“Who is inside? Where is he?”
“Cannot say,” the man replied. “Cannot go in.”
“You know we will kill you if you don’t tell us,” Matt said.
Either someone shot him from a distance or he had a heart attack, because the man simply slumped over. Not seeing any blood, Matt surmised that the man had fainted. He felt a weak pulse. They tossed him in the back of the ambulance.
“We’ve got 40 minutes,” Matt said. “Time is burning.”
They locked the ambulance and ran up to the front door in tactical fashion, weapons outward, scanning in all directions. Matt unlocked the door and rolled into the foyer calling, “One up.” He heard Hobart and Van Dreeves come inside and acknowledge that they were clear.
They moved through a dining room, kitchen, living room, and study, all of it in pristine condition, as if done by an interior decorator, Matt determined that the house was like a Potemkin Village, the fake villages set up by the Soviets and North Koreans to trick its own residents, visitors, or both. The deeper they bore into the house the more convinced Matt was that no one lived here, especially the top of the Database.
“Found the stairs down,” Hobart said.
The three men flew in unison down the stairs and through a door into an antechamber. There was a metal safe door that required a hand scan.
“I’ll wait here. You two go get one of the two medics,” Matt said. “Twenty minutes.”
Hobart and Van Dreeves were out and back in less than three minutes, dragging the driver. They slapped his hand onto the scanning device, which didn’t work so they tried an identical one next to it, which unlocked the door. Van Dreeves had snagged a toolbox from the back also and he opened it as Matt and Hobart went into the dimly lit room.
Air conditioning was blowing full blast onto a server farm. A room the size of a suburban basement housed server racks from floor to ceiling. Was this the actual database, Matt wondered? Or was it the center of operations?
“I’ll be damned,” Matt said.
“What’s really behind the curtain?”
They heard the man mutter, “No,” about the same time Van Dreeves said, “Holy shit.”
“What?” Matt asked.
“There’s a second hand scanner. I think both men had to scan at the same time.”
Van Dreeves was looking at a series of red numbers falling all over each other to reach zero.
“Get the hell out of here,” Matt said. But before he took a step toward the door, he reached in and grabbed two server boxes, really nothing more than small hard drives, stuffed them in his outer tactical vest, and followed Hobart and Van Dreeves up the stairs and out of the front door as the house exploded.
CHAPTER 83
Amanda spent the remaining nights until graduation in Jake’s parents’ home. She told them everything from start to finish. The sheriff had personally come by and removed Jake’s security anklet immediately after the police had informed Harlan that they’d found a memory chip with pictures of the burning house on Dagus’s desk. There was also a photo of an unconscious Riley Dwyer lying on the patio in her backyard. They were the trophy shots of a psychopath, the detective had told them. Like a hunter holding up a deer head, Dagus had captured his crimes on digits. Damning evidence for sure. “Slam dunk,” the detective had said.
“How did you sleep?” Jake’s mother asked. Mrs. Devereaux was a pretty, redheaded woman who could still wear petite junior clothes. She was definitely too perky in the morning, but Amanda had always liked her.
“Fine. That guest room mattress is super comfortable.”
“Well, you’ve had a rough ride, honey. I don’t know what comes next, but life should be a bit easier for you from here on out.”
“Why do you say that, Mom?” Jake chimed in across the breakfast table. He quit chewing his french toast long enough to ask the question.
“I’m just saying that I see a maturity in Amanda now that I hadn’t seen before. She’s grown up a lot in the past few weeks.”
“Mom—”
“No, Jake, she’s right,” Amanda countered. She put down her fork and looked at Jake. “I’ve changed. What my father taught me, what you helped me find out, has given me a new perspective. I’m not perfect by any stretch, but you know what?”
“What?” This time he had a mouthful of eggs.
“Jake!” His mother scolded.
“I’m ready to talk about my dad.”
They sat in silence until Mr. Devereaux came into the house wearing an Egyptian cotton Bobby Jones golf shirt, tan khaki shorts and Docksiders. He was holding a newspaper in his hand. He was an older version of Jake. Tall, handsome, deep-set brown eyes, and thick, dark hair that was difficult to tame.
“The Observer. Front page.” He put the paper in front of Amanda.
Amanda slowly opened the newspaper. The byline was Mary Ann Singlaub. The title was: “House Burning at Lanier Linked to Malicious Mother Syndrome.” The subtitle read: “Melanie Garrett and Gabrielle ‘Nina’ Hastings Arrested on Charges of Child Prostitution.”
She scanned the article and it read pretty much how she and Mary Ann had discussed it should. There were facts and figures about insurance fraud, visitation denials, and child abuse in the story. Riley Dwyer was quoted multiple times as the preeminent source on parental alienation syndrome. Amanda had specifically given her two quotes that she could use from her.
“My father was my hero until they changed everything. Suddenly I was living in a world where we were hiding from him; I was being used as a bargaining chip for more money, and I was going to the doctor about once a week. I didn’t realize until I saw my father’s files that my mother was making money off me every time she took me to the hospital.”
She continued scanning and saw her second quote.
“My mother and grandmother robbed my father and me of at least ten years of our lives together. Once they are convicted in a court of law, those two women should get at least that for a prison sentence.”
Those two women. She was sending a message to them in prison that she was completely disowning both of them. She would start completely on her own.
And she would be okay.
CHAPTER 84
Amanda looked up at Jake as he brushed back some hair from her eyes then kissed her forehead. For Amanda, the days leading up to graduation had been filled with several visits to Harlan’s office to discuss finances and the future. High school graduation had been rather anticlimactic and, perhaps, a harbinger of things to come. The time had passed quickly as she focused on preparing for adulthood.
They were standing on the porch of Jake’s house with his parents sitting in the Lincoln Town Car, having already said their good-byes to Amanda. Jake was wearing a T-shirt that said “Metallica” on the front, and on the back, “Security.”
Amanda was wearing khaki shorts and a light-blue polo shirt. The weather was sufficiently warm for her to wear her Teva sandals.
“It has been weeks and still no word on your dad’s funeral?”
“Matt called last night and said there were some complications. The Special Operations command has opened an investigation. I should know something soon.”
She saw Jake look away and then back at her. They locked eyes for a while, hers scanning back and forth between his.
“What?” she asked.
She felt him sigh as he spoke.
“I leave in a few minutes for The Citadel, you know. I don’t necessarily agree with your decision to go to Africa for this program. I’d rather you go straight to Columbia, you know, so we’d be close.”