It was Lewis Deaner.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Jake left Ryan in his bedroom, then hurried into his home office and closed the door, stricken. He felt the situation ebbing away from him. He flashed-forward on Ryan’s becoming depressed, obsessed with Kathleen, spiraling downward, letting his grades and the team fall by the wayside. It could end in suicide, as if Ryan was doomed by the very actions set in motion to save him. Jake wasn’t about to let that happen without a fight.
He hustled to his desk, logged onto the Internet, sat down, and typed in the name of the company he had seen on Ryan’s laptop. The company website popped onto the screen, and it read GreenTech Enterprises in kelly-green letters. Directly below that was a candid photo of Kathleen Lindstrom, sitting at a laptop on a desk, evidently at the GreenTech office. The photo was framed by a black memorial border, and next to it was a paragraph:
GreenTech mourns the passing of Kathleen Lindstrom, who was the victim of a hit-and-run accident last Friday on Pike Road in Concord Chase. Kathleen was the beloved daughter of web designer Grace Lindstrom, and Kathleen worked for us part-time, impressing our entire office with her intelligence, charm, and beauty. She even started us running at lunchtime and we lost a total of 76 pounds combined! She will be profoundly missed, most especially by her devoted mother, but by all of us whose lives she touched. GreenTech and its employees are posting a $10,000 reward for information leading to the arrest of the person responsible for her death, and if you have any such information, please call the authorities …
Jake looked away, because he didn’t want to focus on Kathleen now. He wanted to focus on Deaner and understand how Deaner was connected to her. Jake hadn’t realized that they could have known each other. He scanned the left side of the website, which listed categories for several different pages; IT Support, Web Design, GreenTech Web Hosting, GreenTech Consultancy, About Us, and Contact Us.
Jake skipped to About Us and clicked the link. Onto the screen appeared the group photo that had been on Ryan’s laptop. It showed about thirteen employees lined up in three rows, and the last person in the last row on the left was Deaner. Jake clicked on the picture to enlarge it, double-checking, and it was definitely him: a short, slight, and bespectacled man, his appearance as nondescript as blackmailers ever got. It must’ve been a recent picture because he had the same thinning hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and oddly controlled expression.
Jake hit a button to return the picture to normal size, then read the caption below, which contained the employees’ names. He scanned them quickly to reach the name of the man he knew as Lewis Deaner, but the first name on the row wasn’t Lewis Deaner, but Andrew Voloshin. Jake blinked, absorbing the information. So Deaner’s real name was Voloshin and he wasn’t a freelance writer, but worked at an IT company.
Jake returned his attention to the photograph and spotted Kathleen Lindstrom in the second row, only two people away from Deaner/Voloshin. Kathleen was standing next to her mother Grace, an attractive woman with curly brown hair. They had their arms around each other, the both of them smiling happily at the camera, wearing almost identical outfits, an artsy T-shirt and skinny jeans.
The photo stopped Jake in his tracks. He could see how close Kathleen and Grace were from their body language; they looked like a mother and daughter who were best friends. Tears brimmed in his eyes, and he felt the deepest ache welling up in his heart. He couldn’t imagine how grief-stricken Grace would be, bereft over a beloved daughter that had been taken from her, so young and so violently. Jake was the one who had taken her young life, as surely as if he had been at the wheel himself, and he felt the full weight and agony of his guilt. He knew how much he had compounded his sin, by lying about it every day since then and by compelling Ryan to lie, too. He’d traded Kathleen’s life for Ryan’s future, and he would never, ever forgive himself. He’d played God, so he couldn’t even ask God himself to forgive him.
He wiped his eyes with his arm, and tried to swallow, but couldn’t. He refocused on the screen, trying to get his thoughts back on Deaner. It was obvious from the photo that Deaner knew Kathleen and her mother. It was a small company, so it couldn’t have been otherwise. Jake wanted to know what they did for GreenTech, so he scrolled down and scanned the company description, which read:
Our offices are in Shakertown, and we’re one of the few companies in the Delaware Valley who offer greener computer services—including solar-power, low-power and low-material-use computer systems, IT support, and green-web-design services. We’ve been in business over ten years and we’re growing! Call us anytime for an estimate to meet your IT needs, in a way that helps you, your business, and our planet!
