I Swear

22. KATHERINE

As I stepped away from the window in the music building, Macie turned and smiled.

“That should keep things with Jillian in check,” she said like she was crossin’ “milk” and “eggs” off of a grocery list. “Thank you, Katherine, for the pictures and . . . your help on this.”

I nodded and smiled. “Anytime,” I said.

“You put the ‘vice’ in ‘vice president.’” She giggled. “Coming?” she asked as she almost skipped into the hall, and held the door of the practice room open for me.

“Right behind you,” I said.

“Don’t be late for Brit lit,” she said. “We’re getting our research paper assignments. You don’t want to get stuck with Elizabeth Barrett Browning again.”

After she left, I slumped down onto the piano bench and leaned my head back against the carpet squares that covered the wall behind me for soundproofing. I checked the time on my phone. I had ten minutes before lunch was over and class started.

I dialed Jillian’s number. When the call went to voice mail, I left a message:

“Hi, Jillian. It’s Katherine. Look, I need to talk to you and Beth tonight. Text me whenever and let me know what time works for you.”

I left the same message for Beth, then I left the practice room, and the music building, and the school. I drove to my dad’s office, and when I couldn’t find him or his secretary, I wandered down the hall to Patrick’s office. Liz greeted me with a wave and a smile. She clicked the mouse on her computer and pulled her earbuds out.

“Hey, Katherine.” She smiled. “Out of school early?”

“Something like that.” I smiled. “Do you know where my dad is?”

“Big company meeting today. The brass has everybody on a conference call talking about whatever it is they talk about. They always keep me out here to man the phones—which suits me. The Atlanta folks are the only ones who ever call here, anyway, so with everyone on the same line, it gets pretty quiet.”

I stayed at Daddy’s office and did homework all afternoon. At one point, I fell asleep on his couch and woke up with little bumps on my face from the fabric of the throw pillows. Looked like I’d fallen asleep on a waffle iron.

Eventually, he came in and we talked about the brief he was working on—an unclear deed of ownership, disputed by the great-aunt of the previous owner, or something like that. He was in the middle of talking to me about it when Patrick walked down the hall from the conference room with the camera.

“Hey, Katherine.” Patrick smiled. “You ready for tomorrow?”

“As I’ll ever be, I suppose.” I smiled.

“Good luck this weekend,” he said, then turned to my dad. “Daysun, here are the latest depositions.”

Daddy knew exactly what I wanted. He handed me the camera. “You wanna do the honors, young lady?”

I smiled and plugged the camera into my laptop and started the download.

• • •

“I don’t understand why you want us to see this,” grumbled Beth.

She was sitting cross-legged on Jillian’s bed with her arms folded across her chest, scowling.

Jillian was quiet. She seemed preoccupied.

“Is everything okay?” I asked her.

“I’m fine,” she said. Not annoyed or impatient, just . . . flatline. “What are we watching again?”

“I’ve got Josh’s and Krista’s depositions.”

Beth’s eyes went wide as her chin dropped. “But you told Macie that you couldn’t get them.”

I sighed. “I don’t tell her everything.”

This time, Jillian’s eyes were wide. Slowly she looked at Beth, then back at me. I clicked play.

• • •

“Please state your name for the record.” Kellan Dirkson was all business.

“Joshua Franklin Phillips.”

Lauren Wolinsky leaned into frame. “Raise your right hand and repeat after me.”

I pushed fast-forward.

“Wait—what’s he saying?” asked Jillian.

“These are just standard questions, identification of Leslie Gatlin, establishing length of his relationship with her, the nature of the relationship. . . . Here we go.” I hit play.

“Did you ever message Leslie Gatlin from your personal Facebook account?”

“No,” Josh replied.

“Did you ever message Leslie Gatlin from someone else’s Facebook account?”

“No.”

“Have you ever established a secondary Facebook account under an assumed name?”

“Yes,” said Josh. His voice was crisp and clear. There was no hesitation.

“What was the name on this account?” Kellan asked.

“Craig Hutchins,” he said.

Jillian gasped. “Oh my God. He’s actually going to tell them.”

“Shh!” Beth leaned in closer to the laptop, eyes aglow. “Turn it up!”

“What kind of messages did you send from this account under the name of Craig Hutchins?” Kellan Dirkson already seemed to know this information. I was sure he’d subpoenaed every Facebook account Leslie had ever received a message from.

“Mainly, I sent messages to Leslie Gatlin,” said Josh, cool as a cucumber. No sweating, no flinching—nothing. “I sent her messages telling her how attractive she was and asking her to meet me for a date.”

“As Craig Hutchins?” asked Kellan Dirkson.

“Yes,” answered Josh.

“Why wouldn’t you just ask Leslie Gatlin out on a date as yourself?” Kellan asked.

A slow grin spread across Josh’s face. “Well, mainly because she’s not my type. I date college girls. And cougars.”

Kellan sighed. “Then why ask her out as a nonexistent person?”

“Macie Merrick wanted me to.”

“Macie Merrick asked you to send falsified Facebook messages to Leslie Gatlin?” asked Kellan.

“Yes,” said Josh.

“And did Miss Gatlin respond to the messages in turn?” asked Kellan.

