“You know how he is. His ulcer is probably kicking up again because of it.”
“I think he has reason to be concerned when one of his top reporters receives threats.” He leaned across the tiny table until his face was scant inches from hers. “So what else haven’t you told us? And don’t say ‘nothing’ unless it’s true, because I’ll know if you’re lying.”
“Nothing else has happened,” she said, meeting his piercing gaze and doing what she thought was a very good job of dissembling. She didn’t think of it as lying because the phone calls and the man in the garage might have nothing to do with it.
He moved away and continued to stare at her. “Dammit, either you’ve gotten better at it or I’ve lost my touch. I don’t know if you’re telling the truth or not.”
Feeling triumphant made her generous, so she told him about her conversation with Crawford’s professor. By the time she had finished, the waitress had come to take their orders.
When she departed, Sam rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I tried to get hold of him, but he wasn’t in and they wouldn’t give me his home number. I also tried to reach Crawford’s mother.”
“So did I. She’s on her honeymoon. She remarried her ex.”
“Well, I suppose I’d better not contact her when she gets back, then. It would probably upset her for no reason.”
“My thoughts exactly. Besides, the detective said she was away when it happened. What about Frank? Did he find out anything?”
He looked surprised, then chuckled. “So you were eavesdropping on my call last night. I thought you might have been. Kate, we’ve got to reach some sort of understanding. We’re not in competition anymore. I’m only trying to help.”
“We never were in competition—that was part of the problem,” she replied, then instantly regretted adding the last part.
“Yeah, I know. But I didn’t know what to do about it. You’re damned good, Kate. The only difference was that I had more experience.”
She didn’t want to get into a discussion about their past problems. “So did Frank find out anything?”
“Only that Crawford did go to Tanner’s office two days before he was killed.”
“But you didn’t find out what he had on Newbury?”
“No. For all I know, it could have been something minor. If the kid was as idealistic as his professor says, just about anything could have set him off.”
“So you don’t think Armistead could have had anything to do with his death?”
“I didn’t say that. I’d like to think that murder is beyond even him, but if Crawford really did have something…” he shrugged. “But even if he did, that still doesn’t explain why Armistead—or anyone else—would be after you.”
“Maybe it’s just some nut who gets off on threatening reporters. For all I know, he might have sent out dozens of threats.”
“No one else at the Post got any,” Sam countered.
“So I’m the lucky one.”
“Maybe,” he said doubtfully as their soup arrived.
Several people stopped by their table to say hello, their questions thinly veiled attempts to find out if she and Sam were back together. Sam surprised her by being very circumspect.
Then she told him about her story on the boot camps. She had an appointment with the director tomorrow out at New Leaf. It was close to a two-hour drive and she wondered aloud if she should cancel the meeting and forget the whole thing.
“It’s a big waste of time unless I can figure out what accounts for their success rate,” she told him.
“Keep the appointment. I’ll drive you out there. It’ll be a chance for me to exercise the new car and also stop by the cabin. Rob added another bedroom.”
“Yes, I know. I went there with them for a weekend last fall.” A weekend she’d regretted about five minutes after they’d arrived. Rob and Sam had built the cabin themselves and both couples had gone there often. Kate had felt Sam’s ghost hovering about the place the whole time.
The two brothers were in the process of building the cabin when Kate had met Sam, and they’d gone over there every weekend. Certain scenes from that time were etched indelibly into her brain—Sam in denim cutoffs and nothing else, his lean, hard body glistening with sweat and his face filled with boyish pleasure in his work. That joy had infected her, as well, even though she would never have expected to enjoy pounding nails and painting.
And she couldn’t forget that first weekend they’d spent there after the cabin was finished. The drive out had been filled with a deliciously sensual tension because they’d both known that they would be making love for the first time. And so they had—endlessly, it seemed to her now.
Kate hauled herself out of those dangerous reminiscences and agreed to let him drive her to the boot camp, telling herself that it was only because her car was making ugly noises again.
As they were leaving the restaurant, two couples they knew came in. As they all stood there talking, Kate felt wrapped in the soft warmth of nostalgia. She didn’t even move away when Sam’s arm slipped casually around her waist—even though later, she would curse herself for that lapse.
For all that had gone wrong in their marriage, there were some things that had definitely been right. She loved talking to Sam. He was a good listener and he had a wry way of looking at life that stopped just short of cynicism.
Stop it, she told herself firmly. Instead of remembering the good, focus on why you ended the marriage. You had good reasons, even if you never could explain them.
They were just entering her neighborhood when a police car roared past them, sirens wailing and lights flashing. It turned onto her street, and as Sam followed it, she saw with horror that it appeared to have pulled into her driveway.
By the time they reached the house, two officers, guns drawn, were returning to their squad car after apparently circling the house. Sam quickly climbed out of the car. As soon as Kate got over her shock, she followed him. By now, she could hear the wail of the alarm system.
