Geneva
Deja was a pretty girl but didn’t seem to care about her appearance. The baggy T-shirt and jeans screamed that she was trying to avoid attention. She may have had reasons for that, but Geneva wasn’t there to focus on her problems. Only one thing occupied her mind: avenging Alexia.
The loss of the villa would touch the pockets of those affected, but she wanted them to experience the heartbreak she was living. But as her mother always said, “time is the master.” Planning and strategizing occupied the hours when she wasn’t working for her clients.
She let two days go by before asking Deja to come to the hospital. After her visit with Alexia, Geneva took her downstairs to the cafeteria. Around them, people came and went, focused on their business. Deja sat with her fingers wrapped tight around the cup of coffee Geneva had bought and stared at the fiberglass table.
Geneva cleared her throat to wake Deja from whatever rabbit hole she’d fallen into. “I know you feel bad about Alexia, but I need to ask you something.”
“Okay.” As she sipped from the cup, her wide eyes struck Geneva as comical, but she’d never felt less like laughing.
“Do you remember the people who were at the party when you left? And who else might have been on the property?”
Her gaze darted over Geneva’s shoulders, and she lifted the cup to her lips a second time. A sip turned into a swallow that scalded her mouth. She uncapped the bottle of water close to her hand and downed a few mouthfuls. Not once did she look at Geneva.
“Um…I’m not a hundred percent sure—”
Geneva pulled out her phone. “Start with what you remember.”
While she already knew the names of the youngsters who’d been staying at the villa, Geneva wanted to be certain of which individuals were inhouse at that particular time.
Deja lowered her head and chewed her lip, deep in thought. When she finally spoke, Geneva’s fingers sped over the phone’s keypad and made a list in her notetaking app. At the end, Deja sighed. “That’s it.”
The girl had an excellent memory, but Geneva pushed a tad harder. “And you’re sure you haven’t forgotten anyone?”
Deja pulled the hair at the base of her scalp and squinted, as if jogging her memory. “Just the ones who had disappeared, but were around somewhere.”
“And who are those?”
Her gaze turned suspicious, and Geneva let out her breath. “I’m sure you want the people who hurt Alexia to face what they did, right?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Then you’re doing the right thing.”
“Yes, Auntie.” She sat straight and mentioned four additional persons.
Last names didn’t matter. It would be easy enough for Geneva to gather that information. She smiled at Deja, a reward for her cooperation, but she wasn’t feeling it. Helping was the least she could do after leaving Alexia behind. She wasn’t done with her. Not by a long shot.
She forced another smile to her lips. “If you think of anything else, or you have anything that will help, please reach out to me.”
“Okay.” Deja nodded like a bobble-headed toy, eager to please. But her eyes said something else. She knew much more, but Geneva didn’t want to be intimidating. Not at this minute.
After putting away the phone and picking up her handbag, Geneva left the table with bitter thoughts circling in her head. None of them deserved to be walking around whole and healthy while her child had been cast aside like a bit of garbage. They were the refuse, not her baby.
As she did when this ordeal threatened to overwhelm her, Geneva took several deep breaths. By the time she stood inside the room where Alexia lay, she was back in control. She sat next to her, stroking her hand.
“Lexi, darling,” she whispered. “You will recover from this, but until then I’ll make sure they don’t forget what they did.”
Tears threatened, but she had no time to indulge herself. She kissed Alexia’s cheek, then sat at the small table in one corner. She booted her laptop, masked its IP address, and opened her browser. She’d already taken note of two people on Deja’s list, whose names she knew. Sancia and Jonathan Jackman—the children of a popular businessman and politician. She had also created a dossier on both and had formulated a plan. Their father would find out the fire was merely a mole hill compared to the heap of troubles to come. Another half-hour of research netted her more valuable material. Digging deeper unearthed exactly what she wanted.
Charles Jackman was like most privileged and influential men, conscious of his place in society and not afraid to flaunt it. He threw money around in an obvious attempt to align his name with highbrow charities. The pattern of his donations to the University of Miami had aroused her suspicions, and she now had everything needed to make the first strike against the Jackmans.
Aside from donating to several foundations, some of Jackman’s payments had gone directly to the vice president in charge of finance. A deep dive into their banking records cemented that connection. Four installments that totaled five hundred thousand dollars, paid more than a year ago.
She had looked up the VP on the university’s website. George Falloon was a distinguished middle-aged man with a full head of steel-gray hair. The right kind of individual needed to facilitate the deal the Jackmans had made. The fact that their money had also gone into several of the school’s foundations had smoothed the path through admissions for his children.
Geneva assumed all parties had walked away from the exchange satisfied.
The information she had wasn’t conclusive proof. Who was to say the payments weren’t made for another reason? Even if they were, just the hint of scandal would be enough to make the right people take a second look. Also, anyone with two eyes didn’t have to look far to see that the two Jackmans enrolled in the university didn’t belong there. Her foray into the university’s vast system revealed that both barely had passing grades.
She pulled up a mind-mapping software she had created and opened a document. For a moment, she stared at the bubbles. Each one carried a name and details about the person, and a network of lines ran in several directions. To the casual observer, her mind map may not have made sense, but each stroke connected people with each other by interest and other commonalities.
Geneva rose from the seat to pace the width of the room. From time to time, her attention went to Alexia, and her throat closed tight. With both hands nestled inside the pocket of her linen pants, she studied the ceramic tiles, finetuning her next move. The pieces were already in place; all she had to do was fit them together and execute. She released a breath and rubbed her chest, which ached every time she focused on her daughter.
Pulling the laptop closer, she settled into the seat and her next task. Within minutes, she created a glitch in the university’s messenger app, which allowed her to blast a status update and accusation against the Jackmans. Rumor has it that Jonathan and Sancia Jackman are at the top of a list of students whose parents may have provided donations and special favors in exchange for admission. #admissionscandal #donorsociety #jackmanandjackman #sanciaandjonathan
Let them explain that to the people who mattered, including the police.