Chapter 6: The Person Outside
“Dad.””
Something in my voice made him turn immediately.
I handed him the phone.
His expression changed.
“Don't move.””
Mr. Alvarez looked over.
“What happened?””
Dad showed him the screen.
Mr. Alvarez was already reaching for his radio.
“Security to technology wing. Lock exterior doors.””
Wallace stared at the photograph.
“When was that taken?””
“Now,” I said.
Dr. Pierce moved away from the window.
“Everyone step back.””
My heart hammered against my ribs.
The technology office was on the first floor.
Outside the window was a narrow landscaped walkway leading toward the faculty parking lot.
Whoever had taken the picture had been standing less than thirty feet away.
Mr. Alvarez spoke into his radio.
“Check east courtyard and faculty lot. Do not let anyone leave.””
A voice crackled back.
“Copy.””
Dad took my phone.
Another message appeared.
*Last warning.*
Dad's face went still.
He handed the phone to Mr. Alvarez.
“Preserve everything.””
“I will.””
Wallace paced toward the door.
“This has gone too far.””
Dad turned on him.
“It went too far when someone threatened my sixteen-year-old daughter.””
“I meant—”
“I know exactly what you meant.””
Dr. Pierce pointed toward a chair.
“Wallace, sit down.””
He stared at her.
“Excuse me?””
“Sit.””
He did.
For the next two minutes, nobody spoke.
Then the radio crackled.
“Robert, we've got someone.””
Mr. Alvarez grabbed it.
“Where?””
“East courtyard.””
“Student?””
Pause.
“No.””
Everyone exchanged looks.
“Bring them to Conference Room B.””
Dad shook his head.
“No. Police.””
Wallace stood again.
“Let's not overreact.””
Dad stared at him.
“A person is photographing my daughter through a window while sending threats.””
“I understand, but—”
“No, you don't.””
Dad took out his phone.
“This time, I'm making the call.””
Twenty-five minutes later, two officers were inside Westbridge.
I sat in a conference room with Dad while they spoke to security.
Through the glass wall, I could see Dr. Pierce arguing with Wallace.
Then I saw Mr. Alvarez approaching.
Beside him walked a woman.
I recognized her.
My stomach dropped.
“Dad.””
“What?””
“I know her.””
The woman was in her late forties, with blonde hair pulled into a tight bun.
She worked at Westbridge.
Not as a teacher.
Not as an administrator.
She was Richard Carter's executive assistant.
I'd seen her deliver packages to Madison.
I'd seen her at school fundraisers.
I'd seen her sitting with the Carters at football games.
“Her name is Lauren Price,” I said.
Dad stood.
Lauren looked through the glass.
Our eyes met.
She looked away.
An officer entered.
“Emma, do you recognize this woman?””
“Yes.””
“How?””
“She works for Madison's father.””
Lauren immediately said, “I don't work for him anymore.””
The officer turned.
“When did your employment end?””
“This afternoon.””
That made everyone quiet.
Dad stepped closer.
“You were fired today?””
Lauren folded her arms.
“Yes.””
“After the video spread?””
She didn't answer.
The officer gestured toward a chair.
“Ms. Price, sit down.””
“I already explained the photograph.””
“Explain it again.””
Lauren looked at me.
“I was documenting what was happening.””
“Why?””
“Mr. Carter asked me to.””
Dad's eyes narrowed.
“When?””
“This morning.””
“Before or after the hallway incident?””
“After.””
The officer placed my phone on the table.
“And the messages?””
Lauren shook her head.
“I didn't send those.””
“The photograph attached to one was found on your phone.””
“I took the picture. I didn't send it.””
“Who did you send it to?””
Lauren hesitated.
“Ms. Price.””
She closed her eyes.
“Richard.””
My skin prickled.
Dad asked, “Richard Carter?””
“Yes.””
The officer wrote something down.
“Why was he asking you to photograph Emma?””
Lauren looked toward Wallace through the glass.
Then toward Dr. Pierce.
“Because he wanted to know who she was talking to.””
“Why?””
“I don't know.””
Dad laughed bitterly.
“You followed a teenage girl around taking pictures and never asked why?””
“I was doing my job.””
“No,” Dad said.
“You were doing what you were told.””
Lauren's face hardened.
“You don't understand Richard Carter.””
“Then help me.””
She looked at me again.
Fear had replaced defensiveness.
Not fear of the police.
Fear of Richard.
“I can't.””
The officer leaned forward.
