“Paul is fine.” Terrell held up one hand. “Sarah stayed with Phoebe and the rest of the night was quiet. Dr. Frances, the therapist we discussed, arrives after lunch to begin work with Phoebe. I cleared that with Milan, who should be arriving soon.”
“Tell me what I’m missing. When did you speak with Milan?”
“When he called about an hour after Magda put you back to bed. After Milan spoke with Peterson.”
“Milan called you?” I tried to return to my chair. Terrell put a hand on my elbow and led me out of the kitchen.
In the hall he spoke again, his voice so low I leaned his way to catch the words. “Lao redirected all your communications to his reception after you went to bed last night. I thought you wouldn’t be able to respond to messages. Lao spoke with Milan first.”
Our footsteps took us nowhere. My irritation with Lao impeded my ability to read where our conversation traveled.
“Anne, Milan is on his way because Peterson filed a letter of concern about the parenting of Phoebe and Noah in the absence of their father.” I stopped, and he pulled me forward. I shrugged his hand away. “As their legal guardian, Milan must be with the kids within twenty-four hours of the filing.”
“This is a horrible mistake.” A sense of purpose jolted through emotion and replaced my early hypothetical worry about losing the children. Letters of concern permited the Bureau to immediately remove gifted offspring from their caretakers.
“Damn right.” In the light of Ashwood’s foyer I could see fatigue in Terrell’s dark eyes. “Lao’s been up all night piecing house security images to document what happened. Milan understands there are shenanigans involved, but a letter of concern doesn’t get lifted easily. I told Lao we’d meet in your estate office.” He activated the front door security pad.
“How did Phoebe get out this door?” I rapped a hand against the solid red surface. “She’s not cleared for nighttime passage from any outside door. A security alarm should have sounded.” My mind wanted to stay away from what brought Milan to Ashwood and grabbed at the security break. “Since residence security is automatically activated each night, someone played with the system to make this possible.”
My friend stopped me with a gentle slide of his foot into the back of my sandal. “Anne, listen to me. There are bigger powers than Milan pulling strings. You and I know that Lao checked every angle of last night’s security. He probably knows how that door was able to open.” I waited, impatient to secure my hold on the children. “But a formal investigation has to take place regardless of Lao’s discoveries. Bureau protocols dropped into place at four forty-five this morning.”
Regular day laborers greeted us, and a few stopped to express concern about David’s fate. No one knew the coming days could challenge what I held almost dearer than my beloved—our children. He would have voiced the same priority. For both of us, nothing meant more than keeping the children secure and thriving. We had plans ready to execute to protect them from almost all the threats we thought our family might face. Almost.
Only one overnight staff member was at work in the estate offices this Friday morning. Mai, a favorite local woman who preferred nights in order to be able to care for elderly parents, easily did the work of two during the typically quiet down time. More important, she executed overnight commodity trades with brilliant strategy.
“Odd activity in the South American markets,” Mai said as we walked past her workstation. “We got the best price I’ve ever seen for our excess corn and snagged energy futures at rock bottom.”
Normally I’d stay to ask questions about the markets, but not today. She noticed Terrell and assessed him in the way of a single woman sighting an attractive man. He appeared oblivious as he hurried me beyond my office to a conference room.
Lao pulled out a chair for me. Breakfast waited on the table. Terrell passed fruit and yogurt in my direction. We settled with small talk about Mia’s trading comments. Lao set up his data pad.
“I’ve collapsed the security files so Milan will be able to see all that happened from the time Anne fainted through 5:00 a.m. this morning. Magda uncovered a few facts while taking care of Amber’s nose. There’s definitely a conspiracy in place to discredit Anne.”
