Sweet Talk (25 page)

“There is absolutely no proof that it was our son who struck Capshaw,” Mr. Deckman argued.

Olivia opened her notepad and glanced at it. “What about Will Kaufman or Matt Farrell?”

“Those altercations happened last year,” Mrs. Deckman said. “It was all hearsay, one boy’s word against another’s, and then both Will and Matt changed their stories.” She turned to her husband. “They were just roughhousing, weren’t they, Sean?”

Her husband nodded. “That’s exactly right. No proof of any wrongdoing.”

“This time there is proof,” Olivia said. She handed the principal one of the discs.

“What is that?” Mr. Deckman asked.

“A security tape,” Olivia answered.

Principal Higgins looked surprised. “I don’t know how you got this, Miss MacKenzie, but I’m not sure we can . . .”

Olivia turned to Bobby’s parents. “You do want to know the truth, don’t you? If it was just two boys roughhousing, this will prove it.”

Mr. Deckman stammered, “Well, of course I—”

“Good,” Olivia said. She nodded to Principal Higgins, who slipped the disc into the computer slot. He adjusted the monitor so they could see it, then came around the desk to watch the video with them.

Not a word was spoken as the event played out on the screen. Mrs. Deckman’s face turned white, and she winced when she saw Bobby throw Henry into the locker. Mr. Deckman’s face turned red. When Olivia turned to look at Bobby, he was smiling. What was he? A sociopath in the making?

Principal Higgins was appalled, but Olivia could detect a hint of relief as he returned to his chair and removed the disc.

Mr. Deckman grabbed the disc from his hand, slipped it into his pocket, and said, “I’d like to look at this again at home.”

Mrs. Deckman smiled at her husband’s quick response. Did she think the problem had just gone away?

“That’s fine,” Olivia said. “I’ve sent the video to Henry’s uncle and to others as well. This isn’t going away.”

Mr. Deckman sprang to his feet and was all bluster when he said, “That’s illegal. I’ll sue. You can’t confiscate private property. It’s an invasion of privacy. It’s . . .” He turned his outrage on the principal. “Do something, Higgins. If you want to keep your job, fix this.”

Principal Higgins was not intimidated. He looked directly at Deckman and stated, “We do not tolerate violence or bullies in this school.”

Mrs. Deckman’s smile had disappeared and she now looked worried. “Yes, we understand, but he’s just a child. We could get him counseling. We’ll do it right away.”

“I don’t know . . .” Higgins began. “We simply can’t have this behavior . . .”

“If we bring charges,” Olivia told the principal, “the decision would be out of your hands. This is clearly a case of assault, and I’m confident that any court would see it our way.”

Principal Higgins was the one who looked worried now. “I understand your point of view, Miss MacKenzie, but for the sake of our school and its reputation, I hope we can find a way to settle this without a legal battle.”

Olivia appeared to consider his concerns and then said, “We suggest that Bobby be expelled from Pinebrook immediately. He should not be allowed to return here or attend any other school until he’s gotten the help he needs. He could have broken Henry’s neck. Surely, you wouldn’t wait until something that serious happened before taking action, Principal Higgins?”

The Deckmans erupted, but Olivia stood her ground. Any threats that the parents hurled at her were met with the sound and logical details she would use in a suit against them and their son.

Until now, Bobby had sat quietly with a smug grin on his face, but he was beginning to see the handwriting on the wall. He rushed to his father, poked him in the chest, and screamed, “Don’t you dare let them kick me out. You’ll be sorry if you do.”

There was no calming the boy. A minute later, as he was being dragged from the office by his mother and father, everyone could hear Mrs. Deckman trying to comfort him with the promise of a new iPad as soon as this mistake was sorted out. Mr. Deckman paused at the door to give Olivia a contemptuous glare before he left.

Olivia spent a few more minutes talking to the principal, and Patrick and Henry waited for her in the reception area. When she came out, Henry hugged her. “Thank you, Olivia,” he said.

She leaned down, smiled, and kissed his cheek. “You’re very welcome, Henry.”

