Chapter 8
I didn’t have any idea who’d vandalized the lab last summer—but all I said to Mr.
Sherwood was “It wasn’t me.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
Sucking in another breath, I stopped myself again from answering what was most likely a rhetorical question.
Instead, I tilted my head, waiting for him to answer.
And he did.
“I know exactly who did it—and why. It wasn’t just a stupid prank. Don’t get me wrong—the cops were in the right ballpark when they tried to come up with the motive. They’d thought you were out to get revenge but it was me and my students who wanted to make a change.”
“What?” I didn’t realize the word had flown out of my mouth in knee-jerk fashion until he answered.
“There are lots of ignorant people in town who think the Whittiers are the next best thing to electricity and running water—but they don’t know a thing about what they do. The mine in Winchester isn’t the only one—and what did I always tell you in class?”
Already I was tired of the questions.
I wanted answers.
And so my response was a bit sarcastic.
“To study for the exam.”
He sighed but didn’t stop.
“All instructors will tell you that. At least once a week, you heard from me to watch history . The past is the best predictor of the present and the future. So if we look at what the Whittiers have done with their other mines, we can safely predict what would have happened here.
“They have four other mines scattered throughout the Front Range.
Most of them are hidden from view—in other words, they’re not in plain sight, so they don’t attract much attention.
You have to drive through less-populated areas, and one of their mines is hidden behind other hills.
But the point is that every single one of them has used strip mining techniques.
I’m sure you already know, thanks to your father, why strip mining is bad for the environment.
It’s not just that it looks bad; it is bad.
You can look back east to where companies are doing actual mountaintop removal mining, and everyone—the residents, the animals and plants, the planet—suffers for it.
That’s what these companies and billionaires do—they rape the environment to grow their bottom line, and they don’t care if the rest of us suffer.
”
I hadn’t known about the other mines…
and I didn’t know if my father did, either.
But how much did Sinclair know?
I already knew he was good about hiding the truth from me—so I suspected he probably knew about the other mines.
Why wouldn’t he?
Sherwood said, “Your father is a brave man, Anna. He stood up to the Whittiers, regardless of the consequences. He did what many men would never have the courage to do—but we also know what it did to him. I know what people say about him, and look what it’s done to his health. But that doesn’t mean we quit fighting. We simply have to be stealthier about it.”
Finally, I found my voice.
“What are you saying? Did you—”
“I think you know exactly what I’m saying.” Mr.
Sherwood’s eyes shifted from mine, scanning the neighborhood as if anyone here might be spying on us.
But on this cool Saturday morning, most of our neighbors seemed to be taking their time greeting the day.
I hadn’t seen or heard anyone since we’d stepped outside.
Mr.
Sherwood lowered his voice.
“That’s what revolution is all about. It’s about fighting back any way you can. But it can’t just be one person. The rich and powerful own the government, from the presidency all the way to local law enforcement. They make the laws and keep us working as willing slaves, believing in the good old American dream that we’ll never quite be able to realize for ourselves. And as long as we’re blind to that, we’ll remain docile, obedient sheep.
“So it has to be lots of us—and we have to disrupt.
Your father had the right idea but the execution left him exposed.
And a wealthy family like the Whittiers had no problem making sure he suffered.
”
My mind raked over all the conversations Sinclair and I had had over the past few months.
At first, he’d seemed to be exactly what Mr.
Sherwood was describing—a ruthless billionaire who would stop at nothing to inflict pain and get what he wanted.
But that wasn’t the man I’d grown to know and love…
was it?
The fact that he’d lied to me about the renovations told me I didn’t have the whole story.
But what Mr.
Sherwood was saying just seemed like the other side of the coin.
“I can’t solve all of America’s problems—but if I can at least get the Whittiers out of Winchester, I’ll feel satisfied. So how do we do that? We send a message. Destroying that lab was just the first of many things we plan to do to get the Whittiers out—and the more people we get on our side, the easier it’ll be. But the world is filled with obsequious sycophants like Leona Rakhimov, willing to kiss their feet simply because of their money.”
Well…
yes, it revolved around money, but I understood Dr.
Rakhimov’s motives.
She might have been Cruella de Vil to a good many students, but in the short time I’d been a student at WCC, I’d seen what she’d done to improve the campus and its programs—including the simulation lab.
