Beneath the Surface. Meredith Fletcher
innocence so strongly and sincerely that Shannon was tempted to believe her, as well. She totally got why Allison didn’t confess. Her mother’s brainchild—the Athena program—would have been compromised. Millions of dollars in funding would have been at risk.
Shannon had heard all that while sitting outside Principal Evans’s office. She knew that things weren’t going to go well for her. She also knew there wasn’t anything she could do about it.
Waiting outside that office had been hard. Shannon had wanted someone to rescue her. The stares of the other students—all of whom knew what was going on by that time because the grapevine at Athena was incredibly vigorous—were unbearable.
Traitor.
That word came up a lot.
Despite the fact that junior-and high-school-age girls brought with them huge amounts of personal problems and vendettas, everyone agreed that no one would have done what Shannon did.
By lunch Shannon had the same social standing as a plague carrier. She told herself that she could get through this. There had to be a way. No one could hate someone forever.
Could they?
By five o’clock the outcome had been decided. Principal Evans summoned her into the office. Marion Gracelyn stood at the window and looked out at the school. She didn’t even turn around to acknowledge Shannon’s presence.
“Have a seat, Shannon,” Principal Evans said. She pointed to one of the chairs in front of the desk.
Knees weak and trembling, unable to speak, Shannon sat. She held her arms across her chest, but it wasn’t out of defiance this time. It was simply to help keep herself together. She was afraid if she let herself go that she would shake to pieces.
“We’ve talked about this all day,” Principal Evans said.
I know, Shannon thought with a trace of rebelliousness. Who do you think was sitting outside your office, waiting? But she didn’t say anything. She didn’t think her voice would work.
“This hasn’t been easy.” Principal Evans tried a reassuring smile, but it didn’t come off very well. She looked more tired than Shannon had ever seen her. “This school is demanding. Of its administration and of its student body. We knew it would be when it was designed. We don’t judge a student on her ability to do and understand the work. We trust that the ability and understanding will come in time in an environment like Athena Academy.”
Get to it, Shannon wanted to say. Tell me I’m grounded. Tell me what privileges I’m going to lose and for how long. Then let me get back to my room and disappear till this blows over.
“What we cannot have here,” Principal Evans said, “is anyone who doesn’t hold to the higher moral ideals of the academy. What you’ve done isn’t just irresponsible. You framed Josie with malicious intent.”
To win a competition that Allison wanted to win, Shannon wanted to point out. But she couldn’t.
“I can only hope that in the rest of your academic career you use this experience to make better choices,” Principal Evans said.
Shannon almost breathed a sigh of relief. She could make better choices. She would. And one of the first choices she was going to make was to demand to be taken out of Allison’s group. If that was how Allison was going to handle loyalty, Shannon didn’t want to be around her. No matter how many cool points were involved in hanging with the senator’s daughter and the academy’s star student.
“Unfortunately,” Principal Evans said, “the rest of your academic career isn’t going to be at Athena Academy.”
It took Shannon a moment to process what Principal Evans had said. “No,” she said weakly. “No. That’s not fair. You can’t just kick me out.”
“We can.” Marion turned then. She was cold and distant. Shannon had never seen the woman like that before. In the past she’d always been understanding and kind. “You’re here by invitation, Miss Connor.”
Miss Connor? Shannon had never been addressed by Marion like that before.
“An invitation the academy can rescind at any time,” Marion went on. “We have rescinded that invitation. Effective immediately. School staff are packing your room for you now. Your parents have been notified. You’ve already been booked on an evening flight. You’ll be back home in Virginia by tonight. Your parents will meet you at the airport.”
Shannon wanted to scream. She couldn’t imagine going back to her parents or to that small house where it was so cramped she couldn’t breathe. She’d been away from there for three years.
That place wasn’t home anymore. That family wasn’t her family anymore. Didn’t anyone understand that?
Even though she wanted to speak and tell them again that she hadn’t acted alone, that Allison was as guilty as she was and therefore just as deserving of being kicked out of the academy, Shannon couldn’t. Her voice wouldn’t work, and her throat hurt so badly that all she could do was cry as silently as she could.
“I’m sorry, Shannon,” Principal Evans said.
She sounded so sincere that Shannon believed her. That only made things feel worse.
Chapter 1
Washington, D.C.
Now
The second time Shannon Connor talked with Vincent Drago, the freelance information specialist wrapped a hand around her neck, slammed her against a wall hard enough to drive the air from her lungs, put a gun to her head and told her, “I’m going to blow your head off for setting me up.”
The first time she’d talked with him had been over the phone and she’d used an alias. Maybe if she hadn’t started everything with a lie, things might have gone more smoothly.
“Wait,” Shannon croaked desperately. Wait? He’s pointing a gun at your head, looking like he’s going to use it, and the best you can come up with is wait? She really couldn’t believe herself. Maybe something was wrong with her survival instinct.
Other reporters—and friends—or what passed as friends, acquaintances really—had sometimes suspected she had a death wish.
Shannon didn’t think that was true. She wanted to live. She glanced around the small room in the back of the bar where Drago had arranged to meet her. Actually, he’d arranged to meet her up front. He’d just yanked her into the back room at the first opportunity.
Then he’d slammed her up against the wall and put the gun to her head. If she’d known he was going to do that, she wouldn’t have shown up.
Judging from the low-life clientele the bar catered to and the fact that they were in the Foggy Bottom neighborhood only a few blocks from the Watergate Hotel, Shannon doubted that help would be forthcoming even if she could yell.
“Do you know how much trouble I’m in because of you?” Drago demanded.
“No,” Shannon croaked around the vise grip of the man’s big hand. “How much?” She’d been trained for years to ask open-ended questions. It was only the politicians that had to be restrained from climbing up on their soapboxes.
Vincent Drago wasn’t a politician. He was a private investigator, only he called it “freelance information specialist.”
From what Shannon had found out about the man, he had a shady career. Some of Shannon’s police contacts had claimed the man sometimes worked for the government on hush-hush jobs. Others claimed that he was a semilegal blackmailer.
One of the people Shannon had talked to had told her that Drago had gone after a blackmailer preying on a presidential hopeful. When he’d gotten the evidence of the candidate’s philandering with a young intern, Drago had put himself on the candidate’s payroll.
Shannon knew that because she’d