Jake shuddered.
“You can’t give a stamp of approval to your own bookkeeping or tax returns. It has to come from someone independent. If it’s too much work, Ellen can do everything. Is that better for you?”
“No, I want to do it,” Jake answered quickly. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll get the papers together and have them FedExed to Ellen for Wednesday morning. All she’ll have to do is write her phony-baloney letter, okay?”
“That would be great, thanks. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Talk later. I’ll be home late tonight. The powers-that-be want to powwow about the nomination. Can you deal with dinner for Ryan?”
“Sure, take care,” Jake said, hanging up. He found himself staring at their online bank account, which had logged him out. He had to pay the blackmail or Deaner would keep torturing Ryan.
Jake sweated under his jacket, thinking about that check in the safe.
Chapter Twenty-five
Jake clicked through the Gardenia Trust spreadsheet on his computer, trying to figure out how to get the money from company or client funds, but he couldn’t find a way. The check in the safe couldn’t be used because it was made out to Gardenia, and even as the company’s principal and sole owner, he couldn’t cash it or deposit it into his own account. It could only be deposited into Gardenia’s holding account, and from there, it couldn’t be wired to any personal account, much less offshore. Gardenia’s bank, Pennsylvania National Bank, would simply refuse to do it, because it would run afoul of FDIC regulations, which was only one of the layers of rules and regulations. Gardenia was also a state-chartered trust company, so they were also governed by FNRA and the SEC, because they were also an RIA, an alphabet soup of laws.
Jake rubbed his face, trying to understand his position. He couldn’t use his personal funds because the FBI would see, and he couldn’t use Gardenia money because he couldn’t get it. The problem was that the FBI would be able to see the balances in any existing accounts, but that gave him an idea, because it meant that they couldn’t see the balances in any accounts that didn’t exist right now.
Jake reached for his phone and scrolled down to Harold Ackerman, his banker at Pennsylvania National, in charge of all of Jake’s personal accounts, as well as Gardenia business accounts. He pressed in the number and Harold picked it up after the first ring. “Harold, I need a favor. Confidentially.”
“You got it. How can I help?”
“I need a personal line of credit for $250 grand to be opened today.”
“No problem, Jake. You have the balances to back that up. You want it in your name, or yours and Pam’s?”
“Just mine, and I need it wired to an offshore account by eleven o’clock tomorrow morning, at the absolute latest.” Jake knew it would be an unusual request, but he also knew that Harold wouldn’t ask any questions. Anybody who dealt regularly with high-net-worth individuals knew that they had expensive secrets like gambling debts, mistresses in fancy apartments, and the occasional cocaine habit. Jake hated the thought that Harold would believe one of those things were true about him, but his reputation didn’t mean more to him than Ryan’s life.
“I can do that. A wire transfer takes fifteen minutes, if I set it up now. The money’s not the problem, the paperwork is. You know how it goes.”
“Tell me about it.” Jake understood. It would’ve sounded topsy-turvy to anybody who didn’t know how banking worked, but he knew better. Harold could put his hand on $250,000 faster than he could get the stack of forms through the bank bureaucracy.
“I’ll set it up, and get it out first thing tomorrow morning. Wire room’s open at nine. It’ll be done by nine fifteen.”
“Okay. Thanks much.” Jake pressed END, relieved. It was a good plan and he thought it would work, at least in the short run. Since the personal line of credit didn’t exist until now, it wouldn’t show on his and Pam’s current bank statement, which they would be disclosing to the FBI. Jake would have to replace it by their next quarterly tax return, but he could do that with some gains from stock dividends or other trading. It would take fancy footwork, but he wasn’t a financial planner for nothing.
Jake’s phone started ringing in his hand, and he looked at the screen. It showed a picture of Pam again, the photo taken on Myrtle Beach, in happier times. He picked up and pressed ANSWER. “Hi, honey. You forget something?”
“I’m worried.” Pam sounded tense. “I thought you told me that Ryan went to Western Civ today.”
