Chapter 27 - The People Downstream
Rourke studied me as though I had introduced a minor scheduling problem.
“The proposed remediation would comply with applicable requirements.”
“Then why restrict our cooperation with other property owners?”
His eyes moved to Naomi.
“Your counsel understands negotiated closure.”
“My counsel also understands the word no.”
Marcus’s hand rested beside mine on the table.
He did not interrupt.
That mattered more than any speech he could have made.
Rourke gathered his proposal.
“I would encourage you to consider the cost of moral certainty.”
“We’re still investigating the facts,” I said. “That’s why we’re not signing them away.”
He left without raising his voice.
I suspected men like him rarely needed to.
By evening, the cost arrived.
A lender asked the foundation for updated financial assurances.
An insurer requested additional documentation.
A contractor who had promised discounted labor withdrew his offer.
None of it proved Rourke had made a call.
That was the maddening part.
Pressure often looked like people independently reaching the same convenient conclusion.
Daniel sat across from me while I crossed numbers off our budget.
“We can delay the office lease.”
“I already called.”
“And the summer uniforms.”
“Canceled.”
He hesitated.
“There’s something else.”
I looked up.
“Three parents asked whether this is going to become a fight between rich people.”
I put down my pen.
“Fair question.”
“What do I tell them?”
“That they’re entitled to keep their children out of the fight.”
“And if they leave?”
“Refund anything they paid.”
“They didn’t pay.”
“Then thank them for trusting us as long as they did.”
After he left, I sat alone until the lights clicked off automatically.
For a few seconds, I remained in the dark.
Then I laughed once.
My office had apparently decided I needed to go home.
In the parking lot, someone called my name.
Corinne stood beside a battered rental car.
No designer bag.
No perfectly arranged smile.
I stopped several feet away.
“If this is another performance, choose a different audience.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“You can talk to Naomi.”
“She won’t return my calls without my attorney involved.”
“Then involve your attorney.”
Corinne looked toward the road.
For the first time, I noticed she was frightened of being seen.
Not embarrassed.
Frightened.
“I didn’t know about the ground,” she said.
I waited.
“The checks. The office. I knew about that.”
My fingers tightened around my keys.
“You put them in my desk.”
Her eyes filled.
“He said they were real.”
“Who?”
“Hale.”
“And you believed him?”
She looked down.
“No.”
The word hung between us.
A car passed behind her.
Neither of us moved.
“I wanted them to be real,” she said. “I wanted you to be what he said you were.”
I felt something cold and clean move through me.
There it was.
Not money.
Not confusion.
The ugly pleasure of seeing another woman dragged down to where you had decided she belonged.
“You don’t get to hand me your guilt in a parking lot.”
“I know.”
“No. I don’t think you do.”
She flinched.
I called Naomi.
I did not invite Corinne into my car.
I did not promise her protection.
I stood beneath the security light until Naomi told her to contact her own lawyer and arrange a documented interview.
Before leaving, Corinne spoke again.
“Rourke called Hale after the board meeting.”
“How do you know?”
“I was there.”
“What did he say?”
Her mouth trembled.
“He asked whether the woman had been handled.”
I stared at her.
“Me?”
“I thought so.”
“You thought?”
She shook her head.
“Then Hale said he’d already paid the widow.”
The parking lot seemed to fall silent.
“Whose widow?”
“I don’t know.”
That night, Naomi cross-referenced the names in Pike’s old correspondence with the historic maintenance records.
One stood out.
Samuel Dorsey.
The maintenance supervisor who had shown Adrian the storage locations.
He had died six years earlier.
His widow still lived two miles inland from Harbor House.
The next morning, Naomi reached her.
Mrs. Dorsey agreed to meet.
But before ending the call, she asked one question.
“Are you coming about my husband’s map?”
“Yes,” Naomi said.
A pause.
May you like
Then the older woman replied, “Because somebody offered me twenty thousand dollars for it yesterday.”
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