I pour everything into my words to my daughter. “We will not let them hurt us. I will protect you with everything I have.”
“How, Mom?” Erika’s eyes are red, but they are no longer buried in her shirt.
“First, by trusting each other, including Dad.” I glance toward the window. “No more secrets.”
She nods.
“And second, by going on attack. We’re going to figure this out, and we’re not going to let anyone control us.” I grab her ice-cold hand and squeeze. “I think they were watching what you were doing on your phone—”
Erika starts to get angry again.
“I know. It’s diabolical.” I take a deep breath. “Did these snaps ever mention the picture?”
“No. Just the tests. Since the tracker was on Messenger, theywouldn’t have seen it. Right?” Erika’s earnest face makes my eyes sting.
I hug her to me and then quickly release. “Exactly, and I’m thankful for that. But it feels like these scumbags are using your test issue to get to me. I need to figure out who’s trying to ruin us both.”
“I have to help.” Erika’s back straightens, and her eyes level with mine.
^^^
Half an hour later, we hear Reid’s voice as he and Clint traipse down the path to the cabin. Erika and I’d gotten so absorbed in the thumb drive data, I’d forgotten about being vigilant. If someone had slowly approached the cabin from the drive, would I have even heard them? I clench my fist in my lap.
“We’re fine, Mom.” Erika lays a hand on my tense arm.
I nod as I study the data tables on the screen. After I told her about the data that Betsey gave me, she wanted to see if she could help determine who created it. She’s come up with some good ideas for looking at the client data, suggesting maybe there were connections between the coded investors like age or investment experience, but none of the analyses have panned out.
I need to find a way out of the noose that has been discreetly winding its way around my throat and our daughter’s.
Clint and Reid enter the cabin, and Reid immediately starts telling us about the fish they almost caught. How he really wanted to go out in the canoe, but Dad made them stay on the dock. As he’s rambling, Clint catches my eye and mouths,Heard something.
Worry apparently washes over my face because Clint shakes his head and speaks over his son. “Hey, why don’t you guys show Mom all the games in your closet. Maybe we can play one. I’ll be right back.”
I want to scream at him not to leave. It was a mistake before. We just need to hole up inside or maybe leave together. We can’t take these chances. Our strength is in staying together.
But then I see Reid’s knitted brow and pursing bottom lip. “Yeah. I’d love to see what you guys have up here. Dad’ll be right back.” I drag my eyes away from watching Clint shut the door behind him.
After perusing the options, Reid and Erika decide to set up a card table between the two single beds and tackle a puzzle called The 1990s. I got it for Clint a few Christmases ago. I thought we might have fun. The nineties were my growing-up years. I started high school in ninety-eight, the same year Clint was moving back to Maine to join the game wardens after a decade in Virginia as an EMT.
Erika flips up the cover and examines the patchwork of small images.
My head swivels again toward the front door. Clint has been gone too long. I can’t leave the kids to look for him. He has to return soon. I drag my eyes back to the kids as they dig through the pieces looking for the edges. Something worms into my memory.
I was so excited to see his face when he opened the puzzle that Christmas morning.
“The rise of Teletubbies, Mariah Carey, and Bill Clinton. Oh, the memories.” Clint chuckled at the cover.
“What’s the cast ofFriendsdoing on there?” Erika pointed to the upper left corner of the box.
“Friendsfirst aired in the mid-nineties. Way before you were born.” I began to hum “I’ll Be There for You” badly.
“No way.” Erika’s horrified face had us all laughing.
“First time I voted for an Independent in a presidential election. Ross Perot was my guy. Twice. Wasted votes.” Clint shook his head.
At the same time Erika asked about the blue Beanie Baby, Reid spoke up. “We voted in school to name Mr. Whiskers.” Reid got upclose to the cover, looking at where he saw his dad point. “This guy has funny ears. Mommy, who did you vote for?”
If I’d only answered Erika instead.
