“Morning,” came the bored replies from the admins.
He heard Carla’s frenzied footsteps behind him. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask—”
“No matter what you’re asking, my answer is ‘no comment.’ ” He unlocked the door to his office and the lights turned on. Carla was still behind him, trailed by the camera. “Carla, get that thing out of here. There isn’t going to be an interview.”
She paused, then waved off the cameraman, saying, “Give me a minute.” Then she turned back to Eric. “Off the record?” She was wearing a white tunic with blue leggings and heels, and she stuck out one exposed leg suggestively.
Eric opened the blinds and sat down at his desk. He was damn tired of Marlene Kitrich. She’d been giving him nothing but headaches since the day he arrived. He was also tired of Carla, but then again, she might have a piece of the puzzle for him. “Off the record,” he said. “And I’m not making any promises. Like you said, I don’t even know what you’re asking about.”
“Sure, sure.” She smiled brightly and shut the door behind her. Then she took a seat in the chair across from him. She pulled a small notepad out of her jacket pocket, flipped it open, and licked her fingertips before she found the right page. “Let’s see . . . there was a press conference yesterday, and it sounds like the police believe Marlene funded her criminal activity with money received from the school. Conferences she didn’t attend. Do you have a comment on that?”
“No.” He turned on the screen to his computer and logged in to check his e-mails. “You’ve contacted me about that before.”
“Yes, but this is the first time my source came out and confirmed that she used taxpayer dollars in that way.”
Eric gritted his teeth. This was what he’d feared. What a mess. “I don’t have a comment. Is that all?”
“No.” She balanced the notepad on the arm of the chair and lifted the manila folder off her lap. Then she leaned forward. “I was at the school assembly a few weeks ago, where the principal was given that award for the standardized tests.” She paused. “I didn’t see you there, but you must know about it.”
Eric frowned as he tried to remember. Right, that was the day he’d been helping Mrs. Dellacourt find a safe house so she could file a restraining order against her husband. “I had another meeting. But yes, I know about it.”
“It’s very impressive. The gains on the test scores, I mean. I asked the principal about it—”
“Dr. Hauschild?”
“Yes, right. I asked her about it, because I was thinking, is this improvement linked to some new kind of curriculum? Something experimental that maybe other schools should be doing? But she said no, that she attributed the scores to a greater emphasis on early reading.”
“Yes, so?” He was beginning to feel irritated the longer this continued.
“So.” Carla slid forward in her chair, her eyes wide with excitement. Eric braced himself, though he didn’t know what for. “Fifteen percent gain from one year to the next, based only on more reading? What’s the secret?”
He hadn’t stopped to consider it until that moment. “Fifteen percent? Was that how much it was?”
She nodded rapidly. “Fourteen point eight.”
“That doesn’t seem likely,” he said slowly, then caught himself. “This is off the record, remember.”
“Of course.”
He pulled his chair away from the computer and drummed his fingertips on the desktop. Four or five points, sure. A fifteen-point gain over one year, though, wasn’t likely without some kind of fraud. He nodded at the manila folder in her hands. “What’s that?”
“This? I got it from the Department of Education. It’s a school-by-school breakdown of the test scores.”
He held out a hand. “Can I see it?”
“Sure. I’ve looked at them, but I didn’t see anything. I’m wondering if there is a better explanation for these gains.”
Eric administered standardized tests in the middle school, so he was very familiar with the scoring methods. The Department of Education kept track of everything on those score sheets, things like stray marks and answers that were indeterminable. They also kept track of erasure marks, especially when answers were changed from wrong to right. A certain percentage of wrong-to-right erasure marks is normal, but anything higher is a red flag for tampering or cheating. Buried in the second-to-last column of measurements and scores, one number glared out from the rest, only noticeable if you were familiar with the way the pages were organized.
Eric’s stomach tightened as he looked at the files. The erasure rate for Noah Webster was higher than for any other school in the district. By far.
His spine stiffened as he played the possibilities out. Someone had tampered with the standardized tests? It was only administered in the third grade, so that left only a few individuals with a motive. Then again, third-grade teachers weren’t allowed to handle the answer sheets, and they were brought immediately to the principal—
His pulse began to thunder. Gretchen had received a ten-thousand-dollar bonus for that test score gain. She’d benefitted more than anyone, and she was the last person to handle the test sheets before sealing them and sending them off to be scored. Did Marlene somehow know? Was she blackmailing Gretchen?
Hello, smoking gun.
Carla watched him closely as he spun the theory. Without anything more solid, it was only speculation, but it was a start.
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything for you,” he said.
Her face fell. “Really? No explanation at all for this gain?”
Eric slid the file across the desk to her. “It’s a huge gain.”
Her forehead creased. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
“Officially, I’m not even saying that much. It’s true Dr. Hauschild has made innovations in early literacy. I have to assume we’re doing something right.”
Carla’s lips thinned. She looked pissed off. “You know something, and you’re not telling me.”
“When I can tell you something, I will. I promise, Carla. You’ll get the scoop.”
