by Kathryn Shay
Still, he was in good shape. He noticed that women routinely checked him out. But many of them were attracted to the supposed glamour of his position. He had seen the high school teachers take a second look, though, and they didn’t know he was a Secret Service agent.
“And what do you think, Suzie Q?” he asked aloud.
Shit!
He had no business wondering if she found him attractive. It didn’t matter if she saw him as Quasimodo or a movie star. The situation was too urgent for him to be distracted by frivolous things, and Suzanna Quinn had the potential to be a huge distraction. He did another curl just for good measure, then hit the treadmill. He was puffing hard, wiping the sweat from his face despite the lightweight T-shirt and gym shorts he wore, when he heard clomping on the stairs.
Ludzecky appeared all too soon. Joe glanced at his watch.
“You know what time it is?” Luke asked.
“Don’t you have some homework to do?”
“What’s got your jocks in a twist?”
“Your suspension,” Joe lied.
“It shouldn’t.” The kid plunked down on a step. “Ben Franzi called tonight and thanked me for helpin’ out his buddy Smurf. He asked if we could jam this weekend.”
“You’re getting TLC from everybody. Including the lovely Ms. Cunningham.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“You seem to keep forgettin’ I’m not a kid,” Ludzecky said. “You got a problem, spill it.”
Joe kept running and held his tongue. He knew he had to do something about this tension between the two of them. It wasn’t caused only by Ludzecky getting Joe shot last time. The kid was the exact opposite of him in personality, and they grated each other like sandpaper on skin most of the time. But they had to work together.
“I got a problem with you alienating Duchamp and his gang. But you’re on the right track with Franzi. Good job.”
Ludzecky took a deep breath, as if the friction between them wore on him, too. “Thanks.” He studied the floor. “Suzanna say anything about my suspension?”
“She was sympathetic to both of us.”
“Really? She like me?”
Joe pictured pretty brown eyes smiling when she discussed the young agent. Her teeth were perfectly even, and she had full lips that she often painted peach. “She likes all kids.”
“Her son’s lucky.”
So was her husband. Truth be told, Joe wondered about Lawrence Quinn. Fifteen years her senior. Rhodes Scholar. Was the guy good...
Ruthlessly he cut off the thought. He had no business thinking about her husband. Or her. Or any woman. Though most FBI agents could lead fairly ordinary lives, the Secret Service lifestyle was nomadic; agents were always traveling—some were out of town forty weeks in the calendar year. Not to mention the danger they faced; most women couldn’t tolerate the thought of their men intentionally jumping in front of bullets meant for others. Or going undercover, which could hold equal jeopardy. The Secret Service had a higher divorce rate than police, firefighters, or any other dangerous profession.
Clearly, Joe shouldn’t make Suzanna, or her life with her husband, his business. In the long run, any feelings for her could go nowhere. That he’d even think about all this was an anomaly in his disciplined personality. To completely banish the thoughts, he ran faster.
o0o
“Jimmy, tell us what happened after you asked Rush Webster to leave you alone.” Josh Quinn’s voice rang out steadily in the conference room of his mother’s office. The space, like others in the school, was homey with its paneled walls, upholstered chairs, and thick carpet. There were even pink carnations on a sideboard. Joe had seen vases of flowers in Suzanna’s office a few times. Did a man send them to her?
Josh sat at an oval table with his friend Morgan Kane and three other students, constituting Fairholm’s Student Court. A few witnesses and the defendants, the court’s supervisor, the principal, and the assistant principal completed the circle. Slowly Joe was learning who were the movers and shakers of the school.
Red hair sticking up in all different directions, freckles popping out all over his face, Jimmy pressed his glasses up his nose. Not only did his surname lend itself to the epithet Smurf, so did his looks. “Webster pushed me into the bench. My tray fell and spilled tomato soup all down my leg.” The boy glanced worriedly to the end of the table, where Webster stared down and drummed his fingers on the wood surface. His hair had fallen over his eyes, so Joe couldn’t see their expression. But his mouth was a grim slash in his too-slim face. His body always seemed to be in motion.
“Then what happened?” Josh asked.
