Rule of Law

by J. L. Brown

  She swallowed. “I can’t remember the last time you fed me. Are you sure you’re not sick? Are you really Grayson Fairchild? What’s your middle name?”

  “Spencer.”

  An old joke between them.

  He grabbed her chin and gazed into her eyes. His hands, soft. Gentle. Strong.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “Our children love you. They’ll accept this. None of this is your fault.”

  “I still feel responsible.”

  “Because that’s who you are. Does Kelly know that he’s the father?”

  She shook her head.

  He came closer and licked just to the left of her lips. “Yum. That’s good.”

  Whitney was shocked at Grayson’s uncharacteristic displays of intimacy.

  Grayson placed the spoon back in the bowl, giving her a mischievous smile. “And, no, I’m not having an affair. I just couldn’t stand being away from you for another minute. I think you’re finished with your ice cream. Let’s go to bed. I want to show you how much I missed you.”

  As he leaned down to kiss her, she heard footsteps at the kitchen’s entrance.

  “Mom, I’m home!” yelled her daughter. She stopped short when she saw them. “Save room for Jesus, you two!”

  Whitney and Grayson laughed. She shrugged at him with regret, and ran to kiss her baby.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIX

  Fairfax, Virginia

  “I think I like soccer better. Baseball is so boring.”

  “I sort of miss Zach.”

  “And soccer players have great legs. Did you see—? Oh, there’s my mom! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

  Grace ran to the car and jumped into the passenger seat.

  Her mom leaned forward. “You need a ride?”

  Kaylee knew she was just being nice. Taking her home would have been out of their way.

  “That’s okay, Mrs. Angleton. My mom will be here soon.”

  “I hate leaving you here alone.”

  “It’s still light out. I’ll be okay.”

  As the car pulled away, Grace quick-waved at Kaylee through the open window, and then went back to snapchatting on her smartphone.

  Kaylee plopped down on the curb in front of the school’s main entrance and shrugged off her backpack. She had a driver’s license, but she was in the doghouse because of her grades last semester. The only reason her mom had allowed her to attend summer cheer camp was so Kaylee could try out next month for fall sports. Her mom, not used to picking her up anymore, was always late.

  She wasn’t kidding about Zach. Even though she had played hard to get—and he never “got”—she had liked him. And enjoyed their game of cat-and-mouse. Who knew? They might have become a couple. High school sweethearts. Maybe even married.

  A car she recognized stopped in front of her. The window slid down. “Do you need a ride home?”

  “My mom will be here soon.”

  “Hop in. I’ll take you.”

  “You sure?”

  “It’s on my way.”

  This would save her mom a trip. She could text her from the car. “Okay.”

  She hopped in the front seat, dropping her backpack on the floor between her legs.

  Kaylee, hands poised on her phone ready to text, said, “Thanks—”

  The driver slapped metal handcuffs onto her wrists. Their grinding clicks a finality. The steel cold. Kaylee’s phone was ripped out of her hands and thrown out the window.

  “You’re not going to need that.”

  Before Kaylee understood what was happening, a soft cloth covered her mouth. A sweet unfamiliar smell tingled her nose.

  The window closed.

  And then nothing.

  Part III

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVEN

  The White House, Washington, DC

  She looked at the phone display. Chandler.

  “Mom!”

  In the gym, she signaled the private yoga instructor to take a break.

  Whitney was relieved. She had told Emma about Landon this past weekend during her visit. Emma was shocked, understandably, but hugged her and told Whitney she loved her. Afterward, Whitney had called Chandler. His reaction was different. He was distant, as if he thought it was her fault she had been raped and impregnated.

  She had also talked to him about the use of the phrase, “those people.” He had said he had been caught up in the excitement of the club. He had quit soon thereafter. She was glad.

  Now, he sounded happy again, like the son she knew. She sat cross-legged on the mat.

  “Are you at school?” she said into the phone.

  “I’m on the downslide, Mom. One more week of summer school, then finals, and then I’m out of here.”

  “Your dad can’t wait for you to join the firm. Are you taking some time off first? Because once you start working, you won’t stop for a long time.”

  Her son was silent for a moment. “That’s why I’m calling, Mom. So you’ll hear it from me.”

  “Hear what from you?”

  “I changed my mind. About working for Fairchild after I graduate.”

  “Oh? What did your father say?”

  “I wanted to tell you first.”

  “He’ll be disappointed, but I’m sure he’ll be okay with your decision. You should tell him.”

  “It’s not that . . . ”

  “He had to realize that you wouldn’t necessarily follow in his footsteps. Are you joining another firm?”

  “I decided to do something else. Go in a different direction.”

  Whitney couldn’t suppress the sense of foreboding. She worried about his decision-making abilities. He made judgments based on the moment, instead of what was best for the long term. If she voiced disapproval or disagreed with his early career choices, however, she may lose him forever. She would give him her full support, no matter what. She smiled so that he could hear it in her voice.

  “What did you decide? Who will be the lucky employer? Or will you take a year off to travel? Volunteer?”

