“Athena’s been remarkably clear of that kind of thing, in part I think because we’ve kept such a low profile. Most of those who know of it are supportive. Oh, there are some out there who know and don’t like it, and a few who feel threatened by the idea and would like to see it shut down.”
This was not news to Alex. She knew that many of the very places Athena was training women to become part of were run by those who felt threatened by the idea of capable, trained, strong women moving in. Those people would just as soon see the proverbial glass ceiling changed to one of reinforced concrete.
“But I don’t know of anyone who’d overtly try to derail it,” her grandfather went on. “At least, not in such a public way as murder.”
Alex sighed. She didn’t miss the implication that Athena’s enemies were more covert. She’d expected that, too.
“What about that student, the only one ever to be expelled from Athena?” he asked.
“Shannon Conner? I thought about her right away, but I don’t think she’d bother. If she’s after anyone, it’s Tory, not Rainy.”
“Is she smart enough?”
Alex thought about the nasty, jealous blonde who had tried to frame Josie Lockworth for theft but had been exposed by Tory’s determined investigation. Easily the most famous Cassandra, Victoria Patton was now a New York based television news reporter. And Shannon Conner had hated her from the day Tory had uncovered the truth that had humiliated Shannon and resulted in her expulsion. In fact, Shannon was now a reporter herself, on a rival network, as if even today the competition continued.
“Yes,” Alex said finally. “And shrewd enough.”
“Vindictive?”
“I haven’t seen her in years, so I can’t say. Back then…maybe. I’ll dig into her a bit more,” she said. “Do you remember any employee who left under duress, or resented being let go?”
“I suppose there must have been some in all these years, but I’d be willing to bet not many. Christine does too good a job screening….”
His voice trailed off and Alex saw his eyes take on that thoughtful gleam she knew so well.
“G.C.?”
“I was just remembering, there was a professor, a…Dr. Bradley, I think. No, Bradford. That was it. He taught for a year or so at Athena. But something happened there, between him and Christine.”
“A disagreement?”
“I don’t know exactly, but she called to ask the board to confirm she had total authority over personnel, and to advise them that she would not be asking him to return. This was the year after Athena opened, and we were still feeling our way.”
“I’ll look into that, too.”
Alex pondered whether to mention Kayla’s suspicion that someone inside Athena was involved with what had happened to Rainy. At last she decided not to, at least not yet. She wasn’t afraid of what her grandfather might do; he believed too strongly in Athena and its goal to withdraw support now, just when the graduates were beginning to make their mark all around the world. But she decided to wait until she talked more with Kayla and found out exactly what had roused her suspicions in that area.
She bade her grandfather good-night with a hug and a kiss and retreated to the room that had been hers since childhood. It still held some souvenirs of that time, her huge collection of Breyer horses, her show ribbons and pictures of Lacy from her birth to this spring.
The big bed had at one time held the frilly, sheer canopy her grandmother had picked out for her. As a teen she had switched to the more exotic and much more to her taste mosquito netting that hung there now. Once it had enabled her to pretend she was on safari.
A photo safari, of course; she was no hunter. At least, not of innocent animals. Their less-innocent, supposed superiors were another matter altogether. There was at least one out there now that she would hunt to the ground.
Chapter 7
A lex awoke wondering if there was any smell as potent or as alluring as freshly brewed coffee in the morning. Sleepily she sat up, straightened the huge T-shirt she'd slept in, ran a hand through her tousled hair and pulled on a pair of socks in lieu of the slippers she never seemed to remember to pack, mainly because she didn’t like wearing them. And for that reason she didn’t bother to look in the closet, where there was likely a pair or two of the ones her mother insisted on buying her lingering.
Still yawning, she shuffled down the long hallway and across the living room with its rich mahogany floor, thinking she’d be better off if she headed out for a dip in the pool. But the coffee was still beckoning, and like a mouse working its way through the maze to the cheese she made her way to the kitchen, already imagining the quick jolt of hot caffeine. Thank goodness that was a vice her grandfather refused to give up.
She pushed open the swinging door, wondering if it was G.C. who had started the brew, or Sylvia Barrett, the cook and housekeeper of nearly twenty years.
It was neither. The man at the counter heard the door open behind him and turned. Smiled.
“Hi, sis. I heard you were here.”
Bennington Forsythe was tall, handsome and utterly charming. She supposed all that was a requirement for what appeared to be his chosen role in life, that of rich, devil-may-care playboy. It was a role that clearly pleased him and greatly irritated her—she hated seeing his tremendous potential wasted—and was tolerated with a surprising forbearance by their grandfather.
She’d wondered for a long time now why Ben had turned out the way he had. It made no sense to her. He had never shown any sign growing up that he would end up this way. She wondered, not for the first time, if something had happened to him, something she didn’t know about, that had changed the course of his life so dramatically, from most likely to succeed to most likely to blow it all.
“So how’s my favorite FBI agent?”
“Surprised. I didn’t expect to see you.”
