“I do. But I rarely put them on to answer the door.”
He’s out of questions. Clearly he has wrung everything out of me he can. But he might think of other things to ask later on.
If he does, I want him to read me my Miranda rights first.
CHAPTER 22
FBI Log: Day Two, Addendum
Big explosion at the Harrison house. And it’s all my fault.
When Ben came home, I told him about the guy who showed up this afternoon. His fury was mind-boggling, like something out of a Tarantino movie. Ben bounced through the house screaming, first at me, then at Amber, cursing in his rage. I don’t have the energy even to paraphrasewhat he said. Suffice it to say, he was scary, out of control.
Amber cried. I was ready to cry too; I wasthisclose to being punched in the face or fired or both. After the worst of it was over, Amber tried to calm him, but it didn’t work. He went storming off into his office and slammed the door. At some point later he went up to his bedroom and slammed that door too.
Then it got very quiet in the house. Amber tried to apologize for his behavior, saying he’s been stressed lately, a lot on his mind, yada-yada. But we both knew the truth. Clearly, this was not the first time he’d been like that.
I feel sorry for her.
I thought Ben Harrison was just a mean guy, but it’s more than that. He’s not just mean. The guy is scared. Very, very scared.
CHAPTER 23
MONDAY, TEN A.M. The perfect time to break into Ben’s desktop computer: Hailey is at school. Lily is asleep. Amber is at Pilates. And nobody has diarrhea.
I sit down on his desk chair and turn on his PC. As I expected, the laptop is password-protected, but that’s not a problem. One of the FBI dossiers showed ways to override passwords with various formulas and keystrokes, depending on the make and model of the computer. It’s complicated, and it might take some trial and error, but I’m ready.
Step one: Cautiously, I press the Windows key plus R. The screen shifts. Good.
Step two: Now I have to figure out whether to launch a Run Command prompt or type the wordnetplwizor…
“What are you doing at my dad’s computer?”
I freeze. Hailey is standing in the doorway, wearing a sweatshirt about six sizes too big.
“What are you doing home from school?” I ask.
“Forgot my homework,” she says. “And Amber forgot to remind me.” (Amberforgot? Does this kid not take responsibility for anything?) “But what areyoudoing inhere?”
I turn from the desktop. “Okay,” I say with a sigh. “I’ll tell you. But you have to promise you won’t tell Amber or your dad.”
She thinks about this for a moment, weighing the pros and cons. Clearly, she likes having something over me. But she likes the idea of keeping something from her father and stepmother even more. She’s practically licking her lips.
“So,” I ask, “do we have a deal?”
“Oh, fine,” she says.
I take a deep breath. “The truth is, the FBI needs me to dig up some dirt on your father.”
There is a moment of stunned silence. Then she bursts out laughing. “C’mon,” Hailey says. “What are youreallydoing?”
Works every time. An old FBI trick called Hiding in Plain Sight. If the truth seems even mildly far-fetched, you can use it to throw the subject off guard.
“Oh, okay. Ever hear of something called Fortnite?” I ask.
“The video game? Well,duh.”
“I’m a big fan,” I say. “But I can’t play it on my very basicun-smartphone.”
