Chapter 8 - The People Who Pay
Brooke Ellis did not come from a family that could hire Daniel Pierce.
Her mother managed a dental office.
Her father repaired commercial refrigeration systems.
They had already taken out a home-equity loan to help pay for Brooke’s first year at state university.
When Laura Reed’s attorney suggested Brooke had acted independently, the Ellis family understood the strategy immediately.
Amanda learned about it because Brooke’s mother called her.
“I know my daughter did something terrible,” Renee Ellis said. “I’m not asking you to excuse her.”
Amanda sat at her kitchen table, injured leg elevated.
“Then what are you asking?”
“They’re trying to say Brooke planned it.”
“Who?”
“The Reeds.”
Amanda closed her eyes.
“Savannah admitted in the messages that it was her idea.”
“Their attorney says teenagers boast.”
Amanda looked at the stack of medical bills beside her laptop.
“What does Brooke say?”
“She says she’ll tell the truth.”
“Then tell her to keep doing that.”
Renee’s voice broke.
“She’s terrified.”
“So was I.”
Silence.
Amanda immediately regretted the cruelty.
Renee whispered, “I know.”
Amanda pressed her fingers to her forehead.
“I’m sorry.”
“No. You’re allowed to be angry.”
Amanda wasn’t sure anger had rules anymore.
That afternoon Owen Reed arrived at Amanda’s house.
She almost refused to let him in.
Then she saw the folder under his arm.
“What now?”
“Emails.”
Amanda moved aside.
Owen sat in her modest living room, noticeably uncomfortable not because of the room but because there was nowhere for him to hide behind ceremony.
He opened the folder.
“My wife has been communicating with Mercer for three years.”
Amanda read the first email.
A request to reconsider a disciplinary suspension for Savannah after she was caught leaving campus.
Another concerned a chemistry exam.
Another requested that a teacher’s “rigid interpretation” of late-work policy be discussed.
Mercer’s replies were careful.
Never explicit.
But the pattern was unmistakable.
I’ll take care of it.
Consider this resolved.
No need for formal documentation.
Amanda looked at Owen.
“You knew none of this?”
“I knew Laura called the school. I didn’t know the extent.”
“You benefited from it.”
He winced.
“Yes.”
“That foundation donation bought access.”
“I thought it bought microscopes.”
“It bought those too.”
Owen nodded slowly.
“That’s the problem, isn’t it?”
Amanda studied him.
He seemed different from the man she had seen at fundraisers beside Laura.
Smaller somehow.
Or perhaps simply stripped of the authority money gave people in public.
“Why are you showing me this?”
“Because Laura is preparing to claim Mercer acted alone.”
“And?”
“I don’t think he did.”
Amanda turned another page.
One email was dated the night of her injury.
Laura to Mercer.
Savannah says the camera may have captured the corridor. Please make sure this does not become a disciplinary circus before we understand what happened.
Mercer responded:
Understood. I’ll secure the relevant material.
Twenty-two minutes later, the file was deleted.
Amanda looked up.
“Secure.”
Owen laughed bitterly.
“Apparently.”
“Does Maya have these?”
“Not yet.”
“Why bring them to me first?”
He hesitated.
“Because I wanted you to know I’m giving them to her.”
Amanda stared.
“You wanted permission?”
“No.”
“Forgiveness?”
His face tightened.
“Maybe.”
“You don’t get that from me for exposing your daughter.”
“I know.”
“Or for not noticing your wife was leaning on the school.”
“I know.”
“Then what do you want?”
Owen looked toward the photograph on Amanda’s mantle.
Amanda and her younger sister at their mother’s fiftieth birthday.
“Savannah used to be kind.”
Amanda did not answer.
“She was funny. She rescued spiders from the bathtub because she thought killing them was unfair. When she was ten, she spent three months making blankets for an animal shelter.”
Amanda’s voice softened despite herself.
“Children don’t become one thing forever.”
“I keep trying to find the moment we lost her.”
“Maybe stop looking for one moment.”
Owen looked at her.
Amanda tapped the emails.
“This is dozens of moments.”
He stared at the pages.
“Do you think she can come back from this?”
Amanda considered the question carefully.
“I think she can become someone different.”
“That isn’t the same answer.”
“No.”
Owen closed the folder.
Before leaving, he paused.
“Laura offered you money.”
“Yes.”
“She’ll offer more.”
“I know.”
“She thinks every crisis is a negotiation.”
Amanda looked at the wheelchair.
“Then she’s going to dislike my answer.”
That evening Amanda received an official letter from Reed Education Foundation counsel.
The amount had doubled.
Five hundred thousand dollars.
There was one new condition.
Amanda would sign a statement declaring that Savannah’s actions were “an immature practical joke with no intended physical harm” and that she believed the district had treated the Reed family unfairly.
Amanda read the paragraph twice.
Then she called Maya Torres.
“I want this entered into the investigation.”
After hanging up, she noticed another email.
This one was from an address she did not recognize.
The subject contained only three words.
Ask about Mercer.
The body contained one sentence.
Savannah Reed is not the first student whose record he changed.
Attached was a list of twelve names.
One belonged to a former student who had lost a scholarship after mysteriously dropping below Savannah in class rank.
Amanda knew her.
May you like
And suddenly the story was larger than Savannah.
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