“I did follow up a bit more on his alibi. One of the students who works at the library confirmed he was there that night. Although she couldn’t be sure of the time.”
“So his alibi’s still shaky?”
She sighed. “Well, it’s certainly not airtight. But what he told us holds up, and he really wasn’t positioned to be the perp. He had no way of knowing Emily was knocked out and vulnerable. The only one besides Upton who did know that is Mike Singer. And his alibi’s about as solid as it can be.”
“I know—I have to agree that Upton’s the obvious choice. I guess I just can’t get around the fact that Emily insists it wasn’t him.”
“At least you admit that everything points to Upton. I guess that’s some progress. And you’re right that it’s not conclusive without something from Emily. Meaning there isn’t any possibility of criminal charges. But I think I’m going to go to the dean with what we have and see how she wants to proceed. There may be enough for her to push Upton into a negotiated resignation. I hope you won’t stand in my way?”
I frowned. “If she asks, I’ll have to tell her I have reservations. But this is your case. I won’t try to sabotage you.”
The waiter brought the check and asked if we wanted coffee or dessert. Or, he suggested, maybe some grappa. Karen looked at me with a faint smile and a wink. “Why don’t you come over to my place for an after-dinner drink instead?”
Wow! Unless I was misreading this, it was an invitation to take our evening far beyond dinner. “I’d love to. Just let me make sure that Rosie’s taken care of.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Who’s Rosie? I thought you lived alone.”
“I do, as far as other humans are concerned. Rosie’s my pug, and I just need to text my downstairs neighbor to tell her I’m going to be late. She’ll take Rosie down to her place for the night.”
I sent Ellen a quick text and then pulled up the video feed from my condo. Rosie was sleeping in her bed in the living room, snoring away with her usual pug noises. I showed Karen the phone.
“See, here’s Rosie. Happily napping, which is mostly what she does when I’m not there.”
Karen looked at the phone and broke out laughing. The sound of Rosie’s heavy snoring seemed to particularly amuse her. “You have a whole system set up to monitor your dog when you’re away? You must be one of those totally crazy pet owners!”
I felt myself flush. She’d hit it right on the head. “I guess I have to plead guilty to that. I was worried about leaving her alone when I first got her, so I set this up so I could look in on her when I was out. Fortunately, Ellen, the girl who lives downstairs, is great about taking care of her when I’m away, so Rosie’s just fine. But I still like to peek in on her occasionally.”
Karen shook her head and finished her wine. “Nice to know you’re a nutcase.”
The waiter brought the check, and she signed it. No credit card. I looked at her quizzically, and she said, “I have an open account. It’s the North End way. Walk me home?”
Her condo was three blocks away on Salem Street, in a midrise red-brick building that was typical of the North End. When we got there, I followed her up an ornate marble staircase to her unit on the second floor. The living room boasted gleaming hardwood floors, a white leather couch facing a granite fireplace, and peach-colored walls with two large oil paintings.
“This looks great,” I said.
She murmured, “Glad you like it.”
Then she moved into my arms and pressed her mouth against mine. The kiss deepened, and I held her to me, exploring the warm, smooth skin beneath the back of her knit blouse.
Then she moved away and took my hand. “Why don’t I show you the rest of the house? The bedroom’s just off to the right.”
13
Sunlight was beginning to fill the room when I woke with Karen beside me. I snuggled closer to her, and she rolled over on top of me with a soft moan. This time was less frantic but maybe even better than the night before. We clung to each other afterward, transported for a while to a world where nothing else mattered.
Finally, she got up and made coffee. I followed her into the kitchen, and we sat holding hands at her breakfast table, smiling and gazing at each other like young lovers. Then she got up and kissed me. “I wish we could stay here all day, but I’ve got to go to work. How about I grab a quick shower and get ready? Then I’ll drop you at your place so you can get some clean clothes. Are you free tonight, I hope?”
