Page 139 of After Anna

“Is that the school, at the end of the street?” Kathy pointed.

“Yes.” Maggie felt her juices flowing. She had texted Ellen from the airport and told her when to expect them, and they were right on time. Directly ahead lay Congreve Academy’s ornate wrought-iron gate, which was propped open. The school’s brick buildings looked picturesque in the falling snow, and a white blanket covered the rooftops. Nobody was outside except for maintenance men operating snowblowers and shoveling.

“Whoa,” Kathy said, as they reached the entrance. “This is the preppiest snowglobe ever.”

“I know.” Maggie braked at a lit security booth, which was brick and had a window on the side.

An older security guard slid the window aside. “May I help you ladies?” he asked, blinking against the snow.

“Yes, we’re here to meet with Ellen Salvich, in the Admissions Rotunda. I believe she’s with Head of School Morris Whitaker and Assistant Head of School Jack Amundsen.”

“Fine, drive straight ahead.” The guard gestured, and Maggie drove forward, spotted a sign, and steered in that direction. Ahead was a red-brick building that was completely round, topped by a domed rotunda covered with snow. Palladian windows dominated the façade, and lights were on inside and under a small white portico that covered the entrance. She pulled into a small parking lot that had already been plowed, empty except for two BMWs.

Kathy looked around. “No cop cars? I thought the cops would be here.”

“So did I.” Maggie parked, then turned around to wake Caleb up. “Honey, Caleb? We’re here.”

“Okay,” Caleb said sleepily, rousing. “Where are we again?”

“We’re at Anna’s old school and we’re going to meet some people and talk.” Maggie chose her words carefully, not to give him too much information. “You can come to the meeting, but I think it would be better if you waited in the waiting room. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes, can I bring my phone?”

“Yes. Do you have to go to the bathroom?”

“No.”

“You thirsty? You wanna bring your water bottle?”

“No.”

“Okay, let’s go.” Maggie and Kathy collected their purses, Caleb got his phone, and they got out of the car and ran toward the entrance with their heads down against the icy flakes. They flung open the door and found themselves in a circular waiting room with Congreve-blue sofas and chairs, cherrywood end tables, and an empty reception desk.

“Hello, I’m Morris Whitaker, the Head of School.” Whitaker smiled as he entered the room from an attached office. He was tall and thin, maybe sixty-something, with a lined face behind horn-rimmed glasses. He had on a dark three-piece suit with a Congreve-blue bowtie, plus heavy Sorel snowboots. He extended his hand. “You must be Maggie Ippoliti. I saw you drive in.”

“Yes, hi, I’m Maggie,” she said, shaking his hand, and introducing Caleb, who shook Whitaker’s hand, and Kathy, who introduced herself.

“Ladies, come into my office and meet some folks. I put on a pot of fresh coffee.”

“Thank you. Caleb’s going to wait here.” Maggie gestured Caleb into a chair, and he sat down.

“Fine.” Whitaker led them into an office where there were two other middle-aged men in dark suits and rep ties. They both wore wire-rimmed glasses, but one was short and one was tall. Ellen Salvich, Anna’s therapist, wasn’t present, which surprised Maggie.

“I thought Ellen would be here.”

Whitaker smiled politely. “There was no need. She gave us the information we need.”

“I was hoping the police would be here, too. Ellen told me you were calling them.”

“Chief Vogel of the Congreve Police was here, but he was called away. It’s a small police force, and the storm is placing a heavy demand on its manpower and resources.” Whitaker gestured to the other two men. “Please, meet Jack and Roger.”

“Welcome, I’m Jack Amundsen,” said the tall one, shaking Maggie’s hand. “Assistant Head of School. I’ll be sitting in tonight.”

“Roger Baxter,” said the short one. “General Counsel and a member of the board.”

“Great to meet you,” Maggie said, and they shook hands, introduced themselves to Kathy, then settled in chairs with coffee around a circular cherrywood table, which was nestled among bookshelves filled with reference books, awards and citations, and a group of family photos. A large matching desk was on the far side of the office.

“Well, Maggie.” Whitaker cleared his throat, his hooded hazel eyes meeting hers with concern. “First, let me say that I’m so sorry about this situation. We commenced an investigation as soon as Ellen brought it to our attention.”