46

Michael Carter stretched out in his first-class seat for the flight from Billings, Montana, to Minneapolis. After a forty-five-minute layover he would be on his way to JFK in New York.

Christina Neumann, one of the victims named by Matthews, now lived in Billings. From the time he was a little boy, Carter had always been fascinated by dinosaurs. After touring Yellowstone National Park, he had visited the Museum of the Rockies and its world-class fossil collection.

It had been an effort to get Neumann to respond to him. Fortunately, most people never change their cell phone number. For a fee, of course, his contact at Verizon had confirmed that her cell number was the same as when she was at REL and provided her current billing address.

Neumann had ignored the first three texts he had sent her. She broke her silence after he promised in a fourth text that if necessary, he would come to Billings unannounced and knock on her door. She had called him back the same day.

No, he had told her, he was not interested in her vague assurances that she had made her peace with what happened and had just moved on. His job, he reasoned, was to conclude settlements. Somebody who’s content letting bygones be bygones today might feel differently tomorrow. The loss of a job, an expensive divorce, a parent goes bonkers with Alzheimer’s and needs expensive care. Stuff happens; and all of a sudden dredging up the past in favor of a big payday is not such a bad idea.

He still didn’t know why people insisted on sharing their deepest vulnerabilities with their adversaries. She had confided in him that she had not shared what happened to her at REL with her husband. He had confided in her that if she refused to meet with him, perhaps her husband would be more amenable. They had agreed to a date when her husband would be away on a business trip.

He smiled as he thought of sitting across from Christina Neumann. A petite blonde with a gorgeous figure, she was by far his easiest settlement to date. In and out of his rented office space in less than thirty minutes. She was not aware of any other victims. Neumann was adamant that her husband not find out what had happened to her at REL. And it was obvious that she didn’t need the money. She barely read the settlement before signing it. Her instruction was that the two million dollars be wired to the ASPCA. What a dope, he thought to himself, wondering for a moment if she would follow up to assure he had sent the money.

As his army friend from Alabama used to joke, “This is as easy as holding up the Piggly Wiggly with a gun.” He was convinced that if she had been left alone, Neumann never would have come forward. But he saw no need to share that with Sherman and Junior.

Opening his laptop, he began writing the email he would send about the three days of arduous negotiations that had finally resulted in Christina Neumann agreeing to a settlement.