Chapter 10: Escorted Out

"That's not my login," I said.

"It says Dara Ross right here."

"It says an email address. Anyone can type an email address on a page."

"This was sent at 11:40 on Sunday night," Whitney said, loud enough for the floor. "To the same reporter. With a second clip."

The floor was dead quiet.

Forty people had stopped typing.

Martin Soames took the page from her and read it, moving his lips.

"Ms. Ross," he said. "Where were you at 11:40 on Sunday night?"

I had been alone in my own apartment on the lake, thinking about a purple stamp.

Dara Ross had a rented room and no one to vouch for her.

"At home," I said.

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"Then I can't help you."

He looked genuinely sorry, and that was the worst part.

He liked me, in his way.

He liked me the way he liked a cheap pen he was about to throw out.

"I'm told this is the second leak," he said.

"The board has asked for a name."

He cleared his throat.

"I have to ask you to leave the building, Ms. Ross, pending an investigation."

"Martin, she was with me," Cullen said.

Heads turned.

His face was pale and furious.

"Sunday night," he said. "She was at my place."

Whitney let out a delighted little laugh.

"Of course she was. The consultant and the intern. How convenient for both of you."

"I'm telling you the truth."

"You're telling me you sleep with the intern, and she just happened to find that sketch at your elbow."

She smiled.

"That isn't an alibi, Mr. Averill. It's a confession."

I felt Cullen go rigid next to me.

He had just spent his reputation on the floor of the studio, in front of everyone, for a lie.

It had been Wednesday night in his office, not Sunday.

But he had said it to protect me anyway.

"Stop," I said.

Everyone looked.

"Stop. Cullen. Don't."

I turned to Martin.

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