A Good Marriage(17)
“And what if the person responsible is part of our little community?” Sarah asked. “A student, for instance, or a disgruntled former employee? What if that person is here tonight? There are valid practical reasons for the school keeping this ongoing investigation confidential. If the people affected want the school to pursue legal action on their behalf, for instance, evidence will have to be protected.”
“Wait, does the school have reason to think this is an inside job?” a tall, broad-shouldered woman asked. She had very short blond hair and very large features, an unfortunate combination. Her bulging eyes darted around the room. “That would be awful.”
“Sorry, I thought we covered the part about the investigation being confidential and ongoing.” Sarah’s eyelashes fluttered with irritation. “I can tell you that Country Day has hired one of the best cybersecurity firms in the country. And that they’ve launched an investigation. They’ll get to the bottom of what’s happened. It’s all they do. And when they’re done, they’ll report their findings. But I don’t have any more details at the moment.”
“It seems like they should at least tell us something in the meantime,” the petite woman spoke up again, but more quietly now. She sounded almost shell-shocked. “I mean, what if we have … what if there’s been additional suspicious activity that could be relevant?”
When Amanda looked around the room, a few other parents were nodding. Like they were victims, too, of this additional suspicious activity. But what was it? Amanda felt sick. Zach would be absolutely apoplectic if he found out about any of this.
“Well, the good news is that the school has given me a number, a hotline of sorts. You can all call it to confidentially report something that has happened to you personally.” Sarah hesitated, raised a curious eyebrow as if she was hoping someone might spill something right then. “You could also share information you have about who could be responsible. Provided you actually know something.”
“I’d like that number,” a curly-haired woman next to Sarah said breathlessly. Her eyes were pink at the edges, with circles underneath. She was already digging in her bag for a pen.
Amanda caught eyes with Kerry again as Sarah dutifully read the information out.
“Now?” he mouthed at her, motioning again toward the door.
Amanda shook her head and laughed. She’d have loved nothing more than to race out the door. But where exactly would she run to? That had always been the problem, hadn’t it? No destination. Even now, there would only be darkness out there, more and more darkness. She hugged herself to keep from trembling.
This had happened once before. She’d gotten hang-ups just like this when Case was a toddler, and they were living in Sacramento. Back then, Amanda had also known who it was. Then, too, she could feel his ragged breathing against her neck. But then the calls had just stopped suddenly. Until now.
The din in the room rose as parents began to grumble among themselves. Sarah raised her hands and clapped them loudly un til the room quieted.
“Hello! I repeat: call the hotline only if you have actual information to share,” she went on, voice raised. “This firm charges in six-minute increments. So do not call to try to pump them for information. Everything in the investigation is confidential. They will tell you nothing, and we will all end up footing the bill.” Sarah looked about to say something else but seemed to think the better of it. “Now, come on, everyone. It’s summer, and most of our kids are gone for camp. Let’s not waste our precious free time obsessing about this nonsense!”
Lizzie
JULY 7, TUESDAY
It was only 8:30 a.m. as I headed toward Paul Hasting’s office. Absurdly early by Manhattan law firm standards, where typical protocol involved staying into the wee hours, then not arriving at work until closer to 10:00 a.m. Paul was always in early and out late. But then he was not only an ex-prosecutor, he was an ex–Special Forces master sergeant who ran ultramarathons in his free time. He did not fuck around.
I hesitated as soon as I turned the last corner and spotted the desk outside Paul’s office. Instead of his usual warm, matronly secretary, there sat bitter, bracing Gloria typing away. I’d forgotten: Paul’s secretary was having her gallbladder removed. It was too early and I was already too on edge to deal with Gloria, who’d had it in for me ever since I’d politely declined to have her installed as my own full-time secretary. Gloria had recently been demoted from partner secretary to floater and part-time receptionist when her partner left the firm and no one else wanted to work with her. She’d sat in for me in my first days at Young & Crane, but I couldn’t bear her constant complaining—the weather, her sinuses, some old man who didn’t offer her a seat on the subway. Maybe it wasn’t Gloria’s fault that she was so unhappy, but she also wasn’t very good at her job. Rumor was the firm would have fired her if she hadn’t already threatened to sue for sex discrimination. Knowing Paul, he’d probably asked to have Gloria assigned to him so he could assess the situation himself.
“Is he in?” I asked, nodding my head toward Paul’s open door.
“Of course he is.” She rolled her overmascaraed eyes. “He came in early to review every single summer associate’s pro bono billing. All because two summer associates padded a few hours to play a little golf at Chelsea Piers. Harmless, right? Of course, Paul’s out for blood. All he’s done in there is shout.”