“He did.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“How do you know that?” Jake asked, dismayed.
“I checked the Parent Portal.”
Jake cursed the Parent Portal, which was an online program by which Concord Chase parents could log in and check on their kids’ daily assignments, tests and paper grades. Pam checked it as often as she checked their bank balances or her carbohydrate count.
“Jake, he was absent from class. He missed his test.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. The Portal doesn’t lie.”
“It could be a mistake.”
“No it couldn’t. The information comes from the teachers themselves. Mr. Nelson even made a note on the Portal that Ryan has to contact him to schedule a makeup exam.”
“Mr. Nelson might’ve made a mistake.” Jake knew it was lame the minute he said it. He couldn’t think of something better to say. It was exhausting, all this lying, putting out fires.
“Jake, come on. If Ryan’s not in class, you notice. He could be really sick.” Pam’s voice sounded thin with anxiety. “I called the school nurse, but she’s at another school on Mondays. I called the office, but they don’t answer after four o’clock.”
“Don’t get all worked up, honey.” Jake logged out of the Gardenia accounts and cleared his Internet history, just in case. “Did he go to the class after Western Civ?”
“He doesn’t have class after that. He has Study Hall, last period of the day on Monday.”
Jake didn’t know Ryan’s class schedule, but Pam had it memorized, every year. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
“Don’t minimize it, Jake. He could be really sick.”
“I’m not minimizing it,” Jake said, though that was exactly what he was doing. “He’s not a hundred percent, but I’m sure he’s fine. He was fine when I left him.”
“How do you know that? You didn’t feel his forehead, did you?”
“No, but he looked fine.” Jake got up from his desk and went to get his coat from the back of the door. He had to find Ryan, either at practice or at home, and see what happened.
“How he looks doesn’t mean anything. You’re taking this too lightly. You never think anything can go wrong, but it can.”
“I’m not taking it lightly.” Jake couldn’t believe the irony. No one knew better than he that things could go wrong. He opened his office door and hurried into the hallway.
“I called his phone again but he still doesn’t answer, and I know he usually checks it after school, before practice. That means he didn’t return my first phone call.”
“He told me he broke his phone, I should have mentioned that.” Jake looked around but Amy wasn’t at her desk. He didn’t leave her a note because he didn’t want her to blow his cover again.
“I assume he went to practice. But what’s he up to? It’s not like him to cut class. If he’s not sick, something went wrong with your plan.”
“I understand, and I’ll take it up with him as soon as I get home.” Jake hurried down the hall toward reception.
“Good. I’m not going to be home ’til ten or so, maybe later, but you should be the one to get to the bottom of this, anyway.”
“I agree. I’ll take care of it.”
“Jake, remember, if he’s not sick, he lied to you. You have to call him out on that, even though you’re Fun Dad.”
Jake couldn’t remember ever wanting to be Fun Dad, much less having any fun. He pas
sed Debbie and he pointed to his phone, so he had an excuse for not telling her where he was going. “Got it. Don’t worry about it. Good luck with your meeting, and I’ll see you when you get home.”
“Text me and let me know how he is.”
“I will. Love you.” Jake flew out of the office, bypassing the elevator and jogging toward the stairwell.
“Love you, too. See you later. Bye.”
“Bye.” Jake hung up on the fly, banging through the exit doors, off to go find his son.
Chapter Twenty-six
“Ryan?” Jake opened the bedroom door to find his son asleep on top of the comforter in his practice sweat suit, his hoodie pulled over his head and his ears plugged with his earbuds. His arm was flopped over Moose, who was asleep, amid an open laptop, textbooks, and school papers.
“Ryan!” Jake said, louder. He was still in his suit jacket, breathless. He’d raced home, but traffic had been terrible. He approached the bed, but only Moose woke up, thumping his tail on the comforter and raising his head slightly.
Jake sat down on the edge of the bed, gave the dog a quick pat, and tugged one of the earbuds from Ryan’s ear. “Ryan, wake up.”
