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word serious. “I don’t condone bullying in my job or at home.”

“I hope that’s true. Jamie is a very sensitive boy and he was very hurt by Noah. If it happens again, we’re going to have to take further actions,” the woman said, seemingly content with her threat. “You know, my brother-in-law is a lawyer and he is also very committed to ensuring this doesn’t happen again.” The woman nodded her head as though her motions said more than her words.

“We understand completely,” Madeline responded. “Thank you for voicing your concern to us.” Madeline nodded and turned to sit back down on the blanket, signaling to the woman that the conversation was over. The woman didn’t seem to understand that her ambush had been squashed and that her reprimanding of Madeline was over.

“Is Noah here? At the park? I’m not sure that is a good way for Noah to spend his suspension,” the woman said, her tone becoming more judgmental than passive aggressive. “Playing in the park is not the kind of punishment that will teach him to stop bullying.”

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” Brandon said, putting his arm around Madeline, who was again leaning on his shoulder. “We are perfectly capable of making our own parenting decisions.”

The woman raised her eyebrows and smirked. “Well, if I were you—”

“You’re not,” Brandon said, cutting the conversation short. “Thanks for your input, but we don’t really need your help with our children.”

“Maybe if you were around more—”

“Thanks again, but we’re done here,” Brandon again cut her off. “Have a great day.”

The woman opened her mouth, either in shock or to continue spewing her unwanted advice, but no words came out. Instead, she turned around, muttering under her breath and looking up at the playground where Noah and Adam were climbing through the jungle gym.

“Don’t worry, you’re a great mom,” Brandon said, kissing the top of her head. “Even if you bully everyone into doing what you want.”

Madeline laughed and took a drink of her sparkling water. She watched her boys laughing and running around and listened to Brandon’s breathing behind her. Even without further interruptions, with just a picnic and a sunny sky above them, Madeline couldn’t relax. Her mind was still racing, connecting the incidents of the last week, trying to find meaning in them all, find how to fix things. She kept a smile on her face, trying to enjoy the day off with her family. But even with the cloudless sky, the warm air, the breeze, her happy family, something was nagging her. Holding her back from enjoying the moment.

Chapter 8

“I wish we had something more substantial to tell you,” Agent Murray said. It had been almost a week since Madeline had received the blackmail letter. A week during which the letter hung over her like a cloud casting a shadow on everything she did.

“Can you tell me again exactly what you have been doing in this investigation?” Madeline asked, sitting across from the three agents in her kitchen.

Earlier that morning, Agent Murray, who seemed to be the team leader had called Jane. It was just a friendly call to tell her there was no news and that they were still working on the case. When Jane called to update Madeline, Madeline insisted the agents come to meet face-to-face. “No news” was not good news. It meant time was running out before her campaign relaunch event, before the blackmailer promised to publish whatever evidence he or she allegedly had about Madeline’s alleged infidelity. With the clock ticking, Madeline needed to see the agents to understand whether they were taking this as seriously as necessary, or whether her career would start spiraling down the drain in just a few weeks.

“We spent two days in New York last week interviewing employees at the Langham,” Agent Murray said. “Mr. Chase was very cooperative, as were the other employees we interviewed.”

“Mr. Chase?” Madeline asked.

“The doorman in the picture,” Agent Murray responded, recalling the picture of Madeline walking into the hotel in her red suit where she greeted the doorman. “He’s still a doorman there, although he now usually works early morning shifts. He said he used to work in the evenings two years ago when the picture was taken. He spoke about you very fondly, saying you were one of the few important guests they have at the Langham who actually said hello to him. He said most guests look right through him, not even noticing him opening the door, nor responding to his greetings of ‘Good morning’ or ‘Good evening.’ He said he appreciates your visits and hopes to see you again soon. He couldn’t recall anyone suspicious around the hotel that could have taken the photograph or followed you.”

“What about the other man in the picture?” Brandon asked. “The African American one.”

“Mr. Chase didn’t recognize him. He said he was likely just someone walking down the street who got caught in the picture. We have no more leads on him. Other hotel employees all said the same things.”

“And what about the letter? Any clues from that?”

“The letter and picture have been in forensics all week,” said Agent Hart. “The letter was typed on standard paper that could have been purchased anywhere and printed on any standard printer. The letter was mailed through the post office from a drop box near the Langham…”

“That’s a clue isn’t it?” Brandon jumped in.

The agents all looked at each other. “It tells us the blackmailer, or someone working on their behalf, was near the Langham on the day the letter was mailed. That could narrow it down to, let’s say, at least a million people,” Agent Hart responded.

“What about fingerprints?” Brandon asked.

“The letter itself had no fingerprints,” Agent Hart responded. “The envelope was covered in fingerprints, but most were not legible, but this is standard for anything that has

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