The Fixer (17 page)

And that meant that I needed to arrange another visit to the headmaster’s office.

“You look like someone who’s thinking deep thoughts.” Asher slid in beside me at lunch. “Deep thoughts about telling me what you’ve spent the past two days
not
telling me, perhaps?”

Asher probably wasn’t expecting an answer, but I gave him one. “When I called the second number on that phone, someone
answered. I know who it was, and I might have found a clue that could tell us how that person and Vivvie’s father know each other.”

“This new, forthcoming Tess is a strange and wonderful thing,” Asher remarked. “Should I be suspicious?”

I answered his question with a question. “How good are you at getting sent to the headmaster’s office for something that won’t actually get you expelled?”

Asher smiled beatifically, as if he’d been waiting his whole life for someone to ask just that question. “How would you feel about some Mentos and Diet Coke?”

As it turned out, the Hardwicke administration was not terribly fond of explosions. Asher and I sat outside the headmaster’s office, awaiting judgment.

The headmaster’s assistant shook her head at the two of us. “Weren’t you just in here a few hours ago?” she asked me.

I did my best to look ashamed—and probably failed miserably. She turned her attention to my companion. “Asher Rhodes. What are we going to do with you?”

“Win me over with patience and gentle correction?” Asher suggested.

In retrospect, I probably should have taken the fall for this particular explosion myself, but I needed to get a good look at the photo on Raleigh’s wall, and that meant that I needed someone to distract the headmaster while I did it.

“Mr. Rhodes?” Headmaster Raleigh appeared at the door to his office. “I’ll see you first.”

Asher and I glanced at each other. The plan required us to go in together.

“Ladies first,” Asher said. “I insist.”

The headmaster sighed. “All right,” he capitulated. “Ms. Kendrick, I’ll see you first.”

“Don’t you think that’s kind of sexist?” I asked the secretary. She froze.

“I’m sure it’s not,” she said, not sounding sure in the least.

“Chivalry isn’t sexist,” Asher told me.

“If you’re suggesting that females need special treatment
because
they’re female,” I replied, “it kind of is.”

Headmaster Raleigh still hadn’t quite recovered from the accusation of sexism. “Asher,” he started to say. Then he changed his mind. “Tess.” He scowled. “Both of you, my office, now.”

The headmaster turned around. Asher winked at me, then followed the man into his office. I entered the room last and closed the door behind us. Immediately, my eyes found the picture I was looking for on the wall.

William Keyes. Judge Pierce. Major Bharani.
A glare off the picture frame made it difficult for me to see any of them clearly.

“Ms. Kendrick, are you listening to me?” Headmaster Raleigh asked.

Not in the least.
“Yes, sir.” The
sir
seemed to appease him somewhat.

“We have a zero tolerance policy for weapons here at Hardwicke,” the man continued.

“Can it really be considered a weapon if you can eat it?” I asked.

“Or drink it,” Asher added.

“If it explodes, it’s a weapon,” the headmaster declared. “I’m afraid the two of you have put me in a very difficult position.”

“I can only imagine,” Asher said consolingly. “You’ll probably have to suspend me from the lacrosse team.”

The headmaster hesitated slightly.

“And,” I added, “I’m sure you’re going to want to talk this incident over with my sister.”

“You’ll probably have to field all kinds of answers about the contents of Hardwicke’s vending machines,” Asher continued solemnly. “If only we’d considered the ramifications before deciding on this as our Yates Fellowship entry.”

“Yates Fellowship?” the headmaster repeated.

“I came in second last year,” Asher replied. “They appreciate the ability to walk the line between scientific exploration and performance art—but this was really inexcusable. I
thought
setting up outside would be enough to mitigate any administrative concern, but clearly, I should have checked with someone.”

“Yes,” the headmaster said sternly, “you should have.”

Asher and I sat quietly.

“Do you think they’ll have to review security protocols?” I asked meekly. “If you consider the Mentos
weaponized
. . .”

“Oh God.” Asher turned to me, wide-eyed. “What if the media gets ahold of it?”

