He’d barely responded, at most a one-word answer, more often: in a meeting. But, it wasn’t enough to discourage her.
And then it had come: A nude. He’d heard Hannah and her friends use the term when a boy from their school was expelled for sharing one of his ex-girlfriend. Jeff had been alone in his office, thank Christ, when the image popped up on his phone, the expanse of flesh instantly catching his eye. It was Lauren, naked, or maybe she was wearing a G-string—he hadn’t looked closely. Her expression was provocative, pouty, an adolescent porn star. As soon as he registered what and who it was, he had deleted it, his hands shaky and his forehead sweaty. He wiped his phone immediately. It was a work cell; he could be fired for this. Kim could divorce him. He could go to jail! What the hell was this stupid little tart thinking? He could have strangled her.
But he was angry at himself, too, angry that he had opened the door to this sick flirtation. It was his fault that Lauren thought that her photo would be appreciated. And he was even angrier at the physical response he’d had to the stimulus of naked, teenaged flesh. Mentally, he was repulsed—like he’d been sent a photo of a mutilated corpse—but he couldn’t deny the arousal he’d felt when he’d looked, ever so briefly, at the naked image. It made him sick to his stomach.
Somehow, no one in the office seemed to read the history between him and the girl about to exit the conference room. Monique grabbed her daughter’s arm, rather roughly, and hustled her out the door. Lisa let out a bitter, sardonic laugh, and Kim shook her head. Candace was already pushing papers across the table to Paul. “We have three other witness statements that corroborate Lauren’s testimony.”
So Lauren had made good on her promise. Somehow, she’d convinced the other girls to lie about the champagne, to perjure themselves under oath rather than face Lauren’s wrath. How powerful was this girl? What was she capable of? Of course, it was possible that Marta and Caitlin didn’t remember him gifting Hannah that bottle of bubbly, but he knew it was wishful thinking. . . .
It was Paul’s turn to attack now—or to examine for discovery. He set his sights on Kim first. “Do you drink, Mrs. Sanders?”
“Socially,” Kim said, though Candace had instructed them to answer yes or no whenever possible.
Paul looked up from his papers. “So never alone?”
“Sometimes I’ll have a glass of wine when I’m making dinner, before my husband gets home.”
“Did you drink wine the night that Veronica Monroe was injured in your home?”
“Yes.”
“One glass of wine? Two? Three?”
Jeff remembered Kim pouring a large second glass after they’d taken the pizza down to the girls. She was upset about their daughter’s “attitude.” “Ronni and Lauren are bad influences,” she’d griped. “Hannah never talked to me that way before they entered her universe. She’s trying to impress them.”
Kim looked Paul in the eye and calmly said, “I don’t remember.” She was good at this.
“Do you take any prescription or recreational drugs?”
“No.”
“No? Not even sleeping pills?”
“Sometimes I take half an Ambien to help me sleep.”
“Did you take half an Ambien the night Veronica Monroe was injured in your basement?”
Kim hesitated and Jeff was sure she’d say she didn’t remember. But how could she not? She took half an Ambien practically every night. She was always “wound up” she said, about something trivial, like the tile guy taking too long on their new backsplash, or Aidan not getting enough playing time on his soccer team, or it was Tanya’s turn to host book club but she was fobbing it off on Beth. But Kim finally said, “I believe I did.”
Paul interlaced his pudgy fingers. “So you had one, maybe two, maybe three glasses of wine and a sleeping pill the night of Ronni’s accident.”
Kim’s composure faltered. “I’m not sure. Probably one glass of wine and half a sleeping pill—I only ever take half. . . .”
Jeff glanced at Lisa and saw the smallest of smiles curl her lips. He felt a surge of anger course through him. She was enjoying this.
Paul turned his attentions to Jeff. “Mr. Sanders . . . are you a drug user?”
“No.”
“So you’ve never used illegal drugs? And may I remind you that you’re under oath.”
“When I was younger, I smoked some pot and stuff.”
“And stuff? Can you elaborate?”
He could feel his face getting hot. “I think I did mushrooms. Maybe tried cocaine. It was a long time ago.”
“So when was the last time you used illegal drugs?”
Kim didn’t flinch, she didn’t move at all, but he could sense her muscles tensing to granite beside him. “I have no idea,” he said.
“Have you used LSD within the last year?”
Jeff maintained his outward composure while his stomach plummeted. What the fuck was going on here? Did this lawyer know about that one tiny indiscretion? It had nothing to do with what happened to Ronni. It was completely irrelevant. Why wasn’t Candace objecting?
His voice remained steady, “I don’t recall.”
“So if we were to ask your colleague . . .” Paul looked at a piece of paper in front of him, found the name he was looking for, “Nathan McIntyre, from your Austin branch. Would he corroborate what you’re telling us? That you have not used LSD in the past year?”
How did Paul know about Nathan McIntyre and his little vial of magic? Jeff felt the weight of Kim’s eyes on him and he met her gaze. He’d expected anger and accusation, but he saw only fear. And then he knew. Kim must have told Lisa about the LSD. This was Kim’s fault. He looked to Candace for help, but she was jotting notes on a pad like she’d just remembered to add toothpaste to her grocery list. Jeff took a breath and prepared to speak.
“Lisa, please!” Kim blurted. “We’ll pay all Ronni’s medical bills. We’ll pay for counseling and set up a college fund for her. Just be reasonable.”
Candace looked up from her grocery list. “Kim, calm down.”
“I am calm!” Kim shrieked, sounding anything but. “We’re friends, Lisa. Why won’t you settle?”
“My daughter is blind, Kim!”
“She’s not blind. Give me a break!”
“What would you do if perfect Hannah lost her eye? How would your disfigured daughter fit into your perfect little life?”
Kim was crying now. “I would love her and help her. . . . I wouldn’t point fingers and lay blame!”
Lisa laughed. “You’d lose your mind, Kim! You’d burn this city down to make someone pay for hurting her!”
The volume of their discourse was attracting attention beyond the glass walls. Jeff noticed people milling about outside, peering in at the melee. He saw the concern on their faces and watched a woman dial on her cell phone. Security was being called.
Paul said, “I suggest a recess,” but Kim was standing now. She stabbed a finger toward Lisa.
“You’re jealous because we have money and a home and a traditional family. You always have been.”