Shaddyr's Eclectic Collection > Pretender Fanfiction > Exchange Part 2

 

Exchange: Part 2
by Liz Shelbourne

 

Jarod had slept fitfully for a few hours in the late morning, knowing that he needed the rest but still charged with adrenaline.  He had been working, reading, researching, for almost ten hours, and his eyes were tired.  But laying in bed, a thousand different scenarios still ran through his imagination, most of them ending with dire consequences for his friend.  He mentally kicked himself for ever helping her with her rudimentary computer skills – what right did he have to teach her to go where she undoubtedly was not welcome.  She had been a quick study, perhaps a little too quick.  His heart had fallen when he had seen her post about "sneaking …through a firewall," what possible reason did she have for doing that?  Had he helped to create a new hacker?

 Laying in bed, he concentrated further on Misty, on her personality.  Despite all of the evidence, It did not seem within her character to maliciously break into the system: she seemed, at least from their conversations, to be a person who for the most part followed the guidelines of the law.  To her, he believed, hacking the computer at work would be illegal – but then why would she do it?

 They had once had a long late-night discussion about the differences between "legal" and "moral."  They had argued the boundaries of the two words with another night owl, agreeing on the concept of laws "for the masses," their use and their limitations.  They had also discussed the higher laws of morality, an issue that Jarod had debated with himself more than once.  Without acknowledging it to Misty or the other debater, he understood that some of his actions in the past were not strictly legal, but held up instead to a higher moral code.  He could not condone his own behavior on a open medium such as the bulletin board – that would have been against his sense of morality, but he got the feeling that Misty understood his way of thinking, and agreed.  There were times when the legality of an act was not as important as its morality.

Was this, then, such a case?  Had the legality of Misty’s actions been outweighed by the morality of the issue?  Could this be the reason she had dared the "sneak" through the firewall?  The idea comforted him as he gradually fell asleep.

Rising again mid-afternoon, he went back to his computer with a fresh plan.  He needed another database to compare his list of "new car owners" to.  The only other thing that he knew about Misty was her occupation – she had mentioned that she worked for an insurance company.  He searched for all of the insurance companies in Minnesota, then eliminated those further than 150 miles from the town where the State Fair was held.  He would start there and expand his search if necessary.

There were three companies that could be considered "insurance" related within his parameters.  One was gigantic, a national leader, while the other two were, thankfully, much smaller.  He decided to start with the smaller ones; although the law of averages pointed toward the behemoth, he knew that in the time he could break into that one and cross-check all of the employees, he would have the other two finished.  He considered his two options:  Consolidated Metropolitan dealt in homeowner’s, auto, casualty and the like;  PremiaMed, was a health insurance supplier.  Jarod tossed a coin.   Consolidated Metropolitan would be the first to be exposed to his ministrations.
The employee list was buried within a series of programs, Jarod electronically fished around trying to find the one which would open the easiest.  After a few attempts, he was rewarded with a list of two-hundred and thirty-seven names which he quickly cross-referenced to the car owners.  Two matches:  Anita Snyder and Harmony Berlitz.  He was not surprised, the cars had been well liked by the insurance conglomerate, it would make sense that a few of the employees would purchase one.
He checked each woman’s position.  Anita Snyder was an underwriter, a possibility, however Misty had never mentioned any underwriting work.  Harmony Berlitz was in the Accounts Receivable department, Jarod ruled her out.

  Moving on to PremiaMed, he was confronted with a more sophisticated system.  Someone, it seemed, had decided that the information inside should stay exactly where it was.  He could understand, a persons health could be used against them in so many ways, but then again so could their driving record or life-insurance policy.  It did nothing to explain why the health insurance company’s defenses were so much more complicated than that of the other.

It took twice as long to get into PremiaMed’s employee database than it had taken for the first company, half of the time spent avoiding being caught.  He was impressed by the complexity of the security system, there were at least five places where, had he less skill, he would have either been locked out or else alerted them to his presence.  A thought gnawed at the back of his mind; the system was too elaborate, too secure, almost on the scale of a government site.  Why?