The headmaster stood suddenly, as if sitting had become severely uncomfortable. He walked toward the window and stared out, clearly aggrieved. Asher gestured to me, and I nodded, slipping my phone out of my bag. I took a picture of the photo on the wall. A quick glance at my phone told me the glare was a problem. I glanced over at the headmaster.

“I’m a reasonable man,” Headmaster Raleigh said, still staring out the window. “I hope I’ve impressed upon you how serious this is . . .”

I leaned to the side and tried to get a picture from a different angle as the headmaster droned on. The glare was still there. I rose up slightly on the balls of my feet, my butt leaving the chair, as I leaned over farther.

The second after I snapped the photo, the headmaster started turning back to face us. I thrust my phone into my pocket and tried to retake my seat. Asher thought fast and opted for a distraction: he leaned back in his chair and toppled over, yowling like a cat in a tub full of ice water.

Headmaster Raleigh startled. I leapt to Asher’s side.

“Don’t sue!” I yelled.

“Sue?” Raleigh repeated in horror.

“Where am I?” moaned Asher.

Mission complete.

CHAPTER 35

Ivy picked me up after school, which I took to be a bad sign. Worse, she’d driven herself.

“Probation?” she said, the second I got in the car. “You’ve been at the school less than two weeks, and you’re already on probation?”

She started to pull out of the parking lot, and I hastily buckled my seat belt, remembering what Adam had said about her driving.

“What were you thinking?” she demanded.

Somehow,
I was gathering intel on a political conspiracy you told me to stay away from
didn’t slide right off the tongue.

“You know what’s going on right now, Tess. You know what I’m working on. Do you really think I have time to be dealing with some teenage discipline problem?”

That cut deeper than I would have expected. “I wasn’t trying to be a problem.”

“Can you at least tell me why?” Ivy’s voice was terse. “Is it because you feel like I’m ignoring you? Are you angry about the way I took care of Vivvie’s situation?”

“It wasn’t about
you
.”

“I have been trying
so hard
, Tess.” Ivy’s voice was softer now. “And I thought—” She cut herself off, then cut someone off in traffic. A horn blared behind us. “I thought we were doing okay. I thought you were starting to trust me. I thought . . .”

My eyes stung. I wasn’t sure if the tears were because she was acting like I’d crossed some uncrossable line or because a big part of me couldn’t help
wanting
to get somewhere with Ivy,
wanting
things to be like they used to be.

Wanting them to be better.

“Sorry if I’m complicating your life.” I stared out the windshield, my eyes on the road.
It only hurts if you let it.
I pushed back against the emotions building inside of me.

“Tessie,” Ivy said.

I stared down at my lap, willing myself not to care.
It’s Tess.

Ivy’s grip tightened around the steering wheel. “Nothing is more important to me than you are.”

I felt like she’d slammed a knife into my gut. I pressed my palms flat against my stomach. I couldn’t do this. Not with her. We sank into silence like a drowning man sinks into water. Neither one of us could come up for air.

“I love you.” Ivy chose those three words to break the silence. “Whether you believe that or not, whether you even hear me saying it or not, I do. You’re my . . .”

Sister
, I thought, the muscles in my throat clenching. For so long, that word had come tangled with meanings.

“You’re my family, Tess. And family isn’t something I have ever been good at. I wasn’t a good daughter. I haven’t been a good
granddaughter. But I am trying to be the kind of sister you deserve.” Ivy pulled onto her street and slowed. “Consider yourself grounded.”

“Grounded?” I repeated incredulously.

Ivy pulled into the driveway. “Don’t plan on going anywhere for the next two weeks.” By the time she finished that sentence, her attention was clearly elsewhere. I followed her gaze to a dark-colored sedan across the street.

“Stay in the car,” she told me, unbuckling her seat belt.

A second later, she was standing in the driveway, and William Keyes was striding toward her, like this was his house and she was the visitor.

My hand went to the door handle.
Ivy told me to stay in the car.
I pulled the handle and cracked the door open.
She never said I couldn’t listen from here.

William Keyes had the kind of voice that carried. “We need to talk.”

“You need to leave.” Ivy’s voice went up on the last word.

