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“To Marilyn, actually.”
Kit’s eyes boggle. “Dad’sassistant?”
“Yep. And shesaidshe’d pass it up the ladder—to Dad. But thenthings got muddled. The story shifted. Instead, she reached out to the victims again. Had private meetings. Cut deals. I don’t know why she was trying to handle it herself—maybe she thought Dad was too busy? Maybe she thought he’d make the wrong choice, make too much out of it?”
“But she’s awoman!” Kit cries. “How could she do this?”
“I don’t know. I guess not everyone sees it like we do. And all the victims I talked to said she could be pretty scary in person. Anyway...”—I glance at my father in the bed—“I had to know forsurethat he wasn’t involved. That this washersecret, not his.”
Kit puts her hands on her hips, ready to defend him. I cut her off. “I don’t think he was. Not anymore. There’s nothing about it in his e-mails. Then again, there isn’t much from Marilyn in the e-mails, either—whatever she said, she said it face-to-face, and it wasn’t logged anywhere. I only know from personal accounts. Every woman told me Dad wasn’t involved. But I just—I needed to know for sure.” I clear my throat. “I didn’t tell Dad what happened to me, so I didn’t know how he’d handle it.”
“Why didn’t you tell him?” Kit demands.
“I just... it’s complicated,” I fumble. “I would have told Mom. I just... you know. She wasn’t there.”
The clock ticks loudly in the corner. In another room, someone’s monitor keeps dinging, a tone that’s impossible to tune out.
Kit shifts. “So you decided to hack the entire school because of that?” Kit’s voice is shaking. “Four whole universities?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I shake my head. “It was never my intention to expose anyone except Marilyn, if I could. But a few months ago, I was working on this story for ‘The Source’ about hackers, and this guy, Blue, was one of the people I interviewed. I still had his number, so I asked him to meet me.”
I remember the chrome sheen of the diner where we met. Blue, a short, thin man in a bomber jacket, who was no older than twenty,slid into the booth across from me with such an arrogant smile that I’d almost felt uneasy—it reminded me, I realized, of my attacker.
“I told him in vague terms that something happened to me at a frat house when I was younger—and that I was afraid it had happened to other girls, too, and that there was a cover-up. Blue said he could look into it for me. He said he hated colleges like Aldrich—he was thrilled to sniff out a scandal. He seemed so self-assured about how easy the Aldrich system would be to hack—which I guess it was.”
“So you asked him to hack... who?” Kit asks.
“Just some of the higher-ups’ e-mails. I told him that if he found anything, I’d pay him for his time.”
Kit looks crestfallen. “Oh,Willa.”
“I know. But worse, I heard nothing from him after that. I figured that’s the last I’d hear of it—so imagine my surprise when, a few months later,allof Aldrich is hacked. And it’s all out there on that server for everyone to see.” I feel the same stomach clench I did the day the hack broke. I’d been standing in my hallway, still wet from the shower; after reading the news on the TV screen, I’d vomited on the carpet. I prayed for it to not be too bad—for Dad, for Kit, for Sienna, for anyone.
Kit runs her hands down the length of her sweater. “How do you know it was even Blue who did it, then?”
“When I confronted Ollie in his office—crazy move, I know—he said the investigation led back to him. I don’t know how he’d have come up with that name otherwise.” I run my hands through my oily hair. “No money changed hands, but I still asked him to do it. There was still a verbal contract.”
Meaning I still could be held accountable. What would my punishment be for this? Would I be fired from “The Source”? Would I ever get another job again? These questions have swirled in my mind ever since the hack broke—though, hideously, it had felt good topush them to the back burner while we were figuring out what had happened to Greg. But now, Ollie had exposed everything. There was nowhere for me to hide.
Kit presses the heels of her hands into her eyes. “I can’t believe that Ollie was a link to your past.”
“I can’t either. But he was there. And he thinks it happened to other girls that same night. And he might know the guy’s name who... you know. Did it.”
Kit watches me, resisting asking the obvious question. I don’t want to know the guy’s name. It’s not because doing so will make it seem more real—Iknowit’s real. It’s more that I don’t want to give what happened any more importance. Knowing a name means I’ll inevitably look the guy up—see where he works, if he has a family, what he looks like. I’ll cling to what happened. I won’t be able to let it go. I’d rather he just be anonymous. That way, he matters less.
The bed creaks. I whip around to see my father’s eyes now open. He stares into the middle distance as though possessed.
“Dad?” Kit rises and scurries to his side. “Dad, it’s Kit. Willa’s here, too. You’re in the hospital. Do you remember?”
My father’s eyes land first on Kit, then Aurora and Sienna, and then me. His eyes narrow when he sees me, and my stomach clenches. He remembers what I’ve said. He’s furious.
“Dad?” I step a little closer, feeling tears well in my eyes. “I—”
He shakes his head to cut me off. “I didn’t, Willa.”
“What’s that?”
His voice is sandpaper-rough, the voice of a one-hundred-year-old. “I had no idea about the rapes. You have to believe me.”