“Sounds good,” I said. “Especially the part about tonight.”
It was almost ten thirty before I got to my office. I couldn’t get my mind off Karen. I didn’t know where we were going, and our differences over Upton could still become a huge problem. Especially given how important this case was to her. But for now, I was well and truly smitten. I hadn’t felt this way for a long time.
The call to a three o’clock meeting in the dean’s office came in the early afternoon, less than two hours beforehand. Not her style to operate on such short notice, meaning that something was up. I was pretty sure what it was, and I wasn’t surprised to find Karen sitting in the waiting area when I arrived. A distinguished-looking man with short white hair, dressed in a navy blue, pinstripe suit with a textured red tie and gold cufflinks, sat opposite her. I recognized him as Richard Fried, the university lawyer with whom the dean worked on occasions when legal advice was required. Fried and I had collaborated on a case a few years ago when a junior faculty member who had been denied tenure sued the university. I greeted him just as the dean’s assistant appeared to usher us into the inner sanctum.
The dean was already sitting at her conference table, and I was surprised to see Mike Singer next to her. She introduced him to the lawyer as we took our seats and got down to business. “I appreciate all of you coming on such short notice. Karen informed me earlier today that the investigation of the assault on Emily Jackson has proceeded as far as possible, so I want us to review the case and consider our alternatives with the advice of counsel. I asked Mike to be here not only because he first reported the incident but also because he’s expressed concerns to me about the outcome, particularly the need to distance the research he’s done with Upton from the possibility of scandal. Karen, could you please start by summarizing your findings?”
Karen ran through the story as we knew it, concluding that the evidence against Upton would never be conclusive without an identification from Emily, but that everything pointed to him as the perpetrator.
The dean asked Singer if Karen’s summary was consistent with his recollection of the night. He nodded and made a dismissive hand motion. “It’s simple. He drugged her at dinner, took her upstairs, and fooled around with her. What’s to question?”
The lawyer nodded. “It does seem pretty straightforward. As Karen says, it’s not a prosecutable case without victim testimony. But our standards for action at the university level are substantially lower than the standards of criminal law. Our proceedings require only a preponderance of the evidence, not proof beyond a reasonable doubt, and I think there’s a reasonable case here against Professor Upton. Of course, I’d recommend that we give him an opportunity to resign rather than face formal termination proceedings.”
The dean looked at me. “Brad, you’ve been working alongside Karen on this. Anything to add?”
I wished I could just say no and let Karen have her day. The last thing I wanted was to mess this up for her, especially after last night. Not to mention the chief’s job hanging in the balance. But I just couldn’t do it. “I’m sorry, but I still have doubts about this. Karen and I have talked about it, and she’s the pro, so I understand that it makes sense to defer to her judgment. But I’m just not convinced it was Upton. Emily insists it wasn’t him, and we can’t rule out the possibility that someone else, including her abusive ex-boyfriend, came in later that night. In the face of that, I don’t feel comfortable concluding that he’s the guilty party.”
The dean frowned, and Karen looked
away. I knew this hurt her. She started to say something, but Singer burst out first. “I don’t suppose your doubts have anything to do with your collaboration with him! I saw the two of you cozying up to each other. You’ve got a project going with him that could save your whole damned lab. Of course you don’t think he’s guilty, you little shit! Talk about bias.”
“Is that true?” The dean glared at me. “You have an active collaboration with Upton?”
I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. All I could do was look down at the table and nod.
Then she turned to Karen. “And did you know about this? An obvious conflict of interest, but you didn’t think it was a concern? Not even worth telling me about?”
Karen swallowed hard. “I just learned about it two days ago, when Brad and I interviewed Upton. Apparently, one of Brad’s students is doing something with one of Upton’s. But we talked about it, and I’m confident that it doesn’t affect Brad’s judgment.”
