fully supportive of his decision because being in the public eye had been risky.
Marion and Adam Gracelyn had been deeply enmeshed in politics. Their work hit society pages as well as front pages of papers, and they were regularly mentioned on the nightly news. Marion had also been the driving force behind Athena Academy.
After high school, David had gone on to play baseball at college as well. Winter had read about him in the newspapers and seen occasional snippets of games on the local television news. He’d been a good player. Just not a great one.
He was lean and athletic even now. Winter was willing to bet that he worked to keep himself in shape, though not out of vanity. He’d always had that competitive edge. Although David didn’t compete against the girls who had attended Athena, he had competed with his sister, Allison. But only because Allison had unmercifully taunted him. She’d also beaten him on several occasions.
He wore his dark brown hair short and neat, well clear of the shirt collar. His brown eyes held a sadness in them that Winter couldn’t remember being there even after his mother’s death a few years ago. Winter had returned for Marion Gracelyn’s funeral, of course. Most Athena grads had, but it had been easy to get lost in the ocean of mourners that had shown up.
Now, Winter sat in one of the comfortable chairs in front of Christine Evans’s desk. The woman was the principal of Athena Academy and had been all those years ago as well. Newspaper stories about past graduates of the academy covered the walls. Christine Evans had been part of a lot of successes. Winter took quiet pleasure in seeing that at least one of those articles concerned her career.
“If you trusted me,” Winter said to David, “you wouldn’t be here.”
A trace of irritation tightened his eyes. He turned to face her more squarely, silhouetted against the window filled with bright March sunshine. He crossed his arms over his chest and forced a smile.
“I’d hardly call my presence a declaration of distrust,” David said.
“That,” Winter told him, “is because you’re not sitting where I am.”
The look of irritation tightened into a grimace. David took in a deep breath and let it out through his nose. “It’s better if we wait to discuss this matter until Christine arrives.”
“The matter that Christine called me out here for?” Winter asked. “Or the fact that you don’t trust me to do whatever it is she’s going to ask me to do?”
“All of it.” David pushed back his shirtsleeve and compared the time on his watch with the wall clock. “She should have been here by now.”
Winter surveyed David, reading him effortlessly. Years of experience with interviewing politicians, murderers, good cops and bad ones had honed her natural skills.
David Gracelyn was nervous, agitated and angry. He kept his jacket on, like a knight refusing to shed his armor in a room where he should have been totally comfortable.
It’s not me that he’s concerned with, Winter decided. That meant it had to be Christine Evans. She had been one of the best friends David’s mother had ever known. She’d practically been a second mother to Allison, and Winter was certain she’d been around David a lot as well.
“Look,” Winter said, “if it helps, I don’t know why Christine called me out here. I heard about the kidnappings that took place on the campus a few weeks ago, but I’d heard that had all been resolved.” She was fishing, of course, and she figured that he probably knew it. But there was also a chance that he would offer some clue.
The kidnapping story had been covered by a number of news services, mostly because of Athena Academy’s reputation and partly because kidnappings of teenage girls generally did hit the news.
“No. It’s not about the kidnappings.” David took a breath. “Not exactly.”
And what did that mean?
Winter waited, thinking maybe he would open up about whatever it was. But he didn’t. Winter had been curious ever since she’d gotten Christine Evans’s cryptic call yesterday. That was Winter’s nature: always curious. That was part of the special skill set that made her an investigative journalist.
Christine’s short conversation had drawn Winter back to Athena Academy. She couldn’t help wondering if Christine had withheld information just to enhance Winter’s curiosity. It was possible. During her stay at Athena, Christine had gotten to know Winter well.
After a moment, she reached down into her purse and took out her iPAQ Pocket PC. She turned on the PDA, then opened up a Microsoft Word document she’d been working on during the plane trip into Phoenix.
“What are you doing?” David asked. Suspicion dripped in his words.
“Working.” Winter didn’t look up. She wrote with the stylus, watching as her script was transformed to type a heartbeat later.
“You shouldn’t be writing any of this down.”
“I’m not writing this down. I’m working on another project. I figured since the conversation wasn’t exactly pleasant that I could get something worthwhile done.”
A frown turned down David’s full lips. Winter couldn’t help noticing that they were very attractive lips.
“And what would I be writing down?” She couldn’t help needling him. Pompousness of any sort always drew out her claws.
He didn’t answer for a moment. Then he said, “In some circles you’re known to be quite creative with your writing. You…infer a lot.”
Winter bridled at that. “I infer a lot because there’s a lot people try to hide from me. Generally they’re not good enough at it. That’s why my publishers allow me to infer as much as I do. Because I get it right.”
“The school has had enough problems lately,” David said. “They don’t need old ones stirred up.”
“What old ones?”
Again, he didn’t answer. She didn’t expect that he would, but she wanted him to know that he couldn’t talk to her like she was brainless. Talking made him vulnerable. Not her.
The Athena Academy had been in the news lately. Before the kidnappings, Lorraine Miller—another Athena graduate—had been murdered. Her death had at first been ruled an accident, but subsequent investigation had revealed that as a lie.
Then there were the rumors about genetic testing, political cover-ups, and international incidents that had persisted. Pieces of a much larger story had surfaced from time to time in the news.
Winter had seen the stories and guessed at the overall larger picture, but she’d stayed away. Mostly out of respect, but she’d also been busy working on other projects. Her writing career occupied most of her time these days, and there was always something she needed to do.
She’d practically had to move heaven and earth to be here today. Just so David Gracelyn could look down his nose at you and make you think that maybe you never did get over that crush you had on him.
Winter let out a long, slow breath. She so didn’t need this. She’d only come because Christine Evans had asked her to.
“I’m
