Reputation(99)

“No.” My heart beats so fast, I’m afraid it’s going to explode. “I didn’t . . .”

I don’t know how much to say. I do know Blue. We met for coffee a few times in LA. And, during those meetings, I’d idly mentioned the corruption within the frats at Aldrich, how I was afraid it was some sort of Chi Omega tradition.

And then Blue had leaned back in the booth, a supercilious smile on his face. He told me he could find out if that was really true, if I wanted. No strings attached. He had the skills. “Those Ivies and their hoity-toity frats, they deserve what’s coming to them,” he said, bemused.

Jesus.

Except that’s where it ends with me. I wanted the e-mails for myself, not for the world. I just wanted to know what I was dealing with. I thought I could go to my father on my own, try to handle matters from within. And I certainly, certainly didn’t have issues with other universities. That’s just . . . insane.

But maybe Blue did. And Blue had taken matters into his own hands.

“Do you realize what you’re responsible for?” Ollie says in an eerily calm voice. “How many failed marriages? How many lost jobs? How many kids who’ll never get a college education now because of one stupid mistake in their e-mail that now everybody knows?”

“No,” I stammer. “I didn’t . . . you don’t . . .”

Ollie looks at me pityingly. “It’s not like I don’t understand what you must have gone through. When someone you love betrays you . . . it’s crushing. Your bottom drops out.”

My throat catches. Is he comparing my situation to his with Laura?

“And so you acted on it,” Ollie adds.

There’s disgust in his voice. But guilt, too? I imagine Ollie bursting into Greg’s kitchen and slashing him through the kidney. It’s simple, maniacal, coldhearted killing. Who’s to say he won’t do something like that again? Do it right now?

My body quakes. But slowly, I plunge my hand into my purse. My fingers curl around a cold, ceramic handle. I pull the coffee cup from my bag, whack Ollie across the face with a solid, ringing thud, and run.





43





WILLA


SATURDAY, MAY 6, 2017


I skid down the hall. Glimmers of dull, fading light from a window spill across the floor. The stairwell is ahead, and I pick up my pace. If I can just get to the first floor, I’ll be safe. Safe from Ollie, at least.

I hear footsteps and Ollie’s heavy breathing. All at once, he’s on top of me, tackling me to the floor. My cheek slams against cold linoleum. I’m able to get out a muffled scream before Ollie claps his hand over my mouth. “You can’t resist arrest. I’m going to read you your rights.”

I wrench away from his grasp. “On what grounds?” Ollie’s body on mine sets off all kinds of triggers—I feel as powerless and as trapped as I did all those years ago in that dark, dingy room. The horror of it undulates inside me, bringing fresh sobs to my throat.

My muscles contract. Even though I’m exhausted and terrified, I manage to get an arm out from under Ollie’s body. I use it to sock him in the balls. He leaps back in a yowl of pain. I roll out from under him, jump to my feet, kick him in the stomach. Ollie wails, then lunges at me murderously. I feel white-hot pain as he connects with my shoulder blade. I’m on my back in seconds, my lungs screaming for air.

Through blurred vision, I catch sight of Ollie towering over me.

“Are you trying to shut me up?” I croak. “Because I know what I know about you?”

He rolls his eyes. “What do you know?”

“I know that baby isn’t yours. I know about your wife and Greg Strasser. I know everything. And now you want to silence me so no one else finds out.”

The color drains from Ollie’s face, and his mouth forms an O. Is it possible he had no idea I knew this? Did he truly think I was only pawing through his office to save myself?

He crouches down until he’s next to me, and then, quick as a wink, he smacks me across the face. Stars flash before my eyes. I taste blood in my mouth. I clutch my vibrating cheek, then feel the tears dripping down my face.

“Don’t you ever, ever say that again,” he growls, his eyes wild.

I wipe away my tears. “I’m not afraid of you. And you can’t keep me quiet. No one is going to keep me quiet again.”

“Shut up,” Ollie roars.

A door bursts open. “What the hell?” a deep voice growls. And suddenly, the hallway is filled with officers—and all of them have their guns drawn.

Ollie turns to them. “She’s our hacker! She was rifling through my office, trying to get rid of the evidence I had on her! And she gave me a full confession, and then she attacked me!”

Boots squeak as the officers approach me, and someone yanks me to stand. “Please,” I beg. “He killed Greg Strasser! That’s why I was in his office! I was looking for proof!”

Ollie glares. A muscle in his jaw twitches.

“Ask him about his motive!” I plead, staring at the line of cops in their starched uniforms. “Does he have an alibi for the night Strasser was killed?” I lift the coffee mug from my bag. “Test this for his DNA!”

Ollie faces the officers, drawing to his full height. “I have no idea what she’s talking about. But I have all the data that she initiated the hack. And she’s got motive, too—a rape at an Aldrich frat, years ago. She never reported it, but clearly never got over it, either. We’ve got her.”