Finally he was able to pull up a list of the one-hundred and seventy-three employees, from the President on down, and compare it to his list of Beetle drivers.  Near the bottom, in the Information Support group, he found a match, the only one.  Amanda Teague.  He rolled the name around in his mind.  Amanda Teague.  Amanda.  Mandy.  Mrs. Teague.  Ms. Teague.  Miss Teague.

He looked up at the pile of transcripts on the corner of his desk and smiled.  Of course.  Miss T.  Misty.  He had found her.

Hoping against hope, he went to the bulletin board at midnight.  For an hour he sat and stared at the monitor, trying to wish a message on it, reloading time and time again, praying for a response, an answer, an explanation.  At two a.m. he went to bed.

 

 

 The plane lurched skyward, banking sharply to the left as it continued its steep ascent, and the woman sitting next to Jarod gave a barely stifled cry.  He looked up from his papers and over at the white knuckles clenching the arm rests.

 "Don’t worry, that’s normal," he confided in his most soothing voice.  "They need to ascend quickly so that the sound from the engines does the least amount of damage to the monuments below.  They were starting to crumble from the noise."

 She turned to him, her face taut.  "It’s not the going up, it’s the turning that I don’t like."

 "They need to bank off to move out of the area above the field.  It’s a safety precaution, although I agree that the combination can be a little disconcerting."

 She looked at him again.  "Are you a pilot?"

 He smiled.  "Not today."

 In the rush to catch his flight, Jarod had almost forgotten the pages of transcripts, some still unread.  Now, with three hours to fill, he gratefully turned again to the history of his online conversations.

****

SO, MY LATE NIGHT FRIEND…
[MISTY]
12:11
What is it that you do for a living that you are up at this ridiculous hour with me?

I AM A MAN OF MANY TALENTS,
[CHAMELEON]
12:13
Or so I am told.  I try to do what I can, for those whom I might help.

YOU ARE EITHER EVASIVE, A GOOD
[MISTY]
12:16
Samaritan, or you are on the company computer and you don’t want anyone to know. *smile*

AND YOU ARE WISE AND PARTIALLY CORRECT.
[CHAMELEON]
12:19
What is your guess?

I WOULD HAVE TO SAY THE FIRST TWO.
[MISTY]
12:21

THE FORMER IS A NECESSITY,
[CHAMELEON]
12:25
the latter is my joy, perhaps even my purpose.  I also do what I can to learn more about the human condition as my earlier years were sadly lacking in that experience. *sigh*  I have learned quite a bit from you and your boys, however.  It sounds like they are having the kind of childhood any kid would dream of.

I DO WHAT I CAN, CHAMELEON.
[MISTY]
12:29
I was determined that not having their father around wouldn’t keep them from doing all of those "boy" things that he might have done with them on a more regular basis if we had stayed together. They understand that I can’t play basketball (oh, very bad basketball player!) but we do play softball and a lot of other things.  This weekend my mom is going over to my sister’s and we’re going camping – we try to do that every two or three weekends during the summer.  I am a champion marshmallow roaster.

THAT SOUNDS WONDERFUL.
[CHAMELEON]
12:34
I have been "camping" a few times, but usually out of necessity instead of pleasure.  However, one trip in particular is filled with very good memories.   But I fail to see the nutritional value of a caramelized confection, is this a camping tradition?

*HUGE SMILE*  DON’T  TELL ME THAT YOU
[MISTY]
12:37
have never had a roasted marshmallow?  You did have a deprived childhood.  Well one of these days you’ll have to come camping with us and we’ll show you just how it is done.  And, by the way, when you’re camping, everything is healthy, because you’re outside.  It’s one of the rules.

