Chương 9
By eight, Victor’s name circulated through alumni messages.
At nine, Elise received an email from the school’s external investigator.
Dr. Helen Ward was a British safeguarding consultant based in Zürich. She requested an interview the following afternoon and instructed Elise to preserve all notes, personal messages, and recollections. The email emphasized that the review was independent, though the school would pay for it.
At nine fifteen, another email arrived from Philippe Dutoit.
He represented Victor Halden and wished to clarify several factual matters. Participation was voluntary.
Elise forwarded it to Marc Tanner without responding.
At ten, someone knocked on her door.
Mateo stood outside holding the cracked blue water bottle and a roll of clear waterproof tape.
“You were not supposed to contact staff witnesses,” Elise said.
“I am not a witness.”
“You were in the hall.”
“I arrived after.”
“That makes you a witness.”
He considered this. “Then you did not see me.”
He entered before she could object and placed the bottle on the kitchen table.
“I fixed it badly,” he said. “It will not hold hot water.”
“It never held hot water.”
“Then it is restored to perfection.”
Elise tested the cap. The crack had been sealed with narrow layers of tape.
“Thank you.”
Mateo did not sit. He looked around the apartment as if checking whether administrative leave had a visible smell.
“They took my statement again,” he said.
“Who?”
“The investigator. On video.”
“She is already here?”
“She came from Zürich this afternoon.”
“What did she ask?”
“Whether Victor looked angry. Whether you told me to call police. Whether I believed Anouk was in immediate danger.”
“What did you say?”
“That I called because you asked.”
Elise waited.
Mateo rubbed the side of his nose. “I said I did not know if the danger was immediate when I arrived.”
“That is true.”
“Yes.”
“You sound guilty.”
“I sound unemployed.”
He walked to the window, though darkness hid the lake.
“My wife says I must tell only what I know. She also says rich men do not forgive poor men for seeing them frightened.”
“Victor looked frightened?”
“After the recording was saved.”
Mateo turned.
“Before that, he was furious. Not confused. Not concerned for the child. Furious.”
“Did you tell the investigator?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you here?”
He looked at the repaired bottle.
“Because I almost did not make the call.”
Elise remembered the receiver in his hand, Victor’s voice, the long calculation.
“But you did.”
“After you nodded.”
“I did not control your hand.”
“No. You made it harder to lie to myself.”
Mateo placed both palms on the back of a chair.
“Three years ago, a woman named Sofia worked in development. Victor grabbed her arm in the archive room. She told Sabine. I saw her afterward.”
“Elise sat straighter. “Sabine mentioned a complaint.”
“Sofia asked whether the corridor camera recorded the archive door. I told her it did not cover inside the room.”
“Did she ask for footage?”
“She asked if anyone would believe her without it.”
“What did you say?”
Mateo’s face tightened.
“I said Victor had saved the school. I said he became physical when passionate but would never hurt someone. I told her to speak with him after he calmed down.”
“What happened?”
“She left six weeks later.”
“Did you tell Dr. Ward this?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because she did not ask.”
Elise stared at him.
Mateo lifted one shoulder defensively. “I am telling you I was a coward. Do not make me perform it beautifully.”
“You need to contact her.”
“I know.”
“Tonight.”
“I know.”
He took a folded piece of paper from his pocket. On it was Sofia’s old personal email address.
“I kept it because she sent photographs from her wedding,” he said. “Then she divorced, so perhaps the photographs were not useful.”
The irrelevant detail seemed to embarrass him.
“Will you contact Sofia?” Elise asked.
“I already did.”
“And?”
“She replied with one sentence. She said she would speak if Anouk’s mother wanted her to.”
“That is not how an independent review should work.”
“No. But it is how Sofia works.”
Mateo left the bottle on Elise’s table and went home to tell his wife that one frightened decision had finally reached the end of its delay.
Dr. Helen Ward interviewed Elise the next afternoon in a rented conference room at a hotel in Vevey.
She was in her late forties, with short black hair and a habit of removing her glasses before asking difficult questions. A digital recorder sat between them beside two sealed bottles of water.
Marc attended as Elise’s support person. He spoke only to request breaks.
Helen began with Elise’s employment history.
Before coming to Switzerland, Elise had worked at a girls’ school outside London for seven years. She had left after a restructuring, not because of misconduct. Her references were strong. Her safeguarding training was current.
“Have you previously reported concerns involving physical contact between an adult and pupil?” Helen asked.
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“Three formal reports. More lower-level concerns.”
“Outcomes?”
“One staff warning, one referral that did not proceed, one dismissal for unrelated conduct discovered during review.”
“Have you ever been criticized for overreacting?”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
“People I reported.”
Helen put her glasses down.
“Anyone else?”
Elise thought of her father, though he had never known the word safeguarding.
“A deputy head once said I interpreted conflict through personal history.”
“Was she correct?”
“Possibly.”
“What personal history?”
Marc shifted beside her.
Elise could have refused. The question reached beyond procedure, but she understood its purpose. Victor’s lawyer would argue bias if he learned enough to name it.
“My father was controlling,” she said. “He sometimes used physical pressure while appearing calm to everyone else.”
“Did he abuse you?”
“I dislike that question.”
“Why?”
“Because the answer becomes either too large or too small.”
May you like
Helen waited.
“He held my wrist under tables. He blocked doorways. He gripped the back of my neck when correcting my posture. He never broke a bone. He never struck me with an object. He was admired.”
