The Fixer
Page 58

 Jennifer Lynn Barnes

  • Background:
  • Text Font:
  • Text Size:
  • Line Height:
  • Line Break Height:
  • Frame:
I looked past him and tried to find Henry, but couldn’t.
“I understand you’ve been spending some time in the company of my son.” Adam’s father had a disconcerting stare. His eyes were hazel, close in color to my own, but there was an uncanny awareness in them—like he knew what you’d had for breakfast that morning and how you would sleep that night.
“Adam volunteered to teach me how to drive.” Even as I said the words, I sensed that there was something to this conversation that I was missing. It was like the two of us were playing chess, except I didn’t know the rules of the game.
What do you want? I thought, on guard and on edge.
Keyes gave a small shake of his head. “My son always did have a weakness for your sister.”
The song wound down. The first couple finished with a flourish, the president dipping his wife. The crowd applauded, and then the Nolans melted back into the masses. I tried to track them, both of them, my attention temporarily distracted from Adam’s father.
Where was Henry?
“Would you favor an old man with a dance?” Keyes asked, beginning to lead me to the floor without waiting for a reply.
I tried to resist, but he was polished and smooth, and that was when I realized—Henry’s plan had been to make noise. Come here. See who approached. For the first time, it occurred to me that if the reporter had gone back to his White House source, if someone had put two and two together and started looking for the person who’d tipped the reporter off about Justice Marquette’s death, they might not have ended up with the conclusion that it was Henry.
The reporter’s appointment was with me.
“Excuse me.” I tried again to pull away from the grip Keyes had on my arm. “I need to go.”
“I don’t bite,” the old man promised, his voice low enough for only me to hear. “No matter what your sister may have led you to believe.”
This time, I ducked the old man’s grasp a little more firmly, trying not to draw attention to either of us. As I slipped into the crowd, a man in a suit approached me. It took a second for me to recognize him.
Secret Service. Remembering Bodie’s advice, I searched my memory for a name. He’d been the one on the front porch the day the president had come to see Ivy.
“Is everything all right here?” he asked me, eyeing Adam’s father.
“Kostas, right?” I said. A slight change in the man’s expression told me that Bodie was right. It paid to learn names. “Everything’s fine.”
I started walking toward the balcony. I needed to find Henry. He’d been gone for too long. There were too many people to keep track of. The president. Georgia. William Keyes. And who knew how many others.
How many people here work in the West Wing? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer to that question.
I’d made it three steps when I ran smack into someone heading in the opposite direction with the same speed and force of purpose. Ivy. I registered her presence an instant before she registered mine. She’d reached out instinctively to steady me when we’d collided, but now her hand tightened around my arm.
“What are you doing here?” I asked her. She hadn’t been present for appetizers or dinner.
“What am I doing here?” Ivy asked, her voice dangerously pleasant. “What am I doing here?” The second time, even the veneer of pleasantness began to slip from her tone. “What are you doing here?”
I was grounded and this was a high-security, invitation-only affair. It was a fair question, but all I could think was that I’d lost track of Henry.
“Tess.” Ivy shook me slightly.
“I tried calling you.” I stepped toward her so that I could whisper without fear of anyone overhearing. She loosened her grip on my arm—slightly. “Henry Marquette knows. Everything I knew, he knows, and he went to the press. He told the reporter who wrote the Pierce article everything.”
Ivy went pale as a sheet. An instant later, a mask of calm slid over her face, her lips held in a soft smile that sent a chill down my spine.
“Henry’s been making noise about his grandfather’s death,” I reiterated, afraid to stop talking. “And then he came here.”
Understanding shone in Ivy’s brown eyes. “He hoped someone was listening.”
“I have to go.” I tried to push past Ivy.
She brought her free hand up and grabbed my free arm. She held me out in front of her, one of her hands on each of my shoulders.
“He went off by himself a few minutes ago. I should have gone with him, but Keyes stopped me.” I kept talking as I tried to pull out of her grasp. “I have to find Henry.”
“No. I have to find Henry,” Ivy replied tightly. “You are going to go introduce yourself to the Icelandic ambassador and tell him you go to school with his daughter. Don’t leave his side. Don’t say anything to anyone. Do you understand?”
Before I could say a word, she’d whisked me over to Di’s father, who vigorously shook my hand and seemed to have no intention of letting go. Ivy disappeared into the crowd, and I was left trying to extract myself from a very enthusiastic Icelander, who seemed intent on educating me about the relations between Iceland and Denmark.
By the time I managed to shake him, Ivy was long gone.
I started off in the direction I’d seen Henry go. The edges of the room were crowded. The farther I walked, the harder it became to make my way through the ball-gowned masses without giving in to the urge to throw some elbows.
“Tess.” A light hand was laid on my shoulder. “Is everything all right?”
Georgia. I tried to step back, but suddenly the hand on my shoulder wasn’t so light.
“I understand from your sister that we have a situation,” Georgia said. She gave every appearance of someone chatting about the weather as she linked her arm through mine and turned me back toward the dance floor. “It’s important that we stay calm and trust the proper authorities to get to the bottom of this . . . unfortunate situation.”
Authorities? What did she know? What had Ivy told her?
“What situation?” I asked out loud.
“The situation,” Georgia repeated. “With the reporter.”
CHAPTER 52
The reporter, I thought. The First Lady knows Henry and I talked to the reporter.
Ivy was nowhere in sight. I hadn’t laid eyes on Henry in at least five minutes. When I scanned the room, I didn’t see the president, either.