*LAUGHING*  I WILL TAKE YOU UP ON THAT.
[CHAMELEON]
12:39
I apologize, Misty, but I have to be leaving a bit early tonight.  I enjoyed our talk, as always.  Please, roast a marshmallow for me, and watch out for bears.

I WILL. GOOD NIGHT, MY LIZARD FRIEND
[MISTY]
12:40
Take care.

****

 Jarod smiled at the memories, as a thought began its slow incubation in the back of his mind.

  The house sat back from the street on a shaded lot, the grandfatherly hickory and oak trees standing protective guard over the two story Cape Cod.  With blue paint, white trim and black shutters, it gave the impression of a home well maintained and most probably well-loved.  The gardens in the front were just beginning to show off their early summer colors, still dotted with an occasional late tulip or bright green daffodil foliage.

 Jarod walked up the porch and rang the bell, unsure whether he should have chosen to leave the sportcoat he wore behind.  He was not sure whom he would be talking to when the door opened, and so was not yet decided upon the tactics he would use.
 After a short wait, he could hear the sound of heavy footsteps walking along a wooden floor up to the doorway.  One of her sons, he hoped. When the door opened, he was faced with a tall, muscular boy of about sixteen or seventeen, dressed casually in T-shirt and jeans.  The forehead below his fashionably short hair was creased as if in serious thought, and his eyes were questioning.

 "Can I help you?’  The youth’s voice was low, but not yet manly.  The politeness was more ingrained than felt.

 Jarod gave him one of his best "professional" smiles, appraising, serious, but not necessarily without feeling.  "Is this the home of Amanda Teague?"

 The boy was immediately on his guard.  "Who wants to know? Are you another cop?"
 Well, thought Jarod, that approach will not work.  It was obvious that the boy had already had at least one bad experience with the local law, there was not going to be a whole lot of respect or trust to be garnered there.  He tried a different tactic, his smile relaxing along with his body.  "You must be Brian."  He held out his hand, and it was taken cautiously.  "My name is Jarod.  I’ve known your mom for a little while, she’s told me quite a bit about you and your brother.  May I come in?"

 Brian held the door open in invitation but did not say anything.  His eyes, a bright blue, followed Jarod as he walked through the doorway and into the hall.

 "Who’s here?"  another voice, younger and higher, called from down the hallway.

 "Jas, come ‘ere." Brian called back over his shoulder.  "Some guy, says he knows Mom."

 A figure came through the sunlight that shone brightly through the hallway.  It wasn’t until he was closer that Jarod could make out the slight boy in the oversize sweatshirt and shorts.  He looked to be thirteen at the most, still growing into a body that would someday look more like his older brother’s.  As he approached, Jarod could see him drying his hands on a dish towel which he casually tossed on the stair rail which he walked past.

 "You know Mom?" he asked as soon as he was nearer.  "How?  You work with her?"

 Jarod looked from the younger boy to his brother and back again.  From his reading, he could remember that Jason was the thinker of the two, also the talker, but then Brian was the more sensitive one.  At this time, they both looked worried.  He smiled again.  "Can we sit down?  I’d like to explain a few things to you."

 A look passed quickly between the brothers, then they moved toward the nearby family room leaving Jarod to follow.  Jason sat on the edge of the couch while Brian leaned against the arm.  Jarod sat in a recliner in front of them.

 "This is going to sound a little strange, but I met your Mom on the Internet.  We’ve been talking for almost a year now during her breaks at work."

 The boys looked at each other again, but remained silent.

 Jarod’s gaze passed over each of them, summing up the emotions they were too young to disguise.  "She’s not here, is she.  You guys don’t know where she is."

 Brian looked down at the ground, but Jason met the older man’s eyes.  "Why do you ask?  You say that you know her, has she ever met you in person?  Who are you?"
 Jarod bent forward in the chair to rest his elbows just above his knees, his fingers laced loosely.  "You have every right to ask.  Like I said, my name is Jarod, but your mom doesn’t know me by that name.  She calls me Chameleon, and no, I’ve never met her in person, but I think that she’s in trouble and I want to help."

