the door closed behind her.
Uneasy and angry, David Gracelyn glared through the window of Christine Evans’s office. It was situated so that it faced the front of the school.
One of the short school buses was letting out a group of girls that had gone off on a field day. The academy believed in putting the students into real-life circumstances on a regular basis.
A moment later, Winter Archer and Christine Evans stepped into David’s field of view. His eyes were drawn immediately to the writer’s slender body. He could remember what she’d looked like when she’d gone to school with Allison, his sister.
Winter Archer was the only daughter of wealthy, career-driven parents who had been too glad to find a private school for their daughter. As a young girl, David remembered that Winter had always been an observer, never one for saying much. She’d struck him as pretty then, and that beauty had blossomed during the intervening years.
She had thick black hair, perfectly arched eyebrows, and plump lips. Her skin was pale, not unhealthy, just untanned. Like cream. The color made her hair and her light purplish hazel eyes stand out even more.
Winter’s eyes were what David remembered most about her. She’d always been watchful. But she’d been so quiet she’d been hard to get to know.
It was strange that he remembered her after all these years. He knew who she was, of course, because he’d read some of her books.
As an investigative reporter specializing in reconstruction of events and happenings that had complicated timetables, Winter Archer had few peers. Her books came out slowly, but they sold strongly. She worked on projects that covered the history of countries to the personal lives of media figures.
She had a reputation for telling the truth. But sometimes she told too much of the truth. The Carlson book was a perfect example.
A sour bubble of bile burst in the back of David’s throat. Even though the kidnappings had been solved and the girls had been returned to their families, he’d known the situation wasn’t over.
The letter from the mystery person had only confirmed that. The naked threat against anyone looking into the identity of “A” had remained in his mind.
And Christine’s, he reminded himself. After having two of her students kidnapped, Christine felt especially vulnerable. She’d also made her case: for someone to have known so much about the inner workings of Athena Academy, about its very existence, that person would have had to know about the school from its founding. Whoever they were looking for must have some connection to Marion Gracelyn’s past. Only an enemy with intimate knowledge of Marion’s legacy—and a huge grudge—would have pursued vengeance this long and this hard.
David knew his mother, but he didn’t know her as the woman she’d been before he’d been born. He didn’t know her life as Marion Hart, before she’d gotten married to Adam Gracelyn. That was what Winter Archer was here to uncover: Marion Hart’s life, from the time she was born until her murder.
The thing was, he and Christine both believed that “A,” the person involved with the recent kidnappings, had also been involved with Marion Gracelyn’s murder.
David knew he would never forget that day. A year ago, when part of the truth had come out about his mother’s murder, he’d been shocked. Everyone had believed they’d finally gotten to the truth of the matter.
But they hadn’t.
The kidnappings and the note had proven that.
Outside, Christine took Winter by the arm and pointed out some of the academy’s newest features. Winter looked interested, but she also looked like her focus was elsewhere.
David reached inside his jacket and took out his cell phone. He touched a button and listened to the connection ring. Once.
“Yes.” The voice was crisp and efficient, a perfect match for the man at the other end.
“She’s here,” David said.
“I know. We picked her up at her house in L.A. We’ve been with her ever since.”
“Good.” David felt a little better already. The man he’d contacted had come highly recommended in Washington political circles. He was a man that could be trusted to keep his mouth shut, do what was expected and never walk away from an assignment no matter how tough it got.
“Where’s she going to be staying?” the man asked.
“Here.” David knew that Christine had finalized arrangements on that end. Winter might not know where she was staying yet, but Christine wouldn’t give her much choice.
“That will make things easier,” the man said.
“It’ll also make them more dangerous, if anything happens. I don’t know that I’m comfortable with that.”
The man said nothing. He was careful, but even he hadn’t gone without losing people who had been in his charge.
“Keep a close watch on her,” David said.
“Is there anything or anyone I should keep her away from?” the man asked.
“No,” David said. “I just want to make sure she’s safe for the moment.”
“You’ve never said what she was here for.”
“No, I didn’t.” David intended to keep that confidential for as long as possible. He knew his silence might interfere with how the man did his job, but that was how it had to be. He closed the phone, not feeling nearly as relieved as he’d hoped he would.
Athena Academy had been built on secrets. His mother, God bless her, had engineered most of them. And he was certain that one of those secrets had reached out of the past and killed her. Now Winter Archer was here to find out the truth.
Chapter 2
Athena Academy
Outside Phoenix, Arizona
Now
“As I recall, you loved horses when you were younger.” Christine smiled from where she stood beside the paddock.
“I did,” Winter agreed. She knew that she was wearing an unaccustomed goofy grin, but she couldn’t help it. Horses had always brought out that side of her. Even when she’d gotten in trouble at the academy and had been assigned to mucking out the barn, it hadn’t been a true hardship. She’d gotten to be around the horses. “I still do. I just don’t have as much time for riding as I used to.” She gazed across the paddocks where the horses were kept.
The big animals stamped and blew. The sounds echoed through the cavernous barn. Athena Academy kept several head of horses on hand. The stink of horse sweat, fresh hay and leather mixed made the air thick. But it smelled just right to Winter. Dozens of memories she’d thought lost and gone forever scampered through her brain like mice.
Before she realized what she was doing, Winter grabbed a handful of sweet feed from the bag hanging on a center post. She crossed to the nearest horse.
The young paint stallion