“Dad?” Ryan’s eyelids fluttered, and Jake rubbed his arm, in the cottony sweatshirt.
“How are you doing, pal? Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Ryan answered, weakly.
“Why don’t you wake up? We need to talk.”
“Leave me alone. Can’t I sleep?” Ryan’s eyes closed again.
“No, we need to talk.” Jake rubbed his arm again, to get him going. “Why didn’t you go to Western Civ? Your mom found out from the Parent Portal that you missed your test.”
“Don’t worry about it, Dad. I’ll tell her that I was throwing up again.”
“No, you can’t do that. Because I told her that I saw you during lunch and you seemed fine.”
“What?” Ryan frowned, opening his eyes. He rose sleepily and propped himself on his elbow. “Why did you do that? She never had to know.”
“I didn’t tell her. Amy did. Mom called my office.”
“Oh no.” Ryan rubbed his face, leaving reddish streaks, and sat up.
“Why didn’t you go to class? You said you were going to.”
“I was going to.” Ryan met Jake’s eye, pained. “I went to my locker and got my books, and I was about to go in, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about the pictures and that night, and now someone’s blackmailing us. It’s just so bad. It just keeps getting worse and worse.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” Jake squeezed him on the shoulder. “I know, it’s a lot to deal with, but that’s why you have to let me deal with it.”
“What happened with the blackmailer guy?”
“It’s all in order. I have the money and I’m giving it to him tomorrow.”
Ryan’s eyes flared in alarm. “Dad, be careful. Are you meeting him somewhere? He could have a gun.”
“He’s coming to my office, and I’m in no personal danger.” Jake squeezed his arm again. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself. You have to do your thing at school. You can’t be missing these classes. It’s not good for you and it’s too hard to explain. You went to practice, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but I screwed up there, too.” Ryan shook his head. “I sucked so bad. It’s like I forgot how to shoot.”
“Oh no.” Jake’s heart went out to him. It killed him to think that his son was getting so derailed. “It’ll come back. You’re just upset now, is all.”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know if I’m going to start next game. It’s a shit show.”
“Watch your language,” Jake heard himself saying, out of an impulse to control something, somewhere, to hold a line against chaos, but misplaced. “It’s okay.”
“No, you’re right.” Ryan slipped off his hood and rubbed his hair front and back. “I gotta man up. Coach is starting to look at me funny, and Dr. Dave’s all up in my grille.”
“Dr. Dave? What does he have to say?”
“He thinks I’m depressed.”
“Did he say that?”
“No, but I can tell. He hints around.”
“You’re not depressed.”
“I know that. I told him that.” Ryan shook his head. “If he knew what was going on, believe me, he’d understand.”
“Yes he would. But he can’t know what’s going on.”
“I know that, Dad.” Ryan hit a key on his open laptop and the screen came to life, showing the front page of the local newspaper. “I was reading about Kathleen and her mom. The mom got her a job at this IT company where she’s a web designer, and they seem really close.” Ryan scrolled down, so a photo of Kathleen appeared next to one of her mother. “They’re both really pretty, aren’t they? They have the same smiles and eyes, like the shape is the same.” Ryan pointed at the photos. “See what I mean? I think they had a hard life. Janine Mae told me Kathleen’s mom and dad got divorced last year, and there was a big custody trial over her, that’s why the mom moved here from Seattle.”
“Ryan, I don’t think it’s a good idea to be thinking about her, so much.”
“This is the company where they worked.” Ryan scrolled down to a group photo. “So many people liked her and her mom. They interviewed them in the paper, you should see the stuff they said. They were super tight and they were always laughing, and the people they work with put up their own money for the reward and the company matched it, even this little company of, like twenty-five people, they put in their own money—”
“Ryan, stop.” Jake glanced at the laptop. “I don’t want you to keep researching her online.”
