The Finishing School (26 page)

She’d go back to square one and start over, on the principle that where a young girl’s life was at stake, you could never do enough.

THE RECEPTIONIST with the British accent sat at her post in Holbrooke’s lobby with perfect posture and a smile on her face, seemingly oblivious to the gathering darkness and snow outside. No doubt about it, Patricia Andover ran a tight ship.

“Ah, yes, Miss Vargas. How may I assist you today?”

There were plenty of people Melanie could talk to here, but she’d start with the one she knew had been overlooked.

“I want to see Ted Siebert.”

A few minutes later, she was seated in a tiny back office across the desk from the general counsel, who was sweating despite the chill in the air.

“You probably expected grander quarters,” he commented, mopping his forehead with a handkerchief as Melanie glanced around the sparsely furnished room. “I’m an independent contractor, not a Holbrooke employee. My firm has offices downtown. So Holbrooke lets me use this space as a courtesy when I’m working on school matters.”

“I guess I’m lucky to catch you in, then.”

“Between the drug scandal and the endowment campaign, it’s a busy time, so I’ve been here a lot this week. Speaking of busy,” he said, looking at his watch, “what can I do for you?”

“Yesterday I was so focused on searching the girls’ lockers that I didn’t take the time to interview you properly.”

“Interview
me
? About what?” Siebert asked warily.

“Well, first I’m trying to get copies of the girls’ records. Dr. Hogan thought you might have them.”

“Shouldn’t you be out arresting drug dealers instead of worrying how these girls were doing in calculus class?”

“I’m not just looking for transcripts, Mr. Siebert. I was told that each Holbrooke student has a file, akin to a personnel file. I need the files on Whitney, Brianna, and Carmen Reyes.”

“I don’t see why their files are relevant to your case.”

“That’s not your call,” Melanie replied. Why was this guy so intent on stonewalling her? It was making her wonder about him, even more than she already did. “
I
think they’re relevant. Disciplinary problems, medical and psychological issues, records of family strife, conflicts with other students. I need to look at all of that.”

“Those are exactly the kinds of records we guard most closely. Your request raises major confidentiality issues. I’d like to help you out, but my hands are tied.”

“That’s just not true. There’s no law against disclosing the files, and Mrs. Andover has given her permission.”

“Well, she should have asked me first. I’m the general counsel, Ms. Vargas. It’s
my
job to worry about breach of confidence.”

“Breach of
whose
confidence? The girls’ parents don’t object. Enlighten me, because I don’t see a problem here.”

“The parents may
say
they don’t object, but if the files make their kid look bad, I’ll get hit with a lawsuit faster than you can say ‘litigation.’ Little Susie doesn’t get into Princeton, your average Holbrooke parent’s first instinct is to haul my ass into court over the recommendation letter, and I’m tired of it. They don’t pay me enough to put up with that garbage, and I don’t need any more problems over these dead girls, thank you very much.”

The window behind Siebert’s desk faced out onto a dismal back courtyard. In the halo from an outdoor light, the snow was coming down harder than ever.

Melanie looked Siebert in the eye. “Not to put too fine a point on it: Your ass is about to get hauled into court for obstructing my investigation. There’s a young girl missing and two others dead. Give me those records now, or we’ve got a problem.”

Siebert flushed purple. “I need a subpoena before I’d even consider it.”

“I’ll fax you one in the morning if you’re so determined to cover yourself. But we both know you have no basis for objecting, so enough already.”

They stared at each other. Looking at the guy, Melanie couldn’t help thinking about his chat-room activities. A pervert, Ray-Ray had called him. Maybe, maybe not, based on the evidence, but he definitely
was
an obstructionist. It was on the tip of her tongue to confront him with what she knew, just out of sheer annoyance. But Siebert saved her from doing that by suddenly deciding to cave. He opened a desk drawer, pulled out three files, and, leaning forward so his large stomach spilled onto the desk, slapped them down in front of her.

“Thank you,” Melanie said coldly, picking them up.

“You can review them now, in my presence. If you find materials that interest you, I’ll arrange to have them copied.”

“Fine.”