  “I decided to enter politics. I’m coming to Washington.”

  “Politics?” Except for dabbling with the group Emma had told her about, Chandler’s interest in politics had been nonexistent, even though his mother had been a politician for most of his life.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted a political life for her children.

  “I got a job as a legislative assistant,” he said, hesitating. “I’m joining the staff of Senator Paul Sampson.”

  At first, she thought she’d misheard. She was silent for a few moments. She couldn’t forbid him from working for Sampson.

  Distracted, she said, “That’s wonderful, son. I’ll see you at graduation.” She hung up without thinking.

  She resumed the downward-facing dog pose, waiting for the instructor to return.

  Instead of relaxing her mind, her thoughts wandered. Why did she beam with pride when Emma stood for what she believed in, but couldn’t conjure up the same feelings for her son? Because his political views were different from hers? Was he getting back at her for some perceived slight?

  Or was she upset because the media was going to have a field day over the career choice of the president’s son?

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHT

  Fairfax, Virginia

  “This perp is sick,” Christian said, his voice muffled by a handkerchief.

  Jade, Dante, and Micah stood next to him, staring down at the body hidden under a fallen tree. Partially decomposed, the body had been discovered in the middle of Van Dyck Park. Kaylee Taylor had been missing for three days. She had been found by a dog with the Fairfax County canine unit. The temperature for those days had been over ninety degrees, the odor emanating from the corpse almost unbearable.

  Jade’s eyes watered from the smell. “What else do we know?”

  Dante’s eyes were watering, too. “That she smells.”

  Micah’s eyes flashed above the protective mask he wore. “Your use of humor to compensate for yo
ur inadequacies is getting old.”

  “What? Are you vying for Max’s job now?”

  “Cut it out,” Jade said.

  “They found her phone in front of the school,” Christian said. “Forensics is examining it now.”

  She pointed. “Check out the hands. Max’ll have his work cut out for him with this one.”

  Dante laughed, but stopped when he realized she wasn’t joking.

  Like the other victims, all the damage had been inflicted on the left side of the girl’s head. Her wounds appeared worse, if that were possible. Unlike the boys, however, Kaylee’s genitals were intact. But her fingers were gone.

  “Give me a minute,” she said to them.

  Jade crouched next to the body. The right side was free of bruises and scratches. She glanced briefly at the crime-scene techs ten yards away, waiting to finish their work.

  “Speak to me, Kaylee,” she said, her voice low. “Who did this to you?”

  She stared at the young girl’s once-pretty face. A face that would never wrinkle. Jade’s eyes trailed down the decomposed body to the damaged hands. The missing fingers.

  She stood. To Christian, she said, “I need to see her phone.”

  *

  The data from Kaylee’s phone was in her email inbox when she arrived at the office. She spent most of the day viewing what felt like millions of texts and photographs. A lot of pictures of Kaylee and Grace. Other cheerleaders. Friends. And, of course, boys. Lots of boys. But nothing helpful.

  Jade started going through the saved Snapchats. Again, teenage stuff. Kaylee and Grace. Grace and Kaylee. She swiped through them quickly. Something caught her eye. She swiped in the other direction.

  And stopped.

  The school loomed in the background behind the two girls. Someone else was in the picture. Behind them. They may have not known he was there.

  His face was partially cut off.

  Jade smiled. “Thanks, Kaylee.”

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINE

  The White House, Washington, DC

  Whitney and Grayson had fallen into a daily routine. Every morning, they ate breakfast and read the newspapers before she headed down to the Oval Office. Living together every day had been an adjustment for them both, but they were getting used to it. He had even found a cause to lead: overseeing a major initiative to provide job and business training to the long-term unemployed.

  He slipped a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “How are you feeling?”

  “Now that my son is a Republican?”

  “Yes.”

  “I keep asking myself, ‘Where did we go wrong?’”

  They shared a laugh.

  “He’s still young,” Grayson said. “He may grow out of it.” He picked up the Washington Post from the table. “How’s Emma?”

  “She says her activist days are over. For now.”

  “She seems more mature.”

  “Being arrested can do that to you.”

  He peered at her over the paper. He hesitated. He seemed to be trying to get the words just right. “Do you ever think about what might have been?”

  He was referring to Landon. After the initial surprise at learning the truth, Grayson had taken her revelation about Landon in stride.

  She pushed her fruit plate away. “In the beginning. Yes. But we raised two beautiful children that I love with every fiber of my being. They are enough for me.”

  She kissed him on the cheek and moved to the living area. Picking up her purse from the table, she opened it to retrieve her lipstick.

  Her hand stilled, and then a frantic search. The lipstick forgotten.

  Landon’s letter was gone.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TEN

  Fairfax, Virginia

  No one talks about the monotony of a stakeout. They don’t show it on the cable TV shows or in the movies.

  They had been shadowing Sam Carter for two weeks. Dante and Christian were surveilling William Chaney-Frost. She planned to confront William in the morning.