“I know, but I can’t help it, Dad. I try not to, but I just can’t help it. It’s all anybody at school’s talking about.” Tears brimmed in Ryan’s eyes, which were bloodshot. “Janine Mae was crying in school, Dad. She was crying about her best friend from the track team, who I killed. What if she found out it was me? She would hate me, I hate me—” Ryan’s voice broke, and Jake leaned over and gave him a hug.
“Ryan, no, don’t. I know it’s hard now, but it’s going to be okay. We’re going to get through this together.”
“Dad, I don’t know, it’s like she’s always on my mind. I keep thinking about her, like that blackmailer said, like she’s my destiny or something.”
“No, no, don’t think that way. She’s not your destiny.” Jake felt his chest seize. “That guy was just making up those texts. He was trying to get to you. Don’t let him get to you.”
“No, but some of the stuff he said, it’s true.” Ryan pulled away, his expression anguished. “Like when he said that you can’t get away from me, I feel like that. I feel like I can’t get away from her.”
Jake felt terrified for him. “No, you just feel guilty. You’re a good person and you feel guilty. But that feeling will diminish in time.”
“No, no, I don’t think it will. It’s only getting worse, Dad.”
“Don’t say that!” Jake said, urgent. “If you keep saying things like that, you’ll make it true, and it doesn’t have to be true, not at all.”
“But I’m obsessed with her, obsessed.” Ryan shook his head in bewilderment. “Like no matter what, I’m thinking about her, and like, we’re studying that if you tell yourself not to think about something, the more it makes you think about it. That’s why I couldn’t go to Western Civ. I was walking to the door and I started to get so freaked, and I saw Caleb, and, he said, ‘What’s the matter with you, dude?’ He knew right away. I mean, I couldn’t get in control.”
“Caleb?” Jake asked, worried. “You didn’t tell him anything, did you? Wasn’t he the guy who sold you the dope?”
“The weed? Yes, right.” Ryan’s expression changed suddenly, as if a mask came over his unguarded features and he seemed to catch himself.
“Ryan? Did you tell him?”
“No, no, no way.” Ryan shook his head in a newly jittery way, and Jake could see he was hiding something
.
“What? What happened? You’re a terrible liar, Ryan. I can see it all over your face. Did you tell him something? Anything?” Jake tried to control his fear, but it was impossible. “If you did, tell me now and we can deal with it. Don’t hide it from me. We’re in this together.”
“I didn’t tell him anything.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I didn’t say anything, not a word!” Ryan raised his voice, but Jake could see that he was protesting too much.
“Then what is it? What’s bothering you?”
“We smoked up, that’s all, Dad. I’m sorry—”
“You got high at school?” Jake asked, appalled.
“Yes, I’m sorry.” Ryan raked his hair back with a shaking hand. “Caleb told me it would help me mellow out for practice, and it really did. It did. It got me back in control.”
“No!” Jake practically cried out, feeling suddenly like everything was circling the drain. “Ryan, I did this to help you. It defeats the whole purpose if you start to fall apart. If you start to cut classes. If you start getting high. That’s not you. That never was and never can be—”
“I know, Dad, I know, I’m sorry—”
“You can’t do this to yourself, you can’t.” Jake found himself grabbing the open American Pageant textbook and smacking the page, so loudly that Moose woke up, blinking. “Ryan, this is what you need to think about. This is what you need to focus on. Your schoolwork. Your game. Yourself.” Jake picked up the laptop. “Not this. Not Kathleen Lindstrom. Not her mother. Not how nice they were.” Jake was about to put down the laptop when he glanced at the screen, and did a double-take. The group photo that had been on the screen was larger, because he must have hit a button when he picked up the laptop. The enlargement enabled him to see something in the company photo he hadn’t seen before. He looked closer and couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Dad? What is it?”
“Nothing,” Jake answered, but he was lying through his teeth. He set the laptop on the bed and struggled for emotional control. In the back row of the group photo stood a line of employees, and on the end, half-hidden by the row in front of him, was a face that Jake recognized instantly.