The Fixer (22 page)

“How does your husband know the headmaster?” I asked, gesturing toward the photo like I’d seen it for the first time. I could feel my heart beating in my chest, hear it in my ears.

Georgia glanced at the photo from a distance, not paying it much mind. “Our youngest went to Hardwicke,” she said. “We try to donate something to the auction each year. Last spring, there was some water damage to the school. They were in need of big-ticket items, so we arranged for a weekend retreat at Camp David. The Presidential Retreat,” she clarified. “It’s occasionally open to the public, you know.”

A weekend at Camp David.

“Was the president’s attendance part of the prize?” I asked.

“Heavens, no,” Georgia said. “But William won the auction and invited Peter along. My husband, I’m afraid, has never been able to back down from one of Will’s challenges.”

I forced myself to pretend like there was nothing to read into those words. Like there was no reason, in particular, that I had asked.

But as Georgia and I parted ways and I left the administrative building, I couldn’t stop thinking that if William Keyes had won the auction, if he’d been the one to issue the invitations, then he was the one who’d brought the men in that picture together.

Including Judge Pierce and Vivvie’s father.

CHAPTER 43

“You’re quiet.” Bodie issued that statement with no small amount of suspicion.

“I’m always quiet.”

As Bodie pulled the car past the gates and out onto the street, he glanced at me just long enough to smirk. “And I’m always perceptive. This quiet is a different quiet.”

My mind was awash in the day’s events.
Georgia’s visit. Vivvie and the article on Pierce. The two names from Henry’s list. Adam’s father being the one who had arranged the get-together in that photograph.

“I’m fluent in all varieties of Kendrick silences,” Bodie declared. “And you and your sister both stare very intently at
absolutely nothing
when the wheels are turning in here.” He lazily reached over and tapped the side of my head. I swatted his hand away.

“I have a lot to think about.”

“And would some of that
lot
concern a certain First Lady with sweet, Southern manners and the mind of Machiavelli?”

I snorted at that description of Georgia.

“How did you guess?” I asked Bodie.

“I didn’t.” He merged onto the highway. “I caught a glimpse of Mark pulling away as I pulled in.”

“Mark?” My brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Mark Maddox,” Bodie said. “He’s one of the agents on Georgia’s detail.”

“You’re on a first-name basis with the Secret Service?”

“I make it a point to learn names. Half of the time, the Secret Service wants to be noticed. Their presence is a deterrent.”

“And the other half of the time?” I asked.

“They fade into the background. They try not to engage, not to interfere. If you’re not careful, you forget they’re there.”

“Unless you know their names,” I said.

“Unless you know their names.” Bodie reached over and tapped the side of my head again.

“What was that for?” I asked disgruntledly.

“That,” he replied, “was for trying to distract me from the fact that when I asked you about Georgia, you didn’t answer.”

I was still processing my interaction with the First Lady. I wasn’t used to processing out loud. Bodie reached over and flicked my ear. Clearly, unlike Adam, he didn’t believe in driving with both hands on the wheel.

“Fine,” I said, before he could escalate further. “Yes, I’m thinking about the First Lady. She had a meeting with the headmaster today, supposedly.”

“Supposedly.” Bodie didn’t turn it into a question, but I responded like he had.

“She had me pulled out of class. Just to check on me, see how I was doing.”

“Of course,” Bodie said dryly.

“Of course.” This time, I didn’t make him press for more information. “She was fishing for details about what Ivy’s doing in Arizona.”

Bodie snorted. “I told Ivy we’d have to loop Georgia in sooner, rather than later. What did you say?”

“I told her that Ivy was just doing what the president asked—looking into Pierce’s background.” I paused. “And I asked her if her husband was really moving at an accelerated rate toward nominating Pierce.”

Bodie glanced over at me. “You saw the article in the
Post
?”

I nodded. “Vivvie came to school today. Her father’s funeral was this morning, and she came to school to find me, to show me the newspaper.”

“And what did Miss Georgia have to say about that article?” Bodie asked, drumming his fingers along the edge of the steering wheel.

“She said the source was probably some intern.”