  As they waited for practice to finish, Jade said, “What about you?”

  “What about me?” Micah asked, surprised.

  “What do you like to do? For fun.”

  “I’m a football fan. What you Yanks call soccer.”

  “Team?”

  “Arsenal. Maybe we can catch a game together some time. There’s an English pub by my house that shows all the EPL games.”

  Jade feared that she’d been to that pub before with Christian. “Maybe.”

  She put the car in drive and followed Carter, pulling over two blocks down from his parents’ house. As they had done every night. They settled in for a long night.

  Tonight, however, he stopped in front of the house, but the car was still idling.

  Jade and Micah glanced at each other.

  A minute later, the boy resumed driving. They followed.

  Carter left the subdivision via a different exit. After a few miles on Jackson Parkway, he exited and took the first right into Oak Creek Park, a Fairfax County public park. Officially closed at dusk, lights illuminated a couple of soccer games still in play.

  “What’s this kid up to?”

  Micah shook his head. “Nothing good.”

  Carter drove past the soccer fields and turned into one of the many small parking lots that dotted the park. She parked on the side of the road about thirty yards from the lot entrance. She looked at Micah and brought a finger to her lips. They gently eased the car doors shut but did not close them all the way. Just enough for the interior lights to go off.

  They approached the entrance on foot. It was dark here. If there were lights, they hadn’t come on yet.

  She spotted the Volvo parked at the other end of the lot next to another car. She couldn’t see the make and model. She debated whether to draw her weapon. The kid could be just meeting a girl here. Or a friend.

  Better to be safe.

  She drew her Glock, the weapon pointed at the ground. From the side, she peered into the backseat of the Volvo and then the front.

  Empty.

  The other car was an older Mercedes. Ducking between the cars, she peered into its back and front seats as well. Empty. She crouched as she walked to the front of the Mercedes and put her hand on the hood.

  It was cold.

  She scanned the area, but didn’t see anyone. She glanced back at Micah and pointed to the woods with her index and middle fingers, indicating where she was headed. There was a break in the trees. Despite sticks and a few fallen leaves, they walked toward the opening as silently as they could.

  In the center of a small clearing was a playground set with a slide, climbers, and swings. Carter was pressed against the beams supporting the slide, whoever was with him was barely visible, and at least a foot shorter than he was.

  She felt stupid, but headed toward the couple anyway. They were kissing.

  Jade shone her flashlight, stopping several yards away from them.

  Carter swung around, his face pale with fear. He put his hand up to protect his eyes from the glare, while shielding the person behind him.

  “Sam, my name is Special Agent Jade Harrington with the FBI. I need you to step away.”

  “FBI?”

  “Sam, please step away.”

  “What do you want? I didn’t do anything.”

  “Your teammates are being murdered. We’re trying to protect you.”

  “I don’t need protection.”

  “We think you do. Now, step away.”

  He glanced behind him at his companion and whispered something, before taking several steps away from the other person.

  The girl glared at Jade. Rather, woman.

  The last piece of the puzzle slid into place, as Jade stared not at the fearful, but the defiant expression on Jenny Thompson’s face.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ELEVEN

  Fairfax, Virginia

  “‘The first rule of fight club—”

  “—is you do not talk about fight clu
b,’” Micah finished. He explained to Jade. “It was popular in the UK, too.”

  Sam gave him a small smile. “Yeah, William saw that movie a thousand times. Ours is called the WRSS FC—William Randolph Secondary School Fight Club. ‘FC’ for short. Every fight night, he starts with, ‘Welcome to fight club.’ He has all these rules. None of them are written down. We can’t post videos or anything on social media. New players on the team fight the first night. I went only once.” He shrugged. “I broke all the rules. I was out.”

  The night had turned unseasonably cool.

  “You sure you don’t want to sit in the car?” Jade asked.

  Jenny had been whisked away to the local FBI office in Fairfax. She would be transferred downtown tomorrow.

  He glanced at the Audi. “No, thanks.”

  It was dark in this part of the park. She suspected the darkness made it more conducive for Sam to talk to them.

  “All right,” she said. “What did you see when you went?”

  “William likes to wear old-school knickers. The rest of us wore baseball pants. We were allowed to use MMA gloves. Nothing else. He beat the crap out of Joshua, who’s supposed to be his best friend. J-man held the netting like he was holding on for his life. Then, William threw him on the ground, and kept hitting him and hitting him. Supposed to be when you go limp, you tap out, and the round is over.” He shook his head, an expression of incredulousness. “William wouldn’t stop.” Carter looked at her. “But what was worse was the chanting. ‘Loser! Loser! Loser!’ Like a cult. Tyler threw up and ran when he saw what happened to his friend. Big mistake.”

  “Why didn’t someone tell the coach? Call the police?”

  “Tell them what?”

  “About what was happening.”

  Sam wagged his finger at her. “Remember the first rule. Besides, the coach . . . Let’s just say, snitches get stitches. The thing is FC, for those who belong, helps the team form a closer bond. The club represents something bigger than themselves.”