Jake considered it, vis-à-vis Andrew Voloshin. It seemed consistent with Voloshin’s manner and appearance that he was some kind of IT guy. He logged back into the search engine, then went to White Pages, and plugged in the name Andrew Voloshin and Concord Chase PA, because Deaner had said he lived in an apartment in Concord Chase. The screen changed and read, your search has yielded no results, so Jake tried again. Voloshin worked in Shakertown, so Jake plugged in Andrew Voloshin and Shakertown PA. The screen changed, showing the question, Did you mean this Andrew Voloshin? Underneath was an address with the phone number:
Meadowbrook Mews
37 Meadowbrook Lane
Apartment 2C
Shakertown, PA
Jake grabbed his phone from his pocket and dialed Voloshin’s number. He felt a darkness come over him, a sheer malevolence he’d never felt in his life. He was about to talk to the man who had terrified Ryan. The man who could drive his son crazy, even to suicide. Jake felt in his heart, for the first time ever, that he was capable of committing murder. If he were ever in the same room with Voloshin again, the little man wouldn’t get out alive.
“Jake?” Voloshin answered, his tone surprised, but Jake didn’t let him get out another word.
“Who the hell do you think you are, scaring my son? I’ll kill you for that. Do you hear me? You leave my boy alone!”
“You weren’t taking me seriously.” Voloshin seemed to recover. “I had to show you that I—”
“We made a deal. You’ll get your money. It’ll be there by eleven, and you better send me the copies of that video and photos. The deal is between me and you. You leave my family out of this or you’ll get nothing. Nothing!”
“Oh, I don’t know about that—”
“Don’t test me. It’s killing my kid to keep this secret, so if it’s not going to help him, I’ll blow it wide open. I’ll go to the police myself. We both will. I’d rather have my son sane and in jail than crazy and outside of it.” Jake heard himself yelling and realized that what he was saying was true. “So don’t press me. Don’t test me. You don’t know me.”
“Now who’s the tough guy?”
“I am,” Jake growled, and this time he meant it. He could feel it, a bile and fury inside, bubbling. “If you ever, ever contact my son again, I’ll come after you. I know where you live. I have your phone number. I know where you work. You’ll never get away from me. I’ll find you wherever you go.” Jake heard himself threatening Voloshin, an eerie echo of the very texts that Voloshin had sent to Ryan. Suddenly Jake started to wonder about something. He’d just learned that Voloshin knew Kathleen, so maybe the way Voloshin had gotten the photos of the hit-and-run wasn’t because he lived or worked close by, at all. “Wait. You live on Meadowbrook Lane, but that isn’t anywhere near Pike Road. GreenTech isn’t in the corporate center, either. It’s in Shakertown, three towns over. You didn’t happen upon the accident scene and take that video. You didn’t see it from a neighboring office or an apartment complex. I’m onto you. I have your number. You were on Pike Road yourself. You were there already. You were stalking her.”
“What? No, that’s—”
“Don’t bullshit me. It all makes sense. Kathleen was a young, beautiful girl who works in your office. Her mother gets her a summer job there. You’re a lonely, single
nerd, the dweeby IT guy who codes all day.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m friends with her mother. Kathleen was the daughter of my good friend, that’s all.”
“Oh, please. You started out friends with the mother, but you’re not blind. A beautiful young high-school girl comes into your world, and you fall head over heels. You think about her all the time.” Jake sensed he was right, even as he said it. “You took those pictures and that video, no one else. That’s how you got the pictures. That’s why you were so close. That’s how you got such a great video, even in the fog. You found out where she runs, where the track team runs. What were you doing? Hiding in the bushes? In the woods? Waiting for her to run by? Did you know her running schedule? Her route?”
“We were just friends. She was my friend’s daughter. I was a friend of the family—”
“Give me a break!” Jake burst into laughter, but it wasn’t mirthful, just a release of pressure. “You were friends? A man your age is friends with a gorgeous sixteen-year-old girl? Who’re you kidding? Did you hit on her or just fantasize? You’re a sick freak! You’re a predator!”