 Leaning back on the couch, the younger boy crossed his arms, summoning up as much bravado as his immature body could portray.  "So you’re Chameleon.  She said you were smart.  How’d you find her, or did she tell you who she was?"

 It was impossible not to notice the challenge in the boy’s voice.  "No, she never told me, that would be stupid and your mother isn’t stupid.  If you really want to know, I worked my way into the server for the board we use, dug up transcripts of every conversation we ever had and went over them with a fine tooth comb.  I was looking for any little detail she might have told me about, like her new car, what she did, where she worked, anything I could find.  Then I went into a couple more places, cross-referenced that info and managed to get lucky.   The transcripts are in the car, do you want to see them?"

 Both boys shook their heads.  "You didn’t just ‘go’ into these sites," Jason continued the interrogation.  "You hacked in, didn’t you."

 The friendly look fell from Jarod’s face.  His voice was serious, but without remorse.  "Yes, I did.  I thought your mom’s safety warranted it."

 Jason seemed somewhat placated, his next question held more concern than venom.  "Alright, you sound like the guy that she’s been talking about for the last six months.  Why do you think she’s in trouble, do you know where she is?"

 "No, I don’t know.  I was hoping that you would."  Jarod looked at his hands.  "She sent me a message two nights ago.  It sounded like she was trying to hide from someone, that she needed help, then she disappeared.  I haven’t heard from her since, and that’s not normal for her."

 Brian snorted softly.  "Yeah, you know her.  She can’t stop talking."

 Jarod glanced up.  "She’s a very gregarious person, there’s nothing wrong with that.  Have either of you heard from her since yesterday?"

 Again, both boys shook their heads.  "No, she didn’t come home yesterday morning or all day yesterday. Jason explained.  "I stayed home from school to take care of Gramma, but Brian had an exam and a baseball game.  She was really looking forward to that game, too.  We figured something weird was up, so we called the cops last night." He rolled his eyes.  "This old cop basically said that she was out with some guy, not to worry and that she’d show up soon, like anybody who’s divorced is fooling around all the time.  He treated us like kids, like we made it all up to get attention.  What an ass."

 Brian spoke up.  "This morning I took Gramma over to Aunt Eileen’s ‘cause both of us had exams, we had to go to school.  When we were leaving for school, this other guy came up and started asking some more questions about Mom, but we told him that we told the other cop everything already and we had to get to school.  He started getting pissed, but I just drove away.  Like I said, we’d already told that other cop all we knew and I didn’t feel like getting talked down to again."

 Jarod smiled in understanding.  His own ego had not been willing to suffer putdowns at that age either.  Another thought struck him.  "Did both of these ‘cops’ look the same, I mean, were they both in uniform, suits?  Did they show you a badge at all?"

 "Both guys were in suits," Jason began, "but the second guy looked a lot better than the first, you know?  His suit looked a lot nicer, fit him better.  The first guy showed us his badge, but I don’t think the second guy did, did he, Bri?"  He looked questioningly at his brother.

 "No, man, he didn’t bother with that, just a slew of questions that we had already answered.  Like if we knew where Mom was, we would really call the cops!  Idiots."

 Jarod was fairly sure that, while the first man may have fit the insult, the second certainly did not, and was most likely not a member of any genuine police force.  He had, instead, used the title to try to get information; unfortunately for him, he had arrived after the real cop had already bungled the job with his prejudices.  So far, it seemed unlikely that anyone knew where Amanda Teague was.

 He looked around the room, trying to get a feel for their mother and what she was doing.  "Did your mom mention anything to you about work?" he asked as his eyes surveyed the tidy house.  "Did she talk about finding anything, being suspicious about anything?"

 Once again, Jason was the one to speak.  "No, we had pretty much told her a long time ago that her work was totally boring.  She didn’t talk about it much."

