When Abby came out of the bathroom after her shower early the next morning she heard a startled cry from downstairs. Sort of a yelp. She hurried to find out who had made it.
The scene in the living room was odd. John stood staring grimly at Kate’s distinctive pink phone. Next to him, Merri was holding Kit Kat and hopping, trying to see whatever held his attention on the phone. Kit Kat did not look pleased. Neither did Kate. She slouched in a puddle of depression on what had been Ryan’s bed on the couch.
Abby wasn’t sure if the yelp had come from Kit Kat or Kate, but she sat down next to her friend and put an arm around her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
Kate looked up, her face all wobbly, but didn’t answer.
John handed Abby Kate’s phone. “Ryno scarpered off with my laptop. That’s what’s wrong. See for yourself.”
“Let me see, too,” Merri said.
Abby read the text message and then handed the phone to Merri.
“When did he leave?”
“I don’t know,” Kate answered miserably.
“I vaguely remember hearing something around five o’clock,” John said. “I figured the Ryno was getting up to go to the bathroom.”
“I’m so sorry, guys. I don’t know what came over him,” Kate said. “He won’t answer his phone, but I’ll text him back and talk some sense into him. I promise.”
Merri handed Kate her phone and sat down next to her.
John began pacing the room. “I can’t believe the idiot thinks he can sell it out from under us.”
“I know. Ryan shouldn’t have done that,” Kate said. “But like he says, this thing is bigger than any of us. Think of the benefits to mankind.”
John snorted. “I’m sure Ryan is thinking of the benefits to Ryan.”
“He said it wasn’t about the money,” Kate said, sounding as if she was trying to convince herself. She composed a short message and sent it to Ryan, frowning the whole time.
“But we talked about this, Kate,” Abby said. “It’s so dangerous.”
“He’s just thinking of all the good it will do, you know?”
John snorted again. Abby shot a warning look at him. “But, Kate, what if the people he sells it to are unethical?”
“Who knows what kind of a shyster he’s found,” John said. “And how did he find a buyer so soon anyway?”
“He has lots of contacts in Chicago.”
“But how did he make a deal without us knowing?” Abby asked.
“I noticed him making several phone calls yesterday, all secretive,” Kate said. “I thought he was planning a surprise for me. He does that a lot.”
Kate’s phone chirped and she grabbed it, her face a mixture of hope and worry. “All he says is that he’s sorry he had to leave without talking to us. The buyer wants it right away.” The phone chirped again and she looked down at it. “And that my car is at the Amtrak station.”
“That’s good,” John said. “If he took the train, we have a chance of catching up with him. You know how many stops they make.”
“But he’ll never tell us where he is,” Abby said.
“It’s got to be Chicago,” Kate said. “But that would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“That’s all right,” John said, taking out his own phone. “This baby will tell us where he is.”
“What do you mean?” Abby asked.
“Timmy Tech put a tracer app on my phone. In case my laptop ever got stolen.” After a moment, he smiled sourly and held his phone for Abby and the others to see. “And there’s Rye. Come on. We’re going to Chicago.”
Ryan hadn’t lied about Kate’s car being at the Amtrak Station. They took it and left John’s Mustang there, having decided that he, Abby, and Merri would take the train back when they finished in Chicago.
John offered to drive and Kate, still an emotional bowl of Jello, let him. Merri kept him company in the front seat, and Abby and Kate sat in the back where they could talk. Not that Abby felt like talking.
It was only a little after eight o’clock when they left Alton. But even if they drove non-stop, Abby calculated it would be one o’clock before they reached the outskirts of the city. There was no way to know whether it would be soon enough to prevent Ryan from selling Beautiful Houses.
The tracer app Tim had installed on John’s phone was working fine, and they were able to watch Ryan’s movements, or rather those of the laptop, in nearly real time. The app was another example of Tim’s technical brilliance, but it wasn’t by any means up to Mission Impossible standards. It didn’t give them Ryan’s current address, only a rough idea of where he was in relation to where John’s phone was.
The blinking dot on the phone’s screen stopped periodically, and every time it did they wondered if Ryan was making the deal with his buyer. But then the dot would start moving and they would resume breathing.
Meanwhile, Kate continued texting Ryan. His replies were all about the good things the program would accomplish, the creative ways it could be used to help people.
“But Ryan’s forgetting one important thing,” Abby said. “The program only works with old houses.”
“So far,” Merri said. “But who knows what it will decide to do.”
In between texting Ryan, Kate regaled Abby with nauseating stories of his all-around wonderfulness. She was about to list all the imaginary stars he had earned on her imaginary “Marriage Material Chart when Abby shushed her so John wouldn’t hear and start wondering if he had a similar chart.
And then a text came in from Ryan that had Kate yelping again. She shoved her phone into Abby’s hands. “Please don’t say I told you so.”
“I promise,” she said as she turned to read Ryan’s text.
Kathryn, if you won’t consider all the ways it will help mankind, just think of the money the program will bring us. We can get a house like that one we liked in Hawaii. And travel anywhere we want. When we want, since we won’t have children to worry about.
“But, I thought you wanted to have children.”
“That’s just it. I do. And he does too. Why is he talking about not having children?”
Kate took her phone back and texted Ryan again. When his response came in, she read it without comment, put her phone back into her purse, and turned toward the window as if the flat, flat farmland they drove through was the most interesting landscape she’d ever seen.
“What did he say?” Abby asked.
Kate turned back, her face pure misery, and put her head on Abby’s shoulder. “He said… obviously we wouldn’t want… to have children because…” She broke off and sobbed broken-heartedly. It was a while before she could continue. “Because…what if they turned out to be…kinky-haired throw backs.”
