UNKNOWN ALLIANCE

by Robin Lyons

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.” He turned on a detection wand and passed it to him.

  The first group approached the men. Mac was taken aback by how grown up the girls looked in their fancy gowns. He asked for student IDs and their masks up. Then instructed the kids he and Crosby would be doing a pat down and metal scan.

  Kids knew they had to arrive at the dance by seven sharp or they’d find the door locked and refused entrance. And if a kid left the dance, they would not be allowed back inside. The strictest security measure a Blackstone Academy dance had ever implemented.

  At first, the kids balked about the intrusion and delayed admission to the dance. As word spread via texting, the kids had already been informed by the time they arrived.

  Mac had no qualms about kids spreading the word. His thought was if a kid had the notion of bringing a gun or knife to the dance, they’d change their mind or not attend.

  Rae, Brandi, and their dates arrived at the dance about thirty minutes after the official start time. The girls were in Mac’s line. The boy’s in Crosby’s.

  Mac’s attention was drawn to Crosby. As he ran the detector wand up and down the inside and outside of Kevin’s pant leg, he protested loudly about the invasion of his privacy.

  The arrivals had slowed to a few every ten minutes or so. Crosby excused himself to go inside and aid the other staff. Mac was acutely aware he needed to be inside watching Brandi. Checking the time on his watch told him he needed to remain outside the door for a few minutes longer.

  Nico sauntered toward Mac. “Need another chaperone?”

  “Are you crazy?”

  The two men shook hands.

  “It beats sleeping in the cold car.”

  “That’s debatable.”

  “And this way I can keep an eye on Rae. I’m not fond of her date.”

  “By all means. And keep an eye on Brandi too.” Mac opened the door and allowed Nico to enter first. The noise level assaulted their ears—a mix of music, yelling and laughing.

  Mac locked the door and stood for a moment to acclimate. He searched the room for Brandi, found her and her group in the photo area. He tapped Nico’s arm to get his attention and nodded in Rae’s direction.

  Mac was pleased to see many parents and staff risking early deafness to be present at the social gathering.

  Nico leaned close to Mac’s ear, cupped his hand and said, “I should have brought ear protection.”

  Mac reached in his pants pocket and handed him a small packet of yellow foam plugs.

  Nico eagerly ripped open the cellophane and shoved them in his ears. He gave Mac a nod.

  The two men walked toward the photo area. Brandi’s and Rae’s group had grown to include Todd, Lara, Alonzo, and Simone.

  At close to eleven Crosby rushed toward Mac with a panicked look on his face. “My wife’s having the baby. I have to go. Let me out.”

  Shortly after Mac let Crosby out of the gymnasium, a male teacher waved his hands in the air signaling Mac to come to him. Mac knew the man was beginning his fifteen-minute shift watching the boys’ bathroom.

  The teacher led Mac to the bathroom where Stu Collins sat on the floor with a bloody head wound and a swollen eye. Blood had dribbled onto his white dress shirt.

  Several teachers gawked at Stu as he sat on the floor propped up against the wall. One teacher applied pressure to the injury near his eyebrow.

  “Are you okay?” Mac knelt next to Stu.

  “I entered the bathroom, and a guy punched me in the face.”

  Mac checked his injury which looked worse than it was. “Who was he?”

  “It happened too fast.”

  “What was he wearing? How tall was he?”

  “A white tuxedo with a dark shirt, I think. And a black mask. About my height.”

  Another teacher quickly applied a butterfly bandage and handed Stu an ice pack for his eye.

  “I want to call my dad to come and get me.”

  “Okay.”

  “Can I go out a different way so my friends won’t see me?”

  Mac felt bad for the kid. He would have a decent black eye for a few days and may need stitches on his eyebrow.

  He allowed Stu to leave through the school rather than reenter the dance. A teacher accompanied him to wait for his father.