Sam opened the front door and stepped inside to switch off the system. The two officers disappeared into the house and Kate joined Sam on the doorstep.
“Did they see any sign of a break-in?” she asked, trying to stay calm while she thought about some stranger going through her things.
Sam shook his head. “They think he probably took off when the alarm was activated.”
The two officers returned and informed them that there was no one in the house. Then they all began to walk around the outside again. At the back of the house, they found a crushed azalea bush next to the foundation. They all stared at it and then up at the roof of the small enclosed back porch. One of the cops asked if the second-floor windows were wired and Sam said they were.
“Looks like he wasn’t counting on that,” the one officer observed. “A lot of people don’t bother with the second floor.”
Kate had gone from fear to anger in the space of a few seconds. She felt violated, even if no one had gotten in. And that azalea bush was a particular favorite of hers. She’d planted it herself.
Sam was asking if there’d been other break-ins in the neighborhood and the officers shook their heads. Then their portable radios began to squawk and they both left in a hurry, after telling them they were lucky.
Kate wasn’t feeling lucky, however. At the moment, her anger had the upper hand, but fear was beginning to crawl back into her mind, as well. She was uneasily aware of the fact that the incidents were piling up, building into a pattern that could no longer be ignored. To her mind, at least, it was a very big leap from sending threatening messages to trying to break into her house.
“It’ll probably survive,” Sam said, bending to examine the azalea bush. “But it’s not going to look too good for a while.”
Kate merely nodded, staring up again at the porch roof and the back bedroom window above it. She was recalling how she’d thought it an unnecessary expense to have the upper windows wired.
Then Sam’
s arms were circling her from behind. His voice fell gently on her ear. “Don’t let it get to you, Kitty-Kat. We’ll get him.”
She had to fight back a sob at his use of that term of endearment she hadn’t heard in three years. Sam had started to call her that not long after they’d met, because he said that she could be soft and sweet, and then suddenly un-sheath some very sharp claws.
Once again fighting her way out of the past, Kate was about to protest that it could have been an ordinary burglar when several of their neighbors appeared. She saw the fearful looks on their faces and wondered if they had reason to worry—or if she alone had been the target.
The man across the street had just returned from walking his dog when he’d heard the alarm go off, but he’d seen no one and couldn’t remember seeing any strange cars in the neighborhood, either. Everyone confirmed what the police had said: there’d been no other break-ins.
They went into the house and began to search for Reject, knowing that the alarm would have terrified him. He was hiding under her bed, and finally allowed himself to be coaxed out and mollified with an extra helping of his favorite food.
“It could have been just your everyday burglar,” Kate ventured as they watched Reject attack his food.
“Sure, and those threats could have been just some nut who hates reporters,” Sam replied with mild mockery.
Kate sighed, knowing he was right. And that meant she had to tell him about the other incidents. “A couple of other things have happened,” she began, drawing his quick attention. She told him about the calls and about the man in the parking garage. “I suppose the calls were intended to frighten me, but I don’t understand what he could have been doing in the garage.”
Sam frowned. “I don’t want you driving your car again until we have someone look it over.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “I’ve driven it since then, and—”
“He could have done something to it that wouldn’t be apparent right away. We’ll take it to the garage tomorrow morning before we drive out to the camp.”
Kate shuddered inwardly. If anything had been done to her car, then that meant that things were escalating rapidly.
“It did start to make a funny noise today, but I think that might be the water pump.”
“Oh?” Sam looked mildly amused. “Since when did you acquire this expertise?”
“I had the same problem with my last car, and this sounds the same.”
He asked for her keys and went out to check. Kate put on the kettle to brew some tea. She hated to admit it, but she really was glad that Sam was here. She was still musing about how difficult it was to disconnect lives that had been so intertwined when Sam came back in.
“It’s the water pump, all right. You’d never have made it out there tomorrow. So it’ll need to go to the garage anyway, and we can have them check everything out.’’
She merely nodded. She might be glad that he was here, but she certainly wasn’t about to tell him that.
“I DIDN’T GET IN.”
“Why not?”
“The place was wired. So I climbed up on the back porch roof to try an upstairs window, but it was wired, too. I’m damned lucky I got away before the cops got there.”
“Well, we accomplished something even if you didn’t get in. She’s got to be running scared by now.”
“Maybe, but there’s something else.”
“What’s that?”
“Her ex-husband is back and I think he’s staying there. I saw a brand-new Porsche in the driveway when I went by to check out the place. I ran a make on the plates and it’s his.”
“Winters is back—permanently?”
“I checked around and the word I got is that he’s left CNN, so yeah, he’s probably back to stay.”
“That’s a problem.”
“No kidding! Her we could probably scare off, but not him. Maybe we’d better lay off for a while. She hasn’t found out anything yet, right?”
“No, not yet.”
“We’ll just have to hope that Winters doesn’t get interested.”
“CAMPS GIVE ME THE HIVES,” Sam said as they waited at the gate to New Leaf while the guard checked her appointment. “My folks used to pack me off to one each summer—a different one every year because none of them would have me back.”