The car swerved and John frowned murderously in the rearview mirror. “I should have punched him when I had the chance. I knew I should have.”
“I’m so sorry,” Abby said, patting her arm. “Oh, Kate, don’t cry.” She wondered if it would help to tell her that none of them had liked Ryan from the first moment. Probably not.
“Let’s call the cops,” Merri said. “After all, he did steal your laptop, John.”
“No,” he said. “If we call in the police the laptop would be held as evidence for who knows how long, and news of the program would be bound to leak out.
Ignoring their discussion, Kate lifted her head from Abby’s shoulder and resumed staring at the cornfields outside her window. “I know it’s wrong. We’re supposed to forgive those who hurt us. And I will try to.” She sniffed. “Eventually. But right now….”
“Hey, here’s an idea,” Abby said. “We’ll get John to hold him—after he has a turn at him—and then you, Merri, and I can kick him. We’ll wear our pointiest shoes.”
“No, cut off his precious hair,” John said.
“Oh, no,” Abby said. “Don’t cut it all off. Just give him a really bad haircut.”
“A mullet,” John said.
“A permed mullet,” Abby added.
“And a tattoo that says I am a jerk,” Merri said.
“And another one that says Obviously.” Kate snorted a laugh, which quickly turned into another sob. “How could I have been such a fool?”
Abby tried to think of a kind answer and came up blank.
After what seemed like a century, they exited the freeway and pulled into a Casey’s to refuel and grab what food they could find to eat in the car. Kate wore sunglasses to cover her swollen, red eyes. They were back on the road by twelve-fifteen. John said it beat his all-time record for shortest pit stop by thirteen seconds.
“What’s Ryan doing now?” Abby asked.
“He’s still stopped,” Merri said, studying John’s phone. “We’re getting pretty close to him.”
“Can I see that a minute?” Kate asked.
“Sure.” Merri handed the phone back to her.
The screen on John’s phone was tiny, and Abby couldn’t make out much detail on the map. But after a moment, Kate looked up. “I think he’s at his parents’ home in Oak Park. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“So you think he set up a meeting with a buyer there?” John asked.
“But he would know you’d come looking for him there, wouldn’t he?” Abby asked. “And even Ryan isn’t such a jerk that he would involve his parents in some shady deal. Is he?”
Kate studied the phone again. “Which explains why he’s moving again.”
“Here, let me see,” John said.
Kate handed his phone to him. He glanced down at it and then gave it back to Merri. “Hold it where I can see it, kiddo.”
“Sure thing,” Merri said. “Does this mean I’m the navigator?”
“That’s right. Let me know if he changes directions.”
“He just did. Right is east, right?”
“Huh?” John looked down at his phone. “Right you are, navigator. He’s moving east, Kate. Any guesses where he could be heading?”
“Straight downtown to the Loop.”
“What’s his parents’ address, do you know?”
Kate told him and John entered it into the GPS. When the map came up, he grunted in satisfaction. “Show them my phone, Merri. Compare the map on it to the GPS map.”
“He’s on Eisenhower Expressway. I’d bet on it,” Kate said. “Take I-90, John, and we’ll intersect with him.”
“We’re close. Really close,” he said. And then when he exited onto Interstate 90 north they realized they were in front of Ryan.
“What’s he driving?” John asked.
“A white Prius—or Pious, as I secretly thought of it,” Kate said. “And slow down, John. Ryan may be a bigot and a thief, but he’s a straight-arrow when it comes to obeying the speed limit.”
“He turned again,” Merri said. “Left. I mean north.”
“He left the freeway,” Kate said.
“Dang it,” John said. “I lost him.”
He took the next exit and backtracked until eventually they were behind Ryan again on Wells Street heading north. It was a commercial district, but certainly not the Loop. They passed restaurants, a bookstore, and numerous other small businesses.
“He’s turning, John,” Merri said. “There on Illinois Street. Wait, he stopped.”
“Good.” John pulled over, parked, and then smiled. “We did it. High-five, navigator.”
Merri complied and then looked thoughtful. “Isn’t this the same street that the—”
“Hurry, everybody. I don’t want to lose him after all this.” John got out of the car and went to feed the parking meter.
When they got to the corner and turned onto Illinois Street, Kate hurried ahead. “There’s Ryan’s car.”
He wasn’t in it. Abby scanned the block. There were lots of buildings crammed together, and there was no way of telling which one he had gone into.
“There. I’ll bet you ten dollars.” John pointed and then started toward the corner.
“That’s got to be it,” Kate said. When the light turned, she charged into the street, John right behind her.
“Wait, you guys,” Abby said, hurrying to keep up. “Don’t let him see you or he’ll bolt. With the laptop.”
“I’ll be subtle. For example, I won’t rush up and punch him,” John said.
The three-story brick building was old with architectural details of an earlier time, but it had been renovated for an upscale business image. The door was of contemporary bronzed glass. Above it, a brass sign said Farwell Technology Group, Established 1871.
“It doesn’t look like the sort of place for shady deals,” Abby said.
“What kind of technology did they have in 1871 anyway?” Merri asked.
John looked in the glass door. “I see a reception room. I see a woman at a desk. But I do not see Ryno. How are we going to play this?”
“How about you pretend you’re detectives looking for a crook?” Merri said. “Then tell them you need to search the building, room by room. I saw that on TV.”
“Great idea, Merri Christmas,” John said. “Except they frown on civilians impersonating officers of the court.”
“I’ve got an idea. And it does not involve lying,” Abby said. “What time is it?”
“John looked at his watch. “Exactly one o’clock.”
“Perfect,” she said, opening the door. “Follow my lead.”