I watched the images as Lao spoke. My faint in the kitchen passed quickly including my concern about Phoebe’s care. I became riveted by Antwone sitting against a wall in the hall near Phoebe’s room long after workers’ lights out. Terrell and I watched him blindside Amber outside Phoebe’s room, first tripping her, then swiftly kicking at her face. When Phoebe walked toward my door, eyes open wide but unseeing, he turned her toward the central hall and urged her forward with a menacing side-to-side swaying motion. She ran, and slapped at the front door, which opened. She never touched the security pad, never turned the door handle.
Simultaneous images caught Amber, face bleeding, following them. She was in pain, maybe shock, and crying as she turned back to my room. I averted my eyes as the hall camera caught my zombielike ragged rush through the residence, flight out the door and tumble in the garden.
“Security’s been broached, Lao.” Words I never had to say. “Somebody inside the estate set us up, hoping Phoebe would have a sleepwalking episode.” I sat back, piecing together words about Antwone.
“Antwone and I had a bit of a rough encounter the day Clarisse Smithson arrived. I reacted to more of his cocky street kid behavior.” Terrell made a small noise in his throat. “It wasn’t a big deal, but I know he was resentful.”
Lao looked thoughtful, but remained quiet. Terrell responded.
“He’s a kid with a knack for self-promotion,” he said. “Bent my ear with stories about all the chores he could do better or faster, but doesn’t seem to really do much. Knows how to talk a good game.” Terrell crossed his right ankle over his left thigh. “Jeremiah may have turned a blind eye to the kid’s laziness, but I’ve been keeping Mr. Antwone busy. He may be clever, but I’m not so sure he’s real smart.”
“Regardless, Antwone could not disarm Ashwood’s security,” Lao interjected. “Someone hacked our code so that door could be opened without a retinal check or thumbprint after the evening lockdown.” He turned the data pad back toward himself. “We found the hacker’s work, which appears to have originated yesterday from the only data pad on the estate with capability to work behind the firewalls of both the DOE and Ashwood—the one in Anne’s office.”
“I locked my office, but someone was in there before my meeting with Peterson yesterday. Peterson admitted taking what he called liberties with my office.” I paused. “You have that admission on file.” Lao agreed. “So we have a fairly strong case to connect Peterson’s people to what happened last night.”
“No doubt, Anne.” Lao added nothing more.
“You’re concerned about security right now.” I waited. “That’s why you look so worried?” David nicknamed Lao “Ashwood’s Dragon” because of his willingness to go extremes to keep Ashwood and our people safe.
Lao stood, pushed in his chair, leaned against a wall. Terrell and I watched his every movement. “Milan is bringing security experts with him today. I’ve already spoken with their leader.”
He licked his lips, stuck his hands in his pants pockets. “I’m confident they’ll find everything in order. What I am concerned about, Anne, is how you are going to hold up under the child guardian protocols while Milan does a formal investigation. Particularly with what we have learned about Mr. Peterson.”
Ashwood’s Dragon sent a fireball into the room. “Mr. Peterson has no DOE connection.”
“He told us that when he said he a military appointment similar to David’s.” I crossed my arms over my chest instead of fidgeting with my wedding band.
“That wasn’t exactly true, Anne.” Lao came back to the table, but didn’t sit. “Captain Peterson is head of an elite section of Special Forces. He’s been deeply involved in Paraguay operations for almost two decades. My inside source found a trail that sugge
sts this is Peterson’s last opportunity for success before he faces reassignment to a desk job.” Lao stopped. “He likes to play psychological games with civilians. In fact, he’s known as a head job himself. Very unstable.”
In this windowless room, I could see nothing of the world David and I had built as a couple. Not the flower gardens we planted for relaxation, not the shop where he and Paul did woodworking projects, not swing sets for all the kids. I could only visualize the faces of four young children I loved, vulnerable to a man without controls.
“So what do we do?” I uncrossed my arms and stretched out for the data pad as if to write a list of our thoughts.
“You do nothing.” Lao, himself a military vet, issued the command. “You do everything Milan asks and concentrate on your children and getting Ashwood through harvest.” The look he directed my way was powerful, a leader ready to do battle against another acknowledged leader. “Make sure there is no questioning of your actions.”
