Page 106 of The Other Side
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Ithink perhaps there was a brief moment where Chance and I considered not going through the drive. He had told me he wanted to be done with it, that he was worried for both of our safety. But that was before we were handed what could likely be a smoking gun.
And so, before he could ask, before it became something we needed to discuss, I assured him that I was all in. We’d be as careful as possible, but we had to at least try. And I was glad that I did, because the shit that was on that drive was toe-curling, motive-making, and I was certain it would lead us to some sort of conclusion.
Like accessing Daniel’s laptop, due to the sheer amount of data, and because of the lack of time, due to our full-time jobs as teachers, it took us weeks to comb through and make some sort of sense of everything we found.
Daniel had been working on multiple stories, and while he seemed to try to keep his files organized, I thought he might have only done so in batches, so all the most recent files were dumpedin one area, which made things significantly more difficult for us to wade through.
“Can we go through what we’ve found so far?” I asked, tucked under Chance’s arm, with my laptop warming my legs. “It’s been a minute since we’ve regrouped.”
“We’re only sorting through his work on the two relevant cases, right?” Chance confirmed.
Because, like us, Daniel had uncovered the original missing students, and had also suspected them going missing was somehow linked to the headmaster, who he had been investigating for grooming underage girls at Montgomery for decades.
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“We don’t have as much on the missing girls. From the file dates, it looks like he only started working on that a few months before he went missing himself,” Chance surmised.
“Do you think he could have gotten access to the same file we found in the headmaster’s office?” I asked.
“If his source works or worked at the school, which is what I’d guess, then I think it’s definitely possible.”
“Is there anything about the missing girls that Daniel had that we haven’t discovered ourselves?”
“Just his notes, which give a little bit of insight into his personal thoughts about everything. He was clearly disgusted by Winston, but I think he may have been a little too earnest to pin the case from the nineties on him without enough proof. It would certainly make the more recent story that much more splashy.”
I thought it noble of Chance to try and be as objective as possible when it came to the case. I had come to the same conclusion about Daniel seeming a little too overzealous about the potential connection in his notes, without much else to go on, other than Winston’s pattern of abuse.
“But the grooming is a different story. He had written testimonials from eleven women, including his source,” I noted.
“But all of those testimonials are anonymous. Do you think he could have gotten traction without at least one name? Would any career journalist or major publication have wanted to pick up Daniel’s reporting without at least one name?”
“I don’t know.” I frowned. “What do you make of the source?” Daniel had recorded written transcripts of all their meetings. It was possible he had audio files, but we couldn’t locate them on the drive. However, the witness statements came via email, so assuming they were real, they would likely be of more interest to the authorities.
“I can see why he felt wary of her. He seemed intimidated by her. And she did bring him all the other witnesses, who seem to have panned out. He was a teenager, so I could see him feeling out of his depth,” Chance commented.
“She got more aggressive as he continued to work with him. It felt like she was anxious for the article to be published, and she didn’t understand why it was taking him so long to write it, but from my point of view, he was trying to cover his bases, doing his due diligence, like any reputable reporter should. You can’t go accusing old white men in high-ranking positions of such heinous crimes without proper evidence.”
“From reading the transcripts, do you think she could have hurt him?”
“No.” I shook my head. “She reads as skittish. She was probably putting a great deal on the line coming forward and was trying to prepare herself for the fallout. There was enough specific information about how Winston groomed her that he probably would know who she was. I’d be scared too. She never threatened Daniel. Did you read it differently?”
“I agree with you. She was agitated, but without knowing who she is, I don’t think I could say whether she was capable ofhurting him or not. But according to the transcripts alone, I suppose it never gets that serious.”
“And the other statements, you think they’re real?” I asked. Since they had come through emails, I supposed that anyone could have made new accounts and sent their stories in to Daniel. But that would have been an awful lot of trouble to go through to bring down Winston, and would have quickly unraveled the entire case, if they had been fake.
“They read like different people for sure.” Chance seemed certain. “I look out for this kind of thing when I’m correcting papers by students to make sure they aren’t paying someone to write their homework for them. These are all quite distinctive voices, with specific choices in wording. Some have more limited vocabularies than others, and differences in punctuation, style, flow, and phrasing.” He leaned back into the couch. “If someone faked these, they did a damn good job of it. I think they’re legitimate.”
“Which means Winston is a fucking predator,” I spit, unable to hold the disgust from my voice. “We need to figure this out and do something fast, so we can turn this over to the school or authorities or someone who will keep him from being around these girls.”
“Do you think he’s still pulling this shit?”
“I don’t know.” I stared at the fire, trying to stop my heart from hurting at the idea of him luring young girls into his web. “The source seemed to think it had stopped, but with men like that, you just never know. Sometimes it’s a mental compulsion.”
Chance narrowed his gaze at his screen. “Something’s not right here.”
I peered over his shoulder. “What?”
