Chapter 11: Welcome, Little Prescott

"You're going to that shower," Maeve said. "Say it to me slowly."

She had come off a double shift at six, and she was still in her scrubs.

She sat on the counter with a spoon in a jar of peanut butter.

"I'm going," I said.

"Into the lion's den."

"Into a country club. With finger sandwiches."

"Which is where lions live."

Orin stood at the other end of the kitchen with his arms crossed.

He had said nothing for ten minutes, and his jaw had that tight look.

On the table in front of me lay Maeve's old laptop.

I had made a new cloud account on it that morning with a password only I knew.

Orin had photographed Lorna's settings page and all forty-one changes, screen by screen, with his own phone.

I had copied everything onto a small silver memory stick.

"Why do we need her to do it again?" Maeve said. "We have the proof. Take it to a lawyer."

"A lawyer will say a clock setting isn't a crime."

"It's a lie."

"It's a lie nobody saw happen," I said.

"Eleanor's friends and Leander's board saw me be late forty-one times."

"They've never seen the reason."

"I want sixty women to watch Lorna find out that I know."

"And her phone offset?"

"Applies tonight at eight," I said. "Mine will run seven minutes slow all day tomorrow."

"And?"

"I won't touch it. I'll wear Maeve's watch, and I'll be early by the right clock."

Orin spoke at last.

"You'll be alone in that room."

"I'll be in a room full of people who want to be seen being kind."

"I don't like it."

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