“No, not really.” Jake had to cool him down. He patted Ryan on the knee, which was drawn up to fit his long legs into the cramped Toyota. “He’s just trying to scare you. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”
“Who? Why? Why’s he trying to scare me?”
“You have to let me handle this.” Jake looked over, and Ryan’s eyes went wide with disbelief and fear.
“What are you talking about? Do you know who this is? What’s going on?”
“Please, let me handle this.” Jake would have to come up with the money for Deaner. There was no other way. “You have to go back to school. What time is lunch over?”
“Dad, I can’t go back to school. What if it’s somebody at school? Is it somebody at school?” Ryan went wild-eyed with bewilderment. “How do they know I play basketball? What’s going on?”
“Trust me, it’s better if you don’t know.”
“You have to tell me.” Ryan shouted, jabbing the air with his index finger. “It’s me they’re after. It’s me they want. I’m the one who did it! I have a right to know. It’s my life!”
“We’re not going to discuss this now. You have to get back to school.” Jake checked the dashboard clock, which read 11:50. His phone rang again, but he’d have to get it later. “Tell me what time lunch is over.”
“12:10. I’m supposed to be in Western Civ at 12:15, but Dad, I’m not going. I’m done for the day! Tell me what’s happening!”
“Listen to me. You have to let me handle this.” Jake disengaged the emergency brake. “The only way to deal with this is if you do what you’re supposed to do. Go to class, then practice, then come home. I’ll explain everything.”
“Dad, get real!” Ryan exploded, distraught. “I can’t go to class! What do you think, I can sit there and listen? Take notes like nothing’s wrong? You don’t know what it’s like at school today! All the girls are crying, all the teachers are upset. They’re going to do a memorial for her tonight. They’re planting a tree out front. The girls track team went around the homerooms to collect money for a scholarship fund.” Ryan gestured, his arms flailing wildly. “Janine Mae was tight with her, she was popular! You saw, she was supercute, Dad. She had tons of dates. I killed her, and this guy knows it. Who is he?”
“Ryan, work with me. We can talk about this at home tonight. Nothing’s going to change between now and then. You give me your phone and I’ll get you a new number.” Jake put the car in gear and was about to give it some gas when Ryan’s phone signaled an incoming text. They both looked down at the screen.
“Oh my God! It’s another picture!” Ryan tapped the thumbnail on the touch screen, and it opened to the photograph that Deaner had shown Jake this morning, of Ryan and him arguing in the headlights, next to Kathleen Lindstrom’s fallen form. “Oh no! No!”
“Ryan, don’t panic. I have this under control—”
“Oh my God!” Ryan dropped the phone. His hands flew to his head. “He has a picture! There’s a picture! Oh my God, what are we going to do? He has proof! That’s proof! Dad, I don’t want you to go to jail!”
“Ryan, you have to keep your wits about you. I have this in control. I saw that photo already. I know what to do about it.” Jake started to put a hand on Ryan’s arm, but he batted it away, angry.
“What are you talking about? You knew about this? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Take it easy, I just found out this morning.” Jake kept his tone reassuring and put the car back in park. “But you don’t have to think about it anymore. It’s going to go away.”
“What do you mean? How did you see that picture? It can send you to jail! Tell me everything!”
“Okay, relax. I’ll tell you but you have to be calm. I’m handling it.” Jake had no choice but to level with him. “Bottom line, a man came to my office today and he’s blackmailing us.”
“What?” Ryan’s hands flew to his face and stayed there, cupping his own cheeks. “Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me right now, Dad?”
“You have to calm down. It’s as simple as that.”
“You mean we’re getting blackmailed like on TV? Like a movie? Did he have a gun? In your office—”
“I’m not telling you another thing unless you calm down, and you have to go to class after this.”
“Oh my God! What are you talking about? Are you crazy?” Ryan threw up his hands, bursting into mirthless laughter. “Are you blackmailing me now?”
