“What do you mean, you weren’t to blame?”
“Just what I said.”
“You were there. You kicked Christa Stockwell in the face.”
“That’s not what started it. Did she tell you about the ashtray?”
“Yes. You threw it.”
“Did she tell you that?”
Wendy thought about it. She had assumed, but had Christa Stockwell actually said it was Phil?
“It wasn’t me,” he said. “Someone else threw an ashtray at her. That’s what shattered the mirror.”
“You didn’t know who?”
He shook his head. “The other guys who were there that night all denied it was them. That’s what I meant about not being to blame. And now I had nothing again. When my parents heard about my firing, well, that was the final blow. They disowned me entirely. Sherry and my kids—they started looking at me differently. I was lost. I was at rock bottom—all because of that damned scavenger hunt. So I went to my old roommates for help. Farley and Steve, they were grateful to me for taking the fall, they said, but what could they do about it now? I started thinking, I shouldn’t have taken that hit alone. If all five of us had come forward, we could have shared the load. I wouldn’t be alone in this. The school would have gone easier on me. And I’m looking at them, my old friends who won’t help, and they’re all doing great now, all well-off and successful. . . .”
“So,” Wendy said, “you decided to take them down a peg.”
“Do you blame me? I’m the only one who paid a price for what happened, and now it was like I was finished in their eyes. Done. Like I wasn’t worth saving. My family was rich, they said. Ask them for help.”
Phil couldn’t escape his family, Wendy thought—their wealth, their position. He could want to be like his struggling friends, but he was never really one of them in their eyes—because when push came to shove, he simply didn’t belong with the poor any more than they belonged with the rich.
“You learned about viral marketing from the Fathers Club,” she said.
“Yes.”
“That should have tipped me off. I just looked again. Farley was trashed. Steve was trashed. I was trashed. And there was already enough about Dan online. But you, Phil. There isn’t a word about your embezzling crimes online. Why? If someone was out to get all of you, why didn’t he blog about your stealing from the company? In fact, nobody knew about it. You told the Fathers Club that you were laid off. It wasn’t until my friend Win informed me that you’d actually been fired for stealing two million dollars that you suddenly opened up about it. And when you knew I was down at Princeton, you even got in front of that one too—telling the guys you got expelled.”
“All true,” Phil said.
“So let’s get to your setups. First, you got some girl to play Chynna, Dan’s teenage girl, and Farley’s hooker.”
“That’s right.”
“Where did you find her?”
“She’s just a hooker I hired to play two roles. It wasn’t all that complicated. As for Steve Miciano, well, how hard is it to plant drugs in a man’s trunk and tell the police to take a look? And Dan . . .”
“You used me,” Wendy said.
“It was nothing personal. One night I saw your TV show and figured, wow, what better way to get back at someone?”
“How did you do it?”
“What was so complicated about it, Wendy? I wrote that first e-mail from Ashlee, the thirteen-year-old girl in the SocialTeen room. Then I posed as Dan in the room. I hid the photographs and the laptop in his house when I visited him. My hooker pretended to be a troubled teen named Chynna. When you told me in my online persona as ‘pedophile Dan’”—he made quote marks with his fingers—“to show up at a particular time and place, Chynna simply asked Dan to meet her at the same time and place. Dan showed up, your cameras were rolling . . .” He shrugged.
“Wow,” she said.
“I’m sorry you got involved. And I’m even sorrier I started all those rumors about you. I went too far there. That was a mistake. I feel terrible about that. That’s why I’m here now. To make it up to you.”
He kept saying that—that part about being here for her. It was maddening. “So you did all that,” she said, “you went after all these guys, just for revenge?”
He lowered his head. His answer surprised her. “No.”
“Don’t be easy on yourself, Phil. You lost everything, so you decided to take down the innocent with you.”
“The innocent?” For the first time, anger crept into his voice.
“They weren’t innocent.”
“You mean because of what they did that night at the dean’s house.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, because they were guilty.”
Wendy made a face. “Guilty of what?”
“Don’t you get it? Farley did sleep with hookers. He was a horrible womanizer. Everyone knew. And Steve did use his standing as a medical doctor to illegally sell and dispense prescription drugs. Ask the cops. They couldn’t nail him for it. But they knew. See, I didn’t set them up. I exposed them.”
There was silence now, a deep hum, and Wendy felt her body shake. They were coming to it now. He waited, knowing that she would prompt him.
“And what about Dan?” Wendy asked.
His breathing got a little funny. He tried to get himself under control, but the past was coming at him fast now. “That’s why I’m here, Wendy.”
“I don’t understand. You just said Farley was a womanizer and that Steve was a drug pusher.”
“Yes.”
“So I’m asking the obvious question—was Dan Mercer really a pedophile?”
“Do you want the truth?”
“No, Phil, after all this I want you to lie to me. Did you set him up so he could be brought to justice?”
“With Dan,” he said slowly, “I guess nothing went as planned.”
“Please stop with the semantics. Was he a pedophile, yes or no?”
He looked to the left and summoned up something inside him. “I don’t know.”
That was not the answer she’d been expecting. “How can that be?”
“When I set him up, I didn’t think he was. But now, I’m not so sure.”
The answer made her head spin. “What the hell does that mean?” “I told you I went to Farley and Steve,” he said. “And that they weren’t interested in helping me.”