  Mac dreaded calling Dr. Zita to inform him about the incident. He decided he should also call Michael Stromberg. The town was too small, and he expected Stu’s dad to vocalize how the school’s top-notch school marshal couldn’t prevent an old-fashioned butt-kicking from occurring.

  Why would somebody jump Stu?

  Back in the gymnasium, Mac found Nico near Rae and her group. He told him what had happened and that Brandi’s date was on his way home.

  Nico went to Rae and tapped her shoulder. When she looked at him, he wagged his finger asking her to step away from her group.

  Mac watched as Nico shared the news with Rae, who ran to Brandi. She cupped her mouth against Brandi’s ear. Brandi’s hands covered her mouth, her eyes wide.

  Kevin grabbed Rae’s arm, shrugged his shoulders and mouthed the word, what. Rae leaned into Kevin’s ear. He looked genuinely surprised upon learning what had happened to his pal. Mac watched a game of telephone play out as kids passed the news around.

  Next stop for Mac was the two teachers stationed at the door.

  “How long have you two been at the door?” he yelled.

  “Fifteen minutes. Are you relieving us?” one teacher shouted.

  “Has anyone left?”

  “Four boys.”

  “What were they wearing?”

  “They all had on white tuxedos with black shirts and black masks.”

  “Do you know their names?”

  The teacher who’d been talking shook her head and looked at the other teacher who rolled out her lower lip, raised her shoulders, and also shook her head.

  “They looked like seniors, we teach freshman.”

  Almost midnight—the end of the dance. Now Mac would have to work tomorrow morning combing through the security footage to see if he could figure out who had cold-cocked Stu. At least nothing happened to Brandi.

  Chapter 45

  Lyla Blackstone sipped her evening cocktail. She’d lost track of how many she’d had. When her husband Henry was alive, they had an evening cocktail together. She missed him. He’d been gone seven years.

  Lyla wasn’t one of those people referred to as a happy drunk. No, not Lyla. Her family knew all too well, the more she drank, the more cantankerous she became.

  Her butler appeared seconds after she’d rung the little bell sitting on the side table next to her favorite chair.

  “Yes, Mrs. Blackstone.”

  She rattled the ice in her glass. “Another cocktail.” She extended the old-fashioned glass to him.

  “Yes, Mrs. Blackstone.”

  Staring at nothing in particular, she was unable to stop her mind from playing out possible endings to the current drama in her life. While her mind engaged in a conversation between the good side and the bad, her eyes honed in on a patch of cat hair on her napping chaise.

  Before her butler placed the fresh cocktail on the table, she blurted, “There’s cat hair on the chaise.” She pointed. “Make a note to tell the housekeeper tomorrow to clean more thoroughly.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Blackstone.” He swiped the clump of hair into the ball of his gloved hand.

  Alone in her sitting room, she’d made her decision. She dialed Jossalyn.

  Steffan answered, “Hello, Lyla.”

  Using perfect diction and decorum, she said, “Good evening, Steffan. May I, please speak with Jossalyn?”

  “Hold on, I’ll get her.”

  Lyla took a big swig.

  “Hello, Lyla.” She heard from the other end of the call.

  “Good evening, Jossalyn. I’ve given RaeAnn’s wishes much consideration but decided you need to hold firm and deny her request for the swimming coach. I unde
rstand there’s a piece of equipment you can retrofit on your pool, a flume, it forces water toward her when she’s swimming enabling her to swim longer distances in your pool. Of course, I’ll pay for the installation.”

  “What’s the point of improving her ability if she’s not allowed to compete?”

  “It’s a consolation offering, dear, to soften the denial.” Lyla took a quiet sip.

  “I’m not sure it will be received as such. May I ask why you don’t want her to compete?”

  “If she performs well she may get publicity. If she gets publicity, her entire life will be open to scrutiny. You know I can’t allow that to happen.”

  She heard her friend of many years exhale a deep breath.

  “Fine, I’ll offer the flume. It’s going to break her heart. I have to say after everything she’s been through this feels unnecessary.”