“Stop.” Jake felt his temper begin to give way, his anger at Deaner and himself spilling onto Ryan, scattershot. “You said you weren’t a baby, so stop acting like one. You need to rise above this, Ryan. You need to ask more of yourself.”
“How?” Ryan dropped his hands. “What?”
“Calm down. Get a grip.”
“But I’m scared! I’m scared for you!”
Jake felt a deep pang of guilt. “I know that, but the best way to help me—to help us both—is to stay in control. In charge.”
“Okay, okay. Okay, I’m calm.” Ryan took a breath. He picked up his phone and held it in his hand. “Okay, I hear you. I’m calm. Just tell me what the guy said, and I’ll go to class. Who is he?”
“I don’t know who he is. I don’t know any more than I’m telling you.” Jake put the car in gear again, fed it some gas, and pulled away from the curb. “All you need to know is that the man is asking for money. Luckily, we have money, and I’m going to give it to him. After I give him the money, it’s done. Period. Do you hear me? It ends.”
“How do you know he won’t go to the police anyway?”
“Because it’s not in his interest. If he goes to the police, he goes down, too.”
“Why?”
“Because blackmail and extortion is illegal,” Jake answered, off the top of his head. He had no idea if that was the proper name for the crime and he didn’t care. He had to end this conversation. He drove past the lovely houses of Stone Hills and the young mother pushing the stroller, feeling surreal talking about blackmail and thugs.
“So you’re going to pay him? How do you know he won’t try asking for more money? That’s what they do in the movies.”
“I don’t, but you don’t have to worry about that because I have plenty of money. If he asks for more money, I’ll give him more money.”
“But where does it end?”
“We have the money, Ryan. It’s not an issue. We live within our means, you know that. We all say I’m cheap, and it’s paying off.”
“How much money did he ask for?”
“Ryan, why do you have to know the details?” Jake turned left, heading back toward the high school. “The details don’t matter. It’s really better if you don’t know everything.”
“Please, just tell me.”
“He asked for $25,000.”
“Oh my God. Oh my God. That’s, like, a year of college tuition.”
“Don’t even worry about it. I have it in savings. It’s worth the money to me.”
“But what will Mom say? She’ll notice that, for sure.”
“No, she won’t know.” Jake got ready to tell another lie. He kept his face forward, looking through the windshield as they were approaching Lincoln Avenue, heavily trafficked during the noon rush. “We have separate checking and savings accounts, in addition to the joint account that we use to pay our bills. I don’t ask her questions about hers, and she doesn’t ask about mine.”
“Why do you do that?”
“Have separate accounts? You’ve heard her say that she thinks every woman should have her own money. She likes it, too, because when she buys me a present, I don’t see how much it costs. I feel the same way.” Jake was making it up as he went along, getting away with it only because he’d never talked to Ryan about their family finances. Maybe Ryan had been right, that Jake treated him like a baby. “Plus when I trade some stocks, I don’t like her to see the losses. I want her to think I’m smart.” Jake looked over and flashed a smile, trying to cheer him up, but it wasn’t
working. “Trust me, everything is going to be all right. This has turned into a business deal, no more and no less. I do these every day. I got this.”
“Oh man, I can’t believe this happened.” Ryan moaned, his forehead dropping into his hands. “I’m so sorry, Dad. I screwed this up so badly.”
“No you didn’t. I did.”
“Get real. It’s on me.” Ryan’s tone had softened, and his shock and anger had gone, but Jake wasn’t sure it was an improvement.
“Stop, son. Let it go. We’re almost out of the woods.” Jake drove across Lincoln Avenue, entered the Concord Chase campus, and headed for the road that led to the student parking lot. He glanced at the dashboard clock, which read 12:05. “Good, we’re right on time. Where should I take you? Around the front or the back?”
“The front. It’s closer to Western Civ.”
“Okay.” Jake drove on the road, bypassing the student parking lot and leading to the main entrance. “Just stay cool for the rest of the day, and I’ll fill you in tonight. Try to put this out of your mind.”