Bodie snorted. “Doubtful.” He glanced over at me, then fixed his gaze back on the road. “There are two reasons to leak a story like that, kid.” His voice was casual, like he wasn’t imparting wisdom that neither Ivy nor Adam would have shared. “You either do it in hopes that it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, or you do it to sink the potential nominee’s chances by putting him in the spotlight too soon.”

Help Pierce get nominated, or hurt his chances.

“Did Ivy leak it?” Twenty-four hours ago, I wouldn’t have asked that question.

“This time?” Bodie asked with an arch of one brow. “No.”

This time.
He wasn’t saying that Ivy wouldn’t strategically leak a story like that. He was saying that she
hadn’t
.

“The day we found out about Vivvie’s father, I heard William Keyes say something to Ivy.” I caught my bottom lip in my teeth. Now I really was thinking out loud. “He said that he’d taught her everything she knew.”

Once upon a time, Ivy had worked for Keyes. He’d taught her how to manipulate the system. How to
make things happen.

“He could have leaked the story.” I turned that possibility over in my mind. “The First Lady said Keyes is pushing Judge Pierce for the nomination.” I could have stopped there, but I didn’t. “That photo I gave Ivy—the one that connects Vivvie’s dad and Judge Pierce—was taken at Camp David. According to the First Lady, Keyes was the one who arranged the retreat. That means Keyes brought Vivvie’s dad and Pierce together. And the night before the chief justice died, he attended a fund-raiser for the
Keyes
Foundation.”

Bodie drove one-handed, the other resting on his threadbare jeans. He cast a lazy glance toward me. “I seem to recall something about you staying out of this.”

“You’re the one who just told me that there are only two reasons to leak an article like that,” I said.

Bodie put his free hand back on the wheel. “I was making conversation.”

“If there’s any chance Adam’s father might be the one who—”

“He’s not.”

The certainty in Bodie’s voice made my stomach twist.
If it’s not Keyes . . .

“The president?” I asked softly.

Bodie gave me an incredulous look. “You think the president might be behind this, so you asked Georgia about that picture
and
the article in the
Post
?”

I decided that was probably a rhetorical question.

“Keyes is in the clear,” Bodie told me. “So are both of the Nolans.”

I blinked. Twice. “The president and William Keyes were the
only
people in that photo who—”

Bodie didn’t let me finish. “They were the first people Ivy cleared.”

The first people
Ivy
cleared.
Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I could hear Henry:
Your sister solves problems. Professionally. Whoever the other number on that phone belonged to, I’d say they have a pretty big problem right now.

“How did she clear them?” I heard myself ask.

Bodie’s answer—if he was going to answer me at all—was cut off by the sound of a siren. His eyes flicked toward the rearview mirror, and he cursed under his breath.

That was when I noticed the flashing lights.

“Speeding?” I asked Bodie as he pulled his car to the side of the road.

“That,” Bodie said, “or things are about to get interesting.” He cut the engine and turned to face me head-on. “Stay calm. Do
exactly what they say. Don’t answer questions without a lawyer present.”

He rolled down his window.

I caught his arm. “Bodie, what’s going on?”

Before he could answer, an officer approached, gun pulled. “Get out of the car!”

CHAPTER 44

We got out of the car.

When the officer threw Bodie down on the hood to frisk him, Ivy’s driver said two things. The first was: “Well, this should be fun.” The second—aimed at me—was: “Call your sister.”

Two hours later, as I sat at the front of the police station, that was what I did.

I’d followed Bodie’s instructions to a T. I’d stayed calm. I’d done what I was told. I hadn’t answered any questions, other than the basics:
my name; my age; Bodie was my sister’s driver; he was just driving me home from school.

I’d played shell-shocked and scared. It went against every fiber of my being, but sometimes the best defense was letting yourself seem defenseless. I didn’t lash back. I didn’t demand answers. And they didn’t take my phone. Eventually, the poor defenseless girl was plunked down out front while one of the officers made some phone calls and the other questioned the suspect.

Answer. Answer. Answer.
My hand tightened around my cell as I made a call of my own.
Come on, Ivy.

“Tess.”

A breath escaped my lungs when I heard my sister’s voice. “Bodie and I got pulled over,” I said.

