Promises to Keep

by Kathryn Shay

  “His parents?”

  “No. But I got an earful from the others. The little old couple who talked to me sure don’t look like swingers.”

  “Swingers?”

  He nodded. “According to them, that free love stuff was all it’s cracked up to be.”

  “And?” Her newspaper instincts went on red alert. Harvey knew something sensational.

  “For the kids, too.”

  “The kids?”

  “Uh-huh. The adults figured it was their responsibility to rid their kids of their sexual hang-ups at an early age.”

  Brenda’s stomach lurched. “That’s perverted.”

  “Maybe, but they didn’t think so. Apparently they initiated both the boys and girls ASAP.”

  Oh, God. “Was...was it incest?”

  “No, thank God, it wasn’t. But still, Stonehouse and his little sister grew up pretty fast.”

  “How old were they?” she asked tightly.

  “He was ten when they joined. She was six.”

  “How long did the family live there?”

  “The parents died there. Stonehouse and the girl disappeared when they were fourteen and ten.”

  “Disappeared?”

  “They ran away. Never saw their parents again. Or anybody else from Sweet Times Farm. The old couple says they were missed.”

  Brenda could just picture it. “I’ll bet.” No wonder he’d gone after that child porn guy.

  “Sick, isn’t it?” Harvey asked.

  “Yeah. It’s sick.” And explained a lot. A whole lot about Joseph B. Stonehouse. Secret Service agent. Beloved uncle.

  And abused child.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Though it didn’t happen often, Kelsey had been depressed all week. She’d had a tedious conversation with her father when he’d tried once again to convince her to come to Yale to teach. She was getting tired of his overbearingness, and knew she should deal with it head-on. He was stopping over to see her this weekend on his way to do research in D.C., and she feared she’d be subjected to his continued tirade, which she didn’t seem to be able to stem.

  Maybe I should leave the high school, she thought as she entered her classroom after cafeteria duty. There’d been a fight during lunch, which she’d broken up; in the process, she’d gotten slammed against the wall and her shoulder was sore. But it wasn’t only that. This morning, when she’d gotten to school, her identification badge, which had been in her desk drawer, had been cut in half—right through her face. Security guessed someone must have broken into her classroom. The incident was frightening.

  To top it off, the results of the Government midterm she’d graded last night were dismal. Then, Ben Franzi had written a disturbing essay for Psychology about aberrant behavior being a good thing and, when she tried to talk to him, he’d blown her off.

  As she reached the door, she came face-to-face with one of her biggest problems. “Ms. Cunningham,” Luke Ludzecky said as he accompanied Morgan Kane through the door.

  Luke had been excruciatingly polite and purposely distant all week. At least he hadn’t been bad, contrary to the next boy who followed him in. Rush Webster traipsed into class wearing headphones, brashly ignoring school policy, which prohibited musical devices and cell phones.

  “Ditch the headphones, Rush,” she said as she set down her leather bag and removed her jacket. She’d fussed with her appearance today, selecting a soft beige blouse and long raw silk skirt and jacket to match. She’d put on her prettiest earrings—dangling copper with abalone shell in the middle of them.

  Rush trudged to his seat without acknowledging her comment. He slouched in a desk in the back and closed his eyes so that when she crossed the room to stand before him, he could neither see nor hear her. Typical ploy on his part.

  In no mood for rebellion today, she yanked the headphones off. He sat up straighter. “What the fu—” He cut himself off. “Don’t touch me, lady. Or my stuff.”

  “Then keep your eyes open and follow the school rules. Get rid of the headphones.” Not waiting for an answer, she turned her back. It was a signal that she expected to be obeyed.

  Under his breath, Rush mumbled, “Bitch.”

  She circled around. “Got something to say to me face-to-face, Rush?”

  His eyes narrowed into slits. He stared her down.

  Despite her impulse to step back, she held his gaze for long seconds. “I expect an answer, young man.”

