Stalking Death (30 page)

"We'll need to talk before the meeting," I said, "so you'll know what you're getting into."

"Mr. Argenti gave me a pretty good idea," she said.

"He may have given you a pretty good idea of the party line," I countered, "but there's a lot more going on here than they'll be willing to tell you, and you are going to need to know it."

"You sound positively paranoid, Thea."

"Negatively paranoid, actually. Or at least negative. Before you try to deal with Curly, Larry, and Moe, I'm going to do my best to explain who's on first and when to duck. Let's plan on dinner at The Swan... that's the bed and breakfast where you'll be staying. What time is good for you?"

"Actually..." She sounded reluctant to tell me this. "The Chambers invited me to stay with them." Something they had not done for me. Back then, they hadn't recognized how important it was to control the information flow. It wasn't uncommon for campus visitors to stay at the Headmaster's house.

"Decide for yourself," I said, "but I wouldn't recommend it. For one thing, you'll starve. She's the world's worst cook. You'll also lose the opportunity to get some distance from the situation, as well as losing privacy and a chance to meet with Bobby alone. Believe me, you'll need space and objectivity to deal with this group."

"We'll see," she said. I had a panicked moment, wondering what had been said about me and whether she might have actually believed it. We're all subject to moments when our self-confidence suddenly fails. A frustrating two days, a head injury, being attacked verbally and by flying flowers, and now this.

"Dinner at The Swan at six, and we'll take it from there," she said.

I agreed, bit my lip, and didn't suggest she bring a polygraph machine. Suzanne is a competent grown-up. Instead, I fished a packet of tissues out of my bag and handed it to Shondra. "How would you feel about some lunch?" I asked.

"Dining hall slop?"

"I was thinking about burgers and fries. Maybe a milkshake?" Was I making a mistake? This girl had just had her stomach pumped. I based the offer on my own experience. Generally, whatever has happened to me, the instant I'm sprung from the hospital, I want to go someplace where there is real food and stuff my face.

I pointed at the big red and white sign looming just ahead. "Friendly's?"

"I guess." I flicked on my signal and turned into the parking lot.

We were halfway to the door when she put on the brakes, planted her hands on her hips and turned toward me. "Just so's we're clear," she said. "Don't you be thinking you can buy me a burger and get me to spill my guts."

"I was kind of hoping you wouldn't spill your guts. Maybe we should go for tea and toast."

"Talk," she amended, but she smiled. "I hate tea and toast. Who was that on the phone? You didn't sound too happy."

"My partner, Suzanne. It seems that the St. Matthews administration has decided my working style is too abrasive and they want to bring in someone more malleable."

"They'se getting rid of you?"

I shrugged. "Not easily."

"So you be leaving," she said, as though I hadn't spoken. "Your partner... she's gonna go along with them and their lies?" Another long pause. "Not that I like you or anything. But, other than Coach Adams, you're 'bout the only person I've met around here gives a damn 'bout me and Jamison."

We ordered and sat silently until the food came. She slowly picked up a dozen fries, one by one, and ate them without looking at me. "I sure wish Jamison was here. Wish I knowed if it was safe to talk to you."

"Why don't you try me and see?" I watched her face closely, hoping my eagerness wasn't showing. There had been so many veiled hints of sinister undercurrents at St. Matts. Shondra might pose as a loner, but I'd bet she knew plenty from her teammates, from her brother, and from the serious listening she'd done once she knew she had to handle her problems herself.

She studied me with wide, uncertain eyes, as though, if she stared hard enough, she could see right into me and find some answers. She was desperate to talk and so unwilling to trust.

"You can stop any time you feel uncomfortable, Shondra. Maybe you could start by telling me what happened last night?"

"No." It was a considering no, not a dismissive one. "No, let's talk about that camera," she said, staring down at her long, flexing fingers. "About what we do with what's on it. I know where it's hid."

Chapter 23

Not wanting to seem too eager, I picked at my own fries, waiting to see where she'd go with this. "Yeah. I guess. I mean, I guess it wouldn't hurt, you knowin' that, seeing as you know about Alasdair anyway."

I poured the rest of my milkshake into my glass, wondering how quickly the ill-effects of not spending time in the gym began to show. I'd read somewhere muscle starts breaking down after forty-eight hours. A year to build it, two days to lose it. It seemed perfectly in keeping the rest of my life. Seven years to build a career where I could come in and take charge and effectively help schools in trouble; a single week to get canned and sent packing twice.

To hell with my muscles. My spirit needed this chocolate. I was torn, though, whether to consume it or just smear it on my thighs and be done. I'm a big believer in efficiency.

"Hey," she said suspiciously, "what are you smiling about?"

"Chocolate."

"Oh." She gave me a puzzled look and went back to her fries.

"You about ready to go?"

"I guess. Don't exactly know what I'm going back to. You seen... saw... my room. Those motherfuckers don't do anything by halves. Ever."

"You know who did it?"

Another scathing teenage look. "Everybody does."

Was this just Shondra, or another ugly truth about the St. Matthews community? "What does that mean?"

"I mean, it's no secret Alasdair had this group he called the Neo-Skulls. Numb skulls, Jamison always said. Or that they targeted minorities. Chinks, Spics and Nigs, Alasdair used to say. He said it a lot 'til Mr. Sidaris got on him and threatened him with a month of early curfew. Alasdair used to say lots of ugly stuff. The coaches did what they could, but Mr. Chambers, he always let Alasdair off."

