When the red light on the clock flipped to 3:55, Kelsey gave up trying to sleep. She’d stayed in her room after the fiasco with Brenda and tried to deal with this newest discovery. Her rational, adult mind kept telling her to handle the revelation that Brenda knew about the undercover better. But the little girl inside of her, the frustrated, angry teenager she’d once been, kept surfacing. And it made her angry at herself. She wasn’t that little girl any more. She needed to buck up. She’d counted so much on Suzanna’s honesty; the foundation of her life was shaken by an emotional earthquake, and tonight, the aftershocks rocked her. Yet again, Suzanna, Joe, and Luke had lied to her.
You can trust me, sweetie. I promise I’ll always tell you the truth.
Exhausted, Kelsey had fallen asleep in the early evening and awakened at three. Rested now, she slid out of bed, threw on a sweat suit, and left her room. Creeping down the steps, she found her way to the kitchen. She hadn’t eaten earlier, so she fixed herself hot chocolate and toast, then wandered around the room where she’d spent so many wonderful hours with the Quinns. She’d loved sharing their life and had been grateful to be a part of it. Again, there was reason to let this go. But she pushed the good memories out of her mind. It was all too hard to think about. What could she do at four in the morning to distract herself?
Heading for the den, she decided to use the computer. All staff and teachers could access the district network from their homes. She’d check her E-mail and maybe surf the web a while.
The ping to boot up the system was loud in the quiet den. She’d only turned on a small desk lamp, and the glow from the computer spun eerily through the room. It was cold in here, too. She ran her hands up and down her arms to warm herself. Going through the commands, calling up Netscape, she was into her E-mail in no time. Several messages had accumulated in a file for students to contact her. There were a few queries from kids about assignments. Some funny forwards they’d copied her into. One from bastardinc. She didn’t recognize the odd name.
She called it up. No salutation. No punctuation. It just read WATCH OUT CUNT in boldface letters. She swallowed hard. Was someone threatening her? Oh, God, what next?
Saving the message to show Luke, she exited her school folder. In her personal file were three notes from her father. She hadn’t called or e-mailed him since he’d stormed out of her house because she wouldn’t agree to leave Fairholm. Had it only been two weeks ago?
She read the first.
Dear Kelsey Lynne,
I’ve been trying to reach you. I hope you didn’t go away for spring break without telling me. I know you’re angry about my comments before I left, but I simply can’t believe you’re so involved with those boys. First Webster. Now this Ludzecky character. You know I only want what’s best for you. I always have.
Kelsey closed her eyes. “Have you, Dad?” she whispered aloud, remembering that night he’d told her they were moving to Fairholm... You’re thirteen years old. A good age to move so I can take this job...his decision to go New Haven her senior year... Think of the opportunities to develop your mind in a college town of such caliber...his refusal to pay college tuition if she didn’t toe the line...I can’t be a party to your poor decision making, young lady. I only have your best interests at heart.
Other thoughts intruded...
So, is the young agent as good in bed as...
WATCH OUT CUNT
It was all too much. So she cried. Pillowing her head on her arms, she let go.
She didn’t know how much later she heard “Kel?” Luke’s voice penetrated the haze of misery she’d fallen into. Firm, gentle hands rested on her shoulders. “Honey, I’m so sorry. About this newest thing. About everything.”
She sat up, still facing the computer. “You know, before you came here, I can’t remember the last time I cried. Now...” She shrugged, hating herself for the comfort she took from his touch.
His fingers kneaded her neck. “You don’t always have to be strong, you know.”
“I—”
Her comment was cut off by the familiar chime of an instant message. It drew her gaze to the screen.
“Who the hell would be IM-ing you at four in the morning?”
She wiped her eyes and stared at the sender’s name. “I don’t recognize the sender. The kids have this E-mail address but, geez, it’s early.”
“Accept the message.”
As she clicked on the Accept icon, she heard a chair scrape across the floor. Luke drew up beside her. He wore dark green sweatpants and no shirt; though bandages bisected his rib cage, she could see his muscles ripple with tension as he leaned in close, his arm braced along the back of her chair. His black-and-blue marks had turned yellowish green.
