s eyes narrowed. “Nice try.”
Rachel’s eyes widened in mock innocence.
“Never try to con a con.” He laughed.
“Or a poker player,” I added. “Especially on vegetable soup day.”
Rachel threw up her hands. “Okay, okay.”
I handed her the carton of soup. Dad looked pleased with himself. “You taking off now?”
“I guess. Unless you want to take me shopping. I was thinking of—”
“It was great to see you too,” I said.
She smiled ruefully and turned to Dad. “It was worth a shot.”
Dad nodded.
“Oh, I almost forgot. Someone came to see you while you were out.”
I stiffened, our banter forgotten. “Who?”
“A woman. Young. Well, around my age. Maybe a couple of years older.”
Not Hollander. “What did she want?”
“She wanted to talk to you. I told her you’d be back in an hour, but she said she couldn’t wait.”
“Does this woman have a name?”
“She didn’t say.”
“Did you ask?”
“What do you think? Of course. She said it wasn’t important. But it was strange. I got the feeling it was, you know?”
“Can you describe her?”
Rachel furrowed her brow. “Small. Delicate. Pretty. Chin-length black hair. Oh, and Asian. At least partly.”
On the way home after dropping off Dad, I worried a hand through my hair. I usually get Jehovah’s Witnesses on my doorstep once a year, as well as neighborhood kids selling candy, flowers, and lemonade. But whoever had shown up while we were at lunch wasn’t either, and the fact that I was now getting visits from strangers filled me with unease.
There was no way I could figure out who’d come to the house, although the fact that she was Asian made me think it might have something to do with Gregory Parks, maybe General Gao. But I didn’t want anything more to do with spies, espionage, or the Chinese. Thankfully, Luke would be back tonight.
I parked in the garage and went inside, determined to have a normal afternoon. But a minute later I started to wander around, trying to puzzle out what had happened to Charlotte Hollander. Who orchestrated the explosion at Dolan’s office. And what was on the flash drive.
Finally I had an idea. I was about to go online to Google it, then remembered Luke and Dolan’s warning. I’d already tracked the SUV online. I shouldn’t be taking another risk. Instead I drove down to the library and found the number for Lake Forest Middle School, the school Charlotte Hollander’s son attended. I tried to remember his name; Susan had told me when she found the address.
Kevin. That was it.
I got back in my car, fished out my cell, and called the school.
“Lake Forest Middle School. This is Marie. How can I help you?”
I mentally crossed my fingers. “Hello. This is Kevin Hollander’s father’s secretary calling.”
“Oh, hello.” Marie didn’t sound surprised; in fact, her tone implied she might even have expected the call.
“We were just wondering about Kevin’s attendance over the past few days. Is he all right?”
“Um…” Marie sounded confused. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
I started to feel uncomfortable. “Well, with all the recent changes, Mr. Hollander wanted to check up on him.”
Marie hesitated. Then: “I don’t know your name, but—”
“I’m sorry. It’s Susan. Susan—um—Wheeler.” Forgive me, Susan.
“Perhaps you’re both a little confused. We sent Kevin’s transcripts to his new school in Columbus yesterday. I thought I left a message for Mr. Hollander at his office.”
Sent the transcripts? To his new school? Backtrack, Ellie. Fast.
Happily, Marie saved me. “Kevin’s last day was Friday.”
“Um…oh no. I just looked at the note from Mr. Hollander. It’s dated a week ago. I apologize. I am such a flake. I don’t know how I got so turned around.”
“Oh, that’s all right. Happens all the time.”
“Please…” My voice turned into an appeal. “Don’t tell Mr. Hollander about this. He might fire me. I am so embarrassed.”
“No problem, Susan. Glad I could straighten it out. Have a good day.”