Singer turned to me with a loud, snorting sound. “That’s bullshit. I asked Upton’s student Josh what it was all about after I saw you and Upton being all buddy-buddy yesterday afternoon. He said that you all just had a big collaborative meeting and that it’s something really important. Saying that it doesn’t affect your judgment is a load of crap.”
Karen looked at him, openmouthed. “The meeting was yesterday afternoon?”
“Yes, yesterday,” Singer said. “And you don’t think it affects his judgment.” He looked like he was about to spit on the floor in disgust. “How gullible can you be?”
“Shit,” the dean said. She kept her focus on Karen, making no attempt to suppress her anger. “Even if it doesn’t affect his judgment, just the appearance of a conflict like this could undermine the entire investigation. How the hell could you ignore this?”
Karen turned red and tightened her lips. Before she could answer, I jumped in and tried to deflect the dean’s anger. “Look, I just heard about this project with Upton last week from one of my students. It’s something she started with a student of his, and it does not, repeat not, impinge on my analysis of this case.”
The dean shook her head. “It’s a little hard to accept that when you’re the only one standing up for him. And even if it’s true, it creates a messy situation.” She moved her eyes back and forth between Karen and me. “I’m really disappointed in both of you.”
Karen looked down at the table and spoke in a soft voice. “I’m sorry. I should have informed you immediately.”
“Indeed,” the dean said coldly. “Nonetheless, here we are.” She turned to the lawyer. “Richard, what’s your recommendation?”
“Despite Professor Parker’s supposed reservations, I think the case against Upton is pretty clear. My recommendation is that we prepare an agreement asking for his resignation, in return for a terminal year of paid leave and the usual nondisclosure guarantees that’ll allow him to find a job elsewhere. Then we confront him and give him a choice between accepting that or facing sexual misconduct proceedings, which would inevitably go public.”
Singer interrupted. “It’s also important that any such settlement includes his agreement to give up all rights to participation in the future development of Immunoboost. This is a major discovery, and I don’t want to see it tainted by his name any longer. Particularly for the sake of the students who’ve done the work.”
The lawyer gave the dean a questioning look, and she nodded agreement. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll include that in the agreement. Professor Singer, can we get together on this afterward so you can help me with the wording?”
Singer nodded, and the dean said, “Good. If the two of you can get that drafted, I’ll have Upton called in tomorrow morning.”
Just then Karen’s phone rang. The dean gave her a sharp look of annoyance.
“I’m sorry,” Karen said sheepishly. “This is my emergency number. I have to take it.”
She got up and went to a corner of the room, speaking softly so that we couldn’t hear her. When she came back to the table, she was looking more like her normal self. “Maybe you should hold off on meeting with Upton,” she said. “That was Dr. Stamford in student health. Emily’s starting to remember more of what happened that night. She wants to talk to us.”
There was a moment of stunned silence. Then the dean said, “Okay, go see what she has to say. I’ll wait to hear back from you before I set up the meeting with Upton.” Turning to me, she added, “Brad, you stay out of this from now on. I think we’ve had enough of your opinions.”
“I hate to say this,” Karen said, “but Emily specifically asked that Brad and I talk to her together. I guess she feels more comfortable with him because she knows him. I’m afraid that Brad needs to be there when I interview her.”
The dean threw her hands in the air. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, can’t we get out of this mess? All right, go ahead.” She got up from the table and gave me a look that would shrivel stone. “Just try not to screw things up with any more half-assed conclusions. I want this done and Upton out of here.”
Karen had nothing to say as we walked together to student health. Not the companionable silence of friends and lovers, but a wall of hostility between us. She ignored my attempts at conversation about Emily, so I tried an apology. “Look, I’m sorry things got messy in there. The last thing I wanted was to undercut you with the dean. But don’t worry—she’ll calm down, and I’ll make it right.”
