by K. C. Archer
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Molly said when Teddy arrived. She spoke so quietly, Teddy could barely hear her. It sounded like her throat was dry. It must have been a strain to talk.
Teddy’s throat ached, too. “Neither was I,” she said.
Molly stared out the window. “Were you kicked out of Whitfield?”
“Still here,” Teddy said. “No thanks to you.”
Molly turned to her, tears in her eyes. “I can only assume I haven’t been expelled because you haven’t said anything.” She bit her lip.
Teddy didn’t want to feel distressed on her friend’s behalf, but she did. This wasn’t how she wanted it to go. All those empathy lessons. Teddy wanted to be angry. Molly was the reason Teddy’s exam had gone south. Why she was no longer talking to Clint. Why she was still on Boyd’s shit list. “What happened in there? It was like you weren’t you.”
“I don’t know,” Molly said. “I don’t remember. Everything after I entered the course is blank. Hours, gone.”
Teddy had hoped Molly would provide more information. Something that would clarify what had happened, lead her to a suspect. “Did Jeremy—”
A tall, thin nurse, with hair so pale it looked almost white, walked into the room without making a sound. Teddy noticed her only when the door clicked closed behind her.
“Good morning, ladies,” she said. She took Molly’s chart from the foot of the bed. She made a note, then checked Molly’s pulse and blood pressure, frowning at both. “I’m sorry,” she said, turning to Teddy, “but Ms. Quinn needs rest.”
“I don’t want her to go,” Molly said firmly.
“Your heart rate is 120, and your blood pressure is—”
“Please,” Molly said. “Just five minutes.”
The nurse hesitated. “Two minutes,” she said, and left.
Molly waited until the door closed again. “Jeremy told me what happened afterward. I know how it looks, but I never meant to hurt you,” she said. “Just the opposite. But I . . .” She stopped and scanned the ceiling as though she might find words there. “I have to tell you something,” she began. She stopped, and her eyes changed focus, seeing something over Teddy’s shoulder.
Teddy turned; the nurse was back. “I’m afraid time’s up. You have to go, Ms. Cannon.”
Teddy snapped, “We’re not finished. I’d like to speak to Nurse Bell, please.”
“Nurse Bell is away for the moment. And visiting time is over, Ms. Cannon.”
Teddy stood up. Her conversation with Molly hadn’t helped at all, especially with the nurse’s interruptions. She turned back to her friend. “You sure you’ll be okay?”
Molly nodded. “She’s right, I should probably rest. I’m sorry.”
* * *
The campus was empty. Teddy walked toward the evergreen pines, which stood like sentinels before Harris Hall, then she crossed the manicured courtyard back to her dorm, replaying the conversation with Molly in her head. Molly didn’t know what had happened, but Jeremy had told her the details. How had he known? Teddy and Molly had been the only ones in that room. The only way Jeremy would have known was if he had been there or been inside Molly’s head.
Caught up in her own thoughts, Teddy took a moment to realize that Kate was sitting on the front steps of the dorm.
“Are you going to Jeremy’s parents’ party?” Kate asked. She never bothered with small talk. Teddy still hadn’t gotten used to her blunt conversational style.
“What party?”
“Their New Year’s party. They do it every year—always invite a lot of big shots and military families. I’ve been when my family is stationed in the area.”
“I wasn’t invited.”
“I didn’t ask if you were invited,” Kate said. “I asked if you were going.”
“While it sounds like a lot of fun, going to a party full of government bigwigs, it’s really not my scene,” Teddy said.
“Well, if someone was hypothetically trying to get me kicked out of Whitfield, and having people over to his private residence, and there might be opportunities to snoop, I would theoretically want to be there,” Kate said, getting up from the step.
“You mean like keep your friends close but your enemies closer?” Teddy asked.
“More like ‘Know thy enemy and know yourself, and you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.’ ”
“Is that one of Boyd’s mantras?”
“Hardly. It’s Sun Tzu. The Art of War.”
