A Good Marriage(70)
“Why don’t they steal credit card numbers or something? Like normal criminals?” Maude asked with uncharacteristic spite. “This is such a sick, twisted violation.”
Amanda could think only of her dad, who’d even had a cameo in her now familiar dream the night before. He’d appeared in the middle—Amanda transported nonsensically back home in the midst of all that running in those dark, damp trees—his frame so large he almost filled the doorway of her bedroom. He was silent and stooped, the way he’d been whenever he drunkenly mistook her bedroom for the bathroom in the middle of the night. She couldn’t count the times he’d peed right on her floor. Thinking about it now, Amanda was sure her dad had enjoyed embarrassing her in that way.
“Some people love to shame others. They feed off of it.” Amanda’s voice was so venomous it was barely recognizable. “It’s worse than sick. It’s evil. They shouldn’t be allowed to live.”
And now everyone at the table was staring at her.
“Cash for escorts, Amanda,” Kerry joked. “Always cash.”
They were still all looking at her, though.
“Sorry. It’s just—my childhood wasn’t the easiest,” Amanda said, because she needed to say something. And at least that was the truth. Though her explanation seemed only to make everyone more uncomfortable. “That’s all.”
“Then it’s all the more credit to you that you turned out to be such a nice person,” Kerry said as he opened another bottle of wine and began refilling everyone’s glasses. “You’re not wrong, anyway,” he added, sitting back down. “My stepfather broke my arm—on purpose—when I was fourteen. I think to shame me in a way. Everyone’s got a history. Even here on Sesame Street.”
“What are you talking about?” Sarah looked confused and annoyed. “Your stepfather is such a nice guy.”
Kerry smiled, but in a strange, sad way. “You don’t know everything about me, dear.”
“That’s awful,” Sebe said quietly.
Maude looked sick. “Kerry, I’m so sorry.”
Sarah was staring at her husband. Amanda was just glad the focus was off her.
“A toast to the future.” Kerry raised his glass. “And to great friends, who make the very best family.”
“To friends!” everyone called.
To the future, Amanda thought as their glasses clinked like wind chimes. To the future.
KRELL INDUSTRIES
CONFIDENTIAL MEMORANDUM NOT FOR DISTRIBUTION
Attorney-Client Work Product
Privileged & Confidential
June 30
To: Brooklyn Country Day Board of Directors From: Krell Industries Subject: Data Breach & Cyber Incident Investigation—Progress Report The following is a summary of key data collected and interviews conducted.
Data Collection Data monitoring continues. There have been no additional intrusions into the Brooklyn Country Day information systems, though additional families continue to receive new threats.
Interview Summaries SUBJECT FAMILY 0016: MPP received an email from an anonymous source that contained screenshots of correspondence he has received from various creditors, along with a demand for a $20,000 cash transfer. Failure to comply with the cash transfer demand would result in the photos being posted to PSP.
SUBJECT FAMILY 0031: MPP has not had any personal experience with hacking. But he knows of an individual (identified herein as Person of Interest A) whose son was expelled last year for behavioral issues who indicated a desire to retaliate by damaging the reputation of Brooklyn Country Day.
EMPLOYEE INTERVIEW 0009: Current employee reports that a former employee (identified herein as Person of Interest B) said, after being fired from soccer coaching responsibilities, that he would do anything he could to “hurt” the school.
PRELIMINARY CONCLUSIONS
At this juncture, not a single victim has complied with the cash demands, and yet no information has been posted to PSP. This raises the question of whether financial gain is the true motive. Further, information uncovered suggests that the perpetrator is a preexisting affiliate of Brooklyn Country Day—an employee, student, or parent.
Lizzie
JULY 9, THURSDAY
I slid into bed, careful not to wake Sam. I’d stayed at the office late to work on that cell-phone-battery motion to dismiss. Conveniently, it also allowed me to avoid confronting Sam about the earring. In fact, I’d pretty much decided I wanted to let it go altogether. I’d already jumped to the wrong conclusion once, about Enid’s and the matches. Really, my doubt was like a muscle that spasmed with the slightest pressure. I couldn’t trust my knee-jerk response to anything.
So instead I kept my mouth shut and left Sam asleep, using my little booklight in the dark to read more of Amanda’s troubling journals, which continued to make my shitstorm of a life seem absolutely flawless by comparison. At the office, I’d made it through three months of her time in Park Slope, but still no mention of exactly who Amanda thought was following her, just “he” and “him.” And then, as I furtively read in bed, there it was, in one of the very last entries, wedged between an account of a coffee with Sarah and Maude at Blue Bottle and a meeting at Hope First: