Holloway had no reply.
“Is that why you ran out of here today in such a hurry?”
“She almost shot him,” Becker blurted out in an attempt to help.
“Your ex almost shot you?” Gen didn’t look sympathetic. She looked like she wanted to do the same.
Holloway’s demeanor turned sheepish. “Gen, I can explain.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” She turned and hurried out of the room.
“Wait a minute, Gen.” Holloway ran after her.
Becker hung his head and grimaced. “Sorry about that.”
“Not your fault.”
Miranda glanced at the time on the tablet. It was almost four-thirty. Mackenzie’s speech. She’d have to leave soon.
“I’ve never seen him like this, Steele,” Becker said softly. “What are we going to do?”
“We’ll figure something out.” Though she had no idea what.
Parker appeared in the doorway, a deep scowl on his face as his gaze followed the bickering couple down the hall.
Then he summoned up a calmer expression. “We need to get going,” he said to Miranda.
“Going?” Becker said.
Miranda turned to him. “Mackenzie is giving a speech tonight at the PTA meeting. About vaping.”
“Oh, yeah. Joanie told me you saw her—uh—messing around with that stuff.”
Miranda didn’t mind Fanuzzi sharing the details of her escapade with her husband. Becker was pretty good at keeping secrets. For the most part. Besides, it wasn’t a secret anymore.
She got to her feet. “She’s talking about the evils of it. Who knew?”
“That’s great. I mean, that she turned around so fast. Bet you’re relieved.”
“Yes, I am.”
“We both are,” Parker said taking her hand.
She didn’t mind him showing a little affection in front of Becker. They were friends, after all. “Well, we’ve got to run. Sorry to run out on you like this, but I can’t miss Mackenzie’s presentation.”
“No, I understand. Believe me.”
“Get busy on those searches. I’ll check in later.”
“Sure thing. I’ll keep you posted if I find anything.”
“Thanks, Becker.”
And feeling a little guilty for leaving Becker to deal with Holloway, Miranda headed out with Parker.
Chapter Nine
The halls of Old Ferncliff Academy were decorated in fall colors with streamers and orange cardboard pumpkins and red-and-yellow crepe paper leaves. Announcements were posted against green construction paper, and a poem about seasons changing pulled the motifs together.
Fall.
It would be Halloween soon. Not Miranda’s favorite time of the year. If her daughter was dealing with thoughts of being the offspring of a serial killer, it certainly wouldn’t be fun for her, either.
Miranda walked with Parker down the pale blue cinderblock hallway and through the double doors leading to the gymnasium. The smell of baked goods and coffee hit her as she spied a table filled with goodies where parents and high school faculty were munching and chatting with each other.
She scanned the crowd.
Men and women in fancy suits and ties, fancy suits and scarves, or upscale business casual, who’d come from the office. The soccer moms and stay-at-home dads were in designer jeans and expensive blouses and polo shirts. The elite parents of the elite students of one of Buckhead’s most elite schools. And here she was, a woman with a violent past who chased down violent killers for a living.
She guessed she was elite in her own right.
She spotted Colby, Mackenzie’s adopted mother, talking to a couple at the end of a row of metal chairs. As usual, the woman was dressed impeccably in tan and brown layers accented with tasteful gold jewelry. Her short dark gray hair glistened with a rich ashen hue under the gymnasium lights.
Miranda gave her a wave.
Colby excused herself and hurried over. “Oh, Miranda. Wade. I’m so happy you both could make it. I was afraid you’d be tied up with that incident at the bank today.”
“Incident?” Miranda pretended she didn’t know what Colby meant.
Her eyes grew large with shock. “I saw footage of that car chase on the television. You both must have been terrified. Wasn’t it awful?”
“Remind me why I hate reporters?” Miranda muttered to Parker under her breath.
“It was dreadful,” Parker said to Colby. “We were relieved to hear the injured parties are going to live.”
Colby pressed a hand to her chest. “Yes, thank goodness. They said on the news your car was totaled.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“How terrible.”
Parker gave her a nonchalant grin. “All in a day’s work. I’m glad no one was hurt.”
Miranda bounced on her heels and glanced around the room, uncomfortable being in the limelight. Even though she felt perfectly at ease with Colby, she wasn’t here to relive the harrowing details of the day.
“Where’s Mackenzie?” she asked.
Colby’s expression changed to a demur smile. “She’s backstage practicing. I’m so very proud of her. I don’t know what you said to her, Miranda. But she’s done a complete turnaround since last week.”
Miranda hadn’t said anything to cause that. The last time she’d spoken to Mackenzie at the Chatham estate, it looked like the girl had already started that so-called “turnaround” all by herself. To Miranda, her daughter’s transformation seemed less than genuine. But she wasn’t going to look this gift horse in the mouth. Or burst Colby’s bubble. Not tonight, anyway.
So she just smiled and nodded.
At the far end of the gym opposite the bleachers stood a stage. Curtains in the school colors of red and blue hung along the back and sides. Center stage was a podium with several chairs placed symmetrically behind it. To accommodate the audience, facing the stage about fifty or so metal chairs had been arranged in rows. Several folks had already settled in. Miranda watched a slender woman in a burnt orange pantsuit trot up the stage steps to the microphone.
“If everyone could be seated,” she said with a teacher’s smile, “we’ll get started.”
Colby squeezed Miranda’s hand. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Sure.”
Miranda watched Colby hurry off to find her husband, then took a seat in the second row. Parker slid in beside her.
The woman at the podium introduced herself as the PTA president, then introduced the board members who had taken their seats on the stage behind her. The treasurer, the secretary, the VP of programs, the historian. She read the minutes of the last meeting and took a vote to approve them.
Then the treasurer got up and read a budget report and took more votes. Then the VP took the mic and reminded the parents of upcoming school events, the football and soccer schedule, midterms, and that it wasn’t too early for seniors to start studying for the SATs.
Miranda’s eyelids were drooping when at last the first woman said the words she’d been waiting to hear.
“And now we have a special speaker on a very important topic for all of us. I’d like to introduce Mackenzie Chatham, who’s here to talk to us about teen vaping.”
As the audience applauded politely, Mackenzie stepped out from behind the curtain and made her way to the podium. Her long dark hair pulled back in a lovely chignon at the nape of her neck, she wore a fitted cranberry jacket with three-quarter sleeves and a bit of embroidery at the neckline. The matching skirt hugged her slender form, and the coordinated three-inch high heels made her look very grownup.
The sight took Miranda’s breath. Was that really her daughter?
Then the girl began to speak and her disbelief grew.
“Thank you all for coming tonight,” she said smiling at the crowd as if they were her best friends. “I won’t be long, but I feel you need to hear the latest findings about a troubling topic. One any of you might face in the future. Or might be facing righ
t now.”
She began with a few lighthearted stories that made everyone laugh and relax. She explained what vaping was and admitted she had almost fallen victim to it. Then she began with the hard stuff. She presented statistics and evidence. She pointed out studies showing the nicotine in some vaping devices was more addictive than cocaine. That while it may help a smoker already addicted to nicotine, it could harm an adolescent’s brain. The flavors, like fruit or ice cream, were attractive to younger people, she said, but might contain chemicals that could cause respiratory diseases. She rattled off a list of other health issues.
Finally with a face beaming with maturity she added, “And that’s why I’m starting a new organization here at Old Ferncliff. I’m calling it Teens Against Vaping. TAV. Our purpose is to distribute pamphlets and videos warning against the dangers I’ve summarized tonight. We have a Facebook page, and our new website will go live tomorrow with a button for donations. I hope you’ll all support us. Thank you.”
As she left the stage, the whole audience stood and applauded. Miranda wanted to pinch herself. Her daughter had the poise of a politician and the persuasive skills of a lawyer. She wondered if she’d gotten that from Oliver.
Applauding along with the audience, Parker leaned over to her. “She was wonderful.”
