The trio leaves the car. Henry cracks his neck, a boxer about to enter the ring, and leads them to a grimy elevator. They get out on the seventeenth floor. At the security checkpoint, they pass through metal detectors and are allowed into the inner sanctum of the courthouse. An officer stands guard outside a door near another checkpoint at the end of the long hallway.
“Dammit.” Henry points to a man outside the perimeter with a smartphone filming the defense team.
The guard turns and sees the guy and shoos him away.
Standing at the door to room 1754, Henry nods to the officer outside, who opens the door for them.
It’s time to meet their client.
CHAPTER 37
ELLA
It’s troubling how quickly Ella identifies the only teacher who hasn’t returned to Middlesex East high school from last year—less than fifteen minutes on Google. His name is Chad Parke. Until his quiet departure from Middlesex, he taught English and—another clue—he ran the school newspaper. Where a budding young Bob Woodward worked. No, wait … who was the journalist Jesse claimed was her role model? Ella can’t remember.
Now, how to locate him? She runs a search on his name, date-restricting it to the past year. Boom. Up pops a page for Chad Parke Landscaping in Rahway, New Jersey. A new business. An unusual career change for an English teacher. Unless teaching is no longer an option. But maybe it isn’t the same guy. She navigates the page. On the “About Us,” there’s a photo of the owner of the business and his crew standing in matching shirts on a landscaped yard. It takes only a few more searches to find a photo of Chad Parke from his days as a teacher. He’s tagged in a social media post about an after-school club—the Culture Club. He and a group of students stand in front of a Broadway marquee. It’s the landscaping guy. But it isn’t the photo of good-looking Mr. Parke that’s so jarring. It’s the young woman standing next to him amid the lights of Broadway. If you weren’t looking, you wouldn’t notice it—the adoring, some might say sultry, gaze at her teacher.
Jesse.
Twenty minutes later, Ella’s sitting in her parked car at the curb in front of Parke Landscaping.
“What do you think you’re doing, Eloise?” Ella says aloud, mimicking her mother’s voice.
How many times has Phyllis asked her this? Too many to count. Along with What are you wearing, Eloise? Why are you living like a pauper, Eloise?
She gets out of the car, her head floating a little from taking another pill.
The office is a small structure, not much bigger than a two-car garage. She takes a breath before going in. The door swings open unexpectedly. Two men in the same company shirts from the website photo smile at Ella as they walk toward a truck that has a trailer loaded with mowers, rakes, and bags of mulch.
Ella catches the door and steps through. A man sitting at a desk doing paperwork looks up at her.
“Can I help you?” He smiles. Good teeth. Dimples. The kind of teacher Ella might have swooned over back in the day.
“Hi. I’m Ella Monroe.”
“Hi,” he says back, still smiling.
“This is going to sound weird,” Ella says. “But I’m a therapist. And one of my clients is the survivor of the attack at the ice cream store in Linden. You may have heard about it?”
His smile fades, but he seems curious.
“My client, she’s a high school student. You used to work at Middlesex East, right?”
Now the smile is gone.
“Yeah, I used to teach—before I decided to become my own boss.” He smiles, gestures around. It’s rehearsed. An explanation at the ready, in case he’s asked why he left the school. “But I don’t understand how I can help with your—”
“Jesse Duvall,” Ella interrupts. “She’s the survivor.”
Parke’s face turns dark. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Please, I’m just trying to understand what happened, why she left your school, so I can help her.”
“Go!” He’s on his feet now, finger stabbing at the door.
Ella has a choice to make. There’s a quote she’s always loved. She can’t remember who said it. Speak the truth, even if your voice shakes. She decides she’s going to stand her ground even if her voice shakes.
“I’m going to call the police if you don’t leave.” Parke yanks his desk phone and puts it to his ear.
Ella takes a deep breath. Then: “Go for it.” Her voice isn’t shaking.
This prompts a befuddled look. “What? Look, please just go.”