Jimmy fidgeted. The kid was nervous. Joe didn’t blame him. Webster was a powder keg, and Jimmy’s plump stature and general geek status made him a prime target for bullying. Joe made a mental note to look into Smurf’s background.
In his two weeks here, Joe and Luke had begun to home in on which kids should be watched. Webster was at the top of the list, and Joe had studied his folder. He had a history of angry outbursts at school and he consistently used foul language. He was also as antsy as a three-year-old; he should have been tested for ADD. But he lived in a group home, and his parents had done little for him.
“Somebody got Webster off me,” Jimmy was saying.
“Who?”
Smurfella’s eyes lit up. Joe shook his head. Though he didn’t get along with Ludzecky, the guy had a way with people, especially students. “Luke. Um, Luke Ludzecky. Holy cow, Josh, he tore Webster right off me.”
Josh turned away to hide a grin. It reminded Joe of the way Suzanna tried to conceal a smile. Josh had her blond hair, too; Joe wondered what Suzanna’s hair looked like out of its knot.
“What happened next?” Josh asked.
“As soon as Luke let go of him, Webster swung around and threw a punch.”
Slouched next to his uncle, dressed in his habitual uniform of tattered jeans and a shirt hanging out of his pants, Luke rubbed his chin.
Joe leaned over. “Timing off, son?”
Luke grunted.
“Did Luke punch Webster back?”
“Yeah, sure. When Webster came out swinging, Luke clocked him. Webster went sprawlin’ halfway across the floor. His buddy Morton had to help him up.”
Ludzecky cleared his throat, more than likely to hide smug male triumph. Testosterone ran heavy in his veins.
After a few more questions, Josh turned to Kelsey Cunningham, who sat with Suzanna at the midpoint of the table. “Ms. Cunningham, do you confirm or deny Jimmy’s description of the fight?”
“I confirm it. Rush Webster hit Luke first.”
“But Luke hit him back.” Josh was trying to be fair. He’d make a good lawyer someday.
Kelsey’s dark eyebrows rose. Tonight she wore a maroon high school sweatshirt, jeans, and boots—attire far too casual for faculty. Joe’s gaze drifted to Suzanna’s dark suit, which she’d accented with a pretty pink blouse and pearls.
“Well, of course Luke hit him back,” Kelsey said haughtily. “Out of self-protection.”
Which was for the court to decide.
Joe had wondered about this court since he first heard of it. Made up completely of students, and overseen by Kelsey, the panel dealt with the gray areas of policy. All school rules were sacrosanct. But in a case like this, where the punishment was suspension if the student threw a punch, yet the punch was thrown in self-defense, the court decided on a course of action. Suzanna would be present and give her input, but she’d abide by their decision. Joe thought the administration should make the determination, with the court’s recommendation considered.
Kelsey answered a few more questions. Her gaze kept straying to Luke. She’d smile at him or nod reassuringly. Joe darted a glance at Luke. The kid’s eyes were glued to the woman. Joe filed away that look, along with Ludzecky’s whole demeanor around the young teacher, to think about later.
Then Luke gave his version of the incide
nt. He told much the same story as the others. Damned if he didn’t sound like a teenager with his slang and surly tone. He was good at his job, Joe would give him that.
Finally, it was Rush Webster’s turn to speak. Once, in his early days with the Service, Joe had come face-to-face with a world-renowned counterfeiter who’d been hung up on child porn. Webster was a younger version of the man and had some of his mannerisms—the fidgetiness, the sneer, the barely suppressed anger. When Webster began to talk, he pushed his hair back. His eyes were cold slivers of brown in his face. “I didn’t do nothing to Smurf. I was teasing him, only gave him a friendly shake of the shoulder, and he fell. Ask Morton.” Webster’s head whipped to Luke, who faced him down without blinking. “Then this jerkoff attacks me.”
“Watch your mouth, Rush.” Suzanna spoke for the first time.
He glared at her.
“Others said you struck first,” Morgan Kane put in pointedly.
A gaze that could rip through steel leveled on Kelsey. Beside Joe, Luke tensed. “She got her favorites,” Rush spit out.