“Yeah. She was.”
The assembly quieted down, and the president dismissed everyone for the evening. Miranda smiled sadly as parents and teachers crowded around Colby and Oliver Chatham to congratulate them on Mackenzie’s speech. Most people didn’t know Mackenzie was really Miranda’s daughter. It was better that way, but it still made her feel a little empty.
“Iris wanted to speak to us. Shall we?” Parker said.
“Sure.”
Iris Van Aarle was the mother of Mackenzie’s best friend, Wendy. When Miranda first came to Atlanta, she had thought Wendy was her daughter, and she’d felt a special bond with the girl ever since, though it wasn’t always reciprocated. Wendy was fourteen, too.
She followed Parker over to the row where the Van Aarles stood.
“Wasn’t that something?” Shelby beamed as he shook hands with Parker.
Wendy’s father was dressed in a dark suit that revealed his muscular golf pro physique. The pink tie probably wasn’t his fashion-conscience wife’s choice, though. He was wearing his dark, wavy hair shorter these days, and Miranda suspected he was coloring it.
“Yes. Very interesting,” Parker said.
“Interesting? It was fantastic.” Shelby slapped Parker’s arm.
Maybe too fantastic. And Mackenzie was starting a new group at school? With a website? When would she have time for that?
Beside Shelby stood his wife, Iris, wearing a red power suit. Her auburn-streaked hair and makeup were flawless as usual. She was CEO of her own cosmetics company, but both parents had cut back on their careers the past year to pay more attention to their daughter.
Iris squeezed her arm. “You must be so proud of her, Miranda.”
“I am. Yes.” She hesitated a moment. “Iris, how are Wendy and Mackenzie getting along these days?”
“Well, Mackenzie decided not to coach her this year, but otherwise they seem the same.”
Miranda nodded. Mackenzie had told her she’d stopped coaching. She’d said she’d lost interest in it, though a year ago ice skating had been her whole life.
Iris might not be the best person to ask. “Did Wendy come tonight?”
“Oh, yes. She said she wouldn’t miss Mackenzie’s speech for the world. She’s around somewhere. Probably with Mackenzie backstage.”
“We’re going out to dinner with the Chathams after this,” Shelby said. “Carter’s Steakhouse. Why don’t you join us?”
Parker turned to her. “I think that would be a good idea.”
He wanted her to eat. But he knew she might like a chance to spend time with her daughter, too.
“Sure. Just let me check on Becker.”
She moved to the side and pulled out her phone. No updates. She thumbed a quick message.
Any progress?
Becker responded right away. Nada.
She looked at the time. It was getting late.
Why don’t you and Holloway go home. We’ll meet back in the office tomorrow at nine.
Okay. Curt’s still talking to Gen. I’ll tell him.
Still? That didn’t sound good. She couldn’t figure out where that guy’s head was.
Her phone hummed with Becker’s next message. I’ll keep an eye on the searches from home.
Thanks. Say hi to Fanuzzi.
Will do.
Miranda put her phone back in her pocket and spied Wendy across the room.
The girl wasn’t backstage with Mackenzie. She stood alone near the refreshments table focused on the cell phone in her hand. While Parker chatted with the Van Aarles, Miranda slipped over to talk to her.
“Hey, kid. Long time no see, huh?”
“Guess so.” Wendy didn’t look up from her phone.
The girl had on a nice pair of hip-hugging jeans, fashion boots, and a drapey tan cardigan over a peach top. Her dreads were gone, and her dark hair hung rich and full in a shoulder-length tangle of waves, with just a hint of blue dye at the ends.
“Looks like we’re going out for steak together. Yum, huh?”
“Whatever.” She punched at her cell.
“Are you Mackenzie’s social media manager?”
That got her attention. She rolled her eyes and stuffed the phone into her pocket. She glanced around the room looking bored and a little lost.
Miranda forced a cheery tone into her voice. “So how’s it going?”
Her lips drew together in a smirk. “Same old, same old.”
