“I’m sorry,” she repeated. She had never seen him so furious.
“So, given the scene, I remembered you’d asked me for a recommendation to track someone on the Internet. So I asked Maggie what that was all about. She told me about your conversation and what she found. OK, that’s one thing. But she says these threats were posted from your computer.”
“I didn’t write them and if I did, I wouldn’t have asked Maggie to trace them, obviously.”
He didn’t seem impressed. “Why are you dragging my company into your vendetta?”
“‘Vendetta’ is hardly an apt description,” Perri managed to say.
“What word would you use to describe this? This guy worked your son’s car crash and now he says you ruined his life.”
Perri turned to Maggie. “Did you talk to Shiloh?”
“No, I was in my office. Building security escorted him out. But Mike asked me what this was about. I had to tell him.”
“It’s OK, Maggie,” Perri said. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks, Maggie, that will be all,” Mike said, and Maggie, shooting a beseeching look at Perri, left.
“What are you doing to me? To us?” Mike leaned against the closed door.
Like this was about him, or what he thought they were going to be. She drew a calming breath. “Shiloh was a paramedic at David’s crash and he’s been targeted—so has the other paramedic, so have I. It’s Jane Norton. She ruined his engagement, she burned down this woman’s house, she defaced David’s grave…”
“Jane Norton is a homeless amnesiac, not a criminal mastermind.”
“I know this looks bad but…”
“Stop,” he said. “Please. I beg you, as a friend, as someone who cares deeply about you. David died in a car accident and you have to accept that. For your sake. Not for anyone else’s.”
“She killed him. There is more to it.”
“Are you ever going to leave Jane Norton alone?”
“What…”
“Maggie told me about these Faceplace postings. What if she or her mother sues you for this and it comes back to us because you’ve now involved my employee? You can’t even see how it looks.”
“I’m sorry Shiloh Rooke came here. But I’m an innocent party, Mike.”
“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off,” he said. “Better yet, the week, and we’ll let all this furor calm down.”
He did not believe her. She was telling the truth and he did not believe her. The shock was like a physical force in her chest. She suddenly felt afraid for her job. “Mike…”
“I just can’t have this, Perri. Can’t have my company or my employees involved in your private mess. You need help. We’ll work this out, all right? But go, take the time off. It’s for the best.”
“All right.” Her voice was hoarse. “I think you’re right, a break is the right idea.” But she knew she wouldn’t come back here again, not to work for Mike. Never again. And for a moment she saw in his face something of the acid blame and dislike that Laurel Norton had gotten at volunteer meetings, at school, after the crash, and a cold knife twisted in her heart. She got up. She checked her e-mail, responded to a couple of requests, and then sent an e-mail to the office saying she was taking some personal time; she could be reached via cell phone if there was an emergency.
She refused to show how upset she felt. She fought down a tremble of her fingers as she typed. She thought Mike cared about her. He’d acted like he wanted to date her and now he acted like she was radioactive. In the back of her mind, once the divorce was done, she might have been interested in him, given time. Now she was the problem employee that he thought couldn’t let go of her grief.
She collected her purse and went out into the hallway. She loved this job and she told herself not to think about it. She walked into the ladies’ room.
Maggie stood before the mirror. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t lie once he asked, Perri.”
“Of course not. Did you find out anything on my laptop?”
“They’ve managed to hack your laptop using a method I can’t detect. And I can find nearly all methods.” She sighed. “Which suggests to me, both to install the hack and for the earlier postings, Liv had to have access. If not, then you’re dealing with someone with top-notch hacking resources.”
The key. Who knew it was where it had always been? Well, Cal, of course. And Laurel and Jane, because they had been neighbors and she’d never thought of moving the spare key after the crash. She had other things on her mind. Who else? David—which meant that Kamala might have known. Or Trevor Blinn. Or any of his other high school friends. David often forgot his key when he was a kid, before he was driving. Or Liv Danger was very, very good, and she was up against someone who could digitally destroy her life. She felt sick.
It had to be Laurel or Jane. It had to be.
She said, “Please believe me when I say I didn’t do this.” It mattered that someone believe her.
“OK, I believe you.”
It was more credit than Mike had given her.
“But you need to stay away from this Shiloh Rooke. This guy isn’t stable, Perri, please.” She took Perri’s shoulder, surprising her. “There was another posting from Liv Danger. I traced the IP address assigned at the time. It wasn’t your computer. It’s here in Lakehaven. On Old Travis, in an office park. They share a wireless network provided by the management company, but I can’t tell for sure which office used it. I called the provider and they shared the address with me.” She pressed the paper into Perri’s hand.
“I’m sorry I dragged you into this, Maggie, you’re the best.”
Maggie gave her an awkward hug and walked out. Perri went down to her car before she unfolded the paper. She recognized the address, knew where it was on Old Travis, just because she knew the addresses of other businesses along there and knew the office park of small, individual offices there. It was where Randy Franklin had his practice.
A man who had worked the accident investigation for them; a man tied to them. The posting had been done in the middle of the night. When she had no alibi.
She felt a little dizzy. She headed out of the office building, across the little sky bridge that linked it to the parking garage. She walked toward her car. Her phone buzzed.
“Mrs. Hall?”
“Yes.” She recognized the voice.
“Matteo Vasquez. I just received an interesting e-mail that I’d like to read to you and I wonder if you have a comment.”
“From whom?”
“Someone calling themselves Liv Danger. Does that ring a bell with you?”
31
Jane’s Book of Memory, written in the
days and weeks after the crash
Good news and bad news.
Good news: kids are getting bored with me. A girl I don’t remember says, “Memory back yet?” when I pass her in the hallway between third and fourth period and I cannot tell whether or not she is being mean, or is only interested enough to inquire once a day, or she’s just one of those people who don’t think how what they say affects you. I want to punch her in the face.