Together, they stared at the screen.
“Hey, Ms. C.? What you doing up at this hour?”
Luke said, “Answer. Ask who it is.”
She followed his direction.
“It’s me, Smurf.”
“Smurf? He’s in Hilton Head.” Kelsey was surprised, but not so worried now. She had a good relationship with the boy.
“Ask him how his vacation is.”
Quickly, she typed the query.
“Bor-ing!” came the reply. “The place is mad-cool, though. I’m thinking about staying here.”
Luke said, “Let me do this.”
Glancing over at him, she saw his face was full of intense concentration. Tonight, he seemed at least twenty-six.
They switched chairs. He typed in, “How can you stay there? You have school next week.”
A long interval. Finally, “I might not go back. That place gives me nothing but grief. Right before vacation...never mind. I might not ever go back.”
Luke wrote, “Not going back? You have two months left of your senior year, Smurf.” Before he sent it, he said to Kelsey, “What’s an upcoming event he’d be excited about?”
“Not the prom. He’d never go. But everybody attends the after-prom Senior Bash.”
“You have to be here for the Senior Bash, Smurf. I’m counting on you.”
“Are you, Ms. C.?” Smurf shot back. “Seems like nobody cares.”
“Smurf, you sound depressed.”
“Went off the Lummox.”
Kelsey said, “Lummox is an antidepressant, right?”
“Uh-huh.” Luke typed, “That’s not such a hot idea, Smurfy boy.”
“Luke, I wouldn’t call him Smurfy boy.”
“Damn.” He corrected his message.
“Who cares?” came the existential reply.
“I care, Smurf. And you have friends. Morgan. Ben. Luke.”
“Yeah, sure. They’re the only ones. The rest of them I’d like to...” He cut off.
Under his breath, Luke said, “Shit,” and waited a decent amount of time.
“You’d like to what?”
After an interminable pause, two simple words came across the screen. “Erase them.”
Kelsey gasped.
Luke’s hands fisted. “Get Joe. I don’t know where to go with this.”
As she stood, another message came over the screen. “Signing off, amigo. See you in school. Maybe.” A pause, then he typed, “POW!”
Luke shot a plea to Smurf to stay online, but there was no response. Both he and Kelsey wilted like flowers in need of water. Then they looked at each other.
Kelsey’s mind whirled. Suddenly, she was very glad Joe and Luke were Secret Service agents.
o0o
Joe wandered into the kitchen at 6 A.M. and found Kelsey and Luke drinking coffee. From the expressions on their faces, he guessed they were still at odds. Pouring a cup of the hot brew, he said, “You two are up early,” and crossed to the table. “Long night?”
They exchanged weary looks.
He decided to try to help clear the air. “Kelsey, you need to know some things about Brenda. What she knew and why.”
Luke said, “I already told her all that. We’ve been up for hours.” He drew in a breath. “We got a bigger problem right now. Kelsey and I had an interesting conversation early this morning with Smurf.”
Joe scowled. “Smurf? As in Jimmy Smurfella?”
“Yep.”
“I thought he was out of town.”
“He is. He instant messaged Kelsey at 4 A.M. when she was online.” Luke relayed the rest of the details then reached down for a paper, which he handed to Joe. “This is a transcript of the conversation.”
He scanned the copy. “Son of a bitch.”
“There’s more.” His mouth tight, he gave Joe another sheet. It was an E-mail to Kelsey.
Joe read the three words. He looked up. “Kelsey, I’m sorry.
She smiled tremulously. “I’m just glad you’re here.”
He smiled back, then focused on the E-mail. “We need to report this to headquarters so they can try to run down who sent it.”
“It’s from Webster. That E-mail address was his link on their website.”
Joe hadn’t noticed that, but Luke’s quick brain must have picked it up.
Kelsey stood and, taking Luke’s empty cup and hers, crossed to the coffeepot. “I can’t believe all this. Danger keeps leaping out of every corner.”
