Page 65 of Six
Heather cast Six a look, then offered the young man a sympathetic smile. “Good help is hard to find these days,” she said.
Scott all but beamed at her. “Don’t I know it. I’ve been here five years and wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, but some people don’t feel the same.” As he spoke, his eyes drifted to the door that the group had gone through. Six considered pointing out that the cleaning service for the building didn’t work for Shanti Joy but held her tongue when Holly Kline stepped out of the elevator.
Six had always thought the name “Holly” was a pleasant one, conjuring up cheery images of smiles and Christmas. Neither “cherry” nor “smiles” applied to the woman who walked toward them, though. They’d all seen her photo in their research, but the photo, a professional headshot, did not prepare Six for the person before them.
She wore a business suit straight out of the eighties, with a knee-length skirt and blazer, complete with shoulder pads. A string of pearls hung from her neck and her nylon-clad legs ended in a pair of eminently sensible pumps. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun that stretched her face into an awkward tableau. And the expression she wore—thin, pinched lips, and narrowed eyes—gave her the look of an irate schoolteacher trying to hold her shit together.
Heather shot Six another look, this time one that included a raised brow and the hint of a smile she refused to let show. Six had always liked Heather Wheaton, but in this moment, she was also in awe of her. That she could find humor in the situation—the situation that had led to her brother’s murder—said more about the woman’s fortitude than anything else Six could think of.
“Ms. Kline,” Heather said, not bothering to hold her hand out when the woman stopped in front of them.
Not deigning to acknowledge the greeting, her eyes took them in, then, looking somewhere between the two of them, she spoke. “Follow me. Ms. Newcross is waiting for you.” Without another word, she spun on one of those sensible heels and started back toward the elevator.
Six and Heather followed her into the waiting car, then rode in silence to the top floor. Holly maturely showed her disapproval by keeping her back to them the entire ride. When they stepped out and onto the executive floor of the building, Six took a moment to study the space. It looked exactly like the schematics they’d pulled from the permitting office’s public records. This top floor of the eight-story building was the exclusive domain of the company executives. Including Julia Newcross, Austin Fogarty, and Kaden Fogarty.
Holly knocked on a closed door, then without waiting, opened it, revealing the three people in question. Six wondered if Julia knew how the presence of the brothers—and not the presence of any other executives—revealed that she knew exactly what Six and Heather were here to talk about.
“Your eleven o’clock appointment, Ms. Newcross. Please let me know if you’d like anything else,” Holly said. She shot Heather and Six a nasty look as she shut the door behind her, not bothering to offer anyone coffee.
Six shifted her bag on her shoulder and looked at the three people in front of her. Julia sat in a high-back leather chair at her desk. As one would expect from someone who ran a cosmetics company, her hair and face were immaculately made up, although her eyes appeared puffy. Six was quite sure she hadn’t been crying over her husband which meant that the bodies of Michael Yang and Victor DePalma had been found.
Kaden Fogarty was leaning against a large picture window that looked out onto a treed hillside. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his khakis, and he wore a navy polo shirt and brown leather loafers. His dark hair was slicked back with so much product that Six was pretty sure that the Rubik’s Cube Cyn liked to toss around would have bounced right off.
Austin Fogarty was a little older than his brother and his dark hair, though no less at the mercy of hair gel, was shot through with strands of gray. Lounging on the leather sofa, he had an arm draped across the back while in the other hand, he held a phone. His khakis and shoes matched his brother’s, though he wore a salmon-colored button-down.
“I don’t know who you are, nor do I much care, but I’m sure you’ve heard of the death of Julia’s husband,” Kaden said, firing off the first salvo. “I hardly think this is the time to discuss a lawsuit. Especially a frivolous one.”
Six looked to Heather to take the lead, and the younger woman nodded. “The fact that you are all here tells me you know this lawsuit isn’t frivolous, and I doubt it’s Mr. Newcross that Ms. Newcross is mourning. I understand Victor DePalma was found dead this morning.”
At DePalma’s name, Julia, who’d been staring out the window, whipped her head around. “How do you know about Victor? It hasn’t been in the news yet.”
Heather lifted a shoulder, then placed her briefcase on the edge of Julia’s desk. “It’s of no consequence. I’d say I’m sorry for your loss, but I’m not. He was a loathsome human being who kept like company.” Her gaze took in the two men as she spoke. Then, popping her briefcase open, she pulled out a copy of the complaint she planned to file as soon as the meeting was done.
Julia’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”
Heather flashed her a toothy smile. “I’m Heather Wheaton, attorney-at-law. I’m also the sister of Jeremy Wheaton, a man Victor DePalma had killed last week to stop him from filing this.” She held up the complaint. “Lucky for my brother, he has some very good, though very suspicious, friends, who thought there was more to the hit-and-run. I’m sure you can imagine what they found when they started looking.”
“Actually, we can’t,” Kaden said. “As I’m sureyoucan imagine, we get threatened with lawsuits nearly every day. Most of which are spurious, as I’m sure this one is, too.”
“I hardly think the systematic rape and torture of young women, or sale of young women and boys, is spurious, Mr. Fogarty,” Heather shot back. “I’m sure you are well aware that had those events taken place in the United States, criminal charges would be brought with the evidence we have. But since they took place in Indonesia, at the plantation where you source your palm oil, the best we can do is the civil suit.” She held the complaint out to Kaden, but he didn’t take it. After a beat, she set it down on Julia’s desk.
“Who are you?” Austin asked, focusing his attention on Six.
Six smiled. “I’m one of those very good yet very suspicious friends,” she answered. “I also happen to have a lot of contacts in a lot of interesting places.”
Austin’s beady gaze traveled from her face down her body, then back again, but he said no more.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Julia said.
“That’s interesting,” Heather said. “Especially since, in the last twelve months, there have been no less than seven complaints filed with your compliance hotline about the activities of several of your executives, your husband, and Mr. DePalma.”
“How would you know about that? Those complaints are anonymous. And any access you might have to them, if they even exist, would have been obtained illegally as we’ve never received a subpoena.ThatI would remember,” Kaden said.
“We spoke to the complainants themselves,” Heather said. It was only a little lie. On Saturday, Abyasa had told them of two people at the plantation who’d filed official complaints. Candra had also gone to their overseer and begged the woman to protect the workers, telling her everything that was happening. The woman may or may not have already known, but regardless, she’d done nothing to help.
“That’s all hearsay,” Kaden said, revealing his lack of knowledge of the laws. Complaints made by the people to whom the wrong had been done wasnothearsay. But smart woman that she was, Heather let that slide and kept the conversation moving in the direction they needed it to.
“We’re continuing to work on obtaining additional evidence, of course,” Heather said, closing her briefcase. “As we progress, I have little doubt that we’ll find further support for our position that Julian Newcross, Victor DePalma, and you two gentlemen—and I use that word in the loosest sense possible—engaged in violations of the human rights of your employees. I also know we’ll be able to prove that you knew about it, Ms. Newcross,” Heather said, nodding to the woman, “and likely your board did as well. So, Ms. Newcross, not only does your companynotsource its supplies ethically or sustainably, it systematically engages in torture, violence, and fear. I can’t wait for the public to find out what a sham you are. More importantly, though, I’m looking forward to bringing you all to justice. Nothing will ever make up for what you’ve done to the women and men you’ve abused, but the least I can do is try.”
