by Kathryn Shay
“It’s serious enough to make my school targeted by the Secret Service.”
“I know. That’s tough to digest.”
Delicately, Suzanna sipped her coffee. Lawrence had told Brenda once that it was Suzanna’s china-doll mannerisms that had first attracted him to his wife. “Thanks for cooperating.”
Brenda arched a brow.
“By agreeing to keep this under wraps.”
Well, she hadn’t exactly agreed. What she’d said was she would never do anything to jeopardize Suzanna or her school. Which she wouldn’t. But afterward...screw the secrecy that the government spies thought was so important.
“Especially since I know you feel as strongly about this kind of deception as I do.”
Brenda didn’t respond.
Absently, Suzanna ran her fingertip around the rim of the steaming mug. “Did you meet Joe in New York?”
Brenda’s shoulders straightened. It was crucial that she not reveal too much tonight—even to Suzanna—before she had time to figure things out. “I met him during that famous counterfeiting case with Speck Richie. Since the Secret Service is a division of the Treasury Department, they were in charge. When they found out about Richie’s kiddie porn operation in New York, some of the agents flew up to join the FBI and take him down. Richie was arrested, and there was a press conference.”
“I’m surprised Joe was so visible. Don’t Secret Service agents usually stay in the background?”
“He wasn’t in charge of the case, the FBI was. But the Secret Service had been after this guy for a long time, so he worked in tandem with them.” Brenda shrugged. “It was before Stonehouse got into covert operations, I guess. And it was years ago.” When they were both younger and less cautious. The incident was right after Conrad Schenk had died. Brenda had missed her mentor so much, she’d acted...indiscreetly for months afterward.
“I see.” Suzanna shook her head. “I can’t get a bead on Joe. Even after working with him for a couple of weeks.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he’s great with kids. Thank God, he’s a real counselor, or I’d have to put a halt to this. And he’s good. He’s asked some of the students down to his office on get-to-know-you pretenses and unearthed a lot of their problems by just talking to them. He’s already started some significant groups. Hell, I even encouraged Josh to see him.” She frowned. “But Joe seems so cold most of the time.”
Brenda smiled. “The women teachers don’t think he’s hot?”
Suzanna shrugged. “Kelsey said she thought he had a nice butt.” She closed her eyes. “I’ll have to keep this from Kelsey. That’s a problem.”
“Why?”
“It’s just that she has such a thing about trust. I’ve been the only adult in her life not to betray her trust, and if she finds out about this—that I kept this from her—it will hurt her more than I can say.”
“She’s an adult, Suzanna. Not the kid you took in. She should be able to handle what happens if she finds out.”
“No, it’ll be a problem. Especially since she’s taken a special interest in Luke. And she’s getting to know Joe, too. She won’t take being deceived by them, and me, well.”
Brenda ran her thumbnail around the lettering on her mug, which read World’s Greatest Mom. “Do you think Joe’s attractive?”
“He works for me, Brenda.”
“Ah, no, he doesn’t.”
“I thought he did.”
“No chemistry?”
“Nope, not an iota. Not a spark. Not a millimeter.”
They’d had this kind of conversation before, at three in the morning in the dorm room, while they sipped beer and discussed the male species. The memory brought a smile to Brenda’s lips. “The party line when you’re attracted to a guy, Suz.”
“What?”
“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”
“Okay, I like his eyes. They’re the warmest thing about him.”
Not necessarily, Brenda thought.
“How did we get on this, anyway? I’m in the middle of the biggest crisis of my career and we’re talking about how hot this guy is.”
“Sorry. What are you going to do?”
“Do?”
“Yeah, you gonna go along when their undercover work violates every one of your principles?” She hesitated. “Ones I happen to agree with.” Their belief in openness, their distaste for underhanded tactics, especially by the government, were the things they had in common. They’d met because of those beliefs.
“Of course I’m going along with it. What choice do I have?”
