I watch her in the waning light of the service station parking lot. She’s trying to keep it together.
“My nana must be worried,” she says.
“Who’s that?” I say.
“I live with my grandmother. I was supposed to spend this week at my best friend’s summer house; that’s where I saw the thing happen with the neighbor. But my nana is expecting me to call in from time to time.”
It’s a calculated risk for me to let her call home, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.
While Howard pumps gas, I lead her away, pulling out my phone and prepping it for the call. I can’t use a Program app, so I instead open a secure browser. I search online for one of many CID-spoofing sites that allow you to make a call over the Internet with a fake caller ID appearing on the receiving phone.
Once the spoof has been set up, I pass the phone to Tanya.
“Just type your nana’s phone number into the box there, and the site will initiate the call.”
Tanya hesitates. “What do I tell her?”
“How long since you were taken?”
“Maybe five or six days. I’m not sure exactly.”
“And you were supposed to be at your friend’s for a week?”
She nods.
I calculate how much time I’m going to need to get us clear of The Program.
“Tell her you’ll be home the day after tomorrow.”
“Really?” she says. Her face lights up.
The truth is, I don’t know what’s going to happen, but hope is a powerful motivator. So I give Tanya hope now.
She types in her grandmother’s number and the online service does the rest.
“Nana?” she says. “It’s me. I’m using my friend’s phone.”
I hear an old woman’s voice responding on the line.
“I’m fine,” Tanya says, and then she sniffles, and tears start to stream down her cheeks. “Really, I am,” she says. She wipes at her nose. “I’ve got a little bit of a cold. Sorry I didn’t call you sooner. We’ve been going to the lake every day, and I’ve been so busy.”
She walks away with the phone, and I let her go. I don’t need to screen the rest of the call.
I go back to where Howard is gassing up the Accord.
“When did your father supposedly die?” he asks.
“Are you still thinking about that?”
“You said it’s what we were working on before I lost my memory.”
“That’s right.”
“I know Tanya had some issues or whatever—but it’s okay with me if we keep working on it.”
“You’re a good guy, Howard.”
“You think so?” he says with a shy smile.
“To answer your question, I haven’t seen my father in almost five years.”
Howard nods, considering it. The gas pump clicks off. Howard pulls the nozzle and screws on the cap.
“So if he died, it was a while ago,” Howard says. “And there would be a record of it somewhere.”
“Not necessarily.”
“People don’t just disappear when they die.”
“In my world they do.”
A station attendant is sweeping trash in the corner of the lot. I motion for Howard to get into the car. I don’t want to risk being overheard in public.
Howard settles into the passenger seat next to me, and we close the doors.
“This morning Mike told me my father was dead, and I should stop searching for him. But before you were kidnapped, you found e-mail exchanges between The Program and my father, e-mails that were sent after his supposed death.”
“Is it possible the e-mails were planted to make it seem like your father was still alive?”
“It’s possible, yes.”
“Would Mike know the truth?” Howard asks.
I think about the moment in my family’s living room all those years ago, Mike leading me to where my father was taped to a chair and bleeding.
“Definitely,” I say.
“You said people disappear in your world,” Howard says.
“That’s right.”
“But their friends and coworkers don’t disappear. Your father knew people in the community. There would be questions and concerns.”
“It wasn’t only my father who I never saw again,” I say.
“Your mother, too?”
I nod.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly.
“Let’s stay focused,” I say, urging him on.
“Okay,” he says. “If The Program killed your parents, they’d have to plant a story of some kind, something to keep people from investigating.”
“A cover story,” I say.
“Exactly.”
Howard has a good point. My parents were well known in the academic community. They couldn’t disappear without a lot of people asking questions.
“I’ve never looked for a cover story,” I say.
“Why not?”
“I’m trained never to question my superiors. They told me what happened, and there was no reason for me to investigate further. In fact, I was forbidden to do so.”
“But it’s not forbidden for me. I could look it up online, couldn’t I?” Howard says.
It’s so simple. I can’t help but laugh. “I suppose you could.”
Tanya climbs into the backseat and returns my phone.
“Is everything okay with your grandmother?” I ask.
“She assumed I was with my friend, so she wasn’t worried. And The Program made me call my friend to tell her I was back with my grandmother. So nobody knows where I really am. As long as the two of them don’t run into each other, we’re fine until the day after tomorrow.”
“The day after tomorrow?” Howard says.
“Zach promised I’d be home by then,” Tanya says.
I nod, troubled by my lie. It’s not that I wouldn’t like to get her home. But I don’t know what’s going to happen in forty-eight hours—assuming we survive that long.
“Two days?” Howard says. “Then we’d better get going.”
“Get going with what?” Tanya says.
“Finding out how Zach’s father died,” Howard says. “I need your phone, Zach.”
I hesitate before giving it to him, recognizing that I’m again asking him to do what got him into trouble in the first place. But what option do I have?
The moment I freed Howard and Tanya from the house, I made my choice. There’s no going back now.
I pass Howard the phone.
Then I start the car and pull away from the station. A sidelong glance shows Howard handling the phone deftly, flipping screens at a breakneck speed.
“You’re anonymized in a Tor browser,” Howard says.
“That’s right. The searches are secure.”
“What about the phone itself? It has GPS, just like those beacons.”
“I have an app that broadcasts false GPS coordinates.”
Howard whistles. “Sexy. No wonder we’re friends.”
He presses a few more buttons on the phone.
“What’s your father’s name?” he says.
“Dr. Joseph Abram.”
He types in the name, and the evening takes a very different turn.