Kiss the Girls and Make Them Cry(22)

We were both nineteen, Gina thought. That was thirteen years ago. She never wanted to get married young. Well, mission accomplished, as her dad liked to say. Thirty-two no longer qualified as really young.

She put aside that thought. The most important thing right now was to somehow contact Meg Williamson. I’ve phoned her enough to be sued for harassment, she decided.



* * *



Lisa was already at the table sipping an apple martini when she arrived. Gina pulled up a chair and said, “You look down in the mouth, girlfriend. Anything wrong?”

“Nothing wrong. Just thinking about how little problems like drifting ice cubes can cause big problems.” Lisa laughed. “So tell me. How was sunny Aruba?”

Gina sighed. “I guess the best way to describe it would be ‘complicated.’ I don’t want to bore you with the details.”

“Nothing could be more boring than the seven-hour deposition I sat through today. Come on. Tell me what happened.”

Just as she had done with Geoff four hours earlier, Gina recounted the interviews she’d had during her stay on the island, and her conversations with Andrew Ryan. She concluded by saying, “My gut tells me that something serious is going on at REL News. But I don’t want to fall into the trap of seeing a conspiracy behind every coincidence.”

“Gina, as I told you the one other time we talked about this, when somebody is considering suing a big corporation, then that somebody dies in an accident, that’s a huge red flag for me. And this Meg Williamson who’s refusing to talk to you, that’s another red flag. In her email, didn’t Cathy Ryan say something about other victims?”

Gina quickly recited it from memory. “?‘I had a terrible experience with one of the higher-ups. And I wasn’t the only one.’?”

Lisa replied, “So either this begins and ends with Ryan and maybe Williamson or—”

Gina finished the sentence for her. “Or this is the tip of the iceberg. There are more victims, maybe a lot more.”





Part IITwo Years Earlier





27





It was almost two years ago, on a Friday around five-thirty in the evening. The personnel offices were in a building across the street from the REL studios and newsgathering operation. Michael Carter, a lawyer in Human Resources, had stayed late to finish a project and had been looking forward to the weekend.

The knock on his door was soft. Lauren Pomerantz briefly introduced herself. She was a petite five feet three inches with auburn hair and bright brown eyes. He didn’t recall having met her, but she was a familiar face from the company cafeteria. He remembered her appearing very nervous. She had to be persuaded to sit down.

Here we go again, Carter thought. The last time one of the early twenty-somethings knocked on his door it was to complain that there weren’t enough gluten-free choices in the cafeteria. He wondered what this one wanted.

“Mr. Carter,” she began, “I love my job at REL News. I didn’t complain when I did my share of overnight shifts. I hate that I have to leave. I did the right thing after it happened, but nobody did anything.” Tears formed in her eyes and began streaming down her face. “And now I’ve been assigned to the team that’s supposed to go with him to the convention.” She convulsed into sobs and buried her head in her hands.

“Hey, it’s okay. I want to help you,” he said as he waited a few moments to allow her to compose herself. His first instinct was to touch her shoulders or her hands. His training told him: Don’t!

“Do you mind if I sit opposite you?” he asked while pulling up a chair.

She shook her head.

“Lauren, let me begin by saying I’m glad you trusted me enough to come and see me. I want to help you. It may be painful for you to talk about, but I need to know what happened.”

“You’re not going to believe me.”

“Before you decide how I’m going to react or what I’m going to do, please give me a chance.”

“All right,” she said and nodded. “Four weeks ago, on Wednesday the twenty-fourth, I was at my desk and I got a call from Evelyn Simms.” Carter recognized the name of Brad Matthews’s secretary. “She said Mr. Matthews wanted to personally thank me for the segment I had helped edit on the gun control legislation vote. She asked if I could come to his office after the broadcast that evening. Of course I said yes.”

“And you went?” Carter asked.

Lauren nodded. “I stopped in the makeup room on my way. Rosalee wasn’t busy, so she gave me a quick touch-up.”

“Why did you go there first?”

“I don’t know. I keep asking myself that. Even though I already work here, I felt like I was going on a job interview. I admit it. I wanted to look my best.”

“Go on.”

“At first everything was okay. Mr. Matthews talked about when he got his start at a small cable station in Detroit. I already knew the story but I let him tell it. While he was talking, he got up and closed the door to his office.”

“Did you object to him doing that?”

“No. It’s his office. He’s Brad Matthews. What was I supposed to say?”

“And then what happened?”

“He started talking about teamwork, how important it is in any organization that everyone be a team player, that they have chemistry, that they help and support each other. He asked me if I agreed.”