 "She told me she was looking forward to going to work the last time I saw her,"  Brian spoke up unexpectedly.  Both his brother and Jarod turned to face him.  "Yeah, she said she was working on this project, and she thought she might get it figured out that night."

 "Geez, Bri, why didn’t you say something?"

 The older boy looked back at the floor.  "I figured it was just more of her work, you know?  She didn’t really go into it, just that she was having fun rummaging around in the server at work."

"That’s all right," Jarod placated.  "I don’t think that even your mom knew what she was getting into, none of us did, but it sounds like her disappearance was probably related to her job."  He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his thumb along his lower lip, his mind distant.  "I think I’m going to have to make a little visit to your mom’s work, but I really wanted to see if I could find her first."  His eyes once again wandered around the room, although his thoughts did not immediately follow.

His gaze found a grouping of pictures sitting in frames on a shelf.  He rose and walked over to them, looking at each of the four snapshots closely.  One showed the two boys, a few years younger and standing in front of a sodden tent.  They were soaking wet from the rain which was still pouring down on them, but grinning nonetheless.  The next photo showed a very young Brian holding up a good size fish, his face split with glee.  Next was a night shot of the two boys in front of a campfire, the sparks rising hauntingly into the darkness, their faces reflecting the warm light from the flames.  Lastly was a picture of Jason, probably taken last year, climbing out of a recently collapsed tent, his tanned face sheepish with embarrassment.

"Have you gone camping yet this year?" Jarod asked the boys.

"No, not yet,"  both answered.  Jason continued.  "We were s’posed to go last weekend, we had the car packed up and everything, but it got too cold.  Mom will go in the rain, but she doesn’t want to freeze."  The concern returned to his voice.  "We were going to go this weekend instead."

Jarod turned to face them, excitement showing in his face.  "Tell me, did you unpack the car, take your gear out?  If you were going this weekend instead…" He left the thought unfinished, as if hoping not to jinx it by actually speaking the words.
Jason frowned.  "No, just our clothes, why?"

"And do you always go to the same place, or do you go to different sites when you go camping?"

"We have two or three places.  One’s kinda close, we go there on short weekends.  Otherwise we sometimes head out of state, for the week or something."  The younger boy’s tone was exasperated.  "Why?"

Jarod’s smile broadened.  "I don’t think that your mom is in danger, at least not right now.  I do think that she stumbled onto something bigger than she expected, and someone else found out about it, but I don’t believe that she got caught.  She wouldn’t have been able to send a message if she had.  Her car isn’t at work, I checked that already.  I think," he shook his head and laughed softly.  "I think she’s gone camping."

****

The drive to the state park took a little under three hours.   Had he been less preoccupied, the ever-greening scenery would have been beautiful, the pristine lakes peeking through the distant trees, the too-blue-to-be-real sky.  However, Jarod’s mind was on other more practical matters, while he silently prayed that he could find his friend.

  He pulled the rental car into the camping area, finding a clearing under the shade of a newly leafed-out oak, and looked at the map he had received at the park entrance.  The lackadaisical ranger at the front gate had said that there were twenty-eight sites for campers and another fourteen for tents, scattered along a half-mile or so of winding dirt road.  He had only a vague idea that there were four or five groups of campers and he wasn’t exactly sure where. Armed with this "wealth" of information, Jarod climbed out of the car and scanned his surroundings.  The sun would still be up for an hour or two, but already the air was beginning to chill, cooled by trees and ground not yet heated by a hot summer day.  He pulled on the jacket that he had left on the passenger seat. Off toward his left, he could see a number of the larger sites made for tow-behind trailers and pop-up campers, then further in the distance, a brick building he assumed would be bathrooms and showers.  Only one trailer could be seen, its doors and windows already shut tight against the cooling day. To the left, the sites stretched empty as far as he could see into the forest.  This was the direction that was indicated for the tent sites.  In Misty’s shoes, Jarod would have picked a site furthest from the other people, even though it may not have been necessary, but it would help to preserve the impression that she really could not be found by those who were looking for her.  She would pick a site that could only be approached, at least easily, from one direction, to keep her defenses focused.  It made sense that she would in one of the very last sites.

