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I screwed that up, I think, but I still don’t understand why he never mentioned it and I wonder what he and Eve talked about that day. His interview from back then must be somewhere in the mess of paperwork.
Twenty-five years later and I’m still sticking my foot in my mouth. The morning of my fight with Eve, I had looked for her at school hoping to apologize for how mean I’d been to her. I never got the chance.
As I pick up the phone to call Shaun back and apologize I sense someone watching me and look up.
“Hey, Maggie,” Francis says from the doorway. I bite back a sigh. “Got a minute?” he asks.
“Yeah, what is it?” I ask, setting down my phone and shoving my desk drawer shut.
“There’s something on the department’s Facebook page that I think you need to see.”
“Is it a tip in the Knox case?” I ask. “If it is, write it down and I’ll add it to the hundreds of other ones that have been coming in.”
“It’s not that,” Francis says. Something in his voice makes me take a closer look at his face. He’s uncharacteristically serious. Nervous.
“What is it?” I ask. “Show me.” Francis pulls up a chair and I turn my computer screen his way and push my keyboard toward him. He brings up the Grotto Police Department Facebook page and scrolls down to a post that features a picture of me. It’s an old photo and I’m wearing my dress blues. “What am I looking at here, Francis?” I ask.
“It’s the link and the comments beneath your picture,” Francis says. “I thought you should know.”
“Know what?” I ask, losing patience.
He points the cursor at the link and I feel his eyes on me as I read. Police officer Maggie O’Keefe is supposed to be protecting the community but instead she is...
“Click on it,” I order. Francis does and a website fills the page. The banner reads WreckedNest.com and features an illustration of a bird’s nest with cracked eggs. “Oh my God,” I say as I read. Police officer Maggie O’Keefe is supposed to be protecting the community but instead she is sleeping with married men. I came home early from work one afternoon and found Maggie O’Keefe and my husband in our bed. This is not okay! Let the Grotto Police Department know that one of their own is screwing around on the clock and ruining marriages while she’s at it.
“This isn’t true.” I look up at Francis. “This is a lie! Take it off. Delete it.” The comments are just about as bad as the article. There are calls for me to be fired. I’m called every name in the book: bitch, slut, skank, home wrecker and worse.
“I can take it off our page,” he says, clicking back to Facebook, “but it’s been shared dozens of times and it will still be on this website.”
There’s more. I scan the rest of the page and am horrified to see my home phone number is listed for the entire world to see. I think of all the phone calls we’ve been getting. All the nasty things the callers are saying. It all makes sense now. “Take it off!” I say again frantically.
Francis taps the keyboard and the link disappears. My brain is reeling. It’s not true. I would never cheat on Shaun. “Who would do this?” I ask Francis helplessly. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Francis says. He’s embarrassed for me. “Police officers make enemies out of a lot of people. I’m sure it’s someone just thinking they’re being funny.”
“It’s not funny!” I say. “Is there a way you can find out who posted it?”
“Yes,” Francis says. “But chances are it’s a fake account. I can ask IT to look into it.”
“It’s gone, right?” My voice is shaking.
“Like I said, it’s off the Facebook page, but it’s not gone. It’s still on this website. Are you alright?” Francis asks as he stands. “Do you want me to say something to the chief?”
“No!” I exclaim. I refuse to cry in front of Francis. “I’ll do it if this doesn’t blow over. Like you said, we piss people off all the time. Some idiot thought he was being funny. If I make a big deal out of it, they win.”
Francis hovers in the doorway.
“I’m fine, Francis,” I say, clearing my throat. I busy myself with looking through Eve’s files but still he lingers. “Seriously, Francis, you can go now.”
Once he leaves, it’s all I can do to hold it together. The fire, Eve’s case, this. It’s all too much.
I’ve decided that all I can do is throw myself into Eve’s case knowing that I will have to talk to Shaun about everything sooner than later.
I’ve barely made a dent in organizing the files but at least I’m getting somewhere. I create two documents on my laptop. The first is an index to inventory all the different reports I come across. I enter the type of report—interviews, lab reports, photos and so on, and then note which binder, section and page number they’re on.
This way I’ll be able to quickly find a report that I need to refer to without having to dig through binders and boxes. I also create a media section. Peppered throughout the files are newspaper clippings that discuss the case so I make note of where I can find these if I need to.
I go back to my laptop and a wash of memories flows over me. Eve and I huddled together over a fashion magazine. Eve braiding my unruly hair into a French braid. Eve and I down at the caves on hot summer afternoons talking about boys, our parents, school and about nothing at all. And Nola is always there, on the edges, lurking.
