The Fixer
Page 30

He’s not sick. He’s just confused. How often had I told myself that, back in Montana? I knew what it was like to teeter on the edge of the truth, to squeeze your eyes closed with everything you had and hope that when you opened them, things would look different.
I also knew that they never did.
“We have to tell someone,” I said softly. “You know we do, Vivvie.”
“Who?” Vivvie shot back, her hair spilling down her chest. “Your sister? This time last week, you didn’t even know what she did for a living.” Vivvie’s lips trembled. “Clearly the two of you are close.”
Ouch.
Vivvie pressed her hand to her mouth, hard. “I’m sorry,” she stammered through her fingers. “I didn’t mean that. I’m the one who asked you for help. I asked you to do this. I’m not allowed to hate you for it.” Her arms encircled her waist, her head bowed. “I know I can’t ask you to keep this a secret.” Dark brown eyes met mine. “I know that, Tess.”
But she was. Asking.
“If we knew,” Vivvie said quietly, “if we were sure, if we could figure out who he was talking to . . . it would be different.”
It was never going to be different. Her dad was always going to be her dad. Based on what she’d said the day before, he was the only parent she had.
“Would you recognize the voice?” Vivvie asked me. “If you heard it again, would you recognize it?”
I thought of the list Dr. Clark had handed out. Potential Supreme Court nominees.
“I might.”
CHAPTER 28
That night, I went through the list on Dr. Clark’s handout. Attorney generals. Circuit court judges. Law professors.
I’ll take the top half. You take the bottom.
Somehow, I doubted this was what Henry Marquette had in mind. I was supposed to be finding basic biographical data on each of our dozens of potential nominees. Instead, I was searching for videos and audio clips. Halfway through the list, I still hadn’t heard the voice I was looking for.
“Hey, kid.” Bodie knocked on my door and stuck his head into my room a moment later. “Pizza’s here. Her Royal Highness is locked in her office,” he added before I could ask. “When she gets her teeth into something, it’s impossible to pry her away.”
Downstairs in the kitchen, I helped myself to a slice. “You guys still working on digging up the skeletons in some potential nominee’s closet?” I asked.
Bodie choked on his own piece of pizza and narrowed his eyes at me. “You have got to stop doing that.”
“I heard the president tell Ivy to go digging,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It’s not exactly rocket science to figure out why he might be asking her to go looking for someone’s dirty little secrets now.” I took another bite of my pizza. “Besides,” I said, “our assignment in World Issues is to come up with the perfect nominee ourselves.”
“Of course it is,” Bodie muttered. “Because heaven forbid Hardwicke just teach American history.” Bodie reached over and grabbed the pizza box.
“Where are you going?” I called after him as he strode out the door.
“You’re a Kendrick,” he called back. “You figure it out.”
He was making sure Ivy ate—because that, along with driving and bodyguard duty and breaking the laws that Ivy wouldn’t, was Bodie’s job. I followed. Not because I wanted to see Ivy. Not because I hadn’t seen her all day.
Because when I got stuck on something, when things were too much, I started walking.
Bodie didn’t bother knocking on the door to Ivy’s office. He just slipped in, leaving the pizza positioned strategically and temptingly on the end of Ivy’s desk.
My sister’s voice carried out into the hallway. “Thank you for taking the time to speak with me, Judge Pierce. As I’m sure you understand, this little video conference is completely off the books.”
It occurred to me, then, that knowing who Ivy was investigating for the president might let me skip straight to the end on the World Issues assignment. It’s not cheating if I—
“Of course, Ms. Kendrick.” The reply to Ivy’s words cut my thoughts off with the force of a blade. “You’ve been doing your homework on me. And that means you know I’m discreet.”
My muscles tensed, one by one. That voice was deep. Velvety. Familiar.
You’ll get your money when I get my nomination.
Bodie looked up and saw me standing in the doorway. Leaving the pizza box where it was, he nudged me away from the door and shut it behind him.
“Who’s Ivy talking to?” My words came out in a rushed whisper, my throat closing tight around them. “Is it about the nomination?”
Say no.
He didn’t.
“She called that man ‘judge.’ ” I forced out the words. “Is he the one the president . . .”
The one the president was considering nominating.
“He is, isn’t he?” I said, dread mounting inside of me.
“You saw nothing,” Bodie ordered. “You heard nothing. Ivy would kill us both.”
Kill. Ivy would kill us both, I thought dully, my mind focusing on one and only one word in that sentence. They killed Justice Marquette. They killed him, and now the president is considering nominating that man for the Supreme Court.
“I need to talk to Ivy.” I reached for the door. Bodie caught me.
“Easy there, kitten.”
“You don’t understand, Bodie. I need to talk to Ivy.”
“Tess?” Bodie must have heard something in my voice. He rarely called me by my given name. It was always kitten or kiddo or kid. Before I could respond, the doorbell rang.
Bodie arched an eyebrow at me. “You expecting visitors?”
I shook my head. The bell rang again. Bodie went to answer it. I stayed, staring at the closed door to Ivy’s office. I have to tell her.
“Tess?” Bodie called. “Company.” His voice was calm. Talking-a-jumper-down-from-a-ledge calm.
I walked toward the foyer, my shoes clicking against the marble floor. The closer I got, the faster I walked. When I rounded the corner, Bodie was standing between me and the front door, blocking my view of the porch.
“I should go.”
I recognized Vivvie’s voice. She was here. At night. I pushed past Bodie just as Vivvie turned to leave.