For fifteen tense minutes, Melanie examined the files as Siebert pretended to work at his computer. But every time she looked up, he was watching her. She did her best to ignore him and concentrate on the task at hand.

The files told her little she didn’t already know. Whitney Seward’s grades had been average at best, Brianna Meyers’s quite good, and Carmen Reyes’s excellent. Brianna was being treated for an eating disorder on the recommendation of the school nurse. Whitney had been suspended for two days during her freshman year for appearing intoxicated at nighttime-volleyball practice. Melanie found details on Carmen’s scholarship arrangements, including a letter of recommendation signed by James Seward. There were no names or addresses in Carmen’s file that shed any light on her disappearance. The only truly interesting fact Melanie discovered—interesting in view of something Melanie had on her list to ask Harrison Hogan about—was that Whitney Seward’s best grade sophomore year had been an A-minus in Hogan’s biology class. That grade stood in sharp contrast to Whitney’s other science and math grades over the years, which had never risen above a C-plus.

When Melanie was finished, she closed the files and laid them back on Siebert’s desk. “I’ll take copies of everything for my records. I’ll send someone by to pick them up tomorrow.”

He shrugged. “Be my guest. Are we done, then?”

“No. I need to ask you a few questions. Let’s start with Carmen Reyes. How well did you know her?”

“Look, you’re wasting your time. I’m the school lawyer. I don’t interact with students, okay? I don’t even deal with parents unless they’re on the board or involved in school matters. I didn’t know any of these girls personally. Now, can I get back to work, please?”

“James Seward is on the board of trustees. You know
him
, right?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. We’re not fond of each other. So what? Does that make me the guy who sold drugs to his daughter?”

“Nobody’s suggesting that. Why are you so hostile, Mr. Siebert? I’m doing my job here. Do you have a problem with that?”

“
My
problem is that you have a problem with
me
doing
my
job. I’m paid to give aggressive legal representation to this school. What is that, a federal crime now? The ego on you people.”

Melanie held Siebert’s gaze, disliking him intensely, dying to confront him. But there was nothing to be gained by that.

“We’re done for now. But you’ll hear from me again,” Melanie said, picking up her briefcase and heading for the door.

“I can’t wait,” Siebert tossed after her.

Let him have the last word. If Ted Siebert had any involvement in the girls’ deaths, she’d make it her business to find out. His turn would come.

TED SIEBERT wasn’t the only reason Melanie had come to Holbrooke. She planned to pay a surprise visit to Dr. Harrison Hogan. She’d dug up some interesting stuff on the good doctor as well, and she was hoping he could explain it away. Hogan was her best source inside the school, and she hated to think he was keeping a dirty secret.

Melanie made her way to Hogan’s office and rapped on the frosted-glass window of his closed door.

“Yeah!” Hogan called.

She poked her head in. “Hi.”

“Oh, hey. What brings you here?” Hogan asked.

“I wanted to let you know, Ted Siebert found the girls’ files.”

He smiled good-naturedly. “Great. I’m glad they weren’t lost, especially since it probably would’ve been my fault.”

“Do you have a minute?”

“Sure, come on in,” he said, leaning back and putting one Nike-clad foot on his messy desk. “What’s up? Any leads on where the girls got the drugs?”

“We’re working on it,” she said, taking a seat. No reason to enlighten Hogan about Brianna Meyers’s autopsy results and the drug-smuggling angle. Especially since she now suspected him of hanky-panky with one of the victims.

“Actually,” she said, “I’m here because I have a few questions for you about Whitney Seward.”

Did she detect a slight trace of alarm in his eyes, or was she imagining it? But Hogan didn’t move from his relaxed position, just ran fine hands thoughtfully through his shaggy hair.

“Sure,” he said casually.

“I was hoping you could tell me a bit more about
your
relationship with Whitney.”

“Okay. No problem. Nothing much to report, you know? I think I mentioned yesterday, I was her college adviser. I also taught her tenth-grade biology, and I would’ve had her in chemistry next semester. Oh, and I was helping her out with English, too, which she was failing, but that wasn’t entirely her fault. Mrs. Stein is an old battle-ax, and she couldn’t get past the fact that she loathed Whitney on a personal level. By the way, Melanie, I’m brewing up some green tea with echinacea. You want some? Good herbal remedy in this weather.” He gave her a concerned look, which she tried not to interpret as a diversionary tactic.