Officer Carpenter was standing by the front door to the school when she walked outside. He held out his hand to take her car keys, but after her protest, he agreed to follow her in his car if she promised to be cautious. Just to make him happy, she drove under the speed limit the whole way home.

He was just about to say good-bye to her at her apartment door when Mrs. Delaney, who must have been listening for Olivia to return, stuck her head out and announced she needed milk. Carpenter waited while Olivia went into her apartment and came back with a quart. The grumpy woman made her stand there while she found her reading glasses and checked the expiration date, then she thanked Olivia and went back inside.

After Carpenter wagged his finger in Olivia’s face and told her to stay home, he left. Olivia locked her door and leaned against it. She suddenly felt very tired. She changed into snug jeans and a blouse, put her hair up in a ponytail, and went into the kitchen to find something she could microwave for dinner. Determined to eat something healthy first, she made a salad and ate every bit of it. She thought about what had happened at Henry’s school and realized how lucky she’d been that no one had recognized her. Maybe they hadn’t seen the news yet or hadn’t associated her name with the family. Regardless, she was thankful. She even had the thought that maybe it wasn’t going to be as bad as she’d anticipated. Maybe it would go away sooner rather than later.

In her dreams perhaps. Just as she was going to put her frozen dinner in the microwave, another call came in. It was so grossly disturbing, she lost her appetite. She put the dinner back in the refrigerator and curled up on the sofa to watch television.

Her father’s face was plastered on all the major channels. The broadcaster on one news network was interviewing a tearful woman who kept saying she’d been promised a triple return on her money. Olivia pushed the button on the remote and turned the television off. The silence brought a few welcome moments of peace.

She decided a Popsicle sounded good so she got one from the freezer, put it on a plate, and went back to the television. Maybe she could find an old classic movie to take her mind off her worries. A knock on the door startled her, and an instant of panic gripped her stomach. Had one of the angry investors gotten inside the building? She walked over and peered through the peephole. When she saw Grayson standing there, she threw the door open and fell into his arms. He looked tired, she thought.

“What are you doing here? It’s almost ten. Did you just get back from New York? Shouldn’t you be—”

His mouth stopped her. He tightened his hold and kissed the breath out of her. She didn’t resist him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back passionately. It had been such an awful day, but he was here now, and everything was better.

“I missed you, too.” He took off his coat, hung it in the closet, and draping his arm around her, pulled her along to the sofa.

“How’s Henry?”

“Fully recovered,” he replied. “When I opened the file you sent and saw Henry being slammed into his locker, I wanted to lock that Deckman kid up in solitary for the rest of his life.”

“That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?” she teased.

“Henry and Patrick are singing your praises. Thank you, by the way.”

He kissed her on her forehead and pulled her down next to him. They talked about the school for a few more minutes, and then Olivia said, “I want to hear about the files again. Tell me everything. Start at the beginning when you entered the apartment.”

She took a bite of the Popsicle and waited. Grayson, she noticed, was staring at her mouth.

“I can’t concentrate while you’re eating that,” he said.

A little bit of the devil in her came out. She put the Popsicle in her mouth and sucked the sweet cherry juice. “How come?” she asked innocently.

His eyes narrowed. “Olivia,” he warned, “want to find out how fast I can get your clothes off?”

Smiling sweetly, she stopped tormenting him and took the Popsicle to the sink. Her mood changed immediately when she heard her phone ring.

Grayson went to the door of her study to listen to the incoming call. He obviously didn’t like what he heard. “Son of a bitch,” he growled. “Did you hear that?” he asked when she came back into the living room.

She shook her head. “Come sit and tell me—”

“How many others are there?” he demanded.

“I’m up to fifty-some now.”

“Son of a . . .”

“Grayson, you knew this was coming.”

“Did you listen to all of them?” His voice shook, he was so angry.

“Yes,” she said. “Trust me. You don’t want to. Some of them are sick.”

“How many were death threats?”

“Stop snapping at me. I didn’t make the calls.”

Her retort eased some of the tension, and he gave her a slight smile.

“I should have erased them and turned the phone off,” she admitted.

“No, absolutely not. I’m going to have every damned call traced.”

“You can’t arrest people for saying mean things.”

