Page 92 of The Five Year Lie

“Aw, man. I’m sorry.” Jay puts a hand on Omar’s shoulder and squeezes.

“She was dead a few days later. I didn’t know she was going to do that.”

“Of course you didn’t. It’s not your fault.”

It can’t be, because it’s Jay’s fault. He’s the one who sent the cameras to Ernie.Here—fight fire with fire. You can keep a log of how often he cruises slowly by your house.

All that did was give Ward ammunition. He got a goddamnjudgeto give him the video, and then he used it to blackmail the girl.

“Where did the cop get that video?” Omar asks.

“I’m going to find out,” he says, dodging.

This thing could blow up in his face, and this time he’s not taking anyone else down with him.

30

ARIEL

“Now, this is living,” Ray says, spinning around in his new leather chair. “I even have aview.” He spins one more time and then gazes out his new fifth-floor window, where the harbor is visible in the distance. But when he turns back around to face me, he looks tired. “How’s your new desk?”

“Fine,” I say automatically. “Nice.” Although I’ve barely sat down there yet.

I’m not seated next to Zain anymore, either. He’s sharing an actual office with another programming manager.

“Do you think the Kittery PD will find us up here?” Ray asks, looking at his watch. “Hester wondered if we need a sign on the old conference room door.Friday law enforcement meetings are now held on the fifth floor.”

“Already done. Plus there’s a new sign in the elevator.” Even in my anxious, exhausted state, I have anticipated this problem.

“Good, good,” he says distractedly. “And the coffee service...”

“On its way up.”

“Thanks, Ariel.”

“No problem.”

On my way out of his office, I take another assessing look at Uncle Ray. Did he really have Drew’s picture up on a monitor in mymother’s kitchen? The question is going to torture me. And I can’t think of any way to find out.

Swinging by the printer, I remove a stack of Ray’s presentation materials, properly collated and stapled. The title: “Top Ten Reasons to Join the Law Enforcement Support Program at Chime Co.” I carry them into the new conference room, with its slick wood table and big round window. Then it’s time to meet the delivery person who’s brought coffee and pastries for our guests.

The food is beautiful. The room is beautiful. And I just want to flip all the tables.

A girldied, and nobody at Chime Co. gave two fucks about it. Oldest story ever.

I head back to my grand new desk and leather chair. It has that new-chair smell, but I don’t really care.

Since I saw Amina’s video, nothing gives me joy.

When the client arrives a half hour later, most everyone on the fifth floor heads into the meeting, the door closed behind them. Only then do I sag into my new chair and check my phone for messages.

Nothing from Zain, or his PI.

I don’t know what to do with myself. The workweek ends in just a couple of hours, and I’m no closer to finding any answers.

My eyes flick toward the conference room, where Ray is holding court. He’s always been the family charmer—the nice boss—the fun guy. When I look at him, it’s still hard to imagine him as a liar.

And yet there’s no good reason he would suddenly move the backup tapes, or have Drew’s picture on his monitor.