“No thanks. So, in your various roles, how much contact did you have with Whitney Seward?”

“Contact?”

“Phone calls, e-mails, visits, that sort of thing?”

“Can I ask, did Patricia say something to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just…don’t believe everything you hear.”

“Is there some bad feeling between you and Mrs. Andover, Doctor?”

“Call me Harrison.”

“It’s better for the investigation if we keep things on professional terms.”

“Oh.” He seemed somewhat taken aback. “Okay, if you’re more comfortable that way. Well, how to put this? Patricia favors some…uh,
unorthodox
methods of maintaining control of staff members she sees as threats. Unfortunately, I fall into the threat category. Not only am I popular with the student body, but I question Patricia’s authority too often for her taste. She hates that.”

“You’re suggesting Mrs. Andover would actually lie to the federal government about you?”

“Sounds crazy, right? But welcome to my world—that’s Holbrooke for you. I guarantee, if Patricia said something about me and Whitney, she did it for some Machiavellian reason of her own.”

“Mrs. Andover didn’t say a word. I happened to subpoena Whitney’s telephone and e-mail records. They show an awful lot of contact between the two of you.”

Hogan shook his head from side to side slowly, as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “You know, it’s really sad to me how things get misinterpreted in this day and age. That’s one of the worst by-products of the child-abuse scandals of the past decade, if you ask me. Because my friendship with Whitney Seward was totally aboveboard. The kid was messed up, and I tried to help. End of story.”

“So the nature of the interaction—”

“Look,” he interrupted, “I’m not saying Whitney never came on to me or even maybe sent me a suggestive e-mail now and then. But I’m trained in adolescent psychology. If a girl like Whitney behaves in an overtly sexual manner toward an older male authority figure, I see it for what it is. A normal developmental phase. I take it in stride, and I work with the student to overcome the transference issues, even transform the crush into something positive.”

“Such as?”

“Well, did you see Whitney’s grade in my biology class? The kid worked hard for me.” Hogan looked at her carefully as he said this.

“But if Whitney was sending you suggestive e-mails, that’s hardly ‘nothing to report,’ as you said a moment ago.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Not to my mind.”

“Reality’s in the eye of the beholder. Maybe you should stop and ask yourself what assumptions you bring to the table.”

PATRICIA ANDOVER, it turned out, brought some pretty serious assumptions to the table.

“Harrison was sleeping with Whitney,” the headmistress declared flatly when Melanie confronted her on the subject.

“How do you know that?”

“Because! Whitney was sending him naked pictures of herself. I don’t suppose he mentioned that to you?”

“No. He said she’d sent him suggestive e-mails. He didn’t say anything specific about naked pictures.”

“Of course not.”

Melanie had to admit, Hogan’s nonchalance about the whole thing
was
suspicious. Had it been an act—or the calm of true innocence? Or was Patricia Andover lying about the pictures?

“Tell me more about these naked pictures. Have you actually seen them?” Melanie asked.

“With my own eyes. I make it my business to know what’s being done with school computers, for liability reasons, you see. These were absolutely pornographic. Whitney in…
various poses
. With her genitalia exposed.”

Melanie certainly believed that such pictures existed, since she’d seen similar ones on the blog. But that didn’t necessarily mean they’d been sent to Hogan.

“I’d like to get copies of the pictures and the covering e-mails, Mrs. Andover. This may have some connection to what happened with—”

“
No
. I’m very sorry, but that won’t be possible. I erased them all.” Patricia looked suddenly flushed, with a faint dew of perspiration on her forehead. Melanie had serious doubts as to whether she was telling the truth.

“You
erased
them? That seems very strange to me. Weren’t you planning to
do
anything about the fact that one of your teachers—at least as far as you believed—was having a sexual relationship with a student?”

“Oh, Jesus,” Patricia dropped her head into her hands and kneaded her eyebrows. The Yorkie lying on a satin dog bed in the corner perked its head up, then jumped into Patricia’s lap and began licking her face. “Yes, darling, Mommy’s upset,” Patricia said, stroking the dog, which settled into her lap.