Beyond Suspicion

23

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Jack woke to a shrill ringing in his ear. His pillow felt hard as concrete, and then he realized it was concrete. His cheek was pressed against the sidewalk, exactly where he’d fallen.

At first, he had no memory of where he was. Dawn was just a sliver of an orange ribbon on the horizon. Jack tried to sit up, but his body ached all over. It was as if he’d been hit by a truck. Finally, he forced himself onto his knees. The ringing in his ear was gone, but he felt nauseous. Probably a concussion. He closed his eyes and tried to stop the spinning. He opened them and strained to focus on something, anything, in the middle distance. Slowly, he began to get his bearings, and the memory of last night came back to him. The footsteps behind him. The blow to his back that sent his cell phone flying across the lawn. His chin banging on the sidewalk.

He touched his jaw. It was definitely sore. His gaze drifted toward the fence, and he spotted a little orange light blinking in the darkness. He squinted, then realized what it was: his cell phone emitted that light whenever he had a message. He tried to stand up, then yielded to the pain. He rolled like a dog and grabbed the phone, then dialed Cindy at her mother’s. She answered after just three rings.

“Hi. It’s me.”

“Jack, where have you been? I’ve been calling your cell, but you didn’t answer.”

His head was pounding. “What time is it?”

“Almost five.”

“In the morning?”

“Yes, the morning. What’s wrong with you? Have you been drinking?”

“No. I got beat up.”

“What?”

The simple act of talking made him short of breath. He groaned lightly and said, “Somebody beat the holy crap out of me.”

“Are you okay?”

Jack forced a yawn in an effort to loosen his jaw. A sharp pain ran though his head like a railroad spike. “I think I’ll be okay.” In about a month, he thought.

“Who did this to you?” she asked, her voice quaking.

He started to explain, but it hurt too much to talk. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not okay! They just left, and you weren’t even here. I had no idea what to do.”

He sat bolt upright, concerned. “Who came?”

“The marshals.”

“Federal marshals?”

“Yes. They had a search warrant.”

“What did they want?”

“Your home computer.”

That spike was back in his head. He grimaced and said, “Did you give it to them?”

“Yes, of course. Rosa said I had to.”

“You spoke to Rosa?”

“Yes, I couldn’t find you. They wanted your office computers, too. Rosa’s going ballistic.”

“What’s the federal government doing in this? Did you ask Rosa?”

“No. But she did say something about the IRS.”

Jack was silent. Three little letters no one liked to hear. “You sure that’s what she said-IRS?”

“No. She said ‘Internal Revenue Service.’”

He took a deep breath, which was a big mistake. All it took was a little extra air in his chest cavity to press against the spine and send him reeling with pain. It was as if he were being kicked in the back all over again.

“Cindy, I’m going to call Rosa now. But as soon as I talk with her, we all need to talk.”

“You and I need to talk first. Alone.”

Between last night’s beating and now the IRS, he’d almost forgotten about the Jessie sex tape. “You’re right. We need to talk.”

“Sooner rather than later.”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Okay. Just call me as soon as you finish with Rosa.”

“I will.”

“Jack?”

“What?”

“What’s going on with the IRS?”

“I’m not sure. Listen, I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

They said good-bye, and Jack switched off the phone. His mouth hurt, partly from having talked too much, mostly from having kissed the sidewalk last night. He spat a little blood into the grass and slowly pushed himself up onto two wobbly feet.

“Wonderful,” he said as he tried to straighten his back. “The IRS.”