“Are you suggesting I not talk about Peterson’s cover with Milan?”
“You definitely should discuss this with Milan, but know that he is working on levels you and I must not question.”
Terrell stood as well. “I’ve got to get back to the kitchen. Milan will be here in about fifteen minutes.”
“That gives me time for breakfast with the kids.”
Terrell and Lao looked at each other before Lao said, “Sarah is in charge of the children until Milan’s assigned guardian ad litem arrives.”
Chapter Twenty-One
With these two men I could be plain Anne Hartford. I let seconds escape as I put my hands over my head, scratched at my scalp while my mind skittered over what had to be accepted—our children were not really ours. Except for John. David and I thought of John as Ashwood’s only truly free child, all the way from the natural blending of our DNA to the absence of government directives over his daily life.
“I’m sorry, Anne,” Terrell said, breaking the silence. “I followed medical guidelines last night, but I accept responsibility for how this developed.”
“Don’t go there, either of you.” Bringing my hands back to rest in my lap, I sat very upright. “If you want to get all analytical, Antwone brought me a glass of iced tea from the kitchen as the others had dessert last night. I may have fainted because of something put in my tea. We could follow a lot of blind alleys looking for the answer to how this ball started rolling, but I think Lao’s discovery about Captain Peterson’s history is all we need.”
One small dot of coffee stained my shirt collar. I rubbed at it out of habit. They watched and I felt self-conscious.
“Well, I had better get over to the residence for breakfast while my mother-in-law, who does love me, is in charge of my children. From what I remember of studying the guardian protocols, I will have open access to the kids as long as there are no claims of mental instability or potential for physical harm.” I looked to Terrell.
He shrugged. “Sounds logical, but this isn’t my area of expertise, Anne. We’re all going to walk carefully as the investigation goes on.”
“Let’s get started,” I said as I stood. “I’ll walk over with you. Tell me more about Dr. Frances.”
“You’re going to like her.” We left the conference room, walked back through the offices. “She’s older than you, completed her training before the D, did a pediatric clinical internship at Morgan Stanley Children’s Hospital in New York, and has managed to practice both within the Bureau and independently.”
“Sounds impressive, but tell me what you think of her as a person, Terrell.”
“Rock solid. Blessed with deep insight and the love of kids and people who love kids. Not all clinical types like parents and teachers.” He pushed open the outside door and waved me out first. “Frances will want to work with you as well as with Phoebe.”
“Understood. How did Milan respond to hiring outside the Bureau’s short list?”
“He wants to clear up Peterson’s concern quickly for the kids’ sake and Frances is well respected.” Terrell waved to a worker, then yawned. “Hard to miss a night’s sleep.” Another yawn formed. “By the way, did I tell you she’s damn expensive and we’ll be housing her for a couple of weeks? Milan approved both, but I’m not sure whose budget gets hit.”
Amber, looking tired and uncomfortable with a swollen nose, directed final breakfast logistics in the kitchen. On another day, when my actions weren’t under investigation, my arms would have held the child. “Executive Milan wants to meet with me now, Cook Terrell. Is it all right if I go?”
As the surprise that Milan was at Ashwood without contacting me passed, I thought how intimidating such a request was for a worker. “He’s a kind man, Amber,” I said to assure her. “Did you want someone to walk over with you?”
“He said I shouldn’t talk with anyone about last night.”
“Go on,” Terrell handed her a towel. “Wipe your hands first. He’s in the estate office building.”
“Before you go, Amber, thank you for coming to get me last night.” I touched her arm. “I’m so sorry you were hurt. Terrell, can you spare Amber for the day? I’m sure you didn’t sleep well.”
“Cook suggested that, but I would rather be here.” She wiped her hands, touched fingers under one eye. “My mom once had a shiner that lasted for a month. I didn’t know how much that could hurt.”