I’d seen how it could help students going into health care learn hands-on skills without endangering real people’s lives.
I couldn’t even say that her means of getting it done were bad or evil.
And, even though the way she’d seemed to pander to Sinclair seemed a little discomforting, I would have never described her as obsequious .
“Are you saying—”
“Do you need me to draw you a picture, Anna? I think you know exactly what I’m saying.”
As much as I didn’t want to, I was afraid I did.
But the pieces weren’t quite fitting.
“You couldn’t have been in the lab that evening. You were at the auditorium.”
A smile spread over his face.
“Yes, I was.”
“So how—”
“Do you really want to know?”
I did—but I didn’t.
“I—”
Mr.
Sherwood grabbed me by the shoulders, pulling me close.
“Why the hesitation, Anna? I thought you hated the Whittiers as much as I do. As much as your father does. But you’ve fallen victim to his son’s charms, haven’t you? That was all I heard the week before Leona’s soirée: Whispers from dozens of my female students about how handsome he was and that he was a bachelor, as if he was coming to Winchester Community College to find someone to fall in love with.”
Although his grip had relaxed, he tightened it again.
“But you have, haven’t you? Of all my students, you were the last one I’d have ever guessed would fall in love with someone from that family. But can’t you see you and I are meant to be together? We can expose the Whittiers’ secrets—and you’re in the perfect position to do that now.”
All those neighbors I’d been glad had stayed inside I was now wishing would step outdoors.
I hadn’t wanted witnesses before, but Mr.
Sherwood seemed to be losing his mind, and having other people around might make him snap out of it.
Maybe if I played along, I could protect myself.
“How?”
“You’re closer to the family now, right? What do they have you doing?”
“I’m just cataloging.” A list of what should have been garage-sale items?
I couldn’t quite figure out how to describe my work until I added, “Old family heirlooms.”
“Do you have access to computers or records?”
“No.” That old laptop didn’t count—it wasn’t connected to anything Whittier related, other than the WiFi at the mansion.
“Hmm. We’ll have to give it some thought. For you to be effective, you can’t just begin destroying everything around you—but maybe we could have you be our eyes inside.”
When he let go of my shoulders, I tried to take a subtle step back, but it didn’t quite work.
“How could anything I learn there help you here?”
“We might have to expand our operation—because, really, what did we accomplish here? All that happened was the Whittiers had to spend a little more money—and I’m sure every penny of it was tax-deductible, so what’s the point?”
“But did they even get the message?” I asked.
Once I’d left Winchester, I hadn’t known a thing about what had transpired after—and my father, in his own little world, hadn’t known either.
He wasn’t privy to Winchester’s gossip mill, because he’d often been the subject of it.
And he’d stopped getting the local paper years ago, preferring instead to tune in to national news.
So I hadn’t even known about the simulation lab getting fixed so quickly until encountering Mr.
Sherwood the day before.
“They did—but it clearly wasn’t loud enough. We’ve got to hit harder and make a bigger impact.”
“You keep saying we . Who else besides you?”
Mr.
Sherwood grinned again.
“I’m not going to give you names, if that’s what you’re expecting. I can’t jeopardize the people working with me. Let’s just say I have a faithful crew of youthful intelligent people working alongside me. And you and I, working together, can make the destruction of the lab look like child’s play.”
“I still don’t understand how—”
“We did it? You’re not supposed to. Let me just preface this by assuring you that you weren’t supposed to be involved. You hadn’t come on board yet.” Did he think I was on board now?
He must have.
Otherwise, why would he be giving me so many details?
“And if Winchester’s finest hadn’t been so inept, they would have known you had nothing to do with it. There were four stud—” Although he stopped himself, I knew he’d been about to say students , and I would have assumed it anyway based on what he’d already said and what I knew about him.
“ Friends who worked with me. You’ll get to know them soon enough. I knew I had to protect them or we would fail. And if I or they were to be locked up, the billionaires—in this case, the Whittiers—would win. So we planned it for weeks and almost changed our minds that last week—until we figured out how to keep their identities safe.
“As planned, the lab was unlocked, so we simply slipped in.
” I felt a chill dart down my spine again.
It all made sense.
Jenna had to have been part of his scheme—his crew , as he’d put it.
That explained why she’d been such a lame assistant.
