A Secret Service

by Joy Jenkins

  “Did you physically hurt this friend?”

  Carter snapped her head up. “No!”

  Her father pointedly stared at her, making her shrink back, knowing the question wasn’t unwarranted. “No, I didn’t physically hurt him. But I did hit a wound.”

  “Ah.”

  Carter crossed her arms, pulling them tightly to herself. “Now I don’t know what to do.”

  When her father leaned forward, she locked eyes with him, noticing the softness around them. “Apologize. A lot of people don’t understand that if they admit to their mistakes they could be forgiven.” There was a note of sadness in his voice that struck Carter, though she didn’t know why.

  “What if that’s not enough?” she asked.

  “Then you learn from this and grow. But don’t give up hope. There’s a chance this could all be fixed.”

  Carter nodded, but again remembered the pain in Link’s face. She wasn’t sure this could ever be made right.

  Chapter 15

  Rain beat against the glass and darkened the sky outside the school. The constant tapping played as background noise to Mr. Rojas’s voice as he droned on. Carter heard neither the incessant rain, nor Mr. Rojas’s lecture. Nothing seemed to hold her attention except for the statue of a person beside her.

  The bell rang, bringing about a shriek of stools on the tile floor and the rise in voices as conversations were taken up.

  “Link,” Carter said. “Please.”

  He didn’t glance at her. He wore the same stony expression as when his gaze had landed on her as he walked into the room. A wall of silence had separated them throughout the entire class and Carter found herself at a loss for how to break past it. Shouldering his backpack, Link made for the door, his rigid body screaming his opinion of Carter.

  As she watched him storm off, Carter couldn’t blame him. If she had taken a second the day before to think about what she was doing, she would have seen how heartless she was being. All because she had to prove she was right. No matter what kind of relationship Link held with his father, Link was still a shameful secret. In forcing him to admit who he was, she had ripped open an old wound and stabbed it, making it bleed fresh. He had every right to be mad at her. She hadn’t just crossed a line, she had taken a sledgehammer to a fragile wall.

  Letting out a heavy breath, Carter grabbed her bag. By the time she was in the hallway, Link had already vanished into the thick crowds with Donovan. The ruckus of the school: slamming locker doors, pounding footsteps, and happy laughter of friends, grated on Carter’s ears. As Carter walked to history class, her thoughts grew darker than the sky.

  Donovan was sitting in Link’s usual spot when Carter entered history class. Behind him, Link was deep in conversation with Amy and pointedly had his face angled away from Carter. As she took her seat, Amy noticed her.

  “Hey, Carter,” she said.

  “Hi, Amy,” Carter said, with a half convincing smile.

  When Carter glanced at Link, she found him absorbed with the contents of his notebook. Guilt coiled in her chest.

  “I was just telling Link,” Amy said. “All of you should sit with my group during lunch.”

  Link tensed, his jaw twitching as he gripped the edge of the notebook, making the paper crinkle. Carter felt the pit in her stomach grow.

  “I know Link and Donovan would love that. I might be busy but thanks anyway,” she said.

  Nodding, Amy smiled, her face open and untroubled, unable to feel the tension that linked her fellow companions.

  “Alright.”

  As she pivoted back to Link, he raised his head, locking gazes with Carter for a brief second. In his eyes, she read all his hurt and anger his reality held. A reality she had carelessly exposed.

  All of Carter’s planned words collapsed like sandcastles underfoot. Donovan sat as a silent sentinel beside her, his black face more impenetrable than ever.

  “Donovan,” she said, in a quiet voice.

  When he looked over at her, there was no emotion in his eyes.

  “There’s nothing to say, Carter,” he said.

  As he returned his attention to his homework, Carter sank deeper into her seat. Despite what Donovan said, she frantically searched for how to remedy her mistake but she found her store of apologies empty. The shrill ring of the bell stirred Mr. Philips from his spot and he silenced the class.