Teddy considered it. The party sounded boring AF, but Kate was right. “I don’t have a dress,” she said.
Kate eyed her. “I got you. But your feet are huge, Cannon.”
Teddy shrugged. “Hey, combat boots go with everything.”
* * *
An hour later, Teddy found herself in front of a Pacific Heights mansion. Teddy had assumed that Jeremy Lee came from money—he had a boat, after all—but she never would have pictured this. The exterior displayed tasteful Victorian beauty: pink stucco walls, wrought-iron balconies, plasterwork friezes, and carefully tended gardens. Ionic columns set off an elevated circular entrance. It looked like something out of a movie.
“If anyone asks you who or where your parents are, just say you live on base and they’re on assignment,” Kate said.
“Won’t they ask which base or what assignment?”
Kate fixed Teddy with a stare. “This is a party with high-ranking officials from every branch of government. No one is going to ask what base or what assignment. It’s implied if you don’t say that it’s confidential.”
God, what was she getting herself into? “Are your parents going to be here?”
“No,” Kate said. “They actually are on base on assignment.”
Teddy smoothed out the skirt of the silver dress Kate had handed to her only hours before. It made her feel self-conscious; Teddy Cannon didn’t do dresses. “So, you knew Jeremy before Whitfield?”
“I met him maybe once. He was rarely at these parties. He was away at boarding school or college or hiding in his room. And I didn’t know he was psychic. Plus, even if he was there, you know—he’s not much of a talker.”
They began to walk up the front steps, and Teddy suppressed an actual gulp. This was nothing like her parents’ suburban home. She’d been around this kind of money in the casinos, but that was at a poker table, where everyone was equal. Not a place where she had to make small talk.
“Okay, remember: don’t do anything that’s going to make you stand out. The entire point of this mission—”
Teddy held back a laugh. “Wait, we’re on a mission?”
“Cannon,” Kate said, “if we’re doing this, we’re taking this seriously.”
“You got me in a dress, Kate.” Teddy hadn’t worn a dress since the last time she’d tried to go on a “mission,” when she’d also been wearing a fat suit and a wig. “I’m taking this seriously.”
Four months ago, Teddy couldn’t have pictured working with Kate, let alone going to a party with her. “I’ll have your back in there,” Kate said, “but I’m not going down for you.” They locked eyes for a moment. “Got it?”
“Got it.” Teddy looked up the large staircase, past the tuxedoed staff hired to be valets for the evening. She studied the guests arriving—plenty of people in military uniform, women in fancy dresses. She’d been in training for more than four months to develop her combat, psychic, and crime-solving skills. Certainly she could tackle a cocktail party.
“Ready?” Kate asked.
“As I’ll ever be.”
* * *
The interior of the mansion was every bit as elegant as it appeared from the outside. Crystal chandeliers gently lit rooms arranged with love seats, chaises, and ottomans. Knickknacks sat on shelves that probably cost more than Teddy’s deposit for college. Though this place was fancy, so they wouldn’t be called knickknacks—they would be objets d’art.
Teddy tried not to gawk. But even the guest
s were intimidating. She spotted one U.S. senator, a petite woman she recognized as a news anchor from one of the cable networks, the mayor of San Francisco, and their very own Hollis Whitfield in line at the raw bar.
About an hour into the party, Teddy found herself in a conversation with a hair-sprayed matron in pearls. “So then I said, ‘I never go there in the summer. That’s when tourists go!’ ”
Kate elbowed Teddy in the ribs, nearly causing her to spill her drink.
“Excuse me,” the lady said, looking between the two of them. “I think I see someone over there I must say hello to.”
“Why are you talking to her?” Kate said to Teddy.
“I honestly have no idea,” Teddy said. “And I haven’t been able to sneak off, because those damn waiters keep trying to direct me to the bathroom on the first floor whenever I say I’m looking for a toilet. They must think I have an overactive bladder or a cocaine habit.”