“I’ll try,” Ryan said, just as his phone signaled an incoming text, and they both jumped.
“Don’t look at it,” Jake said quickly. “It’ll upset you. He’s trying to upset you. Give me the phone.”
“No, I got this.” Suddenly, Ryan raised his phone and slammed it down on the dashboard, again and again, until it went silent.
Chapter Twenty-four
GARDENIA TRUST, read the polished plaque on their wooden door, and Jake powered through into the office. He tried to look and act the way he always did, but he was sweating under his suit jacket. He was on fire after reading those texts and he knew it had to show. He strode through the empty reception area, with its sky-blue patterned couch, walnut end tables, and brass lamps, and it was the first time in his career he’d been happy there were no clients.
Jake plastered on a smile as he approached the reception desk. Debbie Tarkington had been with him since she graduated from community college, and her unflappable nature made her the perfect choice for the front desk. Not all of Jake’s clients were easy to get along with, and he knew that money didn’t guarantee good judgment, starting with the man in the mirror.
“Jake, hi.” Debbie smiled, a welcoming grin that creased her pretty face. She was African-American and had large eyes and short hair, which she wore natural. She handed him a packet of pink phone messages. “Here’s your calls. Everything go okay?”
“Yes, thanks.” Jake thumbed through his phone messages, to avoid meeting her eye. He hadn’t explained where he was going when he’d left, which he knew was unusual. “Sorry I ran out. I had to take care of a few things for Ryan. He was sick this weekend, but he went to school today.”
“I hope he feels better. By the way, Martin wants to see you and so does Ramon. They both said it was important, so you can pick your poison.”
“Okay, thanks.” Jake didn’t have time to talk to either of them. Martin Niemeyer and Ramon Ramirez were two of his best portfolio managers, but they would have to wait. “I’m not taking calls this afternoon. I don’t need interruptions.”
“Gotcha. Also there’s leftover pizza in the coffee room.”
“Thanks.” Jake walked down the hall just as Martin popped out of his office and came striding down the long hallway toward him. A bright young refugee from Lehman Brothers, Martin still looked very Wall Street, with his moussed brown hair, frameless Swiss glasses, and charcoal pinstriped suit.
“Jake,” Martin called out, in his characteristic bark. “We need to talk about Disney. I’d like to buy a block for Bob Cadison and I need to—”
“Martin, do whatever you think is right.” Jake patted him on the shoulder and kept walking down the long hall, which ended in his office. “I can’t talk now.”
“But you know how he is. He second-guesses every pick, even Disney.”
“Then call and explain it to him.”
“I know, I know,” Martin called after him, wearily. “Like you always say, ‘It’s his money, not mine.’”
“Right.” Jake cringed, inwardly. He kept going toward his office when he saw Ramon lumbering down the hallway on the right, an unmistakable figure because the man was built like a refrigerator. Ramon had played right tackle at Harvard and still managed to graduate at the top of his class, the antithesis of the dumb jock.
“Boss man!” Ramon called out, with a broad smile. His silk tie flew as he walked and his white shirt and dark suit pants strained at the seams because he was so supersized. “You didn’t answer my email.”
“Sorry, but I can’t talk now.” Jake couldn’t remember the last time he checked his email. He reached Amy’s desk at the same time that Ramon did.
“I know, but I need your okay on the Shamir trust. Remember, for the kids? I sent you an email about it.”
“Ramon, sorry, I didn’t get a chance to look at it. You decide. I’m wall-to-wall this afternoon.”
“Appreciate the confidence.” Ramon clapped him on the back, then went back down the hall, and Amy looked up worriedly.
“Jake, how’s Ryan? Is he feeling better?”
“Yes.” Jake had mumbled something before he left about Ryan’s not feeling well. “He thought he might want to come home from school, but he decided to stick it out.”
“Good, Pam was worried.”
Jake hid his surprise. “Pam?”
“Yes, she called here. She said she called your cell, but you didn’t answer and she needed to talk to you.”