“There are always choices.”
Suzanna smiled. “That’s what you said at the first rally you spearheaded at Vassar. I remember how vehement you were, how much I admired you for speaking your mind.” She smiled. “And Conrad was so proud of you. He left for the Times job in the city right after that, didn’t he?”
“Yes.” Where she’d followed him once she’d graduated. “You were just as vehement as I was, Suz. Then, anyway.”
Suzanna scraped back the chair, stood, and crossed to the triple glass doors looking out over the cedar deck.
Brenda turned around and faced her friend’s back. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.”
“It’s okay. I’m tired, is all.”
Deftly changing the subject, Brenda asked, “Want to tell me what all that was about your father? You never said much about him, except that he died before you were born.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I never could.”
Brenda stood and crossed to Suzanna. Though she wasn’t a toucher, she squeezed her friend’s shoulders. “You should get some sleep. You’re tired. It’ll all look better in the morning. I promise.”
Her hands clamping her elbows, Suzanna stared out into the starless sky.
“Come on, walk me to the door,” Brenda said.
Suzanna turned. Arm-in-arm, they made their way to the foyer.
“Things’ll be okay, Suz, I know they will. You’ll pull this off with finesse, like everything else you’ve done in your life.” Suzanna had never bungled anything.
“Thanks for your confidence. You’ve always been so good for me.” She smiled at Brenda, then studied her. “You all right? You seem a little distracted.”
Shrugging into her calf-length red leather coat, Brenda shook her head. “I’m fine.” She gave her friend a peck on the cheek. She was fine. But she needed a drink. Just one. Bad. “See you soon.”
Outside, in the cold night air, Brenda took in a deep breath and whispered, “Oh, I’m fine, all right. And I’m gonna be a hell of a lot better.”
Brenda might be a fuckup in a lot of areas, but she stuck to her principles, to her beliefs. Conrad had taught her to do that. This time, it was going to get her back on top where she belonged.
o0o
Joe waited until Brenda Way’s little Miata pulled out of Suzanna’s driveway, then exited his nondescript sedan and hurried up the slate walkway to the porch of the brick house. Cold night air prickled his face, and he stuck his hands in his coat pockets.
The sprawling contemporary was too big for Suzanna and her son. With thoughts of not alerting that son to his visit, Joe tapped the brass knocker lightly, hoping Suzanna was in the vicinity.
The door swung open. “Did you forget some—Oh, Joe.”
For the first time in recent memory, Joe Stonehouse was speechless. Suzanna stood before him in such delicious dishabille that he’d truly have to be Iron Man not to react. “Hi. Sorry to disturb you.”
Her hand flew to the delicate pink blouse she’d obviously started to remove. Four buttons were undone, revealing a lacy pink bra underneath. Creamy white pearls nestled against even creamier skin, and all that glorious hair was unbound.
Turning, she fumbled with her buttons. “Um, come on in.”
He stepped into the foyer.
She faced him again, the blouse closed, but that hair still wild around her now rosy cheeks.
“What are you doing here?”
Good question. “I don’t exactly know.” He raked a hand through his own hair. “I felt like we should talk after what you found out tonight.” And I was worried about you.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she said, “I don’t think there’s much to say.”
He glanced up the oak staircase behind her. “Is Josh asleep?”
“He’s not home. He’s staying overnight at a friend’s. They had to work on a project after Student Court, and he called to say he was going to sleep there.”
“Are you sure that’s where he is?”
“Why wouldn’t he be?”
“Kids get into all kinds of trouble when their parents think they’re overnight somewhere.”
She shook back her hair. “I trust my son. And I resent that accusation about his honesty.”
“I’m sorry. I guess I’m just naturally suspicious.” When she said no more, he did. “Look, Suzanna, I didn’t come here to discuss your parenting skills. I came to answer any questions you might have, and to explain a few things.” His gaze darted to the big modern grandfather clock behind her. “I know it’s late. But may I come in for a minute?” He indicated the living room.