He meant it. She’d helped him link up Marlene and Gretchen, and she deserved it. She was a good reporter. But sharing suspicions was irresponsible of him. He wasn’t a person to even suggest that Gretchen had done something as serious as falsify test scores—not without damning evidence.
She scowled as she picked up to leave. “I’m not done, Eric. You can tell Dr. Hauschild that I’m going to keep digging—”
“I’ll bet.” He gave her a wave as she walked through the doorway. “She’ll be glad to hear it. Take care.”
He shut the door behind her and turned to face his empty office. The standardized tests. Why hadn’t he thought of that before?
AS I WALKED down the wing to the main office, my fingers wouldn’t stop shaking. Eric and I had avoided contact for weeks, but this couldn’t wait. I had to tell him everything and hope that he believed me. If he didn’t, Max would back me up.
His door was open. My breath caught and I knocked on the door. He looked up, pleasantly surprised to see her. He’d missed the warmth of her body and the taste of her skin. The way she’d moaned in the heat of passion—
“Lettie. Please come in.”
His voice was kind. I could have handled anger or indifference. Kindness hit me in a soft place, and it hurt. I closed the door behind me and wondered why I was so nervous. “There’s something—”
“Can I go first?” He was standing behind his desk, his broad figure framed by the sunlight streaming through the window. He was usually imposing, but right then he looked gentle. Softer.
I nodded and attempted to squeeze a response around the rock in my throat. “Yes.”
His eyes searched mine. “I’m sorry. For everything I said to you. For denying our relationship. I’ve played things over a
thousand times and I still don’t know why—” He paused to run his fingers through his thick brown hair. “I read your book. I liked it. I overreacted.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. The way I talked to you. The thing is, I thought that was what you were looking for. Someone like Jase.”
A laugh escaped my throat. “Jase? He’s a fantasy and, trust me, he’s not even my fantasy. He’s someone readers would like—”
Eric lowered his eyes and shifted his weight, looking sheepish. “It makes sense. I get it. It’s only . . . my ex-girlfriend used to tell me that I was boring.”
“You?” Honestly, I was stunned. “The thought never crossed my mind!”
“I realize I’m not the most exciting person on the planet. If you wanted me to tie you up or something—”
I started laughing at the thought. He was so sweet, to offer to be kinkier.
“Oh no. Eric, that’s not even my thing. I love spending time with you just the way you are. I don’t want you to be different in any way.” I raised my hands, feeling helpless as I attempted to explain myself. “I enjoy writing erotica, and I enjoy reading it, too. Some of it. But you’re real life and that’s fantasy, and I promise you I understand the difference. Look, I didn’t tell anyone about our relationship, either. It was Max.” I chewed on my lower lip.
“Max said something? But why would he—”
“Because he’s had a crush on me. He kissed me at the holiday party last year. It was vile. But we had dinner last night and he told me everything.” I paused when I saw the look on his face. “Don’t get jealous. He’s seeing someone. It was only friendly. But listen, all he said to Brunhilda was that he thought you were attracted to me and that it was unprofessional. She filled in the part about us sleeping together all on her own.”
Eric’s chest swelled as he drew a deep breath. “Fascinating. She’s a real jewel.” Then his shoulders lowered and he got that sexy half smile I loved so much. “Can we start over? Again?”
“I love new beginnings.”
He rounded his desk with his arms outstretched. I felt so safe as I fell against him, pressing my ear against his heart. Then he set his fingers under my chin, almost tentative as he pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was soft and sweet, but it left my head buzzing. “I missed you,” he whispered.
“I missed you so much.”
Then, reality. My smile dropped and I stepped back. “But listen, I have to talk to you. Seriously.” I took a seat.
His face darkened as he sat next to me. “Go ahead.”
“Max said something to me last night. It has to do with the standardized tests.”
“The standardized tests?” Eric sat up straighter in his chair and leaned forward.
His interest made me anxious. What I was doing was very serious: accusing a principal of cheating. I told myself that I could trust Eric to keep the matter discreet, but I didn’t want anyone to get into trouble. All I wanted was to be a faculty member in good standing. I wanted my job and I needed Brunhilda to back off.
“Every year the faculty members whose students are not taking standardized tests are recruited to administer the tests. That leaves a large pool, since only the third graders take them. So last year, Max and I were two of the teachers who administered.” My mouth had gone dry, but I attempted to lick my lips. “The procedure was that we were to pick up the sheets from our assigned classrooms immediately after testing concluded and deliver them to the vice principal.”
“The vice principal?” Eric’s gaze was intense. “You’re sure about that?”
I frowned. Why the heck was he questioning me on that detail? “Yes, I’m positive. I picked up my packet from Justin’s class and brought it to Marlene. She took it and that was it. But listen, what happened with Max was completely different.” I edged closer to him until our knees were almost touching, and then I lowered my voice to a whisper. “When Max went to turn in his test sheet, Marlene was out of her office. So he went to Gretchen’s office.” I paused.
“And?” Eric was literally on the edge of his seat, and he set his hand over mine.
“And he swears he saw her erasing something on the sheets.”
There it was. The truth bomb—boom! Too late to backtrack now. I shifted in my seat, suddenly nervous that this accusation could derail our fresh start.
