committed suicide. I don't believe it. Yes, he had been more withdrawn and quiet in his last few months. And yes, I often wonder if all that made him more susceptible to an accident. But suicide? No way.
My mother, always a fragile person of seemingly gentle neuroses, reacted by slowly losing her mind. She literally shrank into herself. Linda tried to nurse her for three years, until even she agreed that Mom needed to be committed. Linda visits her all the time. I don't.
After a few more moments, the Bigfoot home page came up. I found the user name box and typed in Bat Street.
I hit the tab key and in the password text box I typed Teenage. I hit return.
Nothing happened.
"You forgot to click the Sign In icon," Shauna said.
I looked at her. She shrugged. I clicked the icon.
The screen went white. Then an ad for a CD store came up. The bar on the bottom went back and forth in a slow wave. The percentage climbed slowly. When it hit about eighteen percent, it vanished and then several seconds later a message appeared.
ERROR - Either the user name or password you entered is not in our database.
"Try again," Shauna said.
I did. The same error message came up. The computer was telling me the account didn't even exist.
What did that mean?
I had no idea. I tried to think of a reason that the account wouldn't exist.
I checked the time: 8:13.34 P.M.
Kiss time.
Could that be the answer? Could it be that the account, like the link yesterday, simply didn't exist yet? I mulled that one over. It was possible, of course, but unlikely.
As though reading my mind, Shauna said, "Maybe we should wait until eight-fifteen."
So I tried again at eight-fifteen. At eight-eighteen. At eight twenty.
Nothing but the same error message.
"The feds must have pulled the plug," Shauna said.
I shook my head, not willing yet to give up.
My leg started shaking again. Shauna used one hand to stop it and one hand to answer her cell phone. She started barking at someone on the other end. I checked the clock. I tried again. Nothing. Twice more. Nothing.
It was after eight-thirty now.
"She, uh, could be late," Shauna said.
I frowned.
"When you saw her yesterday," Shauna tried, "you didn't know where she was, right?"
"Right."
"So maybe she's in a different time zone," Shauna said. "Maybe that's why she's late."
"A different time zone?" I frowned some more. Shauna shrugged.
We waited another hour. Shauna, to her credit, never said I told you so. After a while she put a hand on my back and said, "Hey, I got an idea."
I turned to her.
"I'm going to wait in the other room," Shauna said. "I think that might help."
"How do you figure?"
"See, if this were a movie, this would be the part where I get all fed up by your craziness and storm out and then bingo, the message appears, you know, so only you see it and everyone still thinks you're crazy. Like on Scooby-Doo when only he and Shaggy see the ghost and no one believes them?"
I thought about it. "Worth a try," I said.
"Good. So why don't I go wait in the kitchen for a while? Take your time. When the message comes in, just give a little shout."
She stood.
"You're just humoring me, aren't you?" I said.
Shauna thought about it. "Yeah, probably."
She left then. I turned and faced the screen. And I waited.
Chapter 18
Nothing's happening," Eric Wu said. "Beck keeps trying to sign on, but all he gets is an error message."
Larry Gandle was about to ask a follow-up question, when he heard the elevator rev up. He checked the clock.
Rebecca Schayes was right on time.
Eric Wu turned away from his computer. He looked at Larry Gandle with the kind of eyes that make a man take a step back. Gandle took out his gun - a nine-millimeter this time. Just in case. Wu frowned. He moved his bulk to the door and flipped off the light.
They waited in the dark.
Twenty seconds later, the elevator stopped on their floor.
Rebecca Schayes rarely thought about Elizabeth and Beck anymore. It had, after all, been eight years. But this morning events had stirred up some long-dormant sensations. Nagging sensations.
About the "car accident."
After all these years, Beck had finally asked her about it. Eight years ago, Rebecca had been prepared to tell him all about it. But Beck hadn't returned her calls. As time went by - and after an arrest had been made