  He shook his head. It was enough. Pivoting, she headed for her desk. From the corner of her eye, she saw Luke, poised on the edge of his seat. His entire body was ready to spring, reminding her of the young jaguars she’d seen on a wildlife show her father watched. She gave Luke a stern look. He didn’t relax. She shook her head slightly, and he sat back. Just what she needed. A knight in shining, though somewhat tarnished, armor.

  The rest of the class went downhill from there.

  Kelsey picked up the test papers. “These weren’t good, guys. Look at the screen.” She’d done an item analysis on the computer, which she hooked up to the TV; she called up the results.

  The kids groaned.

  “My sentiments exactly.” Only five students had passed, and just one scored in the nineties. “These results are unsatisfactory for a midterm exam. Any thoughts on how to proceed? I can’t re-teach everything.”

  “Can we see our own papers first?” Morgan asked. “Maybe we can tell from them what we should do.”

  “All right.” The room was quiet, except for her heels clattering on the floor as she returned the exams.

  She tried not to watch Luke as he scanned his paper. She was surprised he’d failed the test; although he hadn’t been in her class the whole semester, he should have passed. He had a bright, incisive mind and picked up everything quickly.

  His hazel eyes narrowed, and he winced when he saw the grade.

  “Uncle Joe ain’t gonna like this one.”

  From behind, Morgan leaned over his shoulder. She’d gotten the highest grade. “I could tutor you,” she whispered.

  Kelsey felt something shift inside her. It only added to the confusion she’d been feeling all week.

  Rush wouldn’t take his paper when she got to him, so she set it on the desk and returned to the front of the room.

  Addressing the class, she said, “What I’d like you to do is get into groups and brainstorm how to deal with these bad results. Come up with ideas on how to review this material; what, if anything, we can do to improve your term averages; and generally, what’s going wrong in class that the grades are abysmal.” She smiled at Morgan. “Peer tutoring by those who passed is an example of how we might compensate.”

  As the kids formed groups, Kelsey took attendance. She noticed Smurf was missing, for the third day in a row. Luke had volunteered yesterday to bring some work home to him this afternoon. She also noticed that Webster sat staring at his paper, which bore the grade of 20, while the rest of the kids formed groups.

  Let it go, she told herself. It’ll just be another scene. But one of Kelsey’s cardinal rules was not to allow the kids to veg. More than once, if a kid refused to work, she’d kicked him or her out. Why let Mr. Sourpuss change that?

  She approached his desk. “You need to get into a group, Rush.”

  He purposely turned his head and stared out the window.

  Oh, hell. Maybe she’d give it one more try. “If you’re upset about your grade, we could talk about getting you some help.”

  His body tensed, but he continued to face the windows.

  Her temper spiked, aided by a sleepless night and dreams she couldn’t remember when she did doze off. “Look at me, Rush.”

  He didn’t.

  “You have to participate in group work like everybody else.”

  Still no answer.

  “Have it your way.” She went to her desk, found a disciplinary referral, and wrote him up. She could tell by the silence that the rest of the kids were watching. When she finished, she walked back
to his desk and held out the note. Still, no response. This time she tossed the paper onto the desk. “Take that, get up, and leave the classroom.”

  Nothing.

  “Now!” She raised her voice.

  Slowly, his head turned and he raised his chin. The contempt in his eyes made her heart trip in her chest. What had she done to deserve that? “Don’t yell at me, lady.”

  “Then don’t ignore me. Get up and go to the office, now.”

  Again, he refused to obey and stared at her. Finally he spat out, “I go where I want, in my own time.”

  “Not in this school you don’t.” She strode to the front of the row and pointed to the door. “Leave, or I’ll call the office and have security come to get you.”

  An interminable minute later, he stood. She moved out of his way as he reached the top of the row. Instead of heading for the door, he stopped before her.

  Don’t ever face down kids. Just get them to leave. It had been sound advice during practice teaching. But she’d be damned if she’d let Rush Webster intimidate her. She held her ground, even though she had to look up at him.

  The class had gone still. She heard a shuffle and then Morgan’s worried voice, “Don’t, Luke, you’ll get suspended again. Ms. C. can handle him.”