“Oh damn.” Jake remembered the phone calls that had come in when he was with Ryan. He had forgotten about them, completely preoccupied on the way back to the office. He reached into his breast pocket, slid out his phone, and saw the screen banner that showed two missed calls from Pam.
Amy blinked under her dark curls. “She said call her back as soon as you get a chance.”
Jake was in real trouble, because he’d have to explain what was going on with Ryan. “I’ll call her right back. Will you hold my calls for the afternoon? I really need to focus.”
“But you and Ramon have an appointment at 3:30 with the Marchman Group, remember?”
“Oh, right.” Jake had forgotten that, too. The Marchman Group was one of his corporate clients, and he needed to see them, but this was no time to meet with anybody. “Do me a favor and cancel it. Apologize profusely. I have a ton of work and I didn’t get enough done this weekend.”
“Gotcha.” Amy picked up the phone, and Jake hurried into his office and closed the door behind him. He hustled to his desk, woke up his computer, and logged onto his bank program, then he called Pam, multitasking.
“Honey?” Pam said when the call connected. “What’s going on? You went to school? Is Ryan okay?”
“Yes. Sorry I missed your call.” Jake watched their accounts pop onto the computer screen.
“So what’s going on?”
“He was queasy again after lunch and he thought he might want to come home.” Jake knew that Pam’s real question was why Ryan had called him, not her. It was unprecedented in their family history, so Jake knew he had to address it up front. “He didn’t want to bother you, so he called me.”
“He could have called me. It’s no bother, he knows that.”
Jake had to think of something to help the story. “He heard us talking in your office last night, about your nomination and all the work you have to do, the questionnaires and everything. He tried to cut you a break.”
Pam moaned. “I want him to feel like he can still call me, though. He’s my priority, no matter what. I mean, how much longer do I even have with him? I’ll call him after school and tell him—”
“Don’t honey. This is the way we want it to be, right?” Jake fell back on his default, best-defense is a good offense. “Ryan is learning that he can lean on me sometimes, too. Like we said in therapy, you want him to know he can turn to me. Don’t call him and make him feel like it’s strange. You’re relegating me to the junior
varsity.”
“Sorry, I know, you’re right.” Pam sounded convinced, if miserable. “So what did you two decide? Is he at home or at school?”
“We decided together that he was feeling well enough to finish school and go to practice.”
“So did he miss class?”
“No, we met during lunch, we talked, and he went to Western Civ on time.”
“Well, aren’t you guys so smart?” Pam still sounded unhappy. “He has a test today, and it’s a bitch to make them up. He’ll never have the time, and the makeup tests are always harder. Well done.”
“Thanks,” Jake said, as if he could take pleasure in any decision he’d made recently.
“I tried to call him but he doesn’t answer his phone. I know it’s probably in his locker, but I wanted to leave him a message telling him that I was thinking of him. But he hasn’t called me back yet.”
“I’m sure he will when he can.” Jake flashed on Ryan breaking his phone on the dashboard. “In the meantime, we handled it together, just fine. Now. What did you call me about?”
“Bad news. My questionnaire has to be finished by Wednesday now, because we have to get an accountant to look it over before I turn it in. I already have a call in to Ellen.”
“Why can’t I do it?” Jake had to buy time and the last thing he needed was their accountant Ellen poking around. “I’m an accountant, we don’t need another one.”
“Michael thinks we need to have an independent accountant review everything. He thinks it would help if Ellen wrote us a letter, too.”
“A letter saying what?”
“That our finances are in order, like an official stamp of approval.”
“There’s no such thing.”
“Jake, it’s just window dressing.”
“We don’t need it. I’m as official as it comes, I do our taxes. All Ellen has to do is sign her name to the return.”
“Don’t get all bent out of shape, honey. We might be gilding the lily, but if it helps me get nominated, why not? The issue isn’t the accuracy of our record-keeping, but whether we’re up to shenanigans.”