Promises to Keep

by Kathryn Shay

  His laugh was brittle. “I’ve done nothing but hurt you, Suzanna, since I came to Fairholm.”

  Edging toward him, taking in the manhattan next to the gun he’d laid on the table, she reached the chair and dropped onto the floor at his feet. He stared past her shoulder. She picked up his hand. “Joe.”

  He swallowed hard. Cast in shadows, his face was blank. A bristly growth of beard covered his jaw, and his blue striped shirt and jeans were rumpled. But she could tell by the stiffness in his body that the agent was back. “It’s my fault,” he told her in a gravelly voice.

  “What is?”

  “That Brenda Way got as far as she did with her deception. If I hadn’t been so caught up in you, I might have seen this coming. I knew I couldn’t trust Brenda. But she was your friend. You trusted her. And I didn’t want to believe she’d do anything harmful.” After a moment, he added, “But there were signs.”

  “What signs?”

  “Her asking to sit in on meetings. Her constant questions.” He looked at Suzanna for the first time. His green eyes were like ice. “She pumped you, didn’t she?”

  “I guess.” Suzanna ran a hand through her hair, sat back on her legs, and peered up at him. “I thought she was concerned for my welfare.” Suzanna hesitated. “If anything, it’s my fault, Joe. I let it slip about your niece. She must have found out you took me to Connecticut; then she went to find Ruth. I don’t know how she got the rest.”

  “A private investigator. I saw his name in the information on her desk.” He drew in a deep breath. “When she first recognized who I was, I should have aborted the operation at Fairholm.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Pride. Ego, maybe. Fairholm High School had been targeted and needed us. Oh, I told myself I could control her. But I didn’t. She got the juicy details on all of us.” He shook his head. “Poor Luke. And Kelsey. They’re just kids, really. This will hurt both their careers.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “And you, sweetheart.” Against his will—she could tell—he lifted his hand to caress her cheek. “She’ll use the information on your father. I know how you hate that being out in the open.”

  Taking advantage of his action, she grasped his hand. Kissed his palm. “I can survive that. I’m mostly worried about Ruth and you, and the details she uncovered about your background.”

  Joe’s jaw hardened like granite. Through gritted teeth, he said, “You know, Ruthie and I never talk about it.”

  Suzanna remembered Ruth’s words, We never talk about how we grew up.

  “Does Al know, Joe?”

  He nodded.

  “Thank God.”

  “But the kids don’t. Honestly, I’m not sure they can survive this blow. After losing Josie, anything could push them all off the deep end.” His hand gripped hers—unconsciously, she guessed. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “I tried to talk Brenda out of writing the book.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Not much. I still can’t believe it all.” Her voice cracked. She put her head down on his knees. “I’m so sorry.”

  His hand smoothed her hair. “Shh, it’s not your fault.”

  “Yes, it is. Like you said, if I hadn’t fallen in love with you, maybe I could have seen the signs, too.” She sniffled; she wanted to offer him comfort, not take it. But she felt so bad.

  “Come here.” He drew her onto his lap, hugging her close to his chest. The man peeked out of the agent. “It’s not your fault.” He kissed her forehead. “Someone you love tricked you. Like I did, initially.”

  She grasped his shirt and burrowed into him. He held on to her. Occasionally he sipped his drink, brushed a hand down her arm, down her back.

  After a long time, she asked, “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  His chest heaved with emotion. “Not much to say. I’ve tried to block out those times, suppress them. The details, at least.”

  “How old were you?”

  “I was ten and Ruthie was six when we went to live there. The sex stuff started soon after.”

  Tears seeped from her eyes. “Oh, Joe.”

  “It was scary, mostly, foreign and unpleasant.” He cleared his throat. “I vividly remember begging my mother and father to stop the whole thing, at least to leave Ruthie out of it. Other than that, I can’t recall the details. The counselors said that was probably for the best.”

  “Counselors?”

  “Ruthie and I got away—far away—after four years. When the authorities found us, we were put in foster care. They were good people and got us therapy. When I turned eighteen, I took Ruthie and supported us both. I got us more counseling. I think it helped.”