  “Modern day politics,” their history teacher said. “That’s our topic for today. Now, something you have to know…”

  As he progressed through his lesson, Mr. Philips paced back and forth behind his desk, his gestures assertive when he laid out points. The scratching of pencils scribbled away on paper. Carter heard none of it as she buried herself deeper into her thoughts. Her notebook lay closed and untouched, her pencil tucked away somewhere in her bag.

  As the class drew to a close, something a student asked yanked Carter out of herself.

  “Did you study politics?” a male voice asked.

  A second later, Carter registered that it had been Link who had asked the question. Mr. Philips paused for a breath, then nodded.

  “I did, at Georgetown,” he said.

  “Were you ever part of an election campaign?” a boy asked.

  Setting down the whiteboard marker he had been using, Mr. Philips crossed his arms. Carter studied his reaction, the defensiveness in his posture.

  “Yes, a few,” he said. “Now let’s get back to-“

  “Which campaign?” a girl cut in.

  Mr. Philips rolled his shoulders, portraying nonchalance. “A couple of senators.”

  As if that was the end of the topic, he faced the whiteboard again, his shoulders stiff. A frown edged onto Carter’s lips. Before Mr. Philips could continue, the same girl blurted out another question.

  “Did you ever do more in politics than just help with campaigns?” she asked, leaning on the top of her desk.

  Reluctantly, their teacher turned back to them, his features struggling to remain uncaring. “Yes, I worked under a senator for a time before becoming a teacher.”

  “Which-“

  “Enough questions for now,” Mr. Philips said, his look chilling.

  The girl slid back into her chair, her curiosity reined in.

  “Now let me explain your homework. It’s a research project, due in three weeks.”

  Through his explanation, Carter watched him but his manner quickly reverted to its usual formality. The end of class was signaled and everyone jumped into motion. Link bypassed Carter, following Amy out the door along with Donovan. When Carter approached Mr. Philips’s desk, he raised his head. “You were blessedly silent today, Carter,” he said. “You’re not sick, are you?”

  “No, not sick.”

  Dropping his gaze, Mr. Philips gathered up a stack of papers. “Was there something you wanted?”

  “Which senator did you work for?”

  Mr. Philips’s hands faltered before he continued neatening the piles. “It’s of no importance.”

  Carter shoved her hands into her pockets. “If you say so.”

  He stilled, his fingers clenching the pages. Without another comment, Carter headed out of the room. The hallways were mostly drained as students dispersed to lunch. By the time she reached the mayhem of the cafeteria, her situation had dragged her features into a scowl. The noise of the room and bombarding voices deepened the expression. She scanned the crowd and found Link and Donovan stationed at Amy’s table. Looks of excitement coated the faces of Amy’s friends as they chatted eagerly with the impassive Donovan.

  Carter headed off to her lone table. When she sat, she found that she had no appetite. The empty spots beside her felt like gaping wounds. As she watched the ever-changing scene around her, she racked her brain trying to find a way to bridge the gap that she had made. She was interrupted when a group of guys stopped in front of her table.

  “Looks like you've managed to scare off another set of friends. Shocking,” Lucas said.

  Cart
er forced her features to relax, feigning unconcern.

  “How you haven’t managed to scare off your friends with that horrendous excuse you call a face is the real shocking thing,” she said, though she felt hollow as the retort came out.

  “You know what, Owens?” Lucas said, leaning in, pointing a threatening finger at her.

  Carter cut him off as she rose and shouldered her bag. “No, I don’t know and I don't care,” she said, tired.

  She stepped over the bench and left the cafeteria. At the door, she glanced back once to see that Donovan was watching her and Link swiftly ducking his head.

  ◆◆◆

  Outside, the rain had given up and the clouds were slowly trudging on, leaving behind thin wisps of white and a setting sun. Raindrops slithered down the deli windows. Carter flicked her notebook closed and packed up her bag. Customers’ conversations buzzed through the place, giving it a warmth that Carter didn’t feel.

  “You heading off?” Maggie asked as Carter stopped at the counter.

