Evelyn Albright ordered coffee and no pie on a Tuesday, and Dot Kessler knew right away that something was terribly wrong.
Evelyn had run the Pine Hollow post office for thirty-five years. She was eighty-two, sharp as a tack, and she had eaten a slice of sour cream raisin every Tuesday since the Carter administration.
Today she sat at the end of the counter with her purse in her lap, both hands on the clasp. She jumped when the bell over the door rang.
"Hon, you feeling all right?" Dot asked.
"Fine. Just fine." Evelyn smiled too fast. "I have an errand this afternoon, that's all."
Dot poured her coffee and walked back to the kitchen, where Tyler was scraping the grill.
"Go wipe down the counter by Evelyn," she said quietly. "Slow."
"I just wiped it."
"Wipe it again."
Tyler had been back in Pine Hollow a few months, and in that time he had become the unofficial phone doctor for half the seniors in town. He'd fixed their email, cleared their pop-ups, and talked three people out of buying gift cards for "Microsoft."
So when Evelyn's phone buzzed and she hurried out the door to take the call on the sidewalk, Tyler wiped the window booth right next to it. The window was cracked open for the heat from the grill.
"Yes, Mr. Hartwell," he heard her say. "I have it. Nine thousand. In the envelope, like you said."
A pause.
"No, I haven't told anyone. I promised Josh."
Tyler went straight to the kitchen.
When Evelyn came back in, Dot was waiting in the stool next to hers.
"Evelyn," Dot said. "I've known you forty-eight years. What is going on?"
Evelyn held out for about a minute. Then it came out all at once, in a whisper.
Her grandson Josh had called that morning. He was nineteen, a freshman at Ohio State. He was crying. He'd been in a car accident in Columbus. A woman was hurt. He'd been arrested. He begged her not to tell his mother.
Then a lawyer named Mr. Hartwell had come on the line. Very kind. Very calm. Bail was nine thousand dollars, and it had to be cash, because of the holiday weekend. A courier from the law office would come by her house at three o'clock to pick it up.
"Evelyn," Tyler said gently. "That's a scam. It's one of the most common ones there is."
"It was Josh." Evelyn's voice shook. "I know my own grandson's voice. He called me Mimi. Nobody in this world calls me Mimi but Josh."
Tyler sat down across from her.
"Mrs. Albright, has Josh ever posted a video online? Like, talking?"
She thought. "For my birthday. He made a little video. His mother put it on her Facebook."
"There are computer programs now," Tyler said, "that can copy a voice from a few seconds of video. They can make it say anything. Including Mimi."
Evelyn stared at him. Then she looked down at her purse.
"Call Josh," Dot said. "Right now. His real number."
Evelyn dialed with shaking fingers. It rang five times and went to voicemail. *Hey, it's Josh, leave a message.*
She tried his mother. Voicemail.
"He could be in class," Tyler said. "Or asleep. He's nineteen."
"Or he could be in a jail cell," Evelyn said, "and his grandmother is sitting in a diner eating pie while he..."
Her phone buzzed in her hand.
She looked at the screen. Then she put it on speaker and set it on the counter so they could all hear.
"Mimi?" It was a young man's voice, broken and scared. "Mimi, please. They're saying if the bail doesn't come today I go to the county jail tonight. With real criminals. Mimi, I'm so scared. The courier's already on his way. He'll be at your house in twenty minutes."
Tyler had heard about voice cloning for years. He had never heard it sound like this.
It sounded exactly like a boy who loved his grandmother.