“Eventually,” said Josh.

“Meaning that she did not respond to them at first, but did so over time?” asked Patrick.

“Yes.”

“How long did you send Miss Gatlin messages from the account of Craig Hutchins?”

Josh paused and thought. “A month? Maybe six weeks, I think.”

“And did she agree to meet this imaginary Craig Hutchins for a date?” Kellan asked.

“Yes, finally,” said Josh.

“Did anyone else know about this date?” asked Kellan.

“Sure.” Josh smiled. “The whole gang was in on it.”

“How did it happen?” asked Kellan.

“Macie coached me through setting it up,” Josh said. “I’d show her the messages where Leslie wasn’t so thrilled with the idea of meeting up, and she’d tell me exactly how to respond. She sort of made it my mission to get Leslie to agree to meet me for a date.”

“Did she?” asked Kellan.

“Yes,” said Josh. “She agreed to meet me at a park about halfway between Westport High and the high school Craig Hutchins supposedly went to.”

“Did you meet Miss Gatlin alone?” asked Kellan.

“No. Of course not,” said Josh. “Macie invited everyone. People brought popcorn and beers and blankets. She wanted everybody there to witness this one. Leslie showed up just after dark, at the time we’d agreed upon. The park Macie had picked was a private neighborhood park near her cousin’s place. It’s only open to the public during daylight hours, has a tall wrought-iron fence all the way around it. As soon as Leslie had waited for about thirty minutes, I walked up and introduced myself as Craig Hutchins, then I closed the gates on her and trapped her in the park with a bike lock.”

“You locked her in the park?” asked Kellan.

“Yes,” confirmed Josh. “Once I’d locked the gates, everybody who had come with us switched on their headlights and started whooping and throwing eggs at her, and Macie led everyone in a chant as well.”

“What did Macie have you chant?” asked Kellan.

“‘Kill yourself,’” said Josh. “It had sort of become her mantra with Leslie. She’d cough it in the hallway every time Leslie passed her.”

“When did you let Leslie out of the park?” asked Kellan.

“We didn’t,” said Josh. “After Macie had everyone scream at her, she told Leslie that the park attendant would arrive at six a.m. and to have a good time camping.”

I glanced over at Beth and saw that there were tears rolling down her cheeks. I pushed pause on the computer.

“Did that really happen?” I asked.

Beth nodded.

“Were you there?” I asked. “Were you, Jillian?”

Neither of them could look at me. Neither of them spoke. The silence was deafening.

“She was too embarrassed to even call her parents,” said Beth, wiping her nose. “She texted them and told them that she was spending the night at Kelly’s.”

“How’d she get home the next morning?” I asked.

“Jake,” said Jillian softly. “Leslie tried to call him and text him, but I swiped his phone from him so he wouldn’t get the messages until morning. When he got up for his run, he saw the voice mails and jumped in his car to get her.”

“I can’t believe Josh copped to this,” said Beth.

“You will,” I said. “That’s next.”

I pushed play again, and Kellan Dirkson sprang to life on the screen.

“Why did you do this? If it was truly Macie’s idea, why were you involved?”

Josh smiled at Kellan. “Does the name Marty Merrick ring a bell?”

“For the record, Marty Merrick is Macie’s younger brother,” Kellan said to the court reporter. “How is Marty Merrick pertinent to this case, Mr. Phillips?”

“Well, he got his drugs somewhere,” said Josh.

“Are you insinuating that Marty Merrick bought drugs from you?” asked Kellan.

“Yes,” said Josh.

“And Macie Merrick used this information to blackmail you?”

“One of Marty’s friends let it slip to Macie that I was his supplier. She threatened to turn me in if I didn’t set up the date with Leslie. I was about to place at state in the two hundred butterfly as a sophomore. I didn’t want to get suspended. So I did what she said.”

“Why come forward now? Is this about your romantic connection to the district attorney’s daughter?”

“Objection!” Patrick’s voice sounded frayed at the edges, like the threadbare afghan Aunt Liza used to cover her legs at church in the winter. “That’s irrelevant, Kellan, and you know it.”

“I don’t think it’s irrelevant,” said Josh. “Macie Merrick played her ace yesterday. She got word to the DA that I was the one who supplied her brother’s drugs. Mr. Braddock offered me two choices: charges on possession and trafficking, or coming clean in my deposition.”

“So you’re here to avoid jail time and probation?”

“Yes,” said Josh. “I think the Merricks should know that if they don’t settle this thing and it goes to trial, I have video of their son paying me for drugs that I’m sure they’d like to keep off the Internet right around the launch of the senator’s race for US Congress.”

“Again for the record,” said Kellan, “you can produce this video?”

“I can produce it right now,” said Josh. “What’s your number, counsel? I can text you a link to it right now from my phone.”

“No further questions,” said Kellan.

The video ended. The three of us sat there staring at the black screen.

“Holy. Shit,” said Beth. “Has Macie seen this?”

“No,” I said. “I thought you two should see it first. Jillian, do you think I should show it to her?”

Jillian sat staring at the screen for a moment, then scrunched her eyes closed as if she were having a vision from a heavenly messenger.

“Let’s see what Krista has to say.”