“It’s not true—”
“If you were such good friends, then why are you capitalizing on her death?” Jake realized it was true the moment he said it. “You’re such great friends with her that when she gets killed by a car, which you witness, you don’t go to the police? You don’t say to them, these people killed my friend? You don’t even give your other good friend—her mother—the information?” Jake could hear Voloshin had gone silent. “Instead, you sneak around and try to blackmail my son, who had an accident? You try and make money from the girl’s death, the daughter of your very good friend? You disgust me!”
“I don’t need to listen to this.”
“Neither do I,” Jake shot back. He pressed END, hanging up. Suddenly he heard some noise downstairs, the slamming of the front door, then someone coming upstairs.
“Jake! Ryan!” It was Pam, and she sounded furious.
Chapter Twenty-eight
“I’m up in my office!” Jake got off the computer, erased his Internet history, and got up just as his door flew open.
“Jake, we have a problem.” Pam stood frowning in the doorway, still with her trenchcoat over her suit. She hadn’t even kicked off her black pumps. “Where’s Ryan?”
“In his room, resting.”
“Resting! Very good!” Pam spun around on her heel and stalked down the hall toward Ryan’s room, her coat billowing behind her. “I’m getting to the bottom of this, once and for all.”
Oh no. Jake hustled after her. “What’s going on?”
“Wait until you hear this,” Pam called over her shoulder.
“Why are you home so early?”
“Because no meeting is as important as this.” Pam flung open Ryan’s door and entered his bedroom, which was empty except for Moose. The golden retriever stood up in the bed unsteadily, wagging his tail, but Pam crossed the room and knocked on the bathroom door. “Ryan? Ryan, come out of the bathroom.”
“Mom?” Ryan called from inside the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a little bit. I’m about to take a shower.”
“Honey, give him a break.” Jake tried to calm the waters. “I already discussed it with him. He wasn’t feeling well, and that’s why he didn’t go to class. He made it to practice though.”
“Ryan!” Pam tried the doorknob, but it was locked, then she banged on the door. “Come out of the bathroom, right this instant!”
“Honey, relax.” Jake had never seen her this upset. He started to worry about what she knew, or what she thought she knew.
“Don’t tell me to relax! I was right, all along. I knew it. I knew something was going on.” Pam banged on the door again, and from inside the bathroom came the sound of a toilet flushing.
“Mom, chill.” Ryan opened the door and came out of the bathroom, looking more put together than before, with his hair combed back and his hood off his head.
“Don’t you tell me to chill!” Pam grabbed his arm, pulled him toward the bed, and made him sit down. Moose licked Ryan’s face and wagged his tail harder, thinking this was some new game. “Where were you during Western Civ?”
Jake stepped in. “Pam, I already discussed this with him. You don’t have to—”
“The hell I don’t!” Pam put her hands on her hips. “Ryan, I asked you a fact question, as the lawyers say. Where were you during Western Civ?”
“I didn’t feel well—”
“I didn’t ask you how you felt. I asked you where you were.”
“I was with Caleb,” Ryan answered, not meeting his mother’s eye. “I didn’t feel well, and he had a study hall, so we hung out.”
“And what did you do?”
Jake couldn’t take seeing Ryan twist in the wind. “Honey, don’t yell at him. He doesn’t deserve to be yelled at.”
“Yes, he does.” Pam ignored him, still glaring at Ryan. “He deserves that and more. You don’t know what he’s done.”
Jake shuddered inwardly. He went over and put his hand on his son’s shoulder, to steady him. “Pam, whatever it is, yelling at him won’t help. Why don’t you talk to him and we’ll sort it out in a civilized fashion, instead of screaming questions at him?”
Pam folded her arms, pursing her lips tightly. Suddenly she became very still, searching Ryan with her eyes and not saying anything. The room fell abruptly silent, except for the dog’s excited panting. Jake told himself to stay calm while Ryan glanced up at his mother, then looked down, hanging his head. Somehow the ferocity of Pam’s angry, loving gaze seemed to break Ryan down, and his strong shoulders slumped. His hands fell to his sides, and Moose nudged his nose under Ryan’s palm, which was the dog’s favorite bid for attention.