“You were terminated today. Whatever loyalty you think you owe your former employer isn't going to protect you if you've participated in threatening a minor.””
“I didn't threaten her.””
“Then tell us who did.””
Lauren pressed both hands against the table.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Finally she whispered, “Richard doesn't send messages himself.””
Dad's eyes narrowed.
“What does that mean?””
“He has people handle things.””
“What things?””
“Problems.””
I felt cold.
“Am I a problem?””
Lauren looked directly at me.
“You became one.””
Dad stepped forward, but the officer raised a hand.
“Mr. Bennett.””
Dad stopped.
Lauren continued.
“Madison was supposed to graduate near the top of her class. Richard has been planning everything for years. College.
Recommendations. Awards. Public profile.””
“So?””
“So you kept beating her.””
I almost laughed.
“This is about grades?””
“Not only grades.””
Lauren looked miserable.
“Westbridge nominates one junior every year for the Hawthorne Fellowship.””
I knew the name.
Everyone did.
It was a prestigious academic program with national recognition.
Last spring, Madison had received Westbridge's nomination.
I hadn't even known applications were open.
My mouth went dry.
“Wait.””
Lauren wouldn't meet my eyes.
“Emma,” Dad said softly.
I looked at Dr. Pierce.
“When were students told about the fellowship?””
She frowned.
“They should have been notified in February.””
“I wasn't.””
Dr. Pierce's expression changed.
“Every eligible student should have received an invitation.””
“I didn't.””
Lauren whispered, “You did.””
The room went silent.
I stared at her.
“What?””
“You were invited.””
“No.””
“Yes.””
She reached into her purse.
The officer immediately moved closer.
“Slowly.””
Lauren removed her phone.
“I kept copies because I knew someday Richard might try to blame me.””
She opened a folder.
Then placed the phone on the table.
There was an email from Westbridge's academic office.
My name.
My student ID.
An invitation to apply for the Hawthorne Fellowship.
I had never seen it.
Below it was another email.
Forwarded to Richard Carter.
Then a response.
*Take care of it.*
My hands went numb.
“What did you do?””
Lauren's eyes filled with tears.
“I accessed your student portal.””
Dad's voice became dangerously quiet.
“How?””
“Wallace's office gave Richard temporary administrative credentials for donor committee work.””
Through the glass, Wallace suddenly turned toward us.
Maybe he'd heard his name.
Maybe he saw Lauren's face.
Either way, he started walking toward the door.
Lauren spoke faster.
“I deleted your fellowship invitation before you saw it.””
I couldn't breathe.
“You stole my application?””
“I deleted the notice.””
“Why?””
“Because Richard believed you would win the nomination over Madison.””
The door opened.
Wallace entered.
“Stop talking.””
Everyone turned.
Lauren flinched.
Wallace looked at the officers.
“This woman is making allegations she cannot substantiate.””
Lauren stared at him.
Then something changed in her face.
Fear disappeared.
Anger took its place.
“You want substantiation?””
Wallace froze.
Lauren unlocked another folder on her phone.
“I saved everything.””
Richard's messages.
Administrative emails.
Payment records.
Instructions.
Dates.
Names.
Dozens of screenshots.
The officer took the phone.
Dad stared at Wallace.
“You helped them.””
Wallace shook his head.
“No.””
Lauren laughed.
“You really want to do this?””
“Lauren, be very careful.””
“No. I'm done being careful.””
She pointed at him.
“You didn't just know.””
Wallace went pale.
“You helped Richard choose which complaints disappeared.””
Nobody moved.
Then Lauren looked at me.
“And Emma wasn't the first scholarship student they targeted.””
My stomach dropped.
“What do you mean?””
Lauren swallowed.
“Three years ago, there was another student who kept beating Madison.””
I remembered Natalie Park.
But Lauren shook her head before I could say the name.
“Not Natalie.””
She looked at Dr. Pierce.
“This student was older.””
Dr. Pierce frowned.
“Who?””
Lauren gave us the name.
Dad didn't recognize it.
I did.
Everyone at Westbridge did.
Because her photograph still hung in the academic honors hallway.
A brilliant student who had supposedly withdrawn from Westbridge halfway through her senior year.
A girl nobody ever talked about anymore.
Lauren leaned toward me.
“She didn't transfer because her family moved.””
My throat tightened.
“Then why did she leave?””
Lauren looked at Wallace.
“Ask him what happened the night they found her crying in the science building.””
May you like
Wallace's face turned white.
And for the first time that day, he looked genuinely afraid.
