Wrecked(64)

“It may not work,” Haley warns him. “The company might have put up the fence by now.”

“Fence?” he asks.

“Virtual fence,” she explains. “MacCallum was going to report the bullying and ask the company to block the app within a certain radius of the campus. Like a fence.”

“Is it that bad?” Mrs. James asks. At some point in the conversation she must have abandoned her post outside the bathroom door.

Haley nods.

Mrs. James turns to her husband. “She needs to come home.” Finality in her voice. As if the subject of Jenny’s return is a running debate between them. “All this talk about lawyers and the police and what the college is or isn’t doing is beside the point. She’s a wreck. She can’t concentrate on her studies like this! Let’s get her home, regroup—”

“Crazy or not, here I come,” they hear.

Jenny has emerged. Her face is puffy but she’s not crying. She glances around the circle of them. “What’d I miss?”

They all look at one another. As if no one wants to go first.

Mrs. James begins. “Sweetheart, no one thinks you’re crazy.” She walks briskly to the kitchenette. She grabs an aluminum kettle off the stove and begins filling it with water. “I’m making tea. Who wants some?”

No one answers her.

Jenny sits. She crosses her legs and folds her hands neatly in her lap. Her mouth forms a pleasant, tight--lipped smile. Her eyes are bright with anger.

“The investigator does,” she says. “Not want tea—thinks I’m crazy. He thinks I’m absolutely out of my mind. Tell them, Haley.”

Haley doesn’t speak. The urge to escape is overwhelming her again.

“Jenny, what gave you that impression?” Mr. Talbot asks her. “Did the man say ‘Hey, you’re nuts’?”

“Not in so many words,” Jenny tells him. “But when I distinctly remember certain rooms and objects and stairs that he says don’t exist, what else should I conclude? Especially since he doesn’t think I’m lying? I guess ‘delusional’ would be one way to put it.” She looks at her father. “Sorry to disappoint you, Dad. It didn’t go well.” She says the last in a hushed, confidential tone.

“Actually, Jenny, it might not have gone as badly as you think,” Mr. Talbot says, jumping in before Mr. James can respond.

Jenny levels an iron--eyes smile at him. “With all due respect, Mr. Talbot, it did.”

Mr. Talbot is unfazed. “Haley tells us he asked a lot of questions about your drinking that night.”

“Drinking from the mystery punch garbage can,” she confirms. “Lost count, lost consciousness. Next question?”

Haley can’t help it—she gasps. But Mr. Talbot waves one hand, batting away her sarcasm like it was a fly. “Probably nothing the investigator hasn’t heard before. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Jenny blinks. She doesn’t comment.

“It’s called ‘conflating,’”Mr. Talbot explains. “You lose bits of the story, and also confuse the sequence. As you try to remember, your mind stitches it together into one seamless line, but in fact the pieces are out of order. Very common after a night of heavy drinking.”

As they speak, Mrs. James places steaming mugs of tea in front of everyone. Haley forgets she didn’t want any and clutches hers.

“What’s important, Jenny,” Mr. Talbot continues, “is that you stick to your story. Start changing it up at this point and he won’t think you’re crazy; he’ll think you’re lying.” He looks at her steadily.

This, Jenny hears. Instead of a snarky comment, she nods.

“Now, about this other thing. On the phone.” Mr. Talbot looks down at the coffee table in search of his smartphone. He’d placed it there while the app was installing.

It’s in Mr. James’s hands. He’s squinting at the screen, as if it’s hard to read. But then . . . he stands. He pitches the phone onto the couch. Like it’s a baseball.

The virtual “fence” is not up yet.

“This should never have been allowed to happen!” Something in his voice chills Haley. This is the not--sunshine Jenny was talking about.

Mr. Talbot, lips pursed, retrieves his phone from the cushions. After satisfying himself that it still works, he glances up at Mr. James. “You should unburden yourself, Dan, from the notion that you could have done anything to prevent this.”

“Hauling this creep before a judge would have prevented it,” Mr. James counters.

Jenny turns to Haley. “See? All my fault. I didn’t go to the police.”

“Stop it! This is not your fault!” Mrs. James insists.

“What are our options at this point?” Mr. James asks Mr. Talbot, ignoring them both. “Legally.”

“Well, we can start with the company that manages this application,” the lawyer says, thinking out loud. “Fast--track this ‘fence’ Haley was talking about. I don’t know if they can or will tell you who started the thread—”

“Can we get at him that way? Charge him that way?”

“I’m not. Going. To the police,” Jenny says.

Only Haley seems to hear her.

“Can I see that? Now?” Mrs. James holds her hand out for Mr. Talbot’s phone.