“Death threats? Hell yes, I can arrest them.”

“When did you get back from New York?” she asked to keep him from getting worked up again.

“Around five today. I didn’t see the video until I got home.” He was still glaring as he followed her.

“Did you get to see any Broadway shows?” she asked with a straight face.

The question jarred him; then he laughed. He dropped down next to her and swung his feet up on the ottoman. “I was in your father’s study until after two. Then I went back around nine this morning. Spent most of the day there.”

“I’ve never been to the apartment,” she said.

He described the layout but didn’t mention the fact that there wasn’t a single photo of her anywhere. He went into detail about the secret room and what he had seen in the files.

“Ronan talked to Wilcox’s attorney, told him what we found,” he said.

“That’s wonderful,” she said. “Emma will be so relieved.”

“There’s more,” he continued. “And I think you’ll really like this.”

“What?” she asked.

“You know that Eric Jorguson invested with your father.”

“Yes.”

“It appears that not all the money Jorguson had flowing through the fund was going into his retirement nest egg. When the auditors sort it all out, I’m pretty sure they’ll be able to prove this was one of his money-laundering accounts.”

“Wouldn’t that be something?” Olivia shook her head. She’d listened intently to all the evidence that was piling up against her father, and the cold reality of the situation was setting in. “This is going to go on for a long while, isn’t it?” she asked. “The phone calls and the threats?”

“Depends on the next big story.” Grayson could see her wilting before his eyes, so he changed the subject. “Want to know what I did when I got home this evening?”

“What?” she asked, wondering why he suddenly sounded exasperated. “Did you eat dinner with Henry and Patrick?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Henry met me at the door and went into a long narration of what happened at school. Then Patrick gave me his summary. Then Henry started over again,” he said, smiling. “You impressed the socks off him, Olivia. He’s now quoting you.”

“He’s sweet,” she said. “And so is Patrick.”

“Uh-huh, sweet. We sat down for dinner when sweet Henry remembered he had another assignment due tomorrow.”

She bit her lower lip to keep from laughing. “What was it?”

“He had to memorize all the states in alphabetical order and all the capitals. He was supposed to have been working on it for a couple of weeks, but he just remembered tonight.” He shook his head as he added, “When he told me, I swear I was speechless.”

“What did you do?”

“It wasn’t as bad as I thought. He knew some of them, and Patrick came up with a rap tune. It made it easier for Henry.”

“Did you memorize them along with him?”

“Yes . . . and, no, I’m not singing for you.”

“Children learn quickly. I’m sure you got through the assignment in no time.”

“I haven’t told you about the math yet.”

The lighthearted conversation ended with the doorbell. Then the banging on the door started. Olivia reluctantly went to answer it. She looked through the peephole and groaned.

“Who is it?” he asked, coming up behind her.

“World War Three,” she said. “Natalie and my mother.”

“You don’t have to let them in.”

“Oh yes, I do. Natalie will stand there hitting the door and shouting until tomorrow if she has to. I might as well get it over with now.”

Grayson made her step back into the living room before he opened the door. Natalie couldn’t storm inside because he blocked her.

“Where is my sister?” she demanded. She pushed against his chest.

“You don’t want to do that.”

“I know she’s here. Let me in,” she shouted.

Since she was acting like a child, he decided to treat her like one. “You will behave yourself, or you will leave.”

The second he stepped back, Natalie rushed in. Her mother, Deborah, showed more decorum. She nodded to Grayson as she walked past.

Natalie saw Olivia and screamed, “Do you know what you’ve done?”

Ignoring her sister, Olivia said, “Hello, Mother.”

Deborah MacKenzie looked exhausted. Grayson noticed her hands were shaking as she struggled to remove her coat. He took it from her.

She was a beautiful woman. Except for the color of their eyes—Olivia’s were blue; Deborah’s were brown—Olivia looked just like her.

“Hello, Olivia. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. How are you?”

“I’m very distressed,” she said. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Your father’s in jail, and he’s been accused of stealing money. It’s outrageous to think that my husband would do such a thing. It’s all a misunderstanding,” she whispered. “It has to be.”