But Eric’s eyes were wide and his excitement was palpable. “You’re sure that Max saw Gretchen erasing marks on the test sheet?”
“Max said he’d stake his reputation on it. He couldn’t believe it, because you know Gretchen and how she is with rules. She drilled it into our heads that we were not to touch those sheets in any way.”
“And did she see him? Did she say anything to him?”
“He said that she mumbled something about how the student didn’t fill in his name the right way, and she was fixing the bubbles. But you know what that is.”
“BS.”
“Yep.”
He sat back in his chair, dazed and shaking his head. “Unreal. Unbelievable.” He looked at me. “What are you doing now?”
“Me? Nothing. Going home, letting Odie out.”
“Do you have time to talk to Gretchen about this?”
My stomach did a backflip and my fingers went to ice. “I don’t know. She hates me—”
He set a warm hand over mine. “You’re safe now. She’s finished.”
And he didn’t need to say everything else I knew he was thinking. Gretchen was finished. We still had a chance. I could keep my job. It was the best news I hadn’t heard in a long, long time.
BRUNHILDA was in her office, standing by her filing cabinet. When Eric knocked on the door, she said, “Come in,” without looking up.
“Gretchen. Do you have a few minutes?” Eric closed the door behind us. It wasn’t a question.
She glanced up as she lifted a file and shut the drawer again. “Only a few. I have a board meeting tonight and I need to put a PowerPoint together.” She raised her eyebrows at me. “Ms. Osbourne.”
A go-drop-dead stare like that would normally have me writhing with anxiety, but not today. Not anymore. I smiled coolly and fired back a go-to-hell stare of my own. “Dr. Hauschild.”
“Well, sit down. Like I said, this has to be brief.” She dropped into her desk chair and we took seats across from her. Then Eric kicked things off.
“Gretchen. The media is reporting that Marlene Kitrich was reimbursed for expenses she never incurred. She falsified receipts.”
“Yes, I read that.” Brunhilda issued a lengthy sigh and shook her head. “You think you can trust someone—”
“That’s just the thing,” Eric said, and leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees. “You don’t trust anyone. I saw those receipts. They’re obviously forged, but you looked the other way.”
Brunhilda shrugged like she couldn’t get over it, either. “Not my finest moment. What can I say? I had some things going on in my personal life, and I trusted Marlene. Between us, I’m broken up about it.”
“Yeah. Except I think you’re lying.”
He said it so clearly, so bluntly, that Brunhilda and I both looked at him in shock.
When she recovered, her eyes narrowed to dangerous little slits. “What did you say to me?”
“Let’s set that aside for a moment. Noah Webster made a fifteen-point gain on the standardized tests last year over the previous year. Fifteen points. The thing is, the erasure mark on those test sheets was much higher than normal.”
Now Brunhilda shifted in her seat and glanced into the file, feigning disinterest. “That’s no surprise. We always stress to the kids that it’s important to double-check their answers—”
“The rate of change from the incorrect answer to the correct one is exceptionally high,” Eric said. “Odd, isn’t it? That so many kids would consist
ently change their wrong answers to the right ones?”
He had her full attention. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“Yes, you do!” I said. “You were making those changes! One of the teachers saw you do it.”
“Who?” she snapped.
“A little bird.” I shook my head as anger continued to gather in my chest. “After all the rules you gave us. Signing out paper clips. Wearing the right sweaters and the right shoes. You cheated, Gretchen.”
“That’s not all,” Eric said. “I think that Marlene was complicit. I think you had an agreement. You would approve expenses she didn’t actually incur, and she would look the other way when you falsified test scores. Everyone wins. Marlene gets her money, and you look like you’re turning Noah Webster around.”
“Plus you got a huge bonus from the board of ed,” I added.
“Right. That, too.” Eric sat back in his chair, crossed one ankle over his knee and folded his hands across his stomach. “Well? What do you think?”
“I think you’ve got a big imagination and a hell of a lot of nerve.”
He shrugged. “That’s fine. I’m going to ask the Department of Education to look into it. I’m sure they’ll clear this all up in no time. They’ll run some interviews, pull out the original score sheets, and examine them. They’ll figure it out.”
Brunhilda blanched. She looked down at her desk blotter, and when she spoke, her voice was almost meek. “Is this about the letter of reprimand?” She looked at me. “Forget it. Okay? I’ll let it slide.”
“It’s more than that, Gretchen. This is fraud, and the media is on it already.” He raised his hands. “I didn’t say anything, I swear. But it’s only a matter of time until they figure it out.”
It was a blow. Brunhilda looked completely defeated. Scared and childlike. I felt a pang of sadness for her. She’d made a terrible mistake, and it had bitten her in the ass. I sort of understood. Her eyes were wide as she looked at Eric and said, “What do you want me to do?”
But Eric stood. I took his lead and did the same. “That’s not up to me. You need to decide how you’re going to deal with this. But understand that I can’t protect you. There’s nothing I can say that will make this better when Carla Fredrickson comes calling.”
Seeking Mr. Wrong Page 29
