I blinked hard and looked again at the Fact Chron.How could I have missed that document?
“I—”
“I have no idea how far back this puts us, Samantha, but this is an unacceptable lapse. Your entirejobhere is to be a master of these documents. If we publish a report that has holes in it, we’re fucked. If someone leaks this email to the press, and our report omits any mention of it because we didn’t even ask about it in a fuckinginterview—we lose all credibility. Because ofyou.”
My heart was racing. “I understand. I’ll fix it.”
She refused to look at me. “What you’ll do is go through every single document on this chronology. Tonight. And you will compare the documents we already tagged for the interview and make sure there aren’t other key documents missing. And then you’ll redraft the interview outline, and you will explain to the partner why he needs to spend another day billing time on someone he already interviewed.”
I nodded. “I’ll get started right now.”
“I’m sure your girlfriend will understand.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I said, I’m sure your girlfriend will understand why you can’t make it to her holiday party tonight.”
The idea that Elinor had interpreted my request to take off for a significant other’s holiday party made the penalty sting even more. Not to mention Emilie was going to murder me.
Elinor resumed furiously typing, and I stood there for a minute trying to gather my thoughts. I sat down in front of my laptop and silently debated whether it was worth risking a bathroom break so soon. I couldn’t text Emilie from the conference room because Elinor had banned cell phones. I chickened out and started typing the mostapologetic email I could muster, angling my computer so the screen protector would make it impossible for Elinor to see I was on Gmail.
I tried to explain what happened and apologized for letting her down, for not even being able to call her and explain (“I might get fired if I leave this room again”), re-apologizing for having been such a terrible friend since we got to the city. I reread before I hit send, my face burning hot. I knew exactly how she was going to read this, and I couldn’t even blame her.
Elinor dismissed Angela at midnight. Then she sat there, presumably to punish me, until 2:30 a.m. I wondered what her personal life was like. I knew from social media that her husband was an academic researcher at Columbia, and they didn’t have kids. I also knew they had a full-time housekeeper Elinor called and dictated tasks to throughout the day.
I waited until I was safely in the Uber to pull out my phone. Emilie hadn’t responded to my email, but there was a string of angry 2 a.m. texts to our group chat with Connor, accusing me of making her look even more pathetic than she thought possible. I winced and pushed my head against the headrest.
She texted me a final message separately.Just so you know, I’m looking for jobs back in London.
I watched the dots as she continued typing.
Don’t bother responding. I’m done with your chronic narcissism.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Over the next week, each day was more miserable than the next. We worked sixteen-hour days in total silence. My lower back was in a permanent spasm. I had fantasies about developing sciatica severe enough to go to the hospital.
Because of Elinor’s cell phone ban, I could only respond to texts on my way into the office or during a bathroom break. I hated how lame I sounded to the outside world.
Christmas came and went. Angela and I ordered Chinese food and spent the two hours Elinor was gone commiserating about the turn our lives had taken. It was like a shot of dopamine straight to the arm. Charlie texted Merry Christmas with a picture of a lit menorah.
A few days before New Year’s Eve, I was in the middle of another three-hour witness interview when I missed a call from Charlie. He followed up with a text saying he wasn’t going to be back in the city for New Year’s after all; he was staying in Boston for the week and would fly directly to Montana for the retreat. His words felt cryptic and cold. Even if the chances of getting out of the office had been a hundred to one, I still felt crestfallen.
I wanted to hear his voice. I couldn’t get a sense of whether he was betting on me not being able to get out of work, or if something else made him second-guess coming back. I couldn’t shake the thought he regretted everything.
I was still in the conference room when Charlie texted at midnight to wish me Happy New Year.
We’d only texted once since he told me he was staying in Boston until the retreat. He had watched one of Andre’s interviews on MSNBC and texted to say he “almost” believed the firm wasn’t full of shit.
I tried not to be offended. I’d spent nearly every waking hour working on an investigation that I knew was aboveboard in every possible way. But for the media, it was just a political story, and to hear someone like Charlie all but siding with our opponents was infuriating. I was tired and sensitive, averaging four hours of sleep a night with a disappearing appetite. I wished the firm would decide we couldn’t go to the retreat. I just wanted to stay on autopilot so I could finish the job and get my life back.
Elinor let us go at 10 p.m. the night before the retreat to pack. I spent the time schlepping loads of laundry down to the basement.
I worked the whole flight there, anxiously closing my laptop as we bumpily descended into Bozeman’s snow-covered airport. Forty-five minutes and two conference calls later, the driver pulled up to a sprawling lodge surrounded by the Gallatin National Forest.
I checked in and wondered if Charlie’s room was close to mine.
My phone buzzed as the concierge waved me over. My heart sank when I saw Leo’s name instead of Charlie’s.