A full fifteen minutes of walking brought him past another brick facility, an entrance to a sandy but chilly looking beach and to a large circle drive laid out around a huge boulder at the end of the road.  The last of the sites were set back from the circle, three rough driveways into flat clearings amongst the trees.  Facing out of one of them, set back into the trees, was a new Beetle. Jarod looked around carefully.  The tent was up, open and empty, a fire had been burning but was now extinguished.  A plate, cup and metal saucepan lay piled carefully on a picnic table, clean and drying in the sun.  The stillness of the forest pushed in on him, the silence daring him to break it.  He knew she was here, but she was frightened, with every right to be, and she had no idea who he was.

"Amanda!" his voice echoed through the trees, then he caught himself.  "Misty!" He waited, his eyes searching for signs of movement, his ears straining for a rustled branch, a snap of a twig.  Nothing. "Misty!  It’s Chameleon.  I’m here to help you." Silence. Jarod backed away from the campsite.  She was either very cautious or somewhere else; either way, he had decided upon a different plan.  "Misty, I’m going back to the road now." He smiled to himself.  "If you want me I’ll be sunning myself on that big rock." Climbing onto the boulder was not an easy chore, but once on top, he found that he had an excellent view of all three campsites and the road leading toward them.  Twinkling in between the tree trunks, he could see the light reflecting on the lake he had just passed, and the late afternoon sun soaked into the dark leather of his jacket and warmed him.  Ten minutes passed, then fifteen, and still he was surrounded by only the sounds of the wind in the trees and an occasional bird.  The shadows lengthened and he grew drowsy.

"Only a lizard could sit in one place for so long."  The voice, soft and feminine, came from behind Jarod and startled him.

"Or someone who has practice being alone," he replied to the forest.  "Come out, Misty.  Loneliness doesn’t suit you."

Stepping from behind a group of trees, a figure emerged into the fading sunlight.  Dressed in a much-too-big green and black flannel shirt, oversize jeans and faded boat shoes, the woman looked like a child playing dress-up.  Jarod took her to be no more than five-foot-two, slight of build but well proportioned under the baggy clothes.  The brilliant blue eyes of her son Brian looked at him from behind short brown hair that looked as if it was missing its blow dryer and styling gel. Jarod jumped athletically from the boulder, landing on the road facing her.

For a moment, she seemed ready to dart away, a deer frightened by his sudden actions, but while her eyes widened, she held her ground. "Why should I trust you?  I don’t know you, maybe you’re with the company."

Jarod pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shrugged his shoulders, his body purposely relaxed.  He smiled gently.  "It’s your choice, your call.  I just came here to roast marshmallows." For a moment, it looked as if her relieved smile and frightened tears were battling for control of her features, then, amazingly, they both won and she began to laugh and cry simultaneously.   She held her hand over her mouth, trying to hold back the emotions, frozen in place while Jarod slowly walked over to her.  Reaching down, he brushed away the tears on her upturned face, then gently pulled her close and held her. Her body shook beneath the oversize shirt, and she sobbed softly into his jacket.

 "I’m so scared.  I didn’t know what to do.  You were the only one. . .I couldn’t. . .the boys. . . "  Unable to speak anymore, she let herself be held, wrestling with her composure but relieved to be able to lean on another. After her convulsive breaths had settled closer to a normal rhythm, Jarod led her back to her campsite and the picnic table, sitting her down on the bench.  She rubbed her eyes against her shoulders and pushed the fallen hair from her forehead.  When she looked up at him again, she was smiling sheepishly.  "All these months, I bet you’ve been wondering what I looked like."  She glanced down at her misshapen clothes and laughed softly.  "I hope you’re not too disappointed."