“It’s tough when you’re not used to dealing with this kind of thing.” Joe stood. “I’ll call Captain Caruso. He—”
The shrill of the phone cut him off. Everybody tensed. Six A.M. phone calls spelled trouble.
Joe answered it. “Quinn residence.”
“This is Lieutenant Latham,” said a deep voice from the other end. “I’d like to speak to Mrs. Quinn.”
Joe covered the phone. “Kel, go wake Suzanna.”
In minutes, Suzanna appeared in the doorway. She was sleepy-eyed and wearing the peach robe again. Despite the gravity of the situation, Joe took pleasure in the picture she made. Crossing to the phone, she said to him, “Kelsey told me who it was,” then into the mouthpiece, “Lieutenant Latham. What’s going on?” As he spoke, her pretty brown eyes widened. She looked to Joe and covered the phone. “They picked up Webster. He was at a buddy’s house.” Suzanna listened again. “Really? When did that come in?” More silence. “Yes, all right. Yes, of course, I feel better. Thank you for calling.”
Hanging up, Suzanna sagged against the counter. “This is unbelievable.”
“They got Webster,” Joe said matter-of-factly. “Where?”
“At Robert Morton’s house.”
“He’s the guy who was bullying Smurf the day before vacation,” Kelsey put in.
Joe had drawn Suzanna coffee. He gave it to her and brushed a hand down her hair. “What else did Latham say?”
“Two things.” Her voice was shaky. “They got an anonymous tip late last night that they traced to Pickles. The kid told them where Webster was.”
“Any lead on who called?”
“They have reason to believe it was Max Duchamp.”
Joe remembered her comment about having breakfast with Max. Joe, it was such a breakthrough. I got him to talk... “Seems like a little attention might be just what the kid needed to keep him on the straight and narrow.”
Suzanna’s eyes sparkled. “That’s not all. Webster and Morton had guns in their possession. And they were high; Webster threw a tantrum when the cops burst in and let it slip he was responsible for a couple of things. The slashed tires.” She smiled. “And the hit list we found.”
“Jesus.” This from Luke.
“They were arrested. Vandalism. No license for the guns. The earlier assault on Kelsey. Intent to do harm with the list. The lieutenant says they won’t be bothering anybody for a long time.” Suzanna blew out a breath and faced Kelsey. “Looks like you’ll be safe now, sweetie.”
“I can go home then, right?” she asked.
Luke put in quickly, “What about Smurf?”
“He’s in Hilton Head.” Joe glanced briefly at Luke, then back to Kelsey. “Yes, Kelsey, you can go home.”
o0o
Luke didn’t want Kelsey to leave, but he knew that none of them could stay at Suzanna’s. Josh was coming back from Italy tomorrow, and they wouldn’t involve him in this. Besides, Kelsey wanted to leave. And in his head, he knew she needed time to sort things out, to think things through. She was a fair, basically kind person, and when she had time to wade through the emotional baggage, he had faith that she’d come to terms with this breach of trust by all of them. Now, she was bombarded by too much, too fast, to think clearly. But in his heart, he wanted her with him. Still, when she’d scooted upstairs to pack fifteen minutes ago, he let her go without argument. He was sitting in the kitchen with Suzanna and Joe when the doorbell rang.
Joe said, “Hell, this place is a goddamned circus. Who do you think that is?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Suzanna stood. “I’ll get it.”
“I’ll come with you.” Joe stood, too.
Luke watched them leave the kitchen, leaning into each other, shoulders touching. Then he rose, crossed to the doors, and stared outside. As the sun beat down brightly, warming the glass, he admitted he’d give his eye teeth to have Kelsey treat him the way Suzanna treated Joe. He wanted that closeness with her, damn it.
“Luke, you have company.”
He turned from the doors. And almost dropped his coffee cup. “Lizzie? What the hell are you doing here?”
Her blond hair disheveled, a backpack thrown over her red jacket, his sister angled that damned Ludzecky chin. Luke had seen the gesture a thousand times from every single one of his stubborn siblings. “I came to see if you were all right.”
“How did you find him?” Joe was all business.
Lizzie arched a disdainful brow. “Who are you?”