She knew her brother loved her, it glowed in his eyes, but she doubted there was another woman on the planet who could say that with certainty. Not even their mother, whom they both tolerated more out of duty than genuine love. That the feeling was mutual was something they had both understood from an early age.
In moments when she succumbed to the pop-psychology kind of snap analysis, she wondered if Ben was chasing all those women trying to find the love he’d never gotten from their mother. And more than once she’d thought that what he needed was the perfect Athena to take him in hand. One that met her rather stringent standards for a sister-in-law, of course. She’d love to sic her on Ben and watch the fireworks. She had no doubt who would win, and it would probably be the best thing that could ever happen to him. But so far she’d managed to restrain herself.
“You’re giving me that look again.” Ben’s tone was teasing, but the look in his eyes was suddenly weary. She expected the teasing, it was their standard sibling communication method, but weary was a new note.
“Which look is that, brother mine?”
“The one you always give me right before you launch into your patented ‘When are you going to stop wasting your life?’ lecture.”
“Well, when are you?”
“I’ll have you know there are women around the world who wish I had more to waste.” The weariness was gone now. Or hidden behind the insouciant manner he sooner or later always seemed to resort to.
“I’m sure. So, where did you blow in from this time? Monaco? Rio?”
“Rome, actually.”
“Ah. The Sophia Loren look-alike.”
“One can only hope she ages as well,” Ben said airily.
Alex busied herself pouring a mug of coffee, wishing she could learn not to care about her big brother’s peccadilloes. But in her heart he was still the thirteen-year-old who had taught his ten-year-old sister how to fight and win against the bigger, stronger class bully who had tried to make her life hell simply because she was a Forsythe.
In fact, if she thought about it, Ben probably had almost as much to do with her success at Athena as
their grandfather had. Charles Forsythe had opened her mind to the myriad possibilities, but Bennington Forsythe had taught her the tough stuff, how to use her brain and her own kind of strength to take on just about anyone or anything, no matter if it was bigger or stronger. He’d even taught her which feminine wiles usually worked best on what man. Things, he’d told her, that he wished his women didn’t know, but that he was glad his little sister did.
She picked up her coffee and turned around to face him, leaning back against the smooth, cool granite counter and looking at him over the rim of the mug.
“And what’s that look for? Or should I merely enjoy and not ask?”
She smiled at her brother. “Just thinking that if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”
Ben drew back slightly. “What?”
“You taught me an awful lot, big bro. And if I never thanked you for it, I’m thanking you now.” She took a sip and enjoyed his slightly bewildered look.
“You women,” he said at last, “are the strangest bunch of critters I’ve ever met.”
She was saved from answering that bemused observation by the appearance of their grandfather, who looked inordinately pleased to have both of his grandchildren under his roof again. They had a leisurely breakfast, Alex deciding it was rare enough that the three of them were together that it warranted her taking the time.
Her brother and grandfather spent some time discussing the stock market and the world market, and as Alex listened—anyone with a chance to eavesdrop on Charles Forsythe’s financial wisdom who didn’t take advantage was a fool—she wondered how much of Ben’s trust fund was left now, two years after he’d come into it at thirty. Although she’d grown up with money, the idea of inheriting millions of dollars on her next birthday simply boggled the mind.
It didn’t seem to have ever affected Ben. He was happily spending away on his riotous lifestyle apparently without a second thought. Still, she couldn’t help adoring him, and hid her qualms as best she could, knowing by now that there was little to nothing she could do about how he chose to live his life. It would take a more powerful force than his little sister to make him change.
I’ll do something better with mine, she promised silently, not for the first time. She wasn’t sure what yet, but she’d put it to some good use.
And none of it, not Ben’s, not hers, not even her grandfather’s billions, could give her the one thing she wanted most—Rainy, alive and well and laughing at the things Alex chose to worry about.
All the old emotions began to well up inside her, threatening to drown her in more useless tears. She got to her feet abruptly.
“I’m going for a ride before I have to head back to the city,” she said.
Ben looked surprised, but G.C. didn’t. “Twill could use some work,” was all he said.
Alex nodded and went back to her room to change into the riding pants and boots she always left here for these occasions. She started to walk down the hill to the stable, a long, pristine white building with a green roof in a clearing full of rich grass, a matching green to the roof even at this time of year. But after a few strides she was trotting, then running, suffused with the feeling that only a hammering run over her grandfather’s near one thousand acres would release the pressure building inside her.
Jacob Garner, the head groom who had worked for her grandfather for over thirty years, lit up when he saw her.
“Alex! It’s been too long, girl!”
“It has, Jacob, it has.”
“You oughta get yourself back here and prep for the classic. Show them young upstarts a thing or two about real riding.”
Alex smiled at him. After she’d graduated from Athena, she’d done well in the annual Middleburg Classic charity horse show each time she was able to get that September weekend free to enter. In fact, for a while she had considered trying for the Olympic equestrian team. After a lot of thought she’d decided not to, for fear the extreme pressure would take the joy out of what she loved best—belting over a cross-country course with a horse she knew well, creating a team of human and animal unmatched in any other sport.