“Witnesses besides Ms. C. confirmed you threw the first punch.” Josh’s voice was cool, but his eyes were troubled.
Rush’s stare burrowed into Josh. “They didn’t see right.”
“Anything you want to add, Rush?” another court member asked.
A quick shake of his head. He fingered the chains hanging from the loops of his belt.
“All right.” Josh stood. “That’s it for the testimony. Time for the court to meet alone. We’ll go to the office. Anybody can wait to find out our decision or you can hear about it tomorrow.”
After the court members filed into the office, Webster threw back his chair, upending it, and strode out the door. Joe caught sight of a young girl in the hall waiting for him. She handed him a leather jacket, and they hurried out of sight.
Mulling over what to do about Webster, Joe meandered to the sideboard and poured a cup of coffee. Next to the pot, the carnations gave out a sweet scent.
Luke approached him. “What do you think?”
Joe put a hand on his shoulder. “I—”
“Luke.” Kelsey Cunningham’s voice cut into Joe’s response.
Luke pivoted. “Uh, Ms. C. Thanks for the support.”
She grasped Luke’s arm. “I should thank you. Webster would have made mincemeat out of me.” Subtly she drew him to the side, to talk to him alone. As they spoke, the kid grinned down at her; her smile was thousand-watt in return.
Jesus, Joe thought. What the hell—
Suzanna came up to him with another woman in tow. “Joe, while we’re waiting, someone wants to meet you.”
Joe looked over Suzanna’s shoulder. A tall, thin woman, dressed in chic New York style, stared at him out of Hummel doll eyes. Her hair was short and cut around her face.
He recognized her.
o0o
Suzanna smiled up at Joe. “This is Brenda Way; she’s a reporter for the Fairholm Gazette.”
Though Joe’s expression remained unchanged, his eyes flashed with surprise.
“Brenda,” Suzanna continued, “this is Dr. Joe Stonehouse. Our new crisis counselor.”
“Crisis counselor, huh?” Brenda’s tough-cookie veneer was in high gear tonight, though her usually pale complexion showed color. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Stonehouse.”
“Ms. Way. Nice to meet you, too.”
“Brenda’s got her finger on the pulse of the school,” Suzanna said. “Warts and all. She usually covers the Student Court, but she had another meeting tonight, so she just stopped by.”
“How interesting.” Joe’s tone was neutral.
Suzanna gave her friend a one-armed hug. “Not compared to where she came from. But we love her.”
“Where she came from?”
“Big city. Bright lights.” Brenda’s tone was almost taunting. Honestly, sometimes Suzanna didn’t understand her former college roommate’s behavior around handsome men.
“She was a hotshot reporter for the Times, got tired of New York, and came to Fairholm for a change of pace.”
“Were you raised here?” Joe asked.
“No. Suzanna and I were roommates at Vassar. We parted ways after she married Prince Charming. When I left the city, I thought Fairholm would be a good place to settle, with the added benefit of being near my best friend.”
Stiffly, Joe nodded.
“I’d like to do an article on you for the paper, Dr. Stonehouse.”
“I’d rather keep a low profile.”
Suzanna thought Brenda muttered, “I’ll bet,” but her attention was distracted by someone tugging on her arm.
Kelsey had come up behind her. “I have to go, Suzanna. I’m expecting a call from my father. Phone me later? I’d like to know what happens.”
“Sure. Thanks for everything,” Suzanna said.
Luke, who still leaned against the wall, straightened. “Thanks again for tryin’ to help, Ms. C.”
“You’re welcome. I hope I see you tomorrow. We’re going to start studying special areas in the U.S. government.”
Luke’s face brightened. “Special areas?”
“Yeah, the FBI, CIA, and Secret Service.”
The coffee Joe had been drinking sloshed over his hand.
“Geez, I’d hate to miss that,” Luke said enthusiastically.
For some reason, Joe glared at his nephew. The vibes between them were crazier tonight than usual.
Kelsey left, and Suzanna was distracted by her assistant principal. When she finished with Lester, she noticed that Brenda was gone. So was Joe. She approached Luke. “Luke, did your uncle leave?”