  “How did you go to college? How did you live?”

  “We worked jobs, got scholarships. At least we had each other.” He smiled. “I remember when she met Al at college in California. He fell hard for her, and followed her around like a puppy. She rejected him, of course, like she did all men for a long time. But he eventually coaxed her to tell him why, then they got some counseling together on campus; she married him before they graduated.”

  “What about you?”

  “I was one of the few who went into the Secret Service right out of college. I liked the discipline of it. Especially the undercover work, being somebody I wasn’t.”

  “What about women?”

  “It was tough at first, but I compartmentalized a lot. I also got more counseling in the agency. The commune thing came up. They helped me.” He smiled against her hair. “Not till you did I realize how much I held back, though.”

  “You held back with me?” The thought hurt. She’d had no inhibitions with him.

  “No, love, you’re the first woman I didn’t hold back with.”

  “Then don’t start now, Joe.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t cut me out.”

  “We’re almost done here.”

  “I know. I don’t care. Let me have what time is left.”

  “Ah, Suzie Q.”

  She sat up and took his face in her hands. “Please, don’t end it now. Wait till you leave. Let us be together for a little while longer.”

  He brushed back her hair. “I can’t deny you. I can’t deny myself.”

  Sliding off his lap, she stood and reached out her hand. “Come to bed, Joe. Let me erase the bad memories tonight.”

  “All right.” He climbed out of the chair, slid his hand into hers, and let her lead him upstairs.

  Where she worshipped him. There was no other word to describe her ministrations. Tenderly, she eased off his shirt, jeans, shoes, and socks. When he tried to undress her, she whispered, “No, just let me.”

  He lay down on the bed. She shed her clothes, never unlocking her gaze from his, then joined him on the mattress. Her mouth found him then—his chest, his stomach. When she nuzzled lower, he arched off the bed. “I want you,” she said as she caressed him boldly. “I need you,” she repeated as she loved him with her mouth. “I love you, Joe,” she said as she took him inside her. “I love you.”

  Tears clogged her throat and sprang from her eyes as she brought him to a shattering climax. It was only when she sat up and raised her hands to his face, that she realized his cheeks were wet, too.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Monday, April 23

  5 A.M.

  Luke rolled over in his bed and buried his head in the pillows, trying to block out the noise that had awakened him. He’d been up late, thinking about his relationship with Kelsey, wondering if they could get over her hot button about trust, thinking about the fact that even if they could, there was the whole thing about his work undercover, his lifestyle, and the danger he routinely faced. Consequently, he’d gotten nowhere in his ruminations and lost a lot of sleep.

  The noise continued, then he realized his phone was ringing. Blindly, he groped along the nightstand, where he had dropped his cell phone. “’ello.”

  “Luke?” />
  “Yeah.”

  “It’s Ben.”

  Alert, Luke flipped over, checked the clock through gritty eyes, and struggled to sit up. “Jesus, buddy, it’s five in the morning.” No answer. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. No.”

  “Well, that’s definite.”

  “I’m cool. It’s not me.”

  “What’s got you up with the birds, then?”

  “Smurf just called me.” Ben’s voice quavered. “His parents stayed in Hilton Head, and sent him and his sister on home yesterday, alone.”

  “What the fuck?” Luke shook his head. “Parents.”

  A long pause. “His sister said she didn’t want to be with her dumb brother, so she’d be bunking at a friend’s house. Smurf stayed there alone last night.”

  “And?” Luke slid out of bed and crossed to the dresser. He pulled out a cigarette and lit one. It helped jump-start his brain.

  “Smurf sounded like he was, I dunno, depressed. You know the way I sounded, before. Even edgy, maybe. He said something about going back to school today, and how the kids weren’t going to bully him anymore. He told me he was one of Cassius’s soldiers now, and could do something about how they mocked him.”

  Cassius’s soldiers. A reference to the Pipe Bomb Builders instant message Luke had intercepted.

  “He, um, Jesus, Luke, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but it’s not right.”