“Think about what you’re looking for,” Kate said.
“I don’t know what I’m looking for! This was your idea, remember?”
“You’re doing recon on Jeremy. Trying to figure out why he would want to take you down. And why he would have used Molly to do it.”
“It’s not like there’s going to be a piece of paper on his desk outlining a master plan.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Enjoy the free food.”
Teddy hesitated. She couldn’t believe she was going to do this. With Kate, of all people. The last time Teddy Cannon had asked for help wittingly was when she couldn’t tie her shoes at the age of three. “I—” She sighed. “I need help.”
“Okay,” Kate said. “Let me into your head.”
Teddy expected Kate to make a big deal of it. To lord it over her.
Kate asked, “Don’t you trust me?”
Did she? Teddy grabbed Kate’s hand. “Fine. Channel seven.”
Teddy lowered her wall and pictured the walkie-talkie in her mind’s eye. Having someone in her head was still uncomfortable. Like having a pebble in her shoe. Especially if that pebble is a stubborn military brat who thinks she’s God’s gift to the Whitfield Institute.
I heard that, Kate said.
Glad we’re on the same page, then.
Teddy walked out of the main foyer and slipped through the kitchen, a route she had watched waiter after waiter walk. She hoped there was a back staircase that led to the family’s private rooms.
Teddy found her way down a long mahogany-paneled hallway. Up one flight, she turned to the room on her left, which seemed to be a guest bedroom. An unopened suitcase lay near the foot of the bed. Teddy opened it. A hair dryer. Ladies’ underwear. Definitely not Jeremy’s. Or hopefully not Jeremy’s.
This is useless.
It’s not like TV, Cannon. The information isn’t going to fall into your lap.
Teddy made her way back to the hallway. She went into two other bedrooms. Neither seemed to be Jeremy’s. None had any clues.
We’re sitting down for dinner soon, Kate telepathically wired to Teddy. Hurry.
Teddy went toward a partially opened door at the end of the hallway.
“I don’t understand why I have to leave Whitfield before graduation.”
She knew that voice. Christine Federico’s. Teddy leaned closer. She couldn’t make out what the other person was saying. It was a male voice. Calm. Quiet. Jeremy’s? She couldn’t be sure.
“What about Brett?” Christine asked.
Teddy hoped that her spying would reveal what had happened on the course, but if her time in Jeremy’s house solved another mystery, she wouldn’t complain.
She heard footsteps at the end of the hallway. She ran through her options: she could pretend she was lost, but that wouldn’t explain why she was standing outside a door, listening to a private conversation. She would have to go inside.
Shit.
Language, Cannon, Kate said.
“Hey,” Teddy said, walking through the paneled doorway into what looked like an office. Oak bookshelves lined the walls; a large captain’s desk took up a significant portion of the room. “Got lost on the way to the bathroom.”
Christine and Jeremy sat close together on a leather couch; they looked cozy. If Teddy hadn’t been listening in the hallway, she would have been suspicious for another reason altogether. Jeremy looked up, surprised. “Teddy, what are you doing here?”
“I’m Kate’s plus-one.” Teddy shrugged.
“I should probably be going,” Christine said. She gave Teddy a once-over, lingering on the combat boots.
“Don’t let me interrupt,” Teddy said. She backed toward the door.
“There’s a bathroom down the hall,” Jeremy said. “Two doors to the right.”
“Thanks,” Teddy said, turning around and walking straight into a uniformed, fully decorated officer.
“Jeremy,” said a voice that made Teddy’s hair stand on end. “Introduce me to your friends.”
Jeremy sprang to his feet. “Yes, sir.”
“We’re at a party, son, you can relax.” He turned to Teddy and stuck out a large palm. He was in his early seventies, at least. His silver hair was buzzed military-style. His face was tan and creased with lines, as if he’d withstood years in a desert and made it through the other side with all the knowledge of Moses.
