Chapter 9: Everything on the Table
We met Petra and Cora on a Saturday morning, at a coffee shop — not the one where Ryan had first found me.
A neutral place.
Round table, four chairs, enough space between us and the other customers to speak freely.
Petra was small and direct, with the kind of stillness that comes from years of deciding not to flinch.
Cora was older, mid-forties, and she set a manila folder on the table before she'd even taken off her coat.
"I've been building this for three years," Cora said.
"I didn't know what I was going to do with it.
I just knew I needed it to exist."
I opened the folder.
Inside: a timeline.
Printed emails.
A scanned copy of the original counselor's incident report — the one that had been meant to disappear — with a handwritten note clipped to it.
The note was from the retired counselor, a man named Gerald Foss.
He'd written it in the form of a personal statement.
Date, signature, everything.
*I was pressured by a board member to suppress this report.
I have regretted it since the day I complied.
The following is a full account of what occurred.*
Ryan read it over my shoulder.
He didn't say anything.
"Gerald is willing to speak to an attorney," Cora said.
"He's seventy-one.
He told me he doesn't want to die with this on his conscience."
"Diane's father is still alive," I said.
"Yes.
He's retired from the board but he still sits on two nonprofit committees in the district." Cora's voice was even.
"He has a reputation to protect."
I looked at Petra.
"You said there were four of us confirmed."
"The fourth is a woman named Simone Adler.
She moved to Canada after high school.
I've spoken to her twice.
She's willing to provide a written statement but she doesn't want to be named publicly."
"That's enough," I said.
My lawyer's name was Katherine.
I had called her the night before and she had listened to everything without interrupting.
When I finished, she said: *Send me what you have.
I'll tell you what we can do with it.*
I slid the folder toward Ryan.
"Katherine needs to see all of this," I said.
Cora nodded.
"I made copies."
Petra wrapped both hands around her coffee cup.
"Can I ask you something?" she said.
"Of course."
"When you found out — about the coffee shop, about Diane setting it up — what did you do first?"
I thought about it.
"I sat very still for about ten minutes," I said.
"And then I decided I wasn't going to be the person who lets it go because it's easier."
Petra looked at me for a moment.
"I wish I'd done that," she said quietly.
"Back then."
"You were seventeen," I said.
"And the system that was supposed to protect you was the first thing she dismantled."
Cora reached across the table and put her hand briefly over Petra's.
Neither of them said anything.
They didn't need to.
Ryan cleared his throat.
"I want to say something," he said.
He looked at Petra first, then Cora.
"I was part of what happened to both of you.
Not the architect of it.
But part of it.
I stayed quiet when I should have spoken.
I did what I was told when I should have refused." He paused.
"I know an apology doesn't undo anything.
I just need you to know that I know what I did."
Petra looked at him for a long moment.
"I know," she said finally.
"Ryan — I know.
That's why I sent the message."
We stayed for another hour.
By the time we left, Katherine had three new emails in her inbox, and Gerald Foss had agreed to a recorded conversation the following Tuesday.
Outside on the pavement, Cora shook my hand.
May you like
"What happens now?" she asked.
"Now," I said, "Diane finds out that the four of us have been talking."