“I’m his boss.”
“Oh.” She faced Luke. “We were all worried about you. So I” —she fidgeted with the backpack strap— “I went into Matka’s bedroom and into a lockbox where she had your number.”
“And you found me through my cell phone?”
“I got this guy at school who has the hots for me to ping it.”
“Can you get just anybody to ping a phone?” Suzanna asked.
Lizzie gave Suzanna what Luke called her princess look. “Of course, if you’re good enough. I don’t associate with jerks.”
Suzanna stifled a laugh.
“Everybody said you were okay, Lukasz, but Matka had another dream about you, and I wanted to see for myself.”
Luke’s temper simmered. “And how did you get here, young lady? You don’t have your license yet.”
“I have my permit,” she said.
“Tell me you didn’t drive.”
The familiar teenage roll of the eyes and cluck of the mouth. “Prosze, don’t insult me.”
“Elizabeita, I want to know how you got here.”
She angled that damn chin again. It always spelled trouble. “On a train to Fairholm from Grand Central this morning. Then I took a cab here.”
“You went into the city by yourself and took a train out here? I’ve told you a million times not to do something like that alone.” Luke’s voice had risen several decibel levels and he felt his face flush; he was going to kill her.
“Kids my age do that. I’m not a baby.”
Setting his coffee down on the counter with a snap, he crossed the room and grasped her shoulders. “Then don’t behave like one. I should spank the daylights—”
Her eyes filled.
“Aw, shit, Lizzie.”
She raised a slender hand to his cheek. “Your face. It’s black-and-blue.” She touched the bump on his forehead. “Oh, Lukasz.”
He drew her to him, too roughly, and he groaned.
The tears fell. “See, you aren’t all right.” She fussed with the shirt he’d retrieved from his room. “Let me see.”
Quickly, he stayed her hand. “Nie.” She’d just cry more at the bruises. He turned to Joe and Suzanna, who were watching the scene with open-mouthed interest. “I need to talk to her alone. Then we have to get her back to Queens.”
Joe bit back a grin. “Good luck.”
Luke put his hand on Lizzie’s neck and guided her down the hall. She leaned into him, sniffling. When they reached the living room, they sat down on the couch. Holding her close, he studied the flowers on the sideboard facing them, near the pictures Suzanna had displayed there. He was struggling for calm; his baby sister taking chances was not acceptable. “Lizzie, you can’t do things like this. You could compromise our operation by coming out here.” He brushed a hand down her hair. “Worse, baby, you could have walked into a dangerous situation.”
She buried her head in his shoulder. “I know. I’m sorry. I just worry about you so much. I’d die if something happened to you.”
“Honey, nothing’s going to happen to me.”
“Bullshit. You’re hurt.”
“Watch your mouth.”
“I’m not stupid. I know you could get killed on any assignment. We all know it. We live in fear of losing you.”
That shut Luke up. And forced him to admit to himself what his sisters and mother went through because of his profession. Could his work possibly be worth that torment? His family was the most important thing in the world to him. He pulled Lizzie closer. “Honey, you can’t seek me out on jobs.”
“I know. I was wrong.” Lizzie sighed and settled into him. After a while, her pluckiness returned, and she sat up and scanned the room. “This is a nice place. Who owns it?”
“Nobody you need to concern yourself with.”
She stood, wandered to the window, then to the sideboard. Luke let her go because he knew the squirt wouldn’t rest until she satisfied her curiosity. She bent over to smell the flowers. “These are pretty. I like—” Her gaze dropped to the photos. She frowned. Picked one up. “Um, Luke, I’ve seen this lady before.”
“What are you talking about?”
She looked up from the picture and turned it around to face him. The photo was of Suzanna and Brenda, arms linked, smiling at the camera.
“I’ve seen her before.”
“Yeah, baby, you have. Just now, in the kitchen.”
“No, Lukasz, not the blonde. The other one.”
o0o
Still stunned, Suzanna sat in the front seat of Joe’s sedan as they drove to Brenda’s. Luke sprawled in the back, staring pensively out the window. A heavy fog of tension filled the air.