She looked up at me with a pinched face and eyes that were bright and moist. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you had a big meeting with Upton yesterday. And that Singer saw you. How the hell could you set me up in front of the dean like that? Your whole collaboration with Upton has backfired, just like I was afraid it would.” Her eyes filled with tears. “You as much as lied to me, and it’s probably cost me my chance at being chief!”
My stomach turned over. “I’m sorry, really I am. I didn’t mean to lie to you. I just couldn’t bring Upton up again over dinner last night. But I’ll fix things. Starting tonight.”
We were alone on the path, so I started to take her hand. But she pulled it away and looked at me with fire in her eyes.
“You jerk, you still don’t get it. The dean took you off the case. You’re only here because Emily insisted. And I have to stay away from you. No tonight, no nothing between us anymore.”
Her words hit me like a slap in the face. “Karen, after last night? You can’t mean that!”
She looked down at the ground. “I’m afraid I do. Anything we started is over, at least until this case is behind us. I’m not risking my career for you.”
She picked up her pace to pull in front of me, and I followed a few steps behind her until we reached the converted brownstone that housed student health. Emily was waiting for us in Dr. Stamford’s office, sitting on an overstuffed couch with the psychiatrist seated in a rocking chair across from her. A coffee table between them held bottles of water and a box of tissues.
Dr. Stamford got up and offered her chair to Karen. “Grab that other chair across from my desk,” she said to me. “I’ll leave the three of you to talk.”
Emily smiled weakly when Stamford left the office. “Thanks for coming over so quickly.”
“Of course,” Karen said. “Dr. Stamford told us things about that night were starting to come back to you. That’s great—it could be a big step toward healing.”
“I don’t really remember very much. But all of sudden last night, I started to picture a man hulking over me.”
“What did he do?” I asked.
She shuddered. “I think he pulled down my pants.” Her eyes started to fill, and she looked away. “And then he stuck his fingers in me.”
The tears started flowing, and Karen said, “Oh, Emily, I’m so sorry.” She offered Emily the box of tissues and one of the bottles of water on the coffee table. Emily dried her eyes and blew her nose. She was quiet for a minute and then looked up again. “I’m okay now, thanks.”
I was struck by how she pulled herself back together. This was one strong young woman. It hadn’t been easy for her to tell us that.
Karen said, “I know it must be horrible for those memories to come back. But I have to ask, can you tell us anything about what the man looked like?”
Emily took a drink of water. “No, all I can picture is that he was big. It’s like I was only half-conscious and just drifting in and out.”
“Did you see his face? What he was wearing? Anything that might give us a clue.”
Emily shook her head. “Nothing, I’m sorry. Just a big blob hulking over me. I’m sorry—I wish I could help.”
Karen reached across the coffee table and took her hand. “Don’t worry, just the fact that you can remember some of what happened helps us a lot. And it’ll help you, too, as you work with Dr. Stamford.”
Emily sniffled again and tried a weak smile. “Thanks.”
“You may remember more in the next few days,” Karen said. “A lot of date-rape drugs induce amnesia, but more memories may come back with time. Please let us know if that happens, okay? Any little details could help us figure out who did this to you.”
“I will. Just one thing that I’m sure of—it wasn’t Professor Upton.”
“How do you know that?” I asked. “Was there something about the man that didn’t look like Upton?”
“No,” Emily said. “Like I told you, I didn’t see him at all. Or at least I can’t remember. But I’m sure it wasn’t Steve. He’d never do that to me. Plus, he’s been so supportive since it happened, letting me take time off and everything.” She gave a wistful smile. “He was just thrilled when I told him I was starting to remember things. Like you, he said it was a big step toward healing.”
Karen stopped to talk when we were out of the building. “I’ll tell the dean that Emily can’t give us anything in the way of identification yet, but she does remember being assaulted, and it’s not unlikely that more will come back to her. I’m going to recommend that the dean wait and see before she has her meeting with Upton, but I’m not sure what she’ll do. It’s her call, and she’s obviously anxious to get this over with.”
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