  Carter nodded and couldn’t manage anything other than a blank expression.

  “Hon, you sure you’re okay?”

  Head tilted to the side, Maggie regarded her with concern. The look was a repeat of when she had asked the question the previous five times that day.

  “Yeah. Fine.”

  Maggie pressed her lips together in worry but didn’t pry any further. Instead, she handed Carter two sandwiches and Carter stowed them away in her bag.

  “See you tomorrow, girly,” Maggie said, adding an extra note of affection into her voice.

  “Okay.”

  Tugging the door open, Carter stepped out into the chilly evening. In the distance, a dog barked out a sharp warning. Mist pelted her face and clung to her hair. Behind her cars rushed by with a quick swoosh, splashing murky water over the sidewalk. The air smelled of waterlogged garbage.

  Absentmindedly, Carter slid her fingers over the cold, metal trunk of a black car. When she raised her head, she froze.

  Standing at her front door were two men in black suits.

  Chapter 16

  The world crashed in on Carter. She felt her chest constrict as her heart hammered against her ribcage. The men descended the stairs, their movements perfectly in sync.

  Carter stumbled back, shaking her head vigorously. Panic and fear slammed into her. She swallowed but her throat tightened, her mouth filling with bile. In her mind, she saw flashes of an empty apartment, an empty bed, a folded black suit.

  One of the men hurried towards her and she vaguely recognized Curtis. He stretched out a hand to her but she jerked back.

  “No, no, no, no, no, no!” she yelled, swinging a fist at his face.

  Her blow never hit its target, shock making her clumsy. Curtis snatched her wrist in his large, muscular hand. Carter strained against him, all the while screaming, “No, no, no, no, no!”

  She needed to get out of there, she needed to run, escape him and his words.

  “Carter! He’s alive!” he yelled, trying to be heard over her panicked shouting. “Do you hear me? Your father is alive!” Carter stilled, eyes locked on his. “He’s alive. Okay? He’s alive.”

  Relief swept over her, making her weak. She buckled under the weight of it and Curtis caught her before she could fall. For a long while, all she could manage was to lean against him, trying to find her breath.

  He’s alive. Over and over the declaration ran through her head, chasing away the images her fear conjured up. When she found she could breathe normally, she gripped Curtis’s arm.

  “He’s alive,” she said.

  Cutis nodded. The simple confirmation gave her strength and she pushed herself shakily from him. She felt rung out but didn’t collapse, though Curtis kept one hand on her arm. He watched her with concerned brown eyes.

  “What happened? Where is he?” Carter asked, her voice small.

  “He was shot in the right shoulder,” Curtis said. Carter took in a ragged breath. “The bullet went through. He’s in the hospital. It was a minor surgery. We tried to call but you weren’t answering.”

  Slowly, her panic receded. Alive. Her father was alive. She wasn’t alone. Alive. He was alive.

  “Take me to him.”

  In the back of Curtis’s car, Carter stared unseeing out the window, Curtis’s words playing in her head on an endless loop. Silence invaded the car’s interior. The world beyond the window blurred into yellow lights and brick buildings.

  As the miles raced past, Carter eventually returned to the world around her. The last traces of her panic and fear burned away under an intense anger.

  “How the hell did this happen?!” she demanded. Curtis found her fiery gaze in the rearview mirror. “Captain said that the only reason someone ever got shot is because someone wasn’t doing their job.”

  “Carter, mistakes happen…”

  “Bullshit!” she yelled, pounding her fist on the seat. “My father was shot because someone screwed up. I want to know who!”

  Curtis’s partner shifted uncomfortably, never looking back. “That is something we are not at liberty to tell you.”

  “That’s a joke! There was an attempted assassination, the entire world will know every detail about this.”

  “No,” Curtis said. “The world won’t. Since it occurred during a private event, the entire thing is being kept quiet, for the President’s sake as well as your father’s.”

  “Then you know who did this!”

  “You are not at liberty to know that,” Curtis’s partner repeated.