“I thought we’d reached an understanding. When the president came to you for your thoughts on Edmund Pierce, you were supposed to back him.”

Keyes wants Pierce to get the nomination.
My mind raced. I thought about the photo on my phone. William Keyes had been there—wherever
there
was—with Pierce and Vivvie’s father. My hand curled tighter around the door handle.

“I never agreed to anything,” Ivy told the older man calmly. I wondered if she suspected him of being involved. I wondered if
Adam
suspected him.

“You were supposed to get your president in line.” Keyes clearly meant those words as an indictment.

“He’s your president, too,” Ivy replied.

“No,” Keyes barked out. “He is not, nor will he ever be,
my
president. You’re the one who put him in that office.”

“He won both the electoral college and the popular vote.”

Keyes scowled. “You
got
him the electoral college and the popular vote!” He balled his hands into fists. His index finger escaped, and he pointed it at Ivy. “I taught you everything I knew, I lifted you up from nothing, I treated you like a
daughter
, and you thanked me by putting a man I despise in the White House.”

Ivy adopted an icy countenance. “We came down on the opposite sides of a primary, William. You’re the one who told me not to come back if I left. You don’t get to come here now and ask me for favors.”

“I damn well do!” Keyes shook his fist, like he was pounding a phantom table.

A car door slammed nearby, and they turned in unison.

“The front lawn?” Georgia Nolan stopped several feet from them, flanked by Secret Service. “That’s the location you choose for this discussion? Really, William?”

For a moment, William Keyes was struck silent. His gaze lingered on Georgia. I craned my neck, trying to get a look at her face.

They know each other.
It was there, in the way he looked at her.
They know each other very well.

“We both know the Judiciary Committee will look more kindly on Pierce than some of his contemporaries.” Keyes recovered his voice. It was quieter than the one he’d used with Ivy, but just as authoritative.

“Thank you,” Georgia said, her tone dripping honey, “for your advice and counsel. We will certainly take that into consideration.”

That was a dismissal, as clear as if Georgia had ordered him off the lawn.

Keyes straightened his tie, then issued a parting shot. “It’s a pity about the doctor,” he said. “When a man kills himself over being removed from his position at the White House, that doesn’t look very good for the administration.”

“It is a tragedy,” Georgia said tersely. “Our thoughts are with Major Bharani’s family.”

I felt the blood rushing out of my head. My hands went numb.
It’s a pity about the doctor.

“Major Bharani is dead?” Ivy said. “When?”

Neither the First Lady nor Adam’s father answered. Their eyes were locked on to each other.

Vivvie’s father is dead. He killed Justice Marquette, and now he’s dead.

Keyes finally ripped his eyes from Georgia’s and turned to Ivy. “You never did have the stomach for this business,” he told her.

Then he walked away—past her, past Georgia, past the car.

I leaned into the car door, pushing it open. One second I was inside the car, the next, I was standing beside it, separated from William Keyes by the body of the sedan and nothing else. When his eyes landed on me, they opened wider.

He hadn’t realized I was here.

Neither had the First Lady.

“Tess, dear,” Georgia started to say, but my gaze was locked on Keyes.

“How did he die?” The words came out in a whisper.
Vivvie’s father killed Justice Marquette, and now he’s dead.
My hand tightened around the door, like my grip was the only thing keeping me vertical.

“William,” Ivy and Georgia said in one voice, Ivy stepping toward me, Georgia toward Keyes.

Keyes looked at them, then back at me. “He put a bullet in his own head.”

CHAPTER 36

I was still standing there, my fingers digging into the metal door, when Keyes got into his car and drove off. Then Ivy was next to me, her hand on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” she said.

Vivvie’s dad was dead. He was dead.
He put a bullet in his own head.

“Vivvie’s dad killed himself.” There was no filter between my brain and my mouth—only that sentence, repeated in stereo. “We did this.”

Ivy reached out and placed her own hand on the door near mine. I didn’t realize until she steadied it that both the door and my hand had been shaking.

“This is not our fault,” she told me, her voice steady. “It’s not yours. It’s not mine.”