seemed so much longer-a process server had served them with the judge’s order to file the complaint under seal and keep the allegations confidential.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” said Laramore.
“Thank you for that,” said Jack.
“I feel even worse now that I realize you were trying to call me while all this was going on. I didn’t realize the number I was ignoring was your new phone.”
“Changing my number was the only way to stop the crazy calls I was getting. But don’t worry about it. I was the one who told you not to answer calls from numbers you don’t recognize.”
Laramore sighed deeply. “Is this story on the news yet?”
“So far it’s just local reports about a body found along Tamiami Trail. Once the next of kin is notified, something will need to be said about the fact that she worked here at Jackson. It’s not clear when the media will make the connection between Rene and me, but it doesn’t seem to take BNN long to connect anything to me. That’s not something you need to worry about, though.”
“I am worried. You said Rene was your source. She was the whole reason we knew about BNN’s interference and how it prevented the paramedics from transmitting information from the ambulance to the ER physicians. Don’t we lose that evidence now that she’s dead?”
“No. Rene was our source, not our witness. Everything she told me was hearsay. Even if she were alive, I’d need to subpoena the ER doctors, the paramedics-all the people who were actually involved in treating your daughter. Don’t worry. We’ll get all that. Nothing is lost.”
Laramore did a quick check around the cafeteria, as if to underscore the confidentiality of what he was about to say. “Do you think that’s why she got killed? Because she was the source?”
“No.”
Laramore paused, as if expecting Jack to say more. “That’s it, that’s your answer: ‘No’?”
“BNN is not exactly a model corporate citizen. But I don’t think they kill people to win civil lawsuits.”
“I suppose you’re right,” said Laramore. “They probably draw the line at putting young women in comas.”
Jack fully understood the bitterness.
“Sorry,” said Laramore. “Don’t mean to be so sarcastic. This whole thing is just getting. . it’s getting to be too much.”
“I know. It’s okay.”
Laramore sat back in his chair, breathing out. “So, of all things, we now have a social media problem.”
“I had a tech agent from the FBI check out Celeste’s Facebook page. There is no sign of hacking into her account. Which means that whoever posted the allegations of our complaint on Celeste’s Facebook page used her username and password.”
“Well, that puts that person one step ahead of Celeste’s mother and me. We have no idea how to access Celeste’s account. In fact, I don’t know the first damn thing about Facebook.”
Jack spoke while pulling up Celeste’s page on his iPhone. “It has about eight hundred and fifty million users worldwide. It’s especially popular with people your daughter’s age. They constantly update their status, telling their friends that they’re going out for pizza, dumping a boyfriend, getting a zit.”
“Getting a zit?”
“I’m not exaggerating. Most of the stuff is utterly useless, food for online information addicts whose sphere of knowledge is forever shrinking until someday they wake up and realize that they know absolutely nothing about anything except for whatever it is that happens to be going on at the moment.” Jack laid his phone on the table, the screen facing Laramore. It was Celeste’s Facebook page with the sixty-seven status updates that recounted verbatim the allegations of the complaint.
“But then, of course, there are things like this.”
Laramore looked at it. Jack could tell from the look on his face that he wasn’t reading anything. He was staring at Celeste’s profile photograph-the way she’d looked just a week earlier.
“Beautiful, wasn’t she?” he said.
“Yes,” said Jack. “She is beautiful.”
Ben looked up, smiled sadly, as if appreciating Jack’s respect for the rule Virginia had laid down about using the present tense.
“I don’t really want to read this,” said Laramore. “If you say it’s all there, I’ll take your word for it.”
“It’s all there,” said Jack.
“But just so I understand: Anyone with a Facebook account can read a status update?”
“This one was designated ‘public,’ so, yeah, anyone with an account can see it. Anyone on the Internet, for that matter.”
“Still, I find it hard to believe that BNN’s lawyers are scrolling through Facebook updates. This just went up on Facebook this afternoon. How did they find it so fast?”
Jack considered it. “That’s a good question. But keep in mind that these status updates didn’t just appear on Celeste’s Facebook page. They went out to every single one of her friends. It’s possible one of them forwarded it to BNN’s lawyers.”
“Celeste’s friends wouldn’t do that.”
“Well, a Facebook ‘friend’ might.” Jack took back his phone and checked the page. “I see here that Celeste has almost four thousand Facebook friends.”
“So that means any one of four thousand people could have told BNN that the complaint was posted on Celeste’s Facebook page?”
“That’s about the size of it,” said Jack. “There’s another possibility, of course.”
“What’s that?”
“Whoever stole her username and password to access her account and send out the status update also told BNN that the information was all over Facebook.”
“What would be the point of that?”
“What’s the point of any of this? Someone is either trying to piss off BNN or get us in trouble with the judge. It’s one of the two.”
“Or both.”
“Or both, right. The immediate problem we have to address is getting this information down as quickly as possible. It’s not that easy if you and your wife don’t know Celeste’s username and password.”
“I could take a few educated guesses, but-”
Laramore stopped, seeing a doctor approaching.
“Mr. Swyteck?” the doctor asked. He had an urgent expression on his face, alarming enough to make Jack rise to respond.
“Yes, I’m Jack Swy-”
A crushing blow to Jack’s jaw not only cut off his words, it knocked him to the floor. Both Jack and Laramore were too stunned to retaliate, and the doctor himself seemed content to have landed just one good punch. He didn’t come at Jack. Jack rose up on one knee, looked up, and saw equal parts rage and grief in the doctor’s eyes. Then Jack noticed the hospital ID badge: STEFAN ROSS, MD. Rene’s boyfriend.
“That’s from Rene, you son of a bitch.”
Jack massaged his jaw back into place and said, “I’m sorry for-”
“Actually, she called me.”
“Don’t justify it. And don’t you dare show your face at the funeral. Spare us the phony sympathy. Please.”
Ross turned and walked away, so much anger in his step that his rubber soles squeaked on the tile floor. Jack climbed back into his chair.
“Are you all right?” asked Laramore.
Jack thought about it, thought about Rene, thought about the joy all this suffering must have been bringing to the sick bastard who had taken Rene’s life.
“I will be,” he said. “I suppose.”