"Everybody knew about this? It was common knowledge on campus?"

"What do you think?"

"I think I want you to answer my question. I don't like to be guessing about things that may be important."

She dropped the fry she was holding and slid out of the booth. "Can we go now? I don't want to be talkin' 'bout this here. Someone might be listening."

More sensible than I, wasn't she? "Fine. Let's go." I pulled bills out of my wallet and dropped them on the table. She was already moving away. Fast. There was nothing like the reviving power of meat. It might not be PC, or whatever the term is for nutritionally correct. NC? But Andre and I were fervent believers in the restorative power of a good burger. Burgers. Chocolate. Hot bread. Red wine. Good bourbon. Yeah. We ate salads too. Plenty of salads. But after a hard day fighting bad guys, there was nothing like steak on the grill, baked potatoes, and a roll in the hay.

"You're smiling again." She'd stopped to wait for me. Hurrying to catch up, I almost mowed her down. Around us, people were staring. I'd forgotten what a sight we were. I was tall enough to draw subtle stares, while Shondra drew outright gapes.

"Thinking about my husband," I said, pushing her gently ahead of me down the aisle. She'd started talking and I didn't want to lose momentum.

"He a hunk?"

"I think so."

"How long you been married?"

"Three months."

"You'll get over it."

I doubted it. I'd worked too hard to get the man to grow tired of him anytime soon. Lots of women diet or dress-up, fix their hair or wear make-up, hoping to snag the man of their dreams. I'd gone undercover as a waitress in the restaurant from hell and tangled with some very bad guys. Stand by your man, Kozak style.

We went back out into the gray afternoon. The air had a real bite today, a damp chill that worked its way under my raincoat and raised goosebumps. Even from across the parking lot, my car didn't look right. When we got closer, I saw why. The two front tires were flat as pancakes. One tire I could have handled—changed it myself or called the folks at triple A, those tattooed, cigarette smoking young guys who look scary but are usually so nice. But two flats required a tow truck.

Sometimes bad guys could be so dumb. If they wanted me to leave, why strand me here with a defunct car? But maybe this wasn't about me. What if it was aimed at Shondra? Then I had to get her out of here. But to where? I didn't believe the campus was safe.

She stared at the car, uttered a few of the expletives I'd been thinking, and kicked one of the poor, slack tires. "Now what we gonna do?"

I brandished my phone. These days, help is just a fingertip away, assuming you're not in a black hole or some other form of cell hell. I called AAA to have the car towed and then called Bobby to come and get us. Very efficient. I wasn't even upset. The only trouble was that Shondra and I
had lost our momentum. I didn't know if I could get her talking again.

"Help is on the way," I told her.

"I don't like this," she said, taking a long, slow look around the parking lot. "It's creepy. Who knew we were here?"

I'd told no one, yet someone had found us. Maybe it was time for me to start driving a mud-colored car instead of a bright red Saab. Take one of those cop courses in defensive driving techniques. Learn to sweep my car for tracking devices. But I was a consultant, dammit. People weren't supposed to be following me. They were supposed to be asking me for advice. And not about how to dodge a tail.

We could have gotten in the car, but it was too weird to sit in a car with two flat tires. We leaned against my trunk, waiting for the AAA man who'd said fifteen minutes, and I tried to get the conversation going again. "This camera... is it hidden securely? Somewhere Alasdair's friends won't think to look?"

"I hope so."

"How do they know about it?"

Her shoulders slumped. She had an amazing ability to look dejected. I liked her better proud and angry. She was good at that, too. "That's my fault. Thursday night, see, he made one of his calls. He hadn't called for a while... not since I got things so stirred up. I guess maybe Chambers and them leaned on him to stop, never mind that they said he wasn't doing it. They knew he was. Or maybe he just thought if he stopped for a while, I'd relax and then, when he'd start doing it again, it would be worse. That was the way he worked."

She shuffled her feet, studying them as they moved, considering what she'd say. "So I was mad, you know, and I told him, straight out, that I knew it was him, Alasdair, and he'd better quit, because I had him on camera, in my room, going through my things, leavin' one of his nasty pictures. I said if he ever called me again I wasn't going to bother with the Administration, I was going to give what was on that camera to the press and a lawyer. I told him I'd sue his ass and St. Matthews' ass and to hell with all of 'em."

Her feet shuffled. Her hands flexed. When she spoke again, her voice was almost a whisper. "He said like hell I would. That no one had better ever see those pictures or I'd be sorrier than I could ever imagine. Not just me but my whole family would be sorry. He said he knew I was too smart to make a mistake like that. Then he laughed and hung up."

Her brown eyes filled with tears. "I didn't listen. I didn't believe him, when I know I should have. Alasdair always get his way, him and those friends of his are always hurting girls and getting away with it. But I was so mad, I wasn't going to let him do it any longer. I called that reporter, and now look what's happened."

"What reporter? You've never mentioned a reporter, Shondra." Someone had, hadn't they? One of the girls in her dorm? And what was this about a lawyer? "I need to know who you've spoken with, Shondra, and what you've told them."

"The reporter... well, actually, you know... he called me. I think he's a friend of Jen's father or something, so maybe she got on to him somehow. Anyway. He called me and we met."

"Did you give him the pictures?"

"No. Not yet. I..."

An engine roared. A gray car leaped out of a parking space, hurtling straight at us.