I don’t believe it, Suzanna had told Joe and Luke when she’d listened to Elizabeita’s story about seeing Brenda in the restaurant.
I have a bad feeling about this, Joe had said. Somebody downloaded Josie’s picture off the Internet and it was found in a Connecticut diner this past week. Then Luke’s sister recognizes Brenda from a diner in Queens. Are you sure you haven’t suspected anything, Suzanna?
No, of course not. What do you expect she’s doing, anyway?
She’s a newspaper reporter, Luke had said. She could use this in a number of ways. And who’s Josie?
I’ll explain in the car. We’re going to Brenda’s now. Kelsey can stay with your sister...
Listening to Josie’s tragic story on the trip over, Suzanna’s heart broke at his roughly uttered words. It was worse than hearing the details the first time, because now she loved this man, heard the nuances of his sorrow, and felt his pain deeply. All she could think to do was grasp his arm gently in silent support.
When Joe finished, Luke settled his hand on Joe’s shoulder. I’m sorry. Now I can see why all this is so vital to you.
They swerved into the driveway of Brenda’s condo. Luke and Joe bolted out of the car in seconds. Suzanna hurried up the walkway behind them.
Joe was already ringing the bell when she caught up. He and Luke flanked the door.
No one answered the bell.
Luke nodded to the left. “That’s her car, right?”
“Yes.” Suzanna’s mouth was dry with worry.
“Does she date? Would she be out with someone?”
“I don’t know. Kelsey and I are her close friends. Other than some people in New York.”
Luke scowled. “New York?” He punched the bell this time.
“She worked for the Times. She quit four years ago.”
“She was fired for drinking, Suzanna.” Joe’s voice was grave. “And screwing up a story.”
“What?”
Joe stared at her. “I had her investigated after she recognized me.”
“The New York Times?” Luke said. “She could sell them an exposé on us.”
“No, I don’t believe she’d do that.”
Running a hand through his hair, Joe scowled. “She’s not answering.”
“I’m worried.” Suzanna thought for a second. “I have a key.”
“Use it.” This from Luke.
“We can’t just walk in.”
Joe grasped her arms. “Sweetheart, if she is here and not answering, something could be wrong. And if she’s innocent, she’s got nothing to hide. Open the door.”
After a moment, Suzanna inserted the key in the lock. Joe and Luke led the way in. “Where would she be?”
“She likes the view from the den in the back.”
They found Brenda there.
Sprawled on the couch.
Passed out.
“Oh, no, she’s ill.”
Joe and Luke stood back as Suzanna rushed to her friend. As she squatted down, her knee knocked something. She picked it up. It was a bottle of vodka. An empty bottle.
Luke followed her and knelt down. He lifted Brenda’s wrist, then let it fall back limply. “She’s drunk. You can’t smell it on her because it’s vodka, but I’ve seen my share of people passed out.”
“I didn’t know she had a drinking problem,” Suzanna said.
Gently placing his hand on Suzanna’s arm, Luke drew her up. “I’m sorry, Suzanna.”
When she turned around, Suzanna saw Joe approach the desk. He stared at the notes spread across the surface, then at the computer screen. The machine was on. “Son of a bitch,” he whispered, and dropped onto the chair, as if he needed support.
Suzanna and Luke crossed to him.
Joe went to the beginning of the document.
It said, Notes for Under Cover/Above the Law.
Suzanna read the title and gasped.
“It’s about our operation,” Luke said tightly.
Joe scrolled down. They read over his shoulder: Section I: The Stark Statistics: school shootings in America. Brenda’s notes summarized the past shootings and the findings of the various agencies.
The room was deathly quiet, except for the hum of the computer and a soft snore from Brenda. Farther down. Section 2: The Precipitating Event: Josie Callahan was an honor student...
“Oh, God,” Joe said simply. “Ruthie, the kids, Al...” He looked up at Suzanna. “She knows it all.”
Suzanna’s hand gripped his shoulder and she leaned into him. “Joe, I’m so sorry.”
He turned back to the computer. They read on.