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He continued his slow approach until he saw Olin in the distance, blocking Roland’s path if he tried to run, or worse—tried to drag Connor away with him. Roland was too big to be the man who had abducted Connor’s parents, but he could still be dangerous if he was involved. Frankly, since Connor didn’t know the nature of Roland’s meeting with his father, he might be dangerous even if he wasn’t.

“Excuse me,” Connor said, once he was only feet away. “You’re Roland, right?”

Roland’s nervous gaze focused in on Connor. “What is this? Who are you?”

“You’re looking for Frank Callahan. I’m his son.”

“Oh, this is bullshit.” Roland turned, started to walk away. “I don’t know what Frank thinks he’s doing sending you here. That’s insane. If he has something to say to me, tell him he’d better do it himself.”

Okay, so he definitely wasn’t involved in the abduction. Knowing that made Connor braver. He grabbed Roland’s arm. “Wait. Listen—”

Roland shook him off, dropping the newspaper as he did so. “Don’t touch me! Your dad and I had a deal. If he’s thinking about doing anything to undercut that, he’s going to regret it. You tell him that, too.”

Connor saw Olin closing in on them. Not quite running, but moving fast, for sure.

“What are you talking about?”

Roland stopped, looked at Connor. “You don’t know? He sent you here to talk to me, and you don’t even know what you came to talk to me about?” He blinked, looked like he was trying to process information his mind couldn’t accept. It was probably how he would look if Connor had just presented him with evidence that aliens existed. “What did he want you to tell me?”

“He didn’t send me to tell you anything. That’s why I’m here. He’s—”

Roland turned, ready to start moving again. This time, instead of Connor stopping him, Olin did.

Olin held out his hands. “Hey, big man. We just want to talk to you, okay? Tell us what you know about Connor’s dad, and we’ll leave you alone.”

Roland could have looked from one boy to the other by simply shifting his eyes, but he turned his whole head instead. Back and forth, like he was watching a tennis match. “Oh, you two are batshit crazy.” He tried to push past Olin, and Olin grabbed him, wrapping him in a bear hug.

“Let go of me!”

Then another voice joined the conversation. “Hey! You two!” It was a cop, coming up from behind Roland.

“You can tell us or you can tell the cop,” Connor said. “Your choice.”

Roland was still struggling to get free. But Olin was lean, wiry, strong, and he wasn’t letting go.

Roland’s face turned a bright red. He huffed and puffed so much Connor wondered if he might pass out.

“Just tell us,” Connor said.

“Let go of him!” the cop shouted.

“I’m not letting go until you tell us what we want to know,” Olin said. “We can all go to jail for all I care.”

Roland expelled a breath in Connor’s direction that smelled like tuna and garlic. He stopped struggling, then calmly said, “Fine with me. We’ll see how your father likes it when Lee—”

“Hey!” It was the cop again, only now he was almost on top of them.

“Forget it. Let’s go,” Connor said, already starting to move. Olin followed his lead, and Roland took off in the other direction. The whole thing lasted less than a minute but seemed to Connor like much longer.

“Stay where you are. I need to talk to you two!”

CHAPTER 21

When the hacker had bought this house, there was no cell coverage, no hope of internet access. Which, in those days, was okay with him. Years had passed, though, since he had been to the property. A lot of bad things had happened.

One good thing that had happened—at least, right now, he considered it good—was the proliferation of cellular service and the wi-fi speeds that had come along with it. There were very few places anymore where you couldn’t get a signal.

He set up his laptop on a rustic dining room table and connected to his cellphone. Then, before he got down to business, he made a pot of coffee. He always drank coffee when he worked, usually one cup after another until he was so wired up his fingers would shake and he felt like he couldn’t hold onto his thoughts.

Out here, he also made the coffee for the smell.

The place had been unoccupied for so long, it had an odor to it that wouldn’t go away. He had tried opening all the windows, burning candles, lighting a fire. Still, that stale, musty stench remained. The house probably just needed a good cleaning. When all this was over, he would hire someone to come in and do that.

The hacker downed cup number one in a single long drink. It burned a little, which he didn’t mind. Then he poured a second cup and got to work.

It will all be over tomorrow, he thought. And while his life would never be what it once was, after the job was done, it could return to something close. Or so he told himself.

But breaking into this particular computer system was not as easy as he’d thought it would be. The back door he had been counting on had been sealed up. He would not be beaten that easily, though. His freedom, maybe even his life, depended on his success.

He tried another method, and then another. Hours passed. He finished his first pot of coffee and brewed a second. Finally, when he had reached the point where the caffeine was keeping him from thinking straight, he got in.

The hacker familiarized himself with the systems but changed nothing. Most things worked the way he thought they did. When he was finished, he left a back door of his own behind so that when he returned tomorrow, he could hop right in.

He shut down his laptop and returned it to his computer