  Before Carter could rip this man in two, Curtis cut in. “Carter, we have the culprit in custody, that is all we can tell you. That’s all you need to know.”

  Carter growled in frustration. Before she could snap back a retort, Curtis swung the car into the hospital parking lot. He had barely pulled into an open space when Carter exploded from the car. The ER’s bright fluorescent light glared at her as she pelted inside, the smell of ammonia filling her nose. Bypassing the sickly pastel furniture in the waiting room, she darted up to the front desk, startling the gray-haired receptionist. “I need to know where Steve Owens is. Now!”

  Carter vibrated with impatience as the woman adjusted her glasses and leveled Carter with a peeved expression. “Ma’am, there are procedures that need to be-“

  Gripping the counter, Carter leaned in, eyes hard. “Listen, lady, if you don’t tell me what I need to know, I will jump over this counter and strangle you with your name tag. Got it?”

  The receptionist stared at Carter in horror. Curtis placed a restraining hand on Carter’s shoulder. Carter backed off, shaking with frustration and glaring at the woman. In contrast, Curtis smiled kindly at the woman.

  “We’re looking for Steve Owens,” he said. “I’m Agent Reynolds.”

  Mollified, the receptionist went to her computer, shooting Carter a disapproving look. “Agent Owens has been moved to recovery. Third floor, room six which is-”

  Carter sprinted to the elevators, punching the button. When the lit up number didn’t descend fast enough, she spun away, rushing to the stairway, the two agents following her. She took the stairs two at a time, her footsteps thundering in the stairwell. She burst through a door on the third floor, surprising a group of nurses. Looking both ways, she set off again, charging down the hallway, a nurse calling out to her. At room six, she skidded to a halt, breathing hard. She opened the door, blood roaring in her ears.

  The room looked plain with a single bed, heart rate monitor, uncomfortable-looking chairs, and a hanging TV.

  Her father opened his eyes. He looked worn out. His right arm hung in a sling and a plastic medical bracelet dangled from his wrist. The beeping of the machine expanded in the room.

  “Hey, Sarge,” he said, raspy.

  Carter surged forward. “I hate you. You know that, I hate you.”

  Her father cupped her face with his left hand. Tears threatened to spill out but Carter held them back with dogged determinatio
n.

  “I’m fine, Sarge. I’m fine.”

  “It doesn’t mean I still don't hate you, you got that?”

  When her father smiled gently, Carter felt as if she would fall apart. All of her anger and panic vanished, leaving behind relief and the fear that would always be with her. Until he left the service, it would be her constant companion: whispering in her ear, staring over her shoulder.

  “I got it, Sarge,” her father said.

  Carter tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “Don’t you dare ever leave me.”

  Her father kissed her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Carter closed her eyes, gripping the white sheets, struggling against the tears. When her father released her, she straightened. Curtis appeared in the doorway.

  “Thanks for bringing her,” her father said.

  Curtis took a spot on the other side of the bed, looking down on his friend. “How are you feeling?”

  Carter felt her grasp slipping and knew she couldn’t bear to have both her father and Curtis see her crumble. “I need some water. I’ll be right back.”

  Carter made it just outside for the room when her vision clouded with tears and a suppressed sob broke loose. Stumbling, she pressed her hand against the wall, leaning on it as she covered her mouth.

  Lowering herself to the floor, she drew herself into a ball, burying her face in her hands. Tears of relief and fear muffled everything around her. Though the floor was cold, she didn’t notice. She shook as she let go of all the emotions that had coursed through her that night. The buzz of nurses’ conversations and the shuffle of soft-soled shoes faded away. The only thing she heard was the beeping of the heart monitor, reminding her she wasn’t alone.

  A pair of comforting arms and the whiff of the deli tugged Carter back to reality. She lifted her head and found Maggie offering silent understanding.

  “I can’t ever lose him,” she said, in a choked voice. “He’s all I have.”

  Maggie hugged her. “I know, Hon. And you didn’t. He’s still here. In one piece. But it’s still okay to be scared.”