  Kelsey took the time to glance at the class. “I can deal with this. Everyone stay put.” She returned a steely gaze to Webster.

  The remark seemed to inflame him. He stepped forward. Loomed over her now. He was so close she could smell something on him...pot, maybe. His eyes were bloodshot; his throat worked convulsively.

  And Kelsey was afraid.

  She inched back and circled her desk. Picking up the black phone, she scanned the kids. Luke was out of his seat, held back by Morgan’s hand on his arm. Again, she shook her head at him as she dialed zero and spoke into the phone. “I need someone in 435 right away.”

  Webster headed to the door. But she didn’t even have time to breathe easily before he turned around and stalked back. With a lethal glare, then a grunt, he heaved her desk up and over. Papers flew, pens and scissors banged on the floor, and books slammed against the wall.

  Since Kelsey stood close behind the desk, the edge hit her knee and she went down.

  o0o

  Luke leaped over a student desk and flew to the front of the room. Webster had sprinted out the door, but Luke didn’t spare him a glance. All he could think about was getting to Kelsey. Secret Service Agents were trained to stay with the protectee, not pursue the perpetrator.

  She was in a heap on the floor, wedged between the wall and the desk; he couldn’t tell if she was hurt. “Somebody help out here,” he yelled. Two football players rushed to the front to right the desk with him. He circled around it fast. Bending down, he saw her clasping her knee and moaning.

  “Where are you hurt?” he asked hoarsely.

  “My knee. The desk hit it.”

  Shielding her with his body from the kids who’d gathered around, he lifted her pretty skirt. Her stocking had a gaping hole in it, with tiny runs fanning out; her knee was already discolored and beginning to swell. And she was shaking badly.

  He put his hand on her neck, whispered, “Shh, Kelsey, it’s all right,” and turned to face the kids.

  “Morgan, run to the health office and get some cold packs. This has to be iced down right away. And tell the nurse to come down.”

  He turned back to Kelsey. Her face was chalk white, her lips trembling.

  In that second, Luke wanted to murder Rush Webster.

  “You’re safe,” he said softly. It took every ounce of his willpower not to pull her to his chest.

  “Oh, God,” he heard behind him. Suzanna hurried in the door, a security guard close behind her. She was at Kelsey’s side in seconds. Kneeling, she looked at Luke. “Is she all right?”

  “Her knee got banged up. I sent for cold packs.”

  Suzanna took one good look at Kelsey and tugged her into her arms. Kelsey buried her face in Suzanna’s shoulder and hung on. More than he wanted his next breath, Luke wished that she was clinging to him. But, good agent that he was, he stood and stepped back.

  Stonehouse came running through the door. “What happened?” The kids all started talking at once. Joe said calmly, “Shh, guys, one at a time.” He looked to Luke.

  “Webster got out of line again.”

  Joe raised his brows.

  A young girl must have interpreted it as chastisement. “Ms. C. wanted to handle it herself, Dr. Stonehouse. She told us all to back off.”

  Nodding, Joe seemed to approve.

  It didn’t make Luke feel a whit better.

  Morgan returned with the cold packs. There was a flurry of activity, then the nurse came in with a wheelchair.

  While they tended to Kelsey, Joe went to the phone. Luke followed him. “Security. This is Age—Dr. Stonehouse. There’s been an altercation in room 435. Get your personnel out looking for a student named Rush Webster. About six feet, dark hair and eyes, wearing...” Again he looked to Luke.

  “Black leather jacket, army boots, and blue jeans.”

  As Joe related a description of the guy, Luke’s hands fisted. A million things were running through his mind. Should he have helped? Would he have blown his cover? He was a mass of conflicting emotions as the wheelchair was pushed out of the classroom to the nurse’s office. Accompanying Kelsey, Suzanna blocked Luke’s view of her. He started to follow them.

  Joe grabbed his arm at the door. “Luke, stay.”

  “Not on your life,” he mumbled, shook himself free, and trailed the entourage down the hall.