Jarod tipped his head to the side.  "Well, it’s not exactly what I had pictured, but you look fine to me.  What about me, do I live up to your expectations?"

A broad smile played across her features.  "You couldn’t look any better if you were in a suit of armor.  I knew, of anyone, you could find me."  She laughed again.  "I still don’t know your real name."

"Jarod."

"Thank you, Jarod.  I don’t normally look this way, really."  She smiled as she gently brushed one knuckle beneath her eyes, removing the last of the tears.  "I’m usually much taller."

Jarod laughed.  "I’m just glad that you’re all right."  He paused, shifting to a more serious tone.  "Why don’t you tell me what happened, then we can see if we can find a way out of this situation."

The smile and the relief could not cover the concern in her eyes.  She nodded.  "But tell me first, you saw the boys, didn’t you?  I mean, they had to tell you about this place.  Are they okay, is my mom okay?"

"Your mother is at ‘Aunt Eileen’s,’" Jarod began. "And the boys are fine.  They are worried about you, they called the police, but, fortunately or unfortunately, they weren’t taken seriously.  They can tell you the details later." He paused again.  "They did have another visitor, I’m fairly sure that he was one of the people looking for you.  By that time, both of them were fairly disgusted with anyone claiming to be the law, which I’m pretty sure he wasn’t.  I asked them not to tell anyone else about where I thought you might be and they’re going to talk to the police and recant their story.  I don’t want anyone looking for you right now, not until we get things straightened out."

Amanda sighed audibly.  "I’m just happy that they’re okay."

"Now," Jarod looked at her encouragingly, "you need to tell me exactly what happened, and more importantly, what you found."

"I’m still not quite sure about either."  She sighed again, and ran her fingers through her short hair.  "Last week, I was helping to do some catch-up work that the daytime people hadn’t been able to get through.  I was looking over some of the insurance records before I entered the data, like I usually do, that way I can be sure that everything is filled in and I don’t have to delete the whole dang thing when I find one piece of info is missing.  The funny thing was that one of these records happened to be for my mother.  It wasn’t strange that she would have the record, we have the insurance as part of my benefits package, and my mom is also covered.  Just for kicks, I decided to take a look at her file, see just what we were getting for all that money we pay every month.  Everything was pretty much normal, really not a bad insurance deal considering her disability, but then I found something I didn’t recognize.

"According to the file, she was supposed to have seen a Dr. Raymond Carmichael on the thirteenth of last month, and then had all of these tests done, to the tune of about $750.00.  Well, I take my mother to all of her appointments, and I certainly don’t remember taking her to see any Dr. Carmichael.  I thought maybe that they had just entered the wrong patient name – that sometimes happens, especially if their names are close – so I started doing a little investigating.

"I had called up all of my mother’s records for the previous month using some of the techniques you taught me, but then I went back further and further.  I found out that this Dr. Carmichael and his partner, Dr. Christian Borkowski, claimed to have seen my mother three times in the last year, for a total of about $2200.00.

"And you are sure that she has never seen them?’  Jarod interrupted. Amanda was animated.

"Yes, yes.  I know that we’ve never been there, I would remember driving forty-five minutes away, but then, just to be sure, I asked my sister, Eileen, and she said that she’d never even heard of them. Well, that got me really interested, and I did a little research on the good Drs. Carmichael and Borkowski.  It turns out that they have a small clinic and they treat only Alzheimer’s patients.  They have a legitimate contract with PremiaMed, well, at least they have a code number, and you don’t get that without a contract.  So, a couple nights ago, I decided that I would take a look at the rest of their billings and see just how many people they were claiming to see, but as soon as I came close to finding the file, the entire server went down for the night, and my supervisor came in and told me to head home early."

"Coincidence?"

