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I take out my phone, showing her some snaps of the conference.
“Sorry, do you mind if I use your bathroom?” I ask, handing her the phone. “You can choose your favorite. I might print it out for you, so you can hang it up. Just a thought.”
Ellie smiles… a little strangely? If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was nervous. I bury that thought. Instead, the little observational gremlin inside my head notes her slow decay.
I walk away from both thoughts and step into the en-suite – noting how expensive this place must be with its waterfall shower – and use the bathroom. My stomach has been a mess since I found that email yesterday. It’s like my body is rebelling against any idea that Graham could be in on the sabotage.
My mind whirs, though. I can’t stop it. It gets like this when I sink into a meaty tech idea and it’s doing the same now.
Ellie hands me the phone when I return. “I love the one of you before your speech.”
“I grabbed that from social media,” I say. “An audience member took it.”
Her eyes grow misty. “I love you, Sera. I’m so proud of you. I want—I need you to know that.”
“I know it… and right back at you,” I say with a soft smile.
We sit in comfortable silence for a while. At least, thisshouldbe a comfortable silence. But the question I have to ask is staining the experience. I don’t want to do it, but I need to sort this out.
“Ellie, have you ever heard of Damien Whitaker?” I ask. “Has Graham ever mentioned him?”
She laughs shakily. “My memory isn’t what it used to be…”
“I know,” I murmur, looking closely at her. Is this her condition, or she is hiding something? I hate feeling like this. But I can’t ignore the puzzle pieces. “I thought you might remember something. I don’t want to put any pressure on you.”
“I don’t know,” she murmurs. “Damien, you said?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a picture,” I tell her, flicking to the photo I saved and showing her my phone. The more I look at him, the more certain I become he was the man who spilled the coffee on my laptop, the douche who started this whole thing.
She looks at it for a few moments, then shakes her head. “I’ve never seen him before.”
“Okay, that’s fine.” I put the phone away. “This place looks great… well, as great as a place like this can, anyway.”
“Yes, it’s wonderful. I’m so thankful to Graham. But I know he’d do anything for me. I know he’d…” She cuts off with a sob,covering her mouth, her eyes becoming misty again. One sob follows another, and soon she’s full on crying.
“It’s okay,” I say, rubbing her arm. “I’m right here. Everything is going to be okay.”
“I’m so sorry,” she says between sobs.
“Sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Unless she knows something. Unless she’s hiding the truth from me.
“I don’t want you worrying about me,” she says. “I want you to take care of yourself. You’ve been through so much. I still remember the computer-crazy shy girl you were, scared to ask to stay late. I remember how shocked you were when I gave you a little attention. You appeared starved for it.”
“That’s because I was.”
“Can we just sit here for a bit?” she asks quietly.
“Sure.”
We hold hands, looking out at the grounds. Soon, Ellie falls asleep. I hold her hand a while longer, then drape a blanket over her and head to work. I go straight to Graham’s office, nerves threatening to stop me, but I can’t, won’t, let them.
Graham looks up at me, huge bags under his eyes, his hair in disarray, like he’s frustratingly run his hands through it. He’s a mess.
“You haven’t been sleeping,” I say.
“No,” he mutters.