“I doubt that this camp resembles any of them,” Kate said dryly.
“If they’d existed back then, I would have been sent to one. Who owns this place?”
“It’s a private, nonprofit group. Some of their money comes through court referrals and some comes from parents, but a lot of it comes from foundations.”
“They must do pretty well. The facilities are good and they have lots of expensive equipment. Their director must be very skilled at soliciting donations.”
They were waved through the gate and proceeded up the long, winding drive, lined on both sides by thick forest. The camp’s buildings came into view at the top of a hill. Kate pointed out the series of long, low barracks and other buildings housing the administrative, classroom and recreational facilities. In the distance were two large barns.
“Hup two, three, four,” Sam muttered as they passed a group of kids marching in formation. “They really mean it when they call them boot camps.”
Ted Snyder, the director, was waiting for them when they reached the administrative building. Kate introduced the two men, explaining that she’d had last-minute car trouble and Sam had volunteered to drive her.
The director recognized Sam right away and the two men chatted for a time before Kate got down to business.
“I’ll be honest with you, Ted,” she said. “I’m going to have a real problem selling this story to my editor unless I can come up with some reasons why your camp seems to work so much better than the others.” She went on, “I know you told me when I was here before that it’s the staff. But I interviewed some of them, and although they’re certainly bright and dedicated, so were the staff at the other facility I visited in Pennsylvania.”
“I don’t know what else to tell you, Kate. Maybe we’re just more selective when it comes to staff.”
“What about the kids? Are you more selective there, as well?”
He shook his head. “We take what the courts send us, plus kids who are referred by their parents. The only kids we’ve refused are ones who have serious mental health problems that need more intensive treatment than our staff can provide.”
They talked some more about the program, and then she asked if he could give her the names of the kids who hadn’t been helped. He’d mentioned before that there’d been a few.
‘‘Sure. I’ll have to call their parents first, of course—to get their permission. Why don’t I have Barbara show you and Sam around while I try to reach them?”
Barbara was his assistant, a bubbly young woman who was thrilled to meet Sam and eager to show off the camp. While they waited for her to make a phone call, Sam stared at the closed door to Ted’s office.
“He’s a slick one. Not exactly what I’d expect in a place like this.”
Kate nodded her agreement, but she had to admit that he’d been very helpful. Of course, he was undoubtedly eager to get publicity for the camp. He’d told her before that they were trying to raise funds to expand.
Kate saw nothing new on this round of the camp. It did strike her, however, that just by watching the kids she could make a guess as to how long they’d been there. The new ones still had that belligerent look that so often hid the pain of their lives, while the ones nearing the end of their stay displayed the same quiet self-containment that she’d seen in the “graduates” she’d interviewed.
Then she remembered that one of those boys had told her how most of them had begun to change after three months. She broke into the conversation between Sam and their guide and asked if she could speak to one of the counselors.
“Sure. Let me see who’s free.” Barbara picked up a phone in the classroom building and spoke to
someone, then pointed toward a smaller building across the way. “Tony DiSalvo’s free. He said he talked to you before.”
Kate remembered him. She’d liked him a lot and had thought that he was probably very good at his job. So she left Sam and Barbara and went to see him.
She told Tony about her interview with Duane Jones, the boy who’d told her how the kids changed after three months.
“Yeah, he’s right about that. Our psychiatrist calls it the ‘threshold’ because that’s the time when the barriers come down and you can really start to have an impact. I saw it sometimes at the other camp I worked at, but not like it happens here. There, you could pretty much predict from day one which kids you’d be able to help.”
“Where was this other camp?”
“Down near Richmond. I moved up here because my girlfriend’s from Hagerstown. I worked there for two years, and believe me, we didn’t have the success rate we have here.”
“What’s the difference?” she asked, thinking that if anyone could help her find it, it would be someone like Tony, who’d worked at another camp.
“Darned if I know,” he said with a sigh. “And I’ve thought a lot about it, too.”
“But there has to be a difference, Tony,” she persisted. “Ted Snyder says it’s the staff.”
He shrugged. “I don’t see much difference there. About the only difference I can see is that they pay more attention to the kids’ health. All the camps have a consulting M.D. and some nurses, but here they’re always checking the kids. That might make a difference, I suppose. A lot of the kids haven’t received good medical care and their diets were lousy. Here they get lots of medical attention and they all take vitamins.”
Kate jotted that information down, although she couldn’t really see its relevance. She knew that the camps were required by law to provide medical care and to have a licensed dietician on staff. She was about to ask Tony for the name of the other camp when he spoke again in a musing tone.
“The other counselors think I’m nuts for questioning why this place works so well, but I can’t help wondering. My work would be a lot more satisfying if I could come up with a reason for its success. Sometimes, when I see a kid I’d thought wouldn’t have a chance suddenly start to change, it feels almost eerie.”
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