A petite woman with chin-length black hair, light brown skin, and a trim pencil skirt raised her hand across the room. Her high heels barely touched the ground, and she vibrated nervous energy. “I’m sorry, but if Brooklyn Country Day can’t keep our information safe, why are we trusting them with our kids?” She looked around the room for support. Several people nodded in agreement. “Other schools in this neighborhood have had big problems with cybersecurity or cyberbullying or whateveryouwant to call it. Serious problems. I, for one, chose Country Day specifically because of its high standards. Do those standards only apply to our kids?”
A knowing hum passed through the crowd.
Sarah’s cheeks flushed. “Cyberbullying? This has nothing to dowith cyberbullying,” she said sharply. “This has to do with all of us—what—tolerating some extra spam and maybe some junk texts for a while? Because that is what this will be.”
Amanda glanced around at the faces of the other parents. Some looked noticeably graver than the rest.
“But what if itissomething more than just a nuisance?” the tiny woman pressed on. “My neighbor works in IT, and she said they could be planning to access all of our clouds.”
She saidcloudsas she might have saidvaginas, like the word itself was slightly prurient.
“I’m gonna second her point,” said a laid-back-looking dad in jeans and a faded Ramones T-shirt. His hair was so gray it was almost white, his skin a similar ashen shade. “Maybe this will get worse, maybe it won’t. But they should at least be open about what’s happening. It’s not cool the way this whole thing went down. Brooklyn Country Day should be an open book, let us all in on the process. We’re supposed to be a community.”
“And what if the person responsible ispartof our little community?” Sarah asked. “A student, for instance, or a disgruntled former employee? What if that person is here tonight? There are valid practical reasons for the school keeping thisongoinginvestigation confidential. If the people affected want the school to pursue legal action on their behalf, for instance, evidence will have to be protected.”
“Wait, does the school have reason to think this is an inside job?” a tall, broad-shouldered woman asked. She had very short blond hair and very large features, an unfortunate combination. Her bulging eyes darted around the room. “That would be awful.”
“Sorry, I thought we covered the part about the investigation being confidential andongoing.” Sarah’s eyelashes fluttered with irritation. “Icantell you that Country Day has hired one of the best cybersecurity firms in the country. And that they’ve launched an investigation. They’ll get to the bottom of what’s happened. It’s all they do. And when they’re done, they’ll report their findings. But I don’t haveany more details at the moment.”
“It seems like they should at least tell us something in the meantime,” the petite woman spoke up again, but more quietly now. She sounded almost shell-shocked. “I mean, what if we have … what if there’s been additional suspicious activity that could be relevant?”
When Amanda looked around the room, a few other parents were nodding. Like they were victims, too, of this additional suspicious activity. But what was it? Amanda felt sick. Zach would be absolutely apoplectic if he found out about any of this.
“Well, the good news is that the school has given me a number, a hotline of sorts. You can all call it to confidentially report something that has happened to you personally.” Sarah hesitated, raised a curious eyebrow as if she was hoping someone might spill something right then. “You could also share information you have about who could be responsible. Provided youactuallyknow something.”
“I’d like that number,” a curly-haired woman next to Sarah said breathlessly. Her eyes were pink at the edges, with circles underneath. She was already digging in her bag for a pen.
Amanda caught eyes with Kerry again as Sarah dutifully read the information out.
“Now?” he mouthed at her, motioning again toward the door.
Amanda shook her head and laughed. She’d have loved nothing more than to race out the door. But where exactly would she run to? That had always been the problem, hadn’t it? No destination. Even now, there would only be darkness out there, more and more darkness. She hugged herself to keep from trembling.
This had happened once before. She’d gotten hang-ups just like this when Case was a toddler, and they were living in Sacramento. Back then, Amanda had also known who it was. Then, too, she could feel his ragged breathing against her neck. But then the calls had just stopped suddenly. Until now.
The din in the room rose as parents began to grumble among themselves. Sarah raised her hands and clapped them loudly until the room quieted.
“Hello! I repeat: call the hotlineonlyif you have actual information to share,” she went on, voice raised. “This firm charges in six-minute increments. So do not call to try to pumpthemfor information. Everything in the investigation is confidential. They will tell you nothing, andwewill all end up footing the bill.” Sarah looked about to say something else but seemed to think the better of it. “Now, come on, everyone. It’s summer, and most of our kids are gone for camp. Let’s not waste our precious free time obsessing about this nonsense!”
Lizzie
JULY 7, TUESDAY
It was only 8:30 a.m. as I headed toward Paul Hasting’s office. Absurdly early by Manhattan law firm standards, where typical protocol involved staying into the wee hours, then not arriving at work until closer to 10:00 a.m. Paul was always in early and out late. But then he was not only an ex-prosecutor, he was an ex–Special Forces master sergeant who ran ultramarathons in his free time. He did not fuck around.
I hesitated as soon as I turned the last corner and spotted the desk outside Paul’s office. Instead of his usual warm, matronly secretary, there sat bitter, bracing Gloria typing away. I’d forgotten: Paul’s secretary was having her gallbladder removed. It was too early and I was already too on edge to deal with Gloria, who’d had it in for me ever since I’d politely declined to have her installed as my own full-time secretary. Gloria had recently been demoted from partner secretary to floater and part-time receptionist when her partner left the firm and no one else wanted to work with her. She’d sat in for me in my first days at Young & Crane, but I couldn’t bear her constant complaining—the weather, her sinuses, some old man who didn’t offer her a seat on the subway. Maybe it wasn’t Gloria’s fault that she was so unhappy, but she also wasn’t very good at her job. Rumor was the firm would have fired her if she hadn’t already threatened to sue for sex discrimination. Knowing Paul, he’d probably asked to have Gloria assigned to him so he could assess the situation himself.
“Is he in?” I asked, nodding my head toward Paul’s open door.
“Of course he is.” She rolled her overmascaraed eyes. “He came in early to review every single summer associate’s pro bono billing. All becausetwosummer associates padded a few hours to play a little golf at Chelsea Piers. Harmless, right? Of course, Paul’s out for blood. All he’s done in there is shout.”
It was exactly the kind of thing that would enrage Paul. He was even more maniacal about ethics than he was about hard work. He’d fired associates for far less. Right before I arrived, he’d even pushed out a fellow partner for “behavior unbecoming.” Unbecoming what, no one seemed willing to specify. And yet Paul liked to consider himself an outsider in the corporate world, and hence a renegade at Young & Crane. It was a volatile combination.
I headed over to his open door, feeling even more hesitant about mentioning Zach. I could not imagine that being friends with an accused wife-murderer would reflect well on me. And the one time I’d heard Paul talk about associates taking on cases, he’d been pissed at even the suggestion. I certainly did not want him pissed at me.
Paul was seated with his back turned away from the door, hunched over something. In his early sixties, he had a carefully shorn gray buzz cut and that very fit, weathered handsomeness that only increased with age.
I sucked in a breath, reminding myself that this conversation was merely a formality so I could get on to the real business of getting Zach the right lawyer. Finally I knocked firmly on the door.