She hadn’t actually wanted to help with the lab—she’d just wanted to be there to make sure to do her part.
Had her incompetence been an act?
Sherwood continued.
“I say we —but, as you already noted, I wasn’t there.”
I had to be sure I was on the right track about Jenna.
“But I came back to the lab and locked it. Were they already in there?”
“Didn’t you see the tapes? Of course, they were—and that’s why everyone blamed you. My crew of warriors slipped inside and you showed up just a few minutes later. I’m sure you understand the reason why the most destruction happened toward the back was to keep the noise to a minimum—our theory was that people passing by wouldn’t hear something happening deeper inside. But the spray paint and dog feces—and tearing things apart—were ways to damage sections closer to the front without making a lot of noise. It didn’t help that campus security never had set times for when they’d patrol anywhere, so we knew we had to be as quiet as possible throughout the operation—and my…crew also understood that they could potentially be caught wearing their gear either on the way or leaving.”
“ Gear? ”
“They were dressed in black from head to toe, including ski masks. And the reason no one knew who they were is because they couldn’t figure out where they’d come from or where they went afterward. There are no cameras on the side of the humanities building where my office is because it’s right next to the hill—although that has since changed. They installed two light poles close to the building and positioned them with cameras last month, so maybe they’re not so stupid after all.”
“But there aren’t any doors on that side of the building. How—”
“Ah, but there are windows —and we’d practiced it once or twice. The students put their shirts and masks on in my office and left out the window. I gave them five minutes and then headed over to the auditorium. But that wasn’t just as an alibi. I also had my phone in my pocket and an earbud tucked in my right ear so I could let them know if they had to get out sooner.
“But they didn’t.
You gave them quite a scare when you showed up instead of going straight to the auditorium.
But once you left, they finished leaving their mark and then left the way they came.
They were back in my office when I joined them there, and then we all left—my students back in their regular clothing—one at a time to avoid rousing any suspicion.
And it worked.
I’m pretty sure security never even looked at the cameras inside the humanities building because they never made the connection.
Don’t get me wrong, though.
We considered spray painting the camera lenses indoors but we knew it would be impossible to cover up the ones outside—so we just made sure the crew emerged from a blind spot.
I think they just assumed the crew had come from the hiking trail behind campus—so they didn’t check cameras in the other buildings.
”
Finally, I spoke.
“Because it was so easy to pin it on me.”
“Yes. That’s the only part of this whole ordeal I regret. You were…collateral damage.”
So many emotions roiled inside me—from anger to frustration.
It was one thing to be falsely accused of a crime; it was quite another to find out who’d actually done it.
What made it worse was it was coming from a man who purported to care about me, even if in an inappropriate way.
And my mind quickly scanned the past few months: had none of this happened or if I had somehow avoided being accused, I never would have gone to Sinclair’s mansion…
never would have given myself to him.
Never would have experienced having to push him away.
Sherwood was looking at me expectantly, almost like a child expecting a reward, and it made the emotions flare again, like taking a poker to a fire.
“What makes you think I’d want to join your crusade?”
“It runs in your blood, Anna.”
This time, my anger spilled over so much that I lost track of where I was.
No longer was I concerned about neighbors potentially coming out of their homes to overhear—or even of my dad catching any of our conversation through the door.
And that was how I missed the car pulling up in front of the next door neighbor’s house.
“That may be—but if you know anything about my father, you’d know that he never hid his face when he fought. He never cowered or hid or tried to be stealthy. The entire time he fought, they knew exactly who they were dealing with.”
“And look where that got you.”
I shook my head, trying to fight against the fury threatening to overtake my tongue.
“I don’t get you. You go on and on about revolution and how great you think it is, but the men fighting in the American Revolution didn’t wear ski masks or let someone else take the fall for what they’d done.”
“That was different.”
“Was it?” I demanded, practically screaming now.
“Life with my dad might have been hard, but I don’t hate him for it. He stood up for what was right, regardless of the consequences—and he didn’t hide behind a mask or other people to do it!”
Mr.
Sherwood started to reply but turned his head—as did I—at the unexpected voice.
“Is this man bothering you, Lise?”
There in my front yard stood the man I loved to the depths of my soul…
but I didn’t know that he was any more welcome here than the man next to me, the one who’d set everything in motion last summer.