That gut feeling she got around nonpsychics? The “alley, elevator, no good, get going, this isn’t going to turn out well” anxiety that told her people were lying? One glance at this guy told her to get the hell out of there. Everything about him made Teddy want to run. She didn’t have to look into his mind to know that.
“My classmate Theodora Cannon, sir,” Jeremy said. Teddy shook the man’s hand. His grip was too strong, as if on purpose. Teddy resisted every urge to squeeze back but knew she wasn’t supposed to draw attention to herself.
“And this is Christine Federico; she’s a third year.”
The man turned and offered his hand to Christine. “General Paul Maddux. I’m a friend of Jeremy’s father.”
Teddy wondered if the general knew about Whitfield. Since it was a private-public enterprise, she was certain some members of the military were in the know.
Maddux turned to Christine. “Any plans after graduation?”
Christine gave Jeremy a quick glance, then shook her head. “I’m not sure where I’m headed next.”
He turned to Teddy. “What about you?”
“I’m not sure—”
“General,” Kate interrupted. “Kate Atkins, daughter of Major General Rodney Atkins.”
Kate? How’d she find me?
“Everyone’s getting ready for dinner, so I came to get Teddy. She has no sense of direction. We should probably get going.” Kate grabbed Teddy’s arm in a deathlike grip and steered her out of the room.
“You’re hurting me,” Teddy said, shaking free.
Kate stared at her, openmouthed. “The last thing I got from you was a surge of panic and then you cursing. You expected me not to find you? Wow. That hurts right here, partner.” Kate patted her heart. “I can’t believe Maddux is here. That guy is a legend.”
Teddy’s skin prickled. “He seemed creepy.”
“If you can call a war hero creepy. He led some of the few definitively successful Vietnam missions. Since then he’s practically written the book on how we handle guerrilla warfare.”
They reached the main entryway, where several tables had been set up for dinner. Kate stopped Teddy and pulled her into an alcove underneath a tasteful watercolor of the San Francisco Bay. “Did you get any dirt on Jeremy?” Kate asked.
“No,” Teddy said. “Unfortunately.”
“I’d say we should go now, but it would look suspicious if we were walking around upstairs and then just disappeared,” Kate said. “Let’s stay for a course or two, then slip out before dessert.”
“Mission failure,” Teddy said.
Kate shrugged. “ ‘When all is said and done, more is always said than done.�
�� ”
“Sun Tzu?” Teddy asked.
“Drake.”
* * *
Teddy and Kate found seats at a practically empty table in the corner, alongside the hair-sprayed matron from earlier. Jeremy, Christine, and General Maddux entered the foyer ten minutes later. Teddy panicked when she realized that the only remaining seats were at her table. She braced herself for an uncomfortable meal with General McCreepy. But he acted the part of congenial guest, directing conversation as it drifted from holiday gifts to New Year’s resolutions to, predictably, the weather.
And then the hair-sprayed matron just had to ask about homeland security.
Teddy saw Jeremy visibly tense. She knew his history, how he felt about America’s role as the defender of the free world. How he felt about not being able to do anything to save his mother.
General Maddux didn’t hesitate. “America’s foreign policies and homeland-security tactics have left its citizens vulnerable to attack,” he said. “We need the military now more than ever. We need men on the ground, drones in the air. I’ve been pushing to increase our presence overseas.” He reached for his wineglass, his expression thoughtful.
This guy was a hawk. Worse, no one at the table questioned him. If she could only interrupt his train of thought . . . Teddy imagined knocking over his glass, the wine spilling across the tablecloth. She sent a current down her arm as her astral body reached out. She could almost feel the cool glass on her fingertips.
The glass wobbled. It was about to tip over and then instantly righted, defying the laws of physics.
Maddux finished his lecture. He looked at her and raised his glass. Had he known what she had done?
“The fact is,” Teddy said, “I’d rather live in a free state than a police state. Your work will promote security restrictions and limit civil liberties. The alternative is—”
“The alternative is allowing acts of terrorism. Instead, we identify targets before they do harm.”