  They wouldn’t let him in the inner sanctum of the nurse’s office, and he backed off once he realized how inappropriate it was for him to even ask to go in. He paced the outer area that was filled with cots, a desk, and several filing cabinets. The room smelled like antiseptic.

  Suzanna came out interminable minutes later. She crossed to Luke. Her face was drained of color, but her eyes were flaming. Dragging him aside so no one could hear, she asked tightly, “Why didn’t you stop Webster?”

  What could he say? That he didn’t want to blow his cover? That he jumped in headfirst on the last job and almost ruined the operation? Or the truth—that he knew he was too involved with Kelsey already, and that wariness had overridden good judgment?

  “It happened so fast...she seemed to be handling it...”

  Suzanna’s eyes said those were stupid answers.

  They were.

  “Can I see her?”

  The principal drew in a breath. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  He straightened. “Is her injury bad?”

  “No. She’s mostly shaken. Her knee’s swollen, though. The school physician says she’ll need to stay off it for a few days. I’m taking her to her own doctor, just to be sure.”

  Stonehouse came through the door. “Webster’s nowhere to be found on school grounds. Security can’t do much more.”

  “We should call the police.” Suzanna was upset.

  “I’ll do it,” Joe said. “I’ll call Captain Caruso, my contact.”

  “Joe, I—”

  Before she could finish, Mike Wolfe bulldozed into the office, his face flushed. “I just heard. Where is she?”

  Suzanna straightened. “In there, but I—”

  He didn’t wait. Instead, he barged through the door, letting it bang shut behind him.

  Luke stared after the man, his fists curling at his sides. “Son of a bitch,” he said, and stalked out of the office.

  o0o

  So this was Suzanna mad! Really mad! Throw-things, swearing mad. She didn’t know she was being watched and, as he stared into the house through the glass doors off her back deck, Joe was mesmerized by her loss of control.

  He wondered if this was how she was in bed.

  An end-of-March cold front had blown into Fairholm, and he could see the puffs of air coming from his mouth. He’d been waiting in his car for her to return fro
m Kelsey’s, and after she’d pulled up and stomped from the garage into the house, he decided to check her out to see if she was all right. Knowing he’d be the last one she wanted to see tonight, he’d circled around back, guessing she’d go out into the kitchen.

  She did. She ripped off her coat and flung it to a chair; it slid to the floor. Then, she yanked open a cupboard door, pulled out a box, and slammed the door shut. She dragged open the refrigerator, removed milk, slammed that door, too. She tried to pry open the box, and when it stuck, she hurled it to the floor, where it bounced on the area rug. For good measure, she kicked it hard; it banged against the baseboard.

  Then she paced. Her glorious hair flew around her shoulders in wild disarray, falling into eyes he knew were blazing. She strode back and forth. Then, unexpectedly, she sank onto a chair and buried her face in her hands.

  His heart clutched in his chest, squeezed even harder as he saw her wipe away a tear; it began to punch against his rib cage as she pillowed her arms on the table and buried her head in them.

  He wasn’t thinking straight when he inched up close to the glass and knocked. She practically ricocheted off the chair. After she recognized who was there in the dark of night, she stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed, mouth tight. At least his presence brought color to her face. Slowly, she rose, crossed the room, unlatched the lock, and slid the door open. “Standard procedure for the Secret Service, Agent Stonehouse? Lurking in the dark, watching people?”

  He jammed his un-gloved hands into his pockets. “Sometimes.”

  “What do you want?”

  “To see if you’re all right.”

  A flush crept up her neck. “Of course I’m not all right. A kid assaulted a teacher today, I’ve got spies in my school—one of whom just stood by and watched the entire incident—then the superintendent, and you, I might add, kept telling me to stay cool. Well, I’m not cool.”

  He glanced toward the box that lay on the floor, noted it was Hershey’s cocoa. “No, I see you’re not.”

  She looked down, closed her eyes briefly. “It was childish.”

  “It was human. I don’t blame you for being upset.”