KATRINA

Katrina

THE DAY OF

When Cleo emerged from the brownstone a half hour later, enough time for sex maybe but not much else, I felt only angry—at her, then at myself. Especially because I had no idea who she'd seen, much less if sex had anything to do with it. I followed her back to her dorm, watched her go inside, waited until her light went on and then off.

And then I got another text. My phone shook as I read the message.

Tonight. Three million dollars. Routing info below. There was a row of numbers. If it's not there by midnight, she'll be the one who pays.

Darden was still making threats? Was Mark really not going to make them stop? Or had he tried and been unable to? Both felt like terrible options.

The text was followed by a new picture—this one of Cleo going into her dorm from a different angle. In the corner of the photo was a guy in a red baseball hat, a guy I realized I'd seen walking past me only moments ago. Whoever sent the picture must be very close.

This was escalating, quickly. I couldn't wait for Darden to make the next move, couldn't trust that Mark would protect us. Couldn't trust that I even knew who Mark was. I was going to have to deliver a preemptive strike, and hope it landed.

I stayed on the bench, watching Cleo's room until dawn, then called McKinney's friend to take over and sent a message to Ahmed at Digitas asking him to trace the anonymous texts. I'd held off asking him to trace the messages earlier, because the last thing I wanted was anyone I worked with knowing about them, even someone outside the firm. I wasn't the only lawyer from Blair, Stevenson that Digitas helped with research. But given the threats to Cleo, I'd no longer felt I had any choice. I also texted Mark, who suggested we meet at the office right away.

Even with Cleo in safe hands, I couldn't quell the nauseating worry in my gut as I got off the elevator on my floor at Blair, Stevenson. There was no one there that early on a Sunday. I expected Mark picking the deserted location was not an accident.

As soon as I was out of the elevator, I could see the door to my office was wide open. I hadn't left it that way. I was sure of it.

The ransacking had been thorough. Drawers gaped open; papers and files were strewn all over the floor. Even my locked desk drawer had been pried open and emptied. No one had bothered to clean up, either, because that's where we were—in a place where pretenses were no longer required.

Down the hall I found Mark behind his desk, facing his computer. There was another man, leaning against the windowsill—gray pinstripe suit, well-coiffed salt-and-pepper hair, artsy black eyeglass frames. Phil Beaumont, Darden's general counsel. I recognized him immediately. I'd seen him on TV—Xytek wasn't the first scandal Darden had weathered.

"Is someone going to put my office back together?"

They both looked at me standing in the doorway. And for a long moment, the only sound was my pulse pounding in my ears.

"Kat. So good you're here," Mark said with forced brightness. But it was too late for him to act like this was all some unfortunate accident he was trying to help them weather. People were dead. Cleo was in danger. And Mark's getting whatever it was he really wanted out of this Darden situation—billables, prestige, power—was certainly no excuse for his continued participation in this fiasco.

"Get them away from Cleo, right now," I said, keeping my eyes on Mark while jabbing a finger in Phil's direction. "They are still threatening her."

Mark offered a weak smile. "Kat. Please. We are going to get this all figured out."

Phil turned to me, expressionless. "Those documents you have in your possession are privileged, and they are the property of Darden Pharmaceuticals. Turn them over or you'll be disbarred."

I whipped around to face him. "You threatened my daughter, " I shot back. " You'll go to jail."

"What are you talking about?" Phil made a face, like he had just tasted something sour, then turned to Mark. "What is she talking about?"

"I told you she mentioned this," Mark said, aiming an accusatory look Phil's way. "I warned you about doing anything extreme."

"No one threatened anybody's daughter," Phil said to Mark. Then he turned back to me. "I have no idea what you're talking about. That never happened."

I dug out my phone and clicked on one of the two photographs of Cleo. " This. This is what I'm talking about." I held the phone up at eye level, making sure both men got a good look. "There were also men in a car, watching me. I saw them more than once. They took this picture. They're threatening my daughter, and it needs to stop."

"We didn't have anything to do with that photo." Phil almost sounded amused. "That looks like the work of an amateur."

"I saw your men." I was nearly shouting at this point. "They were following me."

"I don't deny we did surveillance," he said. "That's standard procedure in high-profile matters."

Mark reached out to put a hand on my arm, but I moved out of reach. "Kat, if a threat was made, I apologize—"

" What are you apologizing for? It didn't happen!" Phil hissed at Mark. "What did happen is that your employee screwed my employee and lied to you about it. And now she's trying to use privileged information to destroy us, your client. It's unethical and illegal."

"Maybe we can dispense with the hysterics and stick to the facts," I snapped back. "Those facts are the following: I have the documents that were in Tim Lyall's possession, or rather, I have photographs of them. And before you get any ideas about quick fixes, you should know that they are safely and securely uploaded to several places, including the cloud. The good news about using someone as careful as Tim is that he keeps extremely thorough records. And the bad news about threatening somebody like me is that I am always prepared."

"You should keep in mind where those documents got Doug Sinclair."

I felt an uncomfortable prickle across my skin. They would try to kill me, too. But I was well versed in men thinking they were entitled to take what they wanted from me. I knew how to navigate my way around them. I knew how to survive.

"What's actually going to happen right now is the following: I'm going to walk out that door." I kept my voice low and even. "Then I'm going to leave this building, unimpeded. Once I'm gone, you've got twelve hours to call off the dogs and get me the phone that sent the threats about Cleo, as a show of good faith. If you don't comply, I'll see to it that the emails Doug Sinclair wrote, warning you personally about Xytek, are published in The New York Times. And before you think about trying to remove me as a threat—it's too late. It's already in motion. If something happens to me and I'm not there to stop it, the story will run in the Times. "

"You'll be disbarred." Phil's face was beet red. But his voice had lost some of its strength.

"You think I care?" I asked. "You threatened my daughter. She's the only thing that matters to me."

"Kat, they didn't threaten Cleo," Mark said softly. "I would know. Which means they don't have that phone. They can't deliver what they don't have."

"And why should I believe you?"

"I know you're disappointed with me, Kat. That's fair. There are things … I wanted to stay in business, in part so Ruth could be taken care of. I'm not trying to use that as an excuse. But it is the truth. It's also the truth that if Cleo is being threatened, it's coming from someone else."

Mark wasn't stupid; he had to know I was recording this meeting. Why carve out the threat to Cleo as the one thing he wouldn't admit to—unless it was true?

"Don't send those documents, Kat. Please," Phil went on. His tone was imploring now. "Mistakes were made with this particular drug, obviously. But Darden is committed to making that right. We're settling with the plaintiffs and we'd be happy to follow your specific guidance with respect to fair compensation."

"For the babies you knowingly injured? The ones who died?" I asked. "You think there's a dollar value for that?"

"Come on," Phil said quietly. "You and I both know there's a price for everything. And everyone."

I turned to leave. "Why don't we see how tonight goes—get me that phone, like I asked, and we'll see." A few more steps and I was at the door. "But if I get another threat about Cleo, I promise you, you'll have your answer."