CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ON THE PHONE, NINA GOLDSMITH AGREED TO MEET AT A DELI near the courthouse. He ordered a coffee to go since there weren’t any tables. He waited. When a petite blonde about his age blew in, he didn’t think much of it until she marched up to him. “Sean Benning.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“Nice to meet you.” He extended his hand and Nina Goldsmith locked it in a fierce grip.
She led him to a narrow shelf that must have been the coffee bar and they leaned against it. “I’ve been looking into the allegations you’re making. I can’t lie to you. This is going to be hard. The Bradley School is … powerful. They’ve got some extremely well-placed alumni, including some people in my office. That’s not to say we can’t move on this. But we need to be careful. Meticulous. Did you do your homework?”
He handed her the pages he’d written, explaining everything he knew, everything he suspected, and the little proof he had. He also gave her the list of everyone he knew who was involved, and everyone he thought could help with the case, divided into those who would talk (Garvey), those who might talk (Debbie Martin), and those he was pretty sure wouldn’t talk—the Drakes, Walt, Cheryl, Noah, Bev Shineman and just about everyone else.
She read through the list shaking her head. “Didn’t you say something about photos?”
“Oh, right.” He’d almost forgotten. He handed her the printouts of the pictures he’d taken with his cell phone, which were far darker and blurrier than he’d remembered.
She squinted hard at them. “What is this?”
“Those are pictures of the nurse’s closet at Bradley.” He pointed to a close-up of one of the bottles. “They’re all ADD medication. It shows how many of the kids are taking it.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Without proof of the forged signature, this doesn’t show that the school is doing anything illegal.”
“I think that’s doable,” he said. “As long as you can protect the teacher.”
“I told you I’ll do everything I can.”
“I can get you Dr. Hutch Garvey. He evaluated hundreds of Manhattan kids for years and he believes the schools are forcing parents to medicate their kids.”
“Yeah, Hutch … Look, Dr. Garvey has been trying to open a case for years. He has no hard evidence because none of the parents will come forward to back up his claims.” She squinted at him. Her eyes were so dark you couldn’t tell where the pupils ended and the irises began. “I believe you, if that means anything. People wouldn’t be this scared to come forward if it weren’t true. But if you want me to have a chance in hell of seeing any real results, you’re going to have to get me more than Hutch Garvey. Get the teacher. Find another parent who’ll talk. Find a high-profile parent who’ll talk. Any of those things will get us a step closer to where we want to be, which is in front of a judge who will give us permission to search the school.”
“How am I supposed to make people talk to you?”
She shrugged sarcastically. “You’re an attractive man. I’m sure some of the mothers have noticed.”
“What?”
“I’m not going in there without the backup I need. Use what God gave you. I don’t have a professional death wish.” She tossed her coffee cup in the trash as she turned to leave. “Let me know when you get something I can use.”
HE STOOD IN FRONT OF THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE STATION AND dialed Melanie Drake.
“Sean, hi,” she said. She either sounded flustered or out of breath. Or both.
“Is this a bad time?”
“No … well, sort of. I’m in D.C., chaperoning Susannah’s field trip to the National Archives.”
“When do you get back?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. What’s up?”
“I know it’s hard to talk about, but I know Bev Shineman pressured you to put Calvin on Metattent—or Ritalin—or something.”
“I really don’t know what you’re—”
“You need to say something. I just met with a lawyer who wants to help. But she needs—”
“Did you give her my name?” Melanie sounded panicked. “You had no right to mention Calvin or—”
“I didn’t. But—”
“Good. Okay.” Teenagers were screeching and sirens howled in the background. “Look, I have to go. Don’t ask me again, okay?”