“Pam,” Jake said, trying to get control of the situation. “Why don’t you tell us what’s on your mind, and Ryan can respond?”
“No,” Pam answered, almost sadly. She kept her eyes on Ryan’s bowed head and folded her arms in the bunchy trenchcoat. “I don’t want to tell Ryan what I know. I want Ryan to tell me what he and Caleb were doing, because I want to find out if I raised a liar.”
“Pam.” Jake was still trying to defuse the situation. “He’s already told you the truth. He admitted he cut class and hung out with Caleb.”
“Ryan?” Pam looked down at Ryan, still ignoring Moose on the bed. “Did I raise a liar?”
Jake swallowed hard. “Pam, don’t call him a name. You know we’re not supposed to do that.”
“Oh, Jake, shut up. You hate that crap as much as I do.” Pam returned her attention to Ryan, who had hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees, in collapse. “Ryan, did I raise a liar?”
“Yes,” Ryan whispered, almost inaudibly, without looking up. “It’s not your fault, but I am a liar.”
Jake felt his heart break, rubbing his son’s back. He didn’t want Ryan to think of himself as a liar. “Buddy, that’s not true.”
“Yes, it is, Dad.”
“No, no that’s not true.” Jake squeezed Ryan hard, avoiding Pam’s gaze. He could feel his son shaking just the slightest, as if the truth had a pressure of its own and was trying to force its way out of his very body. Jake couldn’t let that happen, because if Ryan spilled his guts now, Pam would make them go to the cops for sure. It would ruin them all. Suddenly, he got another idea. “Ryan, why don’t you tell your mother what you told me, that you and Caleb were smoking during class.” Jake looked up at Pam, whose lovely features were fixed so grimly that they could have been etched in marble. “Pam, Ryan told me the truth. So if that’s what you’re talking about, you didn’t raise a liar.”
“Really.” Pam heaved a quiet sigh, and her blue-eyed gaze shifted from Jake to Ryan and back again. “So he told you the truth.”
Jake nodded, relieved. “He told me everything. He told me that he’s never going to smoke again, and he knows it’s bad for him and illegal.”
Pam sucked in h
er cheeks, unplacated. “Was he going to tell me?”
“We both decided it might put you in an awkward position, being a judge. It’s enough that he told me, isn’t it?” Jake didn’t press his luck. “How did you find out?”
“Dr. Dave told me that he suspected it today at practice.” Pam kept her eyes on Ryan, even though all she could see was his crown. “So I called Caleb’s mother. She found marijuana in his drawer, a fair amount of it. It turns out he’s been selling it, too.”
“That’s terrible,” Jake said, keeping his arm on Ryan, who was still trembling.
“Ryan?” Pam asked, her tone gentler. “I was so disappointed to think that you would do something unlawful, not to mention stupid. I don’t care if everybody else does it, I disapprove completely of smoking marijuana. I told you already, everybody I know who smoked dope in college just got dumber and dumber. And that’s only the ones that didn’t go on to worse drugs.”
Jake didn’t interrupt her, because he could see that they had dodged a bullet. He kept his arm around Ryan, praying that the trembling would subside.
“Ryan, I know you feel stressed and bad about what happened at the game, but your reaction to negative emotion can’t be to reach for a drug. Or alcohol. Or anything else. Do you understand?”
Ryan didn’t answer or even move, except to tremble.
“Ryan?” Pam paused. “I hope you don’t need me to tell you what could happen if any of the coaches from these college programs found out that you were smoking, especially during school hours. Division I is too competitive, and they want players who not only make an impact, but who are assets to the program.”
Jake kept his mouth shut, but all this talk of impact players made him sick to his stomach.
“If you get a bad reputation with these recruiters, you can jeopardize not only any scholarship possibility, but your entire future. I don’t mean to sound like that D.A.R.E. program in elementary school, but it’s true, and they never should have discontinued it. The choices you make now have huge implications for the rest of your life—”