“I’m sure their horses will teach them everything they need to know,” Alex said. And it was true. More than one rider who thought they knew it all had come to grief when they came across a horse who knew more. “Grandfather said Twill needed some work?”
“Oh, good, you take that nag out and run him ragged. Save me a lot of misery trying to deal with him when he’s in one of his moods like he’s been lately.”
Alex laughed. Twill was a wonderful horse, but he had a mind of his own at times, and it took a strong hand to deal with him then. “I’ll do that. I’m in a mood of my own.”
But her mood had lifted. It was nearly impossible for her to stay down when she set foot in this world she loved.
“I’ll get him for you. Want me to tack him up?”
Jacob always asked, and Alex always declined. It was part of the etiquette, and she barely noticed after all these years.
“I’ll get your saddle, at least,” Jacob insisted, and Alex let him. “You want the hunt seat?”
She nodded. After he had led out the big sixteen-and-a-half-hand blood bay and draped the bridle over the saddle on the rack next to the crossties he clipped the horse to, Alex thanked him and took over.
Twill was already groomed, but she took a brush and ran it over him anyway, talking to him the whole time. She’d ridden the horse often, but it had been a while and it never hurt to renew the acquaintance slowly.
Twill seemed cheerful enough today, taking the bit almost eagerly when she bridled him. Moments later they were trotting out of the stable. She took him into the big outside arena and let him warm up slowly. When he started tossing his head, ready for more, she sidled him up to the gate, made him restrain himself and sidestep it open like a gentleman, then closed it behind them.
When she turned him toward the start of the course, his ears shot forward, then back, as if asking, “Really? Really?”
“Yes,” she told him sweetly, “we’re going to run that mood right out of you.”
He snorted and began the eager dance that told her he was ready to run, if she’d only turn him loose. The bay knew this course as well as she did, and she knew it backward, forward and from any point in the middle.
It was going to be just what she needed, she thought. She gathered herself, leaned forward slightly, settled her heels down in the stirrups.
“Now!”
The horse shot forward, building up speed as they tore down the long, gradual hill. She let him go, only beginning to gather him in when they made the turn that would lead to the first fences, three simple post and rails one after the other, to set the rhythm. Next would be the hedge, then the sharp turn and the race through the trees to the big fallen oak, one of the biggest jumps on the course. Then the stream, the wooden bridge and into the upper pasture with its own unique obstacle course. There were thirty jumps over ten miles of trail, a bit short of the Olympics, but still a good test and workout for horse and rider.
With the first powerful leap, Alex felt her heart take flight with the surging animal, and for now, she thought of nothing but the course, the whip of the air in her face, and the thousand pounds of pure muscle beneath her. Twill, bless him, never put a foot wrong, and although it was an effort to rein him in when she had to to set him up for the more difficult jumps, they made it through without a fault.
By the time they were done, Twill was tired but still willing to go. With a horse like this one, all heart, the rider had to be the guide. If you didn’t stop him, he’d literally kill himself for you. She untacked the horse and gave him lots of congratulations and pats. This time when Jacob approached and offered to do the cool down and clean up, Alex glanced at her watch and reluctantly agreed.
“Only because I have to get to work sometime today,” she said, and Jacob grinned at her.
“I know, girl. You take care of your own. But this time,
let me help out. Make me feel useful.”
Impulsively she gave the wiry man a hug. Jacob had been part of her life since she’d been born and she’d often felt more comfortable down here with him, especially if her mother had been around.
She ran back to the big house in a much lighter frame of mind. She showered hastily, dried herself and her hair, her body still humming with exhilaration. She’d needed that. Badly, she thought as she dressed.
She was on her way to work ten minutes later, leaving an understanding grandfather and a still bemused brother in her wake.
Chapter 8
“S o he is FBI?” Alex asked. She’d run the prints she’d gotten from the filing cabinet and come up with a name—Justin Cohen, bona fide FBI agent.
“He’s one of us, all right,” her friend Sheila replied. “Has been for nearly ten years, one of those right out of college recruits. Now special agent assigned to the Phoenix field office.”
Alex sat back in the office chair, thinking.
“He was part of the task force that broke up that alien-smuggling ring down there a while back,” Sheila added. “It was all over the news. Lots of good PR for the bureau.”
Fair-haired boy, Alex thought. Except his was nearly black. And those eyes…
She yanked her thoughts back to what was important right now. “What’s he on now? Could you find out?”
“I thought you might want to know, so I asked. He’s assigned to a possible receiving-and-fencing stolen property case now.”
“Stolen property?” Alex asked, knowing that wasn’t something that normally fell under the FBI’s purview. “What’s the twist?”
“They think they’re hiding it out on the Gila River Indian Reservation.”
“Guess that makes it ours, then,” Alex said. Interesting, she added to herself. The border of the Gila River reservation was barely forty or fifty miles from Athena. Could someone be running stolen items through the school? That didn’t make any sense, unless Rainy were somehow involved. And that made no sense at all.
Proof Page 7