“I guess. It might clear the air.”
After she hung up his coat, he followed her to the left, trying to keep his eyes off her bare feet. And shapely legs. Hell, what had gotten in to him tonight?
She indicated that he should sit on a tapestry sofa, and she took the matching love seat. He scanned the huge room with the skylights and floor-to-ceiling windows. An Aubusson carpet covered the hardwood floors. On an inlaid oak table sat flowers—daffodils. “Nice place.”
Her eyes sparked with fire. “Haven’t you seen it before?”
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t have pictures of my house? Know how much I owe on my car? Checked out the catalog where I buy my underwear?”
He winced inwardly, but kept the stoic mask in place. “No, Suzanna, I don’t know any of those things.”
“I don’t believe you. If you know about my father, then you know all that.”
Joe realized he needed to proceed carefully—maybe it had been a mistake to keep her in the dark. “I’m sorry about your father. Sorry it happened. Sorry I know when you’ve gone to great lengths to keep his story private.”
Her eyes moistened, socking him in the gut.
“Did you ever tell anybody?”
Biting her lip, she looked away. “Lawrence knew. Brenda and I attended a seminar he gave at Vassar on government ethics—which, by the way, all the participants thought was an oxymoron. It’s how I met him.” Her gaze hardened. “But you probably know that.”
He said as gently as he could, “I know about Lawrence.”
“He was a good man. Integrity was crucial to him.” Her look said, Unlike you. The unfair assessment stung, but he held his tongue.
“Is Josh like him?”
“Exactly. He got the best of Lawrence—his moral code, his belief in fairness, and his work ethic.”
“And yours.” Sitting forward, Joe linked his hands and dangled them between his knees. “Suzanna, what bothers you the most about all this?” He didn’t need to clarify the all this.
Thoughtful, she stared over her shoulder a minute. “That it’s unethical.”
“In your view. Not in everybody’s.” When she said no more, he asked, “What else?”
She waited to answer. “Maybe that you know everything about me, have known from the beginning. And you’re a complete stranger to me. It’s like taking my clothes off in front of someone who’s still dressed.”
He wished she’d drawn a different analogy; the images her words conjured made him uncomfortable.
Her color rose. He’d noticed that blush, in conversations and faculty meetings, when she was impassioned by something. “I know nothing about you, Joe. And you know everything about me. I hate that.” She stood and began to pace. The full skirt she wore swirled around her knees.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“Are you?” She rounded on him, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. “Then even the playing field. Tell me something nobody knows about you.”
His heartbeat escalated, but he’d become an expert at steadying it. “A Secret Service agent’s life is not an open book.”
“Tell me one thing,” she challenged. “One big thing that might make me be able to tolerate your intimate knowledge of my life. Your infiltration of my school.”
He’d lie. He’d been backed into corners like this before and prevaricated his way out. Anything for the good of the job.
But at that moment, he was tired of the job. Of being Agent Stonehouse. Stone Man. He hadn’t seen his sister Ruthie in a while, and she was the only person with whom he let down. So he said, “My niece—” When was the last time he’d spoken her name? The words caught in his throat. He studied the carpet under his shiny black wingtips. “She was killed in a school shooting a few years ago.” He coughed again, cursing himself for spilling his guts. “It’s why I pushed for STAT.”
He heard the furnace turn on. Noticed the lights were dim. And before him, Josie’s smiling face materialized. He didn’t let himself think about her too much. It hurt when he remembered, and Secret Service agents couldn’t afford to be distracted by pain. Damn it, why had he gotten into this?
Still staring at the floor, he felt a hand on his arm. He glanced at it. Her fingers were long and slender, soft and very feminine, with polished nails. “Joe, I’m sorry.”