  “What’s not right? Tell me, Ben.” There was authority in Luke’s tone. He knew kids responded to that unconsciously.

  “Oh, hell. He told me not to go to school today. That I...” Again Ben stopped.

  Luke gripped the phone. “Ben, this isn’t a little thing. Smurf might need help.”

  “I know. That’s what I thought. Smurf said I could get hurt if I went to school today.”

  “Holy shit!”

  “Maybe your uncle can do something. Like he did for me.”

  “He can. Don’t go to school today.”

  “Okay, I’ll call Morgan and tell her, too.”

  “I gotta go.”

  “Luke?”

  “Yeah?” He was out the door and on his way to Joe’s bedroom.

  “What if it’s nothing? What if he’s just blowing smoke up my ass?”

  “Then we jumped the gun. But it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

  “You sound like a cop.”

  “You tryin’ to insult me, buddy?”

  Ben laughed.

  “Now stay put. I’ll be in touch.”

  o0o

  5:10 A.M.

  There was pounding on his door.

  Joe reached for Suzanna, then remembered she’d slept at home last night because Josh was back from Italy. She’d also said something about an early start to her day.

  “Joe, wake up.”

  Rolling over, he came awake immediately. He bounded out of bed and crossed to the door. When he pulled it open, he found Luke in the hall, dressed only in boxers, like Joe himself.

  “What’s going on?”

  Luke held up his cell phone. “Ben Franzi just phoned me. He said Smurf called him this morning and told him not to go to school today. That he could get hurt if he went.”

  “Oh, fuck. Get dressed. This is serious. We’ll head to Smurf’s. You can fill me in on the way.” Then he added, “Bring your gun, Luke.”

  In five minutes, they sped toward the outskirts of town, both wearing jeans with oversize shirts that concealed their holstered weapons. Joe listened attentively to Luke’s story for a few minutes, then said, “Suzanna always goes in early. Get her on the phone. Tell her not to go to school.” He was good at tamping down his feelings, but the fear was struggling to get out now like an emotional jack-in-the-box.

  Luke punched in Suzanna’s number. Joe waited. The phone must have rung several times.

  “No answer.”

  Joe glanced at the dashboard clock. “It’s only 5:30. Where the hell is she? Try her cell phone.”

  While Luke followed his instruction, Joe gripped the wheel. Maybe she was in the shower. He wouldn’t panic. He needed to keep sane and think about how to handle Smurf. Jesus Christ, what was the kid up to?

  “No answer on her cell.” He thought for a minute. “I’m gonna call Kelsey. Just in case she decides to go in early, too.”

  When there was no answer at Kelsey’s either, both men quieted. They didn’t discuss what this meant.

  Luke glanced out the window. “We’re almost at Smurf’s. Should I go in by myself? We could keep our cover that way.”

  “We’ll try to maintain our cover as best we can, Luke, but I have a gut feeling about this, and I’m not taking any chances. We’ll both go in.” Joe swerved into Smurf’s driveway. The house sprawled, eerily isolated, on the outskirts of town. The just-beginning dawn bathed the area in an amber glow. It looked as peaceful as a church. Joe grabbed Luke’s arm before they left the car. “Promise me, Luke. No heroics.”

  Staring at Joe, Luke said, “I promise. I learned a lot from you this time around, Unc. I’ll go by the book.”

  They exited the car and took the porch stairs two at a time. Joe’s spine prickled and his heart was a steady thump in his chest. He had a hunch about this one. As he rang the bell, he prayed, Please, let us be on time.

  No answer. He rang again. Still no sign of life. After four tries, he said, “Okay, use that photographic memory of yours, kid. Tell me the floor plan.”

  “Smurf’s bedroom is in the back left-hand corner of the house. First floor. Off it, there’s a hallway with a bathroom. There was a locked door to the left of the john. At the end of the hall was a private entrance.”

  “Let’s go.” They headed around back, down a slate pathway rimmed with spring flowers. When they reached the side of the house, Luke said, “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “There’s a light on in that locked room.”