She was too young for that kind of ennui. “You don’t look as excited about Mackenzie’s speech as everyone else is.”
She lifted a shoulder. “I’ve heard it before. She practiced it for me a dozen times.”
At least that meant they were still friends. “I heard she’s not coaching you in ice skating anymore.”
“Yeah. So?”
“Have you found a new coach?” Mackenzie had said she had.
“Yeah but she didn’t work out.”
Couldn’t match up to Mackenzie? That was interesting. “Are you looking for another one?”
“Not yet. I don’t know. I might quit, too.”
“But you love it.” She used to. Both girls did. Back when Mackenzie had lived for skating, Wendy had idolized her.
Miranda eyed her stylish hair and clothes. Wendy was one for hiding her feelings behind her outfits. Once she’d believed this girl was her daughter. She loved her as much as if she were. She loved both her and Mackenzie.
Wendy looked around like she was getting even more bored.
Suddenly a sickening thought struck her. If Mackenzie really did know about Tannenburg, did Wendy know, too? It was reasonable that Mackenzie would share her deepest darkest secret with her best friend. Was the knowledge of who Mackenzie’s real father was destroying both of their young lives?
Guilt began to flood her, but Miranda didn’t want to lose this opportunity to find out more. “Are you upset with her about that? I mean, the ice skating thing?”
Wendy pushed her dark curls over her shoulder in a gesture that reminded her of Mackenzie. “I don’t know. It’s just that—”
“What?”
“You know. This time of year.”
This time of year.
October. It was cold in other parts of the world this time of year. Like in Lake Placid. It had been only a little over a year ago that her daughter had been attacked there by the madman Miranda had once been married to. He’d almost killed her.
Of course. That’s why Mackenzie wanted to stop coaching. That was it. Why hadn’t she seen it before? She’d been so obsessed with Tannenburg she hadn’t realized what her daughter must be going through right now. What memories must be playing through her mind.
Parker stepp
ed up to her side. “How are you tonight, young lady?” he said to Wendy.
“I’m fine, Mr. Parker,” she said robotically.
“Your parents are heading for the restaurant now. The Chathams are going to find Mackenzie and meet them there.”
“We’re going out with the Chathams?” Wendy didn’t look very happy about that. Hadn’t her parents told her?
“Miranda and I are going, too. Would you like to ride with us?” Parker offered.
Wendy shook her head. “That’s okay. See you there.”
And she ran off to find her folks.
“This might not be as fun as I thought,” Miranda murmured to Parker as they headed out the door.
Chapter Ten
It wasn’t. But at least the dinner at the steakhouse was delicious.
The table was classy, spread with a white cloth and elegant wineglasses. The smells coming from the kitchen were mouth-watering. The menu was vast, offering short ribs and lamb, halibut and lobster, and an assortment of salads featuring everything from candied walnuts to watermelon to lemon yogurt. And even though Miranda was worried about her daughter and Wendy, she couldn’t help scarfing down a tender angus filet with baby spinach and creamy potatoes on the side.
Nothing like a shootout at a bank, a race down 400 at over a hundred miles an hour, and crashing into a wall like an Indie 500 driver to work up an appetite.
Still, though the girls had been seated next to each other, she couldn’t help noticing Mackenzie didn’t say much to Wendy.
Instead she addressed the grownups, adding to her speech with statistics and stories that didn’t really improve Wendy’s mood. Mackenzie seemed totally committed to her new cause. Miranda didn’t know whether that was good or bad. But it was clear Wendy didn’t think much of it. Miranda caught her rolling her eyes a few times.
By the time dessert rolled around, the adults had commandeered the conversation, and the men were buzzing about investment strategies, while Iris shared her insights for the latest winter fashion accessories with Colby.
Working on her blueberry upside down cake, Miranda felt as out-of-place as Wendy.
Both girls were like daughters to her, and she didn’t like it when they didn’t get along. But they were teenagers. What could she expect?
Mind Bender Page 5