Terrell and I did not look at each other. I did gently hug her, remembered the scars we found on her back when, at five years of age, she was the newest worker at Ashwood. I promised myself I would look into extending permanent legal protection over her.
She walked across the courtyard, head down. “How did you know where Milan was located?” I asked Terrell over my shoulder. “Was he already in the building when we were talking?”
“Don’t worry about the small details, Annie.” He gave directions to a boy loading the dishwasher, and I fretted about what I wouldn’t know in the coming days. “Go say hello to the kids. Have a cup of tea. Avoid more caffeine until this evening or the antidote I administered might set your nerves jangling.”
I left the kitchen, checked my appearance in a hall mirror. For my kids’ sake I shook off tight shoulders and concentrated on walking into the dining room with my normal energy and confidence.
Andrew spoke with Sarah and the boys at our family table. Phoebe looked lost in thought until she saw me and pushed her chair back to run to me for a hug.
She smelled of soap and shampoo, her curls damp against my shirt. My arms tightened around her skinny body as I bent to kiss her head. I remembered the first time I kissed her in the dark of the old nursery and promised to keep her safe as long as I remained at Ashwood. She stepped back.
“You have coffee on your shirt, Mom.”
Circles under her eyes would tell teachers of her difficult night. Of course, it was possible the entire story of the courtyard drama had spread around the estate.
“It was a tough night, sweetie, and I started the day in too much of a hurry.” We walked back to the table. “Since you’re the second person to notice that spot, I better change my shirt. Good thing I wasn’t interviewed this morning or the whole country would know I spill things.”
The boys giggled. I kissed Noah and John, wanted to at least squeeze Andrew’s shoulder but knew he needed time before such intimacy. I sat in the empty chair at his side. “I hope you slept well your first night and these two didn’t keep you up?”
One shoulder rose, then fell. He finished chewing a toast crust. “Sleeping in a bed again felt good. I shared a room with my older brother so John and Noah were no big deal.”
“Where did you sleep at your aunt’s?” Already comfortable with Andrew, Noah wanted to know about this new friend and stepbrother.
“On the floor. We found an inflatable mattress, but it always leaked so I just made myself a place to crash out of blankets and a rug.” He looked at me quickly, then picked up another slice of toast. “It was okay.”
“That’s your fourth piece of toast,” Phoebe observed. “You must really be hungry this morning.”
Andrew flushed.
“Andrew and his aunt didn’t always have enough food,” I offered, watching how the information settled on Phoebe. “Believe me, it takes a few weeks if you’ve been really hungry to get your body back in balance.” I took the liberty of extending my arm around the back of Andrew’s chair. “That’s doubly hard when you’re growing. So Andrew should eat as his body needs.”
Sarah sipped her beloved morning coffee. As always, she appeared tidy and ready to work, except for her eyes which carried a mixture of fatigue, worry, sorrow. We glanced at each other over the table. Starting this morning I was almost as powerless as Sarah to change what was wrong.
“Will we go hungry this winter, Mom?” John’s question surprised both Sarah and me. All our children stopped eating or drinking. “Cook Jeremiah told some workers that our cellars were empty and we might have a hungry winter.”
“Well, he was wrong,” Sarah answered. “And your mom sent him away. Cook Terrell is working hard to make sure we have more food than we need in storage. We have been canning and preserving food for hours every day and have plans for big, wonderful greenhouse crops.”
“I heard Cook Jeremiah was stealing,” Phoebe said, “and the police took him away.”
Sarah looked to me for a response. “None of that really matters, Phoeb. Estate gossip can stretch truth pretty far.” I poured myself a glass of water, decided to pass on eating. “There’s no new information about Dad, but we have other important things to talk about this morning.”
Around the table I sensed weariness in this constant flow of bad news. The kids looked wary, even Andrew.
“Is this about last night?” asked Phoebe. “About me sleepwalking outside?”
“Yes it is, dear.” Sarah’s blunt answer surprised me.
Harvesting Ashwood Minnesota 2037 Page 17