The police officer in charge of Cyber Crimes called back the next day to tell me they had started investigating my information. When he asked who gave me the screenshot, all I said was a friend. Relief flooded through me when he didn’t ask who that friend was. He thanked me and then hung up.
A few days later, Lena called and said she had to see me and that she’d like lunch, tuna fish sandwiches to be exact. This meant she had something important to tell me. Maybe she had a new, very influential client. Or she and Dr. T planned to adopt a dog. Or maybe she and Dr. T had set a date to get married. I had a few things to tell her, too.
“Did you make my favorite sandwich?” she asked, walking in with a grin.
“I did. Tuna on a sourdough roll, chips, lemonade and then some gelato.”
I handed her a few dishes to put on the table.
“Before you jump into your news, I have something to tell you,” I said.
Lena sat down and rested her feet on the chair next to her.
“What?” She was crunching on a rib of celery.
“Well, my computer hacker wasn’t the real deal hacker. He bought my information. At first, the police were going to write my case off as another unsolvable white-collar crime. But then I gave them Uly’s screenshot.”
“Wait. Slow down. You’re talking too fast. Hard to understand,” said Lena.
I repeated what I’d said, this time painstakingly slow. But the more I talked, the faster the words tumbled out, like a boulder rolling downhill, gathering speed.
“They found the guy and talked with him. He upchucked the name of the person who made these counterfeit credit cards. They paid that guy a visit and found more than 500 credit and debit cards in other people’s names. They also collected a stack of medical records from just about every health care organization in the Bay Area and over 10,000 passwords from various social media sites. But it didn’t stop there. All that information? He bought it from someone in Russia. On the dark web. With cryptocurrency.”
I took a deep breath. “What do you think about that?” I asked.
“Russia? That’s impressive.”
“They can’t get the Russian, but they do have him and his computers. He’s in jail now. And I may have to testify.”
“You will be running back and forth to the courts, won’t you. We need to get you some sophisticated, lawyer-like clothes,” Lena remarked.
“Shopping? I hate shopping.”
“Not to worry. I just appointed myself your personal shopper. What about the other trial? The one that involves Burk.”
“His lawyer wants to talk to me, but the lawyer that Earl set me up with, advised me not to agree to anything.”
“I heard Tyler on the radio the other day,” said Lena.
“He’s back at work. He got involved with this spying because he wanted a car. Guys and cars. I don’t get it.”
Lena slapped down a local newspaper in front of me. She had circled two stories: one on the ransomware criminals, the other about the East Bay identify theft ring. “Did you see this? You’re not mentioned by name but there is a line or two about a tipster. That must be you.”
I picked up the paper and read the article.
“It’s interesting what they choose to print. There are some gaping holes in this reporting. They didn’t say anything about Earl’s kidnapping.”
“You working tonight?”
“No, I called my supervisor and pleaded for a few days off. She was okay with that. I feel like I’ve been through the spin cycle.”
I paused, then walked around the kitchen, stopping to stare out of the window over the sink. I turned back to Lena. “I’ve been thinking. Adrenaline rush aside, this hasn’t been much of a life. Living in the maid’s quarters in my father’s friend’s house who is some sort of cybercrime fighter. Working at a part-time seasonal job.”
“Where did that come from? I thought you loved what you were doing, especially all the intrigue. Something else is bothering you.”
“You said in the car the other day something about me picking losers.”
“Well, unfortunately, except for the one guy that shall remain nameless because that’s the way you want it, that’s who you pick.”
I didn’t respond.
“He called me the other day,” Lena and I said together in unison.
“Who?” I asked.
“Jon,” she said.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
“You just said that he called you. Why didn’t you tell me?” Lena responded.
“I wasn’t sure what was … if we were …” I blurted.
“Trisha!”
“I didn’t want to mention Jon in case it didn’t work out. I realized I’m kinda like Dad. Not great about ‘talking about my feelings,’” I said, making air quotes. “When he called you, what did he want?”
Lena got up and walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out the pitcher of lemonade.
“You. He wants you. He’s in love with you, Trisha.”
“I know.”
“That’s all you have to say. ‘I know?’”
“I’m thinking about it,” I said with a huge smile.
Lena stood there staring at me. “You finally figured out that he’s a good guy, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did.”
“I wondered if it would ever happen.”
She took her glass of lemonade, raised it in a toast. “It’s never too late to do the right thing. Here’s to the late bloomers.” Then she took a sip.
“Wanna hear the rest of my news?” she asked.
“Sure. Why not?”
“You like swimming now, right?”
“I haven’t committed either way.”
“To further your advancement in this exhilarating water sport—”
“Lena, what did you do?”
“I’ve signed you up for a two-mile swim at Shelter Lake in the Sierra foothills.”
“What? You did what?”
“It’s two months away.”
“I can’t swim that far.”
“You have plenty of time to train. Two months. That’s eight weeks,” my sister said.
“No.”
“Yes. And we start today. Get your swimsuit. We’re going to the pool.”