The kid’s house was on a corner in a nice middle-class neighborhood. It was a red brick affair with white trim, a big porch with white rails, and a large grassy yard. No one would ever suspect that a genius hacker lurked in this basement.
I’d barely put the car into park when the kid came hurrying out of the front door, backpack slung over his shoulder and yelling back into the house.
“Bye, Mom. I love you,” he shouted over his shoulder.
His mom came to the door and looked out after him, waving. By the look of her, I guessed she was a single mom in her early forties, a little plain and tired, mousy brown hair swept back into a ponytail, and she was wearing an apron like she was doing some baking.
I bet she has to work two jobs to pay for the house and keep food on the table, I thought. Maybe the geek’ll be able to help her out, now that he has a real job.
He hopped into the car, put his backpack on the floor, and strapped in. The scared and awkward kid of a couple of days ago had disappeared—for how long, I wondered—and all that was left was an excited youngster with a bright spark of enthusiasm.
“Relax kid. We got plenty of time.” It suddenly dawned on me that it was Monday. “Don’t you have school today?”
“No. I graduated two years ago.”
“You graduated from high school at fifteen? Holy crap!” The kid really was a genius.
The shy, awkward kid came back as he wiped the sweat from his upper lip with his sleeve. “It was… nothing. Um… I just got easy teachers. I’m afraid I dropped out of college, though, last year.”
I didn’t wanna make him feel any more awkward than I already had so I changed the subject.
“You drink coffee?”
His eyes lit up. “I love coffee. Anything with caffeine.”
“Good. We’re meeting my business manager at Starbucks. I’ll buy you one and you two can chat about your job. You’ve already met him. He’s the guy that beat you at poker at the Sorbonne. His name is Ronnie Hall.”
He looked at me almost scared.
“It’s okay,” I said. “He’s a good guy. You can learn a lot from each other. But no poker during office hours, got it?”
He nodded. “What are we going to be working on?” he asked.
“A couple of things. First, I need you to get set up. Go buy whatever you need. Ronnie will pay for it. When that’s done and you’re up and running, I’m going to need you to dig into… well, there’s a guy I want you to track down, and… we’ll talk about it later. That okay?”
He laughed, shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose and said, “Oh yeah. I can find anyone or anything, but most of what I need I’ll have to order. I’ll need a laptop right away, but I can get that, and a few other easy items at Best Buy.”
“Good. Whatever you need is okay with me. I’ll give you everything I have when we get to the office.”
We pulled up outside Starbucks; Ronnie was already standing outside with a cup in his hand. I let the kid out and went hunting for a parking space.
This time of day on a Monday morning—partway between breakfast and lunchtime—it was murder trying to find a spot. After circling the place once but finding nothing, I drove out onto the street and circled the block. I found an empty spot at the China Moon restaurant. It wasn’t yet open so I was able to park the Maxima there. I walked the bock and a half back to Starbucks and found the kid standing by himself, looking awkward and out of place.
“Where’s Ronnie?” I asked.
“The police took him.”
“What the heck? When? Why?”
“Just now. They said something about murder. They wanted to talk to you too.”
They must have some information about Stitch, or Penelope.
“Come on, kid. We’re going to the police department. You’ll be able to learn a lot through this process. I wonder why they didn’t just wait for me? Did Ronnie follow them with the car?”
The kid looked puzzled. “Um, he would have had a hard time driving with his hands cuffed.”
“Cuffed? They arrested him?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s something wrong here. Let’s go.” I grabbed the kid by the backpack and steered him back down the street to where I’d parked my car.
“I… um… should probably go home now,” he said. “I can take the bus.”
“Look kid, I didn’t kill anybody—well, not this time—and neither did Ronnie. Something’s going on and I need you to help me figure it out.” I stopped and looked him square in the eyes. “You have to trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you.” When I said that, deja vu brought me back to the night with Phoebe.
Not going to happen again, I thought, grimly.