  “That’s how it has to be. I can’t risk tarnishing the Blackstone name.”

  “Lyla, for once, think of someone other than yourself.”

  “Jossalyn, you’re stepping close to making me angry. Are you sure you want to do that? Have you forgotten I’m the largest shareholder in Steffan’s corporation?”

  “Of course not.”

  “I’d hate to see anything happen to his beloved restaurant.”

  “Goodnight, Lyla.”

  The call went silent before Lyla was able to respond. “How rude,” she said to the uninterested cat curled in her lap.

  She gulped what remained in her glass and rang the bell again.

  “Another cocktail.” She said to her butler when he entered the room.

  Stroking her cat, she mumbled, “People are always trying to hurt us. Yes, they are.” She smoothed the fur on the cat’s back. The cat looked at her with sleepy eyes and yawned. “Well, we won’t let them.”

  She stopped talking to the cat when she heard the butler’s footsteps approaching.

  Alone again, she dialed her daughter-in-law Stella, Mark’s wife. Looking at a family portrait on the wall, she took in her daughter-in-law’s staggering beauty as she sipped her cocktail. Her son had done well when he chose Stella. She was as wily and conniving as herself. Don’t ‘they’ say men often marry a woman who’s similar to their mother?

  “Hello, Lyla,” Stella said, “Is something wrong?”

  “No. Nothing’s wrong,” she slurred. “But we do have a problem.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, we. You, me and your snooty Bostonian family.” She gulped from her glass and for a moment appreciated the warm burn she felt from the liquid. “Remember the girl who lost her parents in the accident a few weeks ago? The one I told you the DeSalvo’s are fostering?”

  “I need to go to another room. Hold on a minute.”

  Lyla waited impatiently.

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “Apparently the girl aspires to be an Olympic swimmer.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “It could be. If reporters were to dig into her background, they might find out about Mark and the girl’s mother.” She drained her umpteenth cocktail. “They went to high school together. Has he ever mentioned, Sloan Monroe?”

  “No, he hasn’t.”

  “That’s good, dear. She was his high school sweetheart. They broke up when he went to college.”

  “Lyla, why do I need to know this?”

  “For God’s sake, Stella, Mark’s the girl’s father.” She heard Stella gasp. “That’s why you need to know this.”

  Her daughter-in-law’s voice recovered quickly, and she replied, “Yes, I understand. Tell me the situation.”

  Lyla tried her best to explain to Stella, “Henry forced Mark to attend Harvard. He wanted him away from here and away from his girlfriend. She wasn’t in our social class. Henry forbade him from seeing her after he left for college.” She felt her shoulders releasing tension and relaxing a bit.

  “Mark went off to college, and we kept an eye on the girlfriend.” She paused to allow Stella to respond. When she heard nothing, she continued. “You can imagine our surprise when she suddenly married a few months after Mark left to begin his second year at Harvard.”

  “Why wasn’t that great news?”

  “As I said, it was too sudden. She’d become pregnant. Not knowing if her husband was the father or perhaps Mark had seen her while home on summer break, we obtained a DNA sample after the baby was born and had it tested.”

  “He’s the father?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, the girl living with the DeSalvo’s is your granddaughter?”

  “Yes.”

  “The kids have a half-sister?”

  “Yes, Stella. What part of this aren’t you getting?”

  Stella lowered her voice. “We can’t let this come out. Who else have you told?”

  “Henry knew, of course. I don’t know who he might have told. I’ve only told you, well, and the doctor who arranged the testing. But you don’t need to worry about him.”

  “Mark doesn’t know?”

  “Absolutely not. And it needs to stay that way. I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, dear, but he was head over heels in love with her. I’m not sure how he’d react if he knew they had a love-child.”

  “I can hear you’ve had too many cocktails, are you certain you didn’t let this juicy gossip fly out to anyone? Your butler? Your housekeeper?”

