“Do you have names?”
Eve noted them down.
“Parents?”
“Oh boy, oh boy.” She paused, blew out a long breath. “The only one I have personal knowledge of is Grant Farlow—and that’s because I taught his little boy, and knew his mother. He wasn’t in my class when this happened, but in fourth grade.”
On another sip of wine, Darcie stopped pacing around her cheerful, kid-friendly kitchen, and sat.
“They pulled him out of TAG, and I spoke to his mother because Deke was such a good student. She told me Grant had confessed to having a fling with the headmaster. It was over, they were going to counseling, but she wouldn’t have her son in the school.”
“You were friendly with the mother?”
“Yes. They ended up moving to Philadelphia—fresh start. We’ve lost touch except for the occasional e-mail, but I know the marriage didn’t make it. Grant’s not blameless, but this woman is a predator.”
“So there were others?”
“You hear, or heard. But again, I don’t have personal knowledge.”
“What can you tell me about Stephen Whitt?”
“I remember the name because it came up a lot when the group of us who’d formed got together. Bully, cheat, ringleader, and headmaster’s pet.”
“Her pet?”
“He could do no wrong, and he knew it. I didn’t interact with him, but others in the group did. His parents were big contributors—the money flowed in. And…”
“And?”
“Well, crap.” She took another drink. “I can’t confirm. It’s really speculation that the headmaster had a relationship with Stephen Whitt’s father. He wasn’t the only one, but that was the name in big lights before she transferred. And since the boy also transferred, a lot of us thought that capped it. But it’s really no better than gossip.”
Gossip added up, Eve thought as she expanded her notes.
And the name Whitt wouldn’t keep filling in blanks if it meant nothing.
She managed to contact Wyatt Yin in his home in Colorado. He looked at her with dark, soulful eyes.
“Yes, I heard the terrible news. I still keep in touch with some of the friends I made at TAG.”
“You left the academy about a year after Dr. Rufty came on as headmaster.”
“Yes, but not because of Dr. Rufty. He was a fine headmaster, dedicated, fair. It was … I never felt quite at home, not in New York, not at TAG. It was all too big, and at the same time, confining. I spent a summer here in Colorado teaching underprivileged kids, and found my place. I met my wife.” He smiled now. “It was meant. Here I am home.”
“Tell me about Lotte Grange.”
The smile faded. “TAG was my first experience with such an elevated private institution. She was my first experience with a headmaster.”
“Would you describe her as a fine headmaster, Mr. Yin? As dedicated and fair?”
“I would not. Again, I was very new, and only had the experience with her for some eighteen months. And again, I was not a good fit.”
“Tell me about Van Pierson.”
He sighed. “It was not his fault. You have, obviously, heard what happened all those years ago. I want you to understand, he wasn’t at fault.”
“Why is that?”
“We came on at the same time. Both very young, very new. Van and I taught the same grades and often spoke about our mutual students. He was a good teacher. I was working late, tutoring one of my students. This wasn’t encouraged, so I … you could say I did this on the down low?”
“All right.”
“After I sent the student off, I did some work. As I was leaving, I stopped by the break room. I thought to get some coffee for the walk to my apartment. And I walked in on the headmaster and Van. I was shocked, of course, embarrassed, left very quickly. A couple hours later, Van came to my apartment, shaken, distraught. First he begged me to say nothing. I don’t know what I would have done, but it came out—and I believed him—that she had pressured and demanded. She had insinuated that if he wanted to keep his position, he would allow her to … be intimate. He was new, like me. Young, like me. So he did as she wanted.”
“You didn’t say nothing.”
“No. We talked, for some time, Van and I. And I convinced him we had to report this. She’d used her power and authority to coerce him into sex, and that couldn’t stand.”
He sighed again. “But you see, we were young and new, and she was power. She countered this, claimed he had assaulted her, and that I had taken his part against her. He was dismissed. I was reprimanded. I needed the work, so I stayed, and I knew by then she was leaving at the start of the year, so I stayed.
“Van left New York, and with this black mark was unable to teach anywhere. There was a car accident five years ago. He was killed. And I think, if I had said nothing, he would have continued at TAG—where he was a good fit. He wouldn’t have been in that car in Michigan on icy roads. So how much is my fault?”
“None of it. It begins and ends with Grange, Mr. Yin. Besides Van, do you know of others Grange either pressured or just had sexual encounters with?”
“There were rumors. I only know, conclusively, about Van.”
“Brent Whitt. Stephen Whitt’s father.”
“At the time of all this, the strongest rumors aimed there. But I don’t understand how this information helps in your investigation into the tragedies.”
“That’s for me to figure out.”
And, Eve thought, she damn well would. She began digging down through the layers on Stephen Whitt.
Academically, there hadn’t been so much as a blip with his transfer. Probability of that, she mused, dead low. She believed him when he’d told her he’d been pissed, upset, argumentative.
Added to it, he’d bullied and cheated his way, apparently with Grange’s blessing, at Gold. So, logical assumption? She’d smoothed over that period.
Family legacy and money would have helped get him into Northwestern, but he’d needed the grades, too. And he’d needed to maintain them once he didn’t have Grange running interference.
Not stupid, though. Highly intelligent. And savvy enough to know he had to buckle down enough if he wanted that big corner office.
He liked money—playing with it was a game to some. Didn’t she know it, she thought with a glance toward Roarke’s office.
Money was power, and power was the goal. Power and prestige and lifestyle.
She scanned through articles. Society pages, financial pages, gossip pages. Oh yeah, he was an up-and-comer, a young gun. Lots of fancy dos with him with a woman on his arm. Never the same more than twice, she noted, and wasn’t it interesting how many of them bore at least a surface resemblance to Hayward?
She hung you up, didn’t she, Steve? The one who got away.
She kept digging.
She barely glanced up when Roarke came in, when he eased around her to use her command center’s AutoChef.
“I’ve got more on Grange. One way or another she’s going down. If it comes to it, I might be able to leverage her against Whitt. Or use them against each other. Plus, he’s still hung up on Hayward, so…”