Page 64 of Honorable Sins

Wraith has increased security on Áine and her daughters. No one is getting near them, but the knowledge of how easily even our children can be targeted makes my heart hurt.

"I—" Mark tries to say.

But Aine’s not having it. "My daughter matters. The fact I’m not a million-dollar donor doesn’t make her less important than the boys who hurt her." The words echo through the room. "She mattered before Kara Fitzgerald walked into your office."

"Every child at that school should matter," I say in support of her. "But the number of complaints ignored or swept under the rug proves you do not agree."

The board chair removes his glasses and rubs both eyes before looking at the soon to be unemployed principal. "I thought better of you, Mark."

"I can explain." I let the principal try to do just that.

But I sent the board members copies of my investigative findings, including the misallocation of funds in the budget. They ask pointed questions for which he has no glib answers.

Not that he doesn't try, but for every spurious argument he tries to make, there is a documented fact in opposition. Which board members and parents alike point out.

Mick shifts in his chair, and I know he's done with the back-and-forth. He gave Mark Bentley an ultimatum the principal chose to ignore. My husband wouldn't balk at killing the man.

In fact, he'd prefer a more permanent and less time-consuming solution, but I convinced him to let me handle it. He is, but his patience is wearing thin.

I stand and everyone stops talking. "I promised my son I would fix this." I look down at Áine. "I promised Sadie too." Then I turn toward the board. "So I'm done asking."

With a nervous glance at my husband, the chair sits a little straighter.

"I expect action," I inform him.

Mark shakes his head. "This investigation should have been conducted internally."

"It was."

He frowns.

"What?"

"It was." I point toward JoAnn. "She investigated. Teachers investigated. Parents investigated. They were all ignored. By you."

His mouth tightens. "I reject that characterization."

"I know." I let all the disdain I feel for the administrator show in my expression. "You've rejected responsibility every step of the way."

He stands too, his own expression an attempt at righteous indignation. "I have devoted twenty-three years to education."

"You'll have to devote the next twenty-three to something else," I say implacably.

His face reddens. "I will not resign because one wealthy parent dislikes my decisions."

"Why not? You ignored requests for help from numerous students because a few wealthy parents wanted you to."

The board chair clears his throat. "Perhaps we should move into an executive session—"

"No." I cut the air with my hand in a gesture of repudiation. "No more closed doors." I look around the room. "Children suffered because adults kept protecting each other." I meet each board member's eyes one by one. "Protect the children instead."

The chair folds his hands together on the table. "Mrs. Fitzgerald...are you asking for disciplinary action?"

"No," I correct him. "I'm demanding accountability." I point toward Mark. "He should resign."

"I won't," he says immediately.

Such a foolish, foolish man.