  “Stella, don’t speak to me like I’m a child.”

  Stella said, “My father would have a heart attack if he heard about this scandal.”

  “I’ve kept this secret for fourteen year. Jossalyn won’t allow her to participate in swimming competitions.”

  “Why would she do as you tell her?”

  “Careful, Stella. That’s between Jossalyn and me. Please remember it’s my inheritance you long for. Don’t think for a moment I won’t squash you and your daddy like June bugs.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “And unless you want to share both your husband and the inheritance with the girl, this secret better remain a secret.”

  Chapter 46

  Monica Tanner put her index finger to her lover’s lips. “Don’t say a peep,” she warned as she admired his muscular physique before rolling over. She propped herself up on one arm to answer her cell phone.

  “Officer Tanner,” she answered with an authoritative voice.

  Her lover lightly scratched her back which made her smile.

  “Hi. It’s Rae.” She heard sniffles.

  “Hi. How’re you doing?” She tossed the bed sheets off and hopped out of bed without looking back. She walked naked into the bathroom and closed the door.

  “Not good,” she said.

  “What’s going on?”

  The skilled officer waited for her to regain composure and continue.

  “You’re the only one who understands how sad I am on the inside.”

  “You’ve been through a terrible event. Are you still seeing a therapist?”

  “Yes, but mostly we talk about daily events. I miss my parents.” She sobbed. After a long sequence of sniffling, she asked, “Can you take me to my house?”

  When the crying stopped, Monica asked, “What do you want to do there?”

  “Hang out. Feel my parents’ presence. I want to sit on their bed and pretend I’m talking to my mom.”

  Monica felt her eyes sting with tears.

  “I’ll ask my sergeant if it would be okay for us to go hang out at your place.”

  “Thank you.” Rae sniffled some more. “Would you be able to do that this afternoon?”

  “Give me thirty minutes, and I’ll call you back.”

  “Thank you.” Rae disconnected the call.

  When she emerged from the bathroom, her lover was still in her bed.

  Comet, her little white Maltese, comfortably lying next to him on the bed enjoying a belly scratch. She jumped off the bed when Monica snapped her fingers. Roxy arose from where she’d been lying on the carpeted floor.


  “You’re teaching my dog bad habits.” She wagged her finger at him. “Rae’s super sad and misses her parents. She wants me to take her to her parents’ house so she can hang out.”

  “MmHmm. For the record, Comet jumped up here without me inviting her.” He smiled.

  She pointed two fingers at her eyes and then at him. “I’m watching you. I enjoyed our hike. Can we do that again soon?”

  “Me too. I hope so.” He smiled.

  She swung on a bathrobe and tied the belt around her waist. “I’ll make a quick lunch if you’re interested?” she said over her shoulder.

  “Okay. You sure you don’t have time for a quick something else?” he said.

  “I have eggs. How does a Denver omelet sound?”

  “And coffee in ten?”

  “I suppose I could make you coffee.”

  She liked their banter.

  Sliding the backdoor open for the dogs they crammed through the opening before both would fit.

  Within a minute of setting up the coffeemaker, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the condo. She called her sergeant to update him on the teenager’s request.

  While she waited on hold for the sergeant, she whipped eggs in a bowl.

  A booming voice said in her ear, “Okay, Tanner. What happened?” The sergeant always assumed the worst.

  “The Bowen girl wants me to pick her up and take her to the family home. She wants to hang out in her parents’ bedroom. She’s really sad, boss. Is it okay if I take her?” she said.

  “You’re on your own time.”

  “That’s fine.” They ended the call.

  She’d pushed down the toast and flipped over the omelet when Mac snuggled up to her backside, kissing her neck.

  “You know I have to get going,” she said, twisting around to return his affection.

  “I know.”

  After almost burning the toast, they sat at Monica’s small dining table to eat.

  She gobbled the last bite of omelet into her mouth and stood up at the same time. I have to get going.”

  “Want to get together one night this week?”