His throat felt like it was full of the cotton candy Josie had loved. “It’s okay.” He looked up into sympathetic eyes, panicked at what his must reveal. “It was a long time ago.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He shook his head. He couldn’t, not only because it was too painful, but because agents weren’t supposed to reveal their personal lives—what personal lives they had. And the shooting had hit the papers, so Suzanna would be able to identify his family if she knew the circumstances. Besides his job, Joe had nothing else in his life but Ruthie, Al, and the kids, and he treasured them more than he could say.
Turning away, Suzanna crossed to the other side of the room. He watched her pour something out of a decanter, heard the clink of glass in the now too-silent house. She returned with two snifters of amber liquid.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Brandy.” Like the color of her eyes. “We both can use it.” She sank onto the couch with him. Not too far away. For some reason, her proximity calmed him.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“So am I.” They smiled at the repetition of their apology. He sipped the liquor. It was smooth and rich and went down fine. “Don’t blame Maloney. It was my decision. He wanted to tell you. So did Ludzecky.”
Despite the gravity of the situation, she smiled. “Ah, now, there’s a topic.”
Joe closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. “You don’t know the half of it. The kid isn’t my nephew, but believe me, he does see me as a reincarnation of Simon Legree.”
“For a specific reason?”
“Yeah, we have some history.”
When he didn’t elaborate, she asked, “Why are you working together?”
“We needed to come in fast after the hit list was found.”
Her face, which had relaxed, tightened again. “I’d like to see the documentation the task force has on my school and take a look at the Safe School Initiative.”
“I’ll provide you with what I can. Some of it’s classified.”
She didn’t want that answer. But she sipped the brandy and it seemed to soothe her. “I can’t believe this. It’s a nightmare.”
“Maybe one I can prevent.”
He liked putting that hope in her eyes. “Can you?”
“I have before.”
“Will you tell me about that? It might ease my fears.”
“In general terms. We’ve been in f
ive other schools. I’ve gone into three, outside of this one. They had similar problems. In one, we didn’t find anybody who was truly violent, and so far the school’s been safe. In the others, we did. In one of those, some violence erupted, but it wasn’t widespread. Only an agent was hurt.” And that thanks to Ludzecky.
“You?”
He rubbed his arm. “How did you know?”
“Good guess.”
“In the other two, we got help for the kids we thought might erupt, and for the parents. We also instituted some staff training in the school. I believe we helped a lot of kids. Our follow-ups say they’re still on track.” He leaned forward, warming to the subject. For some reason, she resurrected a passion in him that he normally buried. “Suzanna, in some ways, our study is good news. It says we can do something about school violence. It puts the onus on adults to listen to kids, to recognize and ferret out their problems.”
“We try to do that already, Joe. We always have.”
“Yes, you do. But it’s not enough. No school does enough. We have to look at the pieces more carefully, not just watch for black clothes and trench coats.”
“What do you mean?”
“We need to read their writings with more attention, listen to the despair in their songs. Be more cognizant about bullying, especially online. We need to develop deeper bonds with them.”
“By tricking them?”
He stiffened almost imperceptibly. “I’m a trained psychologist. I’m here to help kids. They’ll never know they’ve been tricked. When I’m done, I’ll just leave, hopefully having helped them over some emotional humps.”
“I wish I could be sure we can avert this kind of thing.”
“Earlier I mentioned Evan Ramsey. I was one of the interviewers who spoke with him in jail. When we asked him what he would have done if a principal or counselor had called him in and talked to him about what the kids had been hearing—that he was going to shoot people in school—he said he would have told the truth.”
Her delicate eyebrows arched. “Really?”
Joe nodded.
“That makes me feel better. Now if I can just get past deceiving my staff.” She shook her head, sending disheveled waves around her face. “I’ve spent my whole career fighting against deceit. I’ve forced teachers to stop bitching in the staff lounge and be open about their gripes. I’ve encouraged kids to talk to teachers, and to me, instead of seething and holding grudges.”