"I thought so at the time, but the next day pretty much proved that it wasn’t.  I had plenty to do since I missed most of the day before, but when it came to break time, I decided to try to get into that file again while I talked to you, then if I came across any problems, I could get some help right away.  But this time when I tried to access the file, I was hit with a rudimentary firewall that just wasn’t there the night before.  Now you have to remember, I already had all sorts of access that other people didn’t, just because of the nature of my work since my promotion.  So I tried this and that, and a couple of things I had learned from somebody else in my computer class, and I made it through.  The list came up, I downloaded it onto a floppy to look at later and then all of a sudden my monitor went dead.  That’s not  such a strange thing, it must happen once a month.  Usually all it takes to fix is jiggling around a few cords that have gotten bumped by the cleaning people, so like always, I climbed under my desk and started fiddling with things.

"I was just reaching for the monitor cable when the door to the room opens up and a man walks in.  I wasn’t able to see that much of him, just the lower half, but the way he walked into the room was kind of, I don’t know, mysterious.  He didn’t really walk, he slid in, really quietly and smoothly, so his feet didn’t make any sound.  It looked like he was searching around the room, and then when he turned, I saw the gun in his hand, tight against his leg.  I just froze right there under the desk."

Concentration showed on Jarod’s features. "Was he in uniform?  A security guard?"

She shook her head.  "No, he was wearing a suit, a nice grey suit, I could see the lower edge of the jacket.  And nice shoes, too, those wing-tip ones with all the little holes in them.  I don’t know who he was."

"Didn’t he find you?"

"No, that’s the unbelievable part.  There I am, cowering under the desk, and he completely misses me.  I think because the monitor had gone off, he thought that whomever was there had left already.  He swore once or twice and then walked out, and I just stayed under the desk for what seemed like forever.  I was so scared, I didn’t have any idea what to do.  Obviously I had set off some kind of internal alarm when I accessed the file, so it must have been a whole helluva lot more important than a few improper billings.  I sat there thinking and thinking, then I remembered that you were still online, so I typed in that last message, without even turning on the monitor.  Then I grabbed the disk and walked out as calmly as I could.

"I didn’t want to go home, because I figured that sooner or later they would find out who exactly had been working that night and who would have been able to open the file, so I just got in the car and drove.  I only had a little bit of cash, and I didn’t want to use a credit card because they could maybe trace me with it, so a hotel was out.  Then I remembered that I still had all of the camping gear in the car from last week, so I headed up here to think.

"My silk blouse and dress slacks weren’t going to cut it for camping, so I stopped at a resale shop outside of town and picked up the smallest, sturdiest clothes they had."  She pulled up the shirt to show a rope tied around the waist of the jeans and giggled.  "They didn’t go quite small enough."

Jarod laughed with her, then sobered.  "I think that you’re right about the seriousness of the information in that file.  Do you still have the disk?"

She pulled it out of the breast-pocket of the flannel shirt.  "Here it is, I don’t know what to do with it, I expected you would.  I’m not much of a crusader," she looked at him solemnly, in her eyes an expression of admiration and hope.  "That’s more your department, isn’t it?"

Jarod took the disk and held it up in the waning sunshine.  "I want to see what you’ve got here before I make any plans, but I think that we should keep you out of the limelight for a little while longer.  Then, when I’ve got you safe and sound somewhere, I think that it might be time that your replacement showed up at work."

They struck the camp together, and Jarod loaded it into the trunk of her car while she changed back into her other, better fitting clothes.  They drove back toward the city until they reached a small grass airfield an hour out of town where they parked her car and continued in his rental.  The car would not draw suspicion if it were to remain there for a few days unattended – if need be, Jarod said that he would move it to another location later. Next they rented a room at a nearby hotel under the names of Mr. And Mrs. Jarod Alstadt.  Jarod explained that in the unlikely event that someone did come looking for her here, they would not be looking for the "happily married couple on a romantic getaway" that they portrayed for the hotel clerk.
 

part 3