  Joe opted for the back door first. It was ajar, as if someone had left in a hurry; he knocked on it anyway.

  Luke called out, “Smurf.” No answer. “Hey, Smurfy boy, it’s me, Luke.” Again, no answer.

  They inched their way inside and caught sight of a door open down the hall. “Keep your gun accessible, but out of sight,” Joe said as they crept down the corridor.

  The room was empty.

  Joe scanned the area. There were tables along one wall, and shelves above them. On the corkboard next to the shelves were diagrams. Below was a desk. Luke followed Joe across the room. Soberly, they studied the contents of the shelves. Bleach. A large Pyrex container. Potassium chloride. The diagrams next to the stuff were complex enough for the U.S. Defense Department. On one of the tables sat a hot plate, a hydrometer, and some containers. Joe picked up a sheaf of papers. The heading read, “Making Plastic Explosives from Bleach.” There were two pages of directions. Joe flipped the page. A third sheet was titled “Igniters” and listed CO2 bombs, paint bombs, dynamite, firebombs, and two dozen or so other kinds of homemade explosives. “Let’s go,” Joe said, turning and sprinting out of the room.

  o0o

  6 A.M.

  Luke tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as they sped to the high school. He was driving carefully but at an illegal speed. Joe was on the phone.

  After trying both Suzanna and Kelsey again—still no answer—Joe called the police. “Cordon off the entire perimeter of the high school and administration building,” Joe told Caruso. “Don’t let any students, buses, or teachers on the school grounds.” He waited. “Yes, I have reason to believe there are bombs on the premises. We’ll need the bomb squad, too, but I’ll call down there myself.” After he gave the squad instructions and phoned Ross Maloney, the superintendent, Joe tried Suzanna’s cell again, and swore like a sailor when there was no answer. Then he punched in Kelsey’s number. Taking in a deep breath, he waited, and said finally, “Neither is answering.”

  “Damn.”

  “Maybe they went out to breakfast together.”

  “
I think—” Luke’s cell phone rang. They were almost to school. He whipped the phone out. Please, let it be Kelsey or Suzanna. Adrenaline pumped wildly through him, and his heart clamored with fear. “Ludzecky.”

  “Luke, it’s Ben again. Morgan...I called her to tell her not to go to school. There was no answer on her private line. So at six, I went over there. Woke her mother up. Luke, Morgan had a Student Court breakfast meeting with Mrs. Quinn, Ms. Cunningham, Josh, and the rest of the gang.”

  “What?”

  “You sound worried.”

  “I am. I’m with my uncle now. We’re headin’ over to school. Ben, don’t go there.”

  “I won’t go.” The boy drew in a breath. “But find Morgy, please.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  Joe’s face was stony when Luke clicked off. “They’re at school, aren’t they?”

  “Yes. For a freakin’ breakfast meeting of the Student Court. Kelsey. Suzanna. Josh. Morgan.”

  Joe swore again, even more vilely.

  Luke stepped on the gas. As he whizzed by the student parking lot, he said, “There’s Smurf’s car. Should I drive by it?”

  “No. Time is of...”

  They’d gotten about a hundred yards past the parking lot when Smurf’s little Toyota exploded in flames.

  Luke felt the vibration as their own vehicle shook. “Holy Mother of God.”

  “Suzanna and Josh...” Joe’s voice cracked, and he white-knuckled the panic strap. “They have to get out.”

  “Custodians and other teachers come in early, too.” He thought for a minute. “Will they have heard the explosion?”

  “Not likely. The student parking lot is on the other side of the campus. Suzanna’s conference room is buried in the center of the building.”

  “Damn.”

  Luke pulled into the first parking lot, and the car screeched to a halt in front of the gym entrance. Some of the lights were on in the building. The gym blazed menacingly. Bolting out of the car, they raced like marathon runners to the entrance and found it unlocked. Once inside, Joe said, “I’ll find Suzanna. See if you can locate Smurf. Keep your phone on.”

  “All right.” Luke headed for the gym.

  Over his shoulder, Joe called out, “No heroics.”