“What about Exley?”
“Oh, he’s the key to all of this!” Uncle Bruce says with a cutting laugh. “You see, the mystery witness? This person apparently also told Dean Hunt that Jordan was involved with bullying Jenny. Writing on her door, starting the online thread, everything. Well, Jordan heard that and he just popped. Before I could clap a hand over his mouth and drag him from the room, he told the dean that it was all Exley, from the beginning. Dr. Feelgood, I think he called him.”
Richard tries to imagine this scene. Dean Hunt playing Jordan like a cat teasing a dog on a leash. The animal lunging, choking, wondering stupidly why it can’t breathe.
“My nephew never suspected you,” Uncle Bruce continues. “You didn’t know anything about The Board. But Exley did. So Jordan made that leap. Put two and two together and got . . . Well, you know. You’re good at math.”
Richard doesn’t respond. His gut warns him that there is nothing to be gained by revealing anything to Uncle Hard--ass.
“But as smart as you are, Richard, I have to say, top prize goes to Dean Elliot Hunt, who outsmarted us all. Because you know what I learned? He met with Exley and generously suggested he withdraw . . . after he spoke to Jordan. I won’t bore you with how I know that.”
At first Richard doesn’t understand the significance of what Jordan’s uncle is saying. But as it sinks in, there’s no hiding the flush that spreads across his cheeks.
“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I figured,” the older man says, watching Richard’s expression. “And just in case you were wondering, it’s called the Reid Technique. It’s a classic police interrogation strategy where you pit one suspect against the other and they rat each other out.”
They hear marimba music. It’s Uncle Bruce’s phone. He pulls it out, checks the screen, takes the call. “Yeah,” he says. Richard hears a woman’s voice.
A cold breeze rattles the scrabble of leaves still clinging to branches. It smells like mold, wood smoke. Snow in the air. Possibly tonight.
“I’m heading back now. Give me five minutes,” Uncle Bruce says. He ends the call. “That was Jordan’s mom. They’re leaving.”
Richard doesn’t say anything. This guy can’t leave fast enough to suit him.
“Just so you know,” Uncle Bruce says, “I didn’t tell Jordan it was you. I think enough people have gotten screwed over at this place. I don’t want to be responsible for one more.”
Bruce Bockus turns and walks away; no handshake, no good--bye. Richard watches until he disappears into the winding wooded paths leading back to Taylor and Conundrum.
. . .
She lies there, motionless. She’s not sure for how long.
He has moved away from her ear, her neck. They lie side by side on the long single bed, their arms, shoulders, the length of their legs pressed against each other. She hears him breathe.
She scarcely breathes. She feels numb.
“Do you want anything?” she hears him say. “I’m going to the kitchen for a water.”
“No,” she whispers.
“You’re sure? Sometimes there’s juice. Or I can get you a beer, even?”
“No,” she repeats.
He gets up. She doesn’t turn. Doesn’t want to see him, any part of him. She hears the rustle of his pants, a zip. He leaves the room.
The moment the latch clicks, Jenny sits up. Her underwear is around one ankle; she pulls it up. She stands, searches for the shoes. They are under the desk chair, and she slips them on. She opens the door, just a crack. Fluorescent light from the hallway pours in.
She sticks her head out the door. She sees no one.
Jenny runs.
. . .
39
Haley
Haley hears low voices behind the closed door. She knocks as she walks in.
They are all on Carrie’s double bed: Jenny, Mona, Gail, Carrie. Jenny has her back pressed to the wall, legs tucked beneath her, box of tissues in her lap. Her eyes are swollen and red.
“Hey,” Haley says. She has no idea what sort of reception awaits. It feels like a long time since she’s been in the same room as Carrie and Jenny. “Mona just texted me.”
Carrie looks at Jenny. Places a questioning hand on her knee. Jenny shrugs.
“C’mon, girl,” Mona says, shifting closer to the huddle. “There’s plenty of room.” She pats the empty space on the comforter. Gail winks at her. “Jen was just telling us,” Mona says as Haley settles down, “about her meeting with Carole Patterson.” They all turn back to Jenny, who wipes her nose.
“If you could call it a meeting,” she says. “It was more like an announcement. Followed by a dismissal. Check that box.”
“The woman needs a heart transplant,” Mona murmurs. “No compassion.” Gail nods in agreement.
“Would she tell you why he withdrew?” Carrie asks.