“I don’t know, Mrs. Quinn.”
She squeezed his arm in support. “You worried?”
He shrugged.
“No matter what the court decides, Luke, if you did stop those guys from picking on Smurf, thanks for doing it. We all need to take care of each other. I plan to speak to Morton and Webster myself about this bullying that seems to have cropped up.”
She smiled, turned away, and saw the conference room door was open. Slipping out, she glanced down the hall. It was empty. She started to go back in, but heard voices. Following them, she got close enough to make out what they were saying.
“You don’t understand what’s at stake here.” Joe’s voice was cut-glass cold.
“Then tell me, hotshot. I might be washed up in New York, but I still got what it takes. And I care about Suzanna. What’s this crap about you being a psychologist?”
Suzanna strode up to them.
Brenda whirled around. Her dark eyes were troubled. Stonehouse looked at Suzanna with a furrowed brow and angry scowl.
“What’s going on here?” Suzanna asked.
Chapter Five
Once again, Suzanna faced Joe Stonehouse, Luke Ludzecky, and her superintendent in the top administrator’s office. Only this time, it was ten o’clock at night, and Brenda Way was also there. Suzanna sensed something was really wrong.
They’d had to wait for Joe’s explanation; he’d asked her to be patient, and said he’d tell her everything as soon as the Student Court was over. She’d been shocked to see him whip out his cell phone and call Ross Maloney to set up this meeting as if they were the best of friends or long-term colleagues.
Brenda said absolutely nothing and, after his call, Joe held a hushed conversation with his nephew. The atmosphere in the conference room was tense until the verdict came about a half-hour later. Based on testimony, Luke got a day’s suspension, and Webster got five; the one they’d served today counted. Now, however, the whole incident seemed insignificant compared to what was going on with Joe and Brenda.
Ross began the meeting much as he’d done the last time. “Suzanna, I’d like you to listen with an open mind to what we’re going to tell you.”
Because she liked and respected Ross Maloney, she nodded.
Joe faced Brenda, looking bigger and more intimidating in his navy power suit than he had earlier.
“And Ms. Way, I expect this information will remain confidential. I’ve included you because of our prior acquaintance. If you won’t cooperate, I have to ask you to leave.”
Brenda’s dark brown eyes flashed with pique. “I would never do anything to hurt Suzanna or her school.”
Then Ross said bluntly, “Suzanna, Luke and Joe are government agents.”
“Agents?” She glanced at Brenda, who obviously knew this. Then she looked back at Ross.
“From the Secret Service.”
“The Secret Service?” She sounded like an idiot, parroting Ross, but this had the earmarks of a TV special, not real life in Suburbia, USA. “I don’t—” She stopped abruptly when his words sank in. “Luke is a Secret Service agent?”
The boy, who’d abandoned his adolescent slouch, gave her a self-effacing grin. “Others have a tough time believin’ it, too, Suzanna.”
It was odd to hear him use her first name. For weeks she’d thought this man was a kid, though there had been something oddly adult about him.
Stonehouse continued. “We’re both from a new division of the Secret Service. Do you know what the National Threat Assessment Center is?”
Suzanna shook her head, but Brenda nodded. “I’ve read about it. It’s a center that was established in the nineties to analyze threats made on public figures.”
“Yes. NTAC’s origin was investigating assassins. We call it targeted violence.”
Suzanna remembered the term from reading she’d done.
About school shootings.
Joe confirmed the connection she made in her mind. “A while ago, the Secret Service, in conjunction with the Department of Education, came out with a Threat Assessment document about school shooters. It was called the Safe School Initiative.” She watched him. A muscle twitched in his rigid jaw, betraying emotion she hadn’t seen from him before. Obviously, this was important to him.
“I read about the government’s work in that area,” she finally said.
Joe shoved his hands in his pockets. He was leaning against the wall, his shoulders stiff inside the navy wool. Occasionally, he raked a hand through his short hair. “Agent Ludzecky and I are part of a task force formed a few years ago as a result of that study. Its purpose is to prevent school shootings.” Stonehouse straightened, the action heralding an important announcement.