There was a beat. “Was he arrested?” Ivy asked. Then she rephrased the question. “Did they read him his rights?”

I thought back. “No.” They’d thrown him down on the car. They’d frisked him. They’d shoved him in the back of a police car—but they hadn’t made an arrest. “Ivy, what’s going on?”

I could practically hear Ivy grinding her teeth on the other end of the line. “Someone’s making a point,” she said.

I didn’t get a chance to ask who would do this—or what kind of point they could possibly be making.

“Hey.” One of the officers saw me on my phone. “You can’t be on that in here.”

My capacity for playing small and defenseless snapped. “I was told I had to wait here until an adult could pick me up. I’m not allowed to call my legal guardian?”

The cop—a female officer whose acquaintance I hadn’t yet had the pleasure of making—frowned. “Someone will make that call on your behalf.”

“It’s been two hours,” I replied. “Why hasn’t someone already made that call?”

“Tess.” Ivy had been listening from the other end of the phone line, but now she spoke up. “Give the officer the phone.”

I handed the woman the phone. Five seconds into the call, her lips pressed themselves into a thin line. Ten seconds into the call, she paled.

That was about the time that Social Services showed up.

Even from the other side of a phone line, Ivy took charge. By the time the door to the police station opened and Adam walked in a half hour later, the social worker had been dispatched and a woman in a thousand-dollar suit had arrived, pronouncing herself Bodie’s lawyer.

“Adam.” I stood up the second I saw him. “Is Ivy—”

“She’s on her way back,” he replied, before turning his attention to the officer who’d taken charge of me. “Adam Keyes,” he introduced himself. “Department of Defense.”

He was dressed in uniform. I had a feeling that wasn’t an accident.

“You should have received faxed confirmation that I’m authorized to take custody of Tess until such time as her sister arrives,” Adam continued. His tone didn’t invite a response.

“I’ve been instructed to hold the girl until—”

Adam cut her off. “You’ll want to review those instructions. I’m sure Tess’s sister has already told you she’ll be filing a complaint. I suggest you not compound the situation.”

Without waiting for a reply, Adam put a hand on my shoulder and steered me out the door. Once we’d put some distance between us and the building, I let myself ask: “Ivy called you?”

“She did.” He gave my shoulder a light squeeze, then dropped his hand to his side. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” As we hit the parking lot, my brain caught up with me, and I came to a halt. “Bodie—”

“Ivy will take care of it.” There wasn’t an ounce of uncertainty in Adam’s voice. “Maybe a few hours behind bars will improve Bodie’s disposition.”

I almost managed a smile at the deadpan with which Adam issued that statement.

Almost.

“What’s happening?” I asked point-blank. “Why did they bring Bodie in for questioning? Questioning about
what
?”

Adam seemed to be weighing the chances that I would let this go. He must have decided they weren’t good, because he answered. “It appears some evidence has come to light linking Bodie to an unsolved crime.”

Adam didn’t specify what the evidence was—or what the crime was. I waited until we were situated in his car, me in the passenger seat and him behind the wheel, before I spoke again. “When I asked Ivy what was going on, she said someone was trying to prove a point. What point?”

A tick in Adam’s jaw was the only tell to the fact that my question had hit a nerve. “What point?” he repeated. “That he can get to Bodie.” Adam stared out the windshield, the muscle in his jaw ticking again. “That he can get to you. That there are costs to
being difficult
and standing against his wishes.”

“Your father.” I didn’t phrase it as a question. The First Lady had said that William Keyes could hold a grudge, that there would be fallout if he thought Ivy was going to challenge his pick for the nomination.

If Georgia Nolan knows that Ivy is in Arizona looking into Pierce, what are the chances that Adam’s father knows the same?

I thought of the way the cop had thrown Bodie onto the hood of the car—harder than necessary. I thought about the fact that the police had called Social Services to pick me up instead of Ivy.

“So this is what?” I asked. “Payback?”

The muscles in Adam’s neck tensed. “This was a warning shot,” Adam corrected tersely. “My father collects things: information, people, blackmail material. He wants Ivy to remember what he’s capable of.”