Page 110 of The Photograph

“I’m going to read out a list of names now, and I want everyone I read out to come forward. The rest of you can go back to your desks when I’ve finished.”

And I know what’s coming. If they’ve linked it back to me, I’ll be first in the firing line. Sure enough, the first name he calls out is:

“Alex Sachs.”

When I’m escorted from the building, I’m reeling. They took me straight upstairs to an office on the top floor, five of them asking questions. And I started cooperatively, answering everything, but then nerves set in about what I was saying and what someone might read into it, so I shut up and said I needed a lawyer before I could say anything more. There’s no question that they’re trying to blame me. One of the people was a federal investigator! They told me that I couldn’t go back to my desk, and I wouldn’t be able to access any of my files. Every piece of work I did for them is on their system, all my emails. They took my laptop;they even took my phone. My heart races as I run my hands through my hair. Who did I communicate with? What did I say? All the messages on my devices, email, Slack, I have no way of accessing any of it. No way of looking at that document. And conversations with Des …Grindr… Fuck. Fuck.

Where do I even start? As I head down the street, nothing has changed—oblivious people walking along talking on a sunny Manhattan day. A workman on some scaffolding shouts something down to his coworker below. But there’s nothing in my hands or my pockets now except Nana’s keys.

How much money have they lost?

No way can I go home. God only knows what my parents would say. My dad would go ballistic and blame me and he wouldn’t want this to get out to the wider family. A shudder runs through me. Nana would be sympathetic, but it’s unlikely she’d know anyone who can help me in a situation like this. All my friends are people I know from school and … well … they wouldn’t know any more than me about something like this.

The only person I can think of is Des. But I haven’t seen or heard from him since that awful dinner with the Silvermans. Christ, was it only two days ago? It feels like forever. I’ve texted him constantly, called him, too. Short of turning up at his apartment or his work, what else I can do?

All my life and all these people and I have no one to turn to when something goes badly wrong.

44

DES

When I get back after seeing Alex’s grandma, I can hear shouting as I climb the stairs up to the office. And when I step in through the door, people are on their feet looking appalled or worried, while others pretend to work, but still peer at the meltdown happening in the middle of the room over their screen.

“He called me a ‘piece of shit’!” Amy shouts at the top of her voice, standing next to where Rodrigo is sitting at his desk with his head in his hands.

“Well,you’rea piece of shit, you sexist pig,” she says, leaning right into him.

Jo has her hand on Amy’s arm and is pulling her away. “He said I was a slut!” Amy screams. “Just because he can’t keep it in his pants.”

Uh-oh.

Cath materializes at my elbow. “Someone’s here to see you. He’s been waiting a couple of hours.” Following her gaze to the couch by the kitchen at the end of the long office, my jaw drops.Alex.His pant legs are hitched up, tattoo peeking out over the edge of his sock. That sharp suit of his is going to be thedeath of me. My throat swells. He’s staring down at the floor, hands hanging between his knees and dark curls flopping over his forehead. But he glances up and his eyes meet mine and for several seconds everything fades away. Then he bites his lip, and I know it’s not deliberate, but God help me, he’s done that too many times when we’ve been making out, and my whole body goes tight. I give him a small smile.

“I’ll deal with Rodrigo in two secs,” I say to Cath. “If you can give Jo a hand and let me chat to Alex for a minute first.”

As I walk through the desks, I realize Alex’s skin is pale and his eyes are red-rimmed and my stomach sinks.

“Are you okay?” I say.

He shakes his head and stares out over the office, where Amy is still shouting abuse at Rodrigo.

“Look, I’ve got to sort this situation out.” I gesture behind me.

His head drops as he nods. “I shouldn’t have come. I’m probably the last person you want to see.”

I step toward him, and he jumps a bit, but I take his arm.

“No, Alex.” I swallow. “Cath said you’d been waiting a while. Let me deal with this asshole.” I wave my hand at Rodrigo. “And then we’ll talk. Just give me five minutes.” I squeeze his forearm and he nods but won’t meet my eyes. Dammit. Ruth was right to caution me about impossible standards.

Dipping down, I try to catch his eyes. “Wait for me, okay?” And he nods again.

I stride across the office. Jo and Amy are now nowhere to be seen. She must have finally got Amy out of here for a chat. Good.

“Rodrigo.” I gesture toward the glass meeting room.

He scowls at me but pushes his chair back to stand and follows me into the room, door clanging shut behind him. Then he widens his legs and folds his arms over his chest.

“Would you like to explain to me what all that was about?” I say.

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