Chapter 7: What Jonathan Came to Say
I made him wait twelve minutes.
Not out of cruelty.
I needed to move Sylvia's folder to Richard's office, tell Priya to make copies, and decide how much I was willing to show.
When I came back to the lobby, Jonathan was standing near the window.
He had taken his jacket off and was holding it over one arm.
Without it he looked younger.
Less prepared.
He turned when he heard me.
"Thank you," he said.
"Sit down, Jonathan."
We used the same meeting room.
I left the door open again.
He sat across from me and put his jacket on the back of the chair.
He looked at the table for a moment before he spoke.
"My father doesn't know I'm here."
"That seems to be a theme today," I said.
He looked up.
"I need to tell you something," he said.
"And I need you to believe that I'm not saying it to protect myself.
I don't think I can protect myself at this point."
I waited.
"I knew Gerald Marsh was involved with the company," he said.
"I knew the arrangement wasn't entirely clean.
My father brought him in three years ago and told me it was a bridge — a short-term solution while the company restructured.
I didn't ask enough questions." He stopped.
"I should have.
I know that."
"You knew about the plan to use my signature."
A pause.
"I knew there was a funding arrangement that involved your group," he said carefully.
"I didn't know my name was going to be used to create false authorizations.
I found that out two weeks ago."
"Two weeks ago."
"Yes."
"And you married me anyway."
He looked at the table again.
"My father told me it would be resolved before the review.
That it wouldn't touch you." He exhaled.
"I wanted to believe him."
"That's not the same as not knowing."
"No," he said.
"It isn't."
The room was quiet for a moment.
"Why did you come here?" I said.
"Because last night I did something I can't undo." He met my eyes.
"And because this morning I realized that what my father and Gerald Marsh are doing is going to come apart.
And when it does, I don't want you caught in it.
Not because of me."
"I'm not going to be caught in it," I said.
"I've already made sure of that."
Something moved across his face.
Not surprise exactly.
More like the final confirmation of something he had suspected since he walked in.
"You already knew," he said.
"I knew before you arrived this morning."
He nodded slowly.
"Jonathan," I said.
"I'm going to ask you one question.
I need a straight answer."
"All right."
"The night we met — the gallery opening, two years ago — was that arranged?
Did your father or Gerald Marsh put you in that room knowing I would be there?"
He was quiet for long enough that I had my answer before he spoke.
"Yes," he said.
I had known it was possible.
Hearing it was different.
"The first six months," I said.
"Was any of it real?"
He looked at me and for the first time since he had walked in, he looked like he was in actual pain.
"Yes," he said.
"That part was real.
I know that doesn't help."
"It doesn't," I said.
"But thank you for saying it."
I stood.
"Richard is going to come in and take a formal statement from you.
Everything you know about Gerald Marsh, the holding company, the false authorizations, and your father's involvement." I looked at him.
"If you cooperate fully, that will be reflected in how this is handled."
"And if I don't?"
"Then you go down with the rest of it."
He picked up his jacket from the back of the chair.
"Charlotte," he said.
"For what it's worth — I am sorry.
About last night.
About all of it."
I looked at him for a moment.
"I know," I said.
"It's not worth very much right now.
But I believe you."
He nodded.
He sat back down.
I walked to the door and signaled to Richard.
As I stepped into the hallway, my phone rang.
An unknown number — different from the prepaid phone that had messaged me that morning.
I answered.
"Ms.
Hargrove." The voice was older.
Smooth.
The voice of a man who had never once doubted that people would listen to him.
"My name is Gerald Marsh.
May you like
I think it's time we spoke directly.
Don't you?"
