Vendetta. Meredith Fletcher
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 rolled his eyes at first and trotted away from her. He snorted aggressively and laid his ears back against his head as if he was the fiercest thing on the planet. One sharp hoof stamped the ground in defiance.
Winter held the feed out and didn’t move. Drawn by the smell of the grain, the colt approached skittishly and took the offering from her hand with his quivering, whiskered lips. His teeth chomped together hollowly.
“Maybe you’ll find time to ride while you’re here,” Christine said.
“But I’m not here to ride, am I?” Winter ran a hand through the colt’s wiry forelock as he ate. He threatened to shy away, but his greed to fill his belly outweighed his instinctive fear.
“No, you’re not.” Christine’s smile slipped and faded.
“Maybe we could get to that then.” Winter petted the colt. Amusement coursed through her when the young horse rolled his eyes wildly and trotted away after he’d eaten all the food. She let him go. She knew that she could get him back.
Christine hesitated.
Winter kept silent. She’d learned to be quiet during an interview while in classes at Athena. The person that wanted to talk—to confess or to simply tell something they no longer wanted to carry on their own—would talk to fill the void. Eventually the person would get around to whatever was on his or her mind. The trick was not to offer any deflection from whatever they wanted to talk about.
“There’s no easy way to tell you this,” Christine started.
The colt pranced on the other side of the fence as if taunting Winter to give chase. Despite the solemnity of the moment, she smiled at his antics.
“I need someone to investigate Marion’s past,” Christine stated. “Someone good. Someone thorough.” She paused. “Someone I trust.”
Even as open-minded about the meeting as she’d been, the announcement caught Winter by surprise. She forced herself not to look at Christine. She didn’t want the woman to see the disbelief in her eyes.
“You don’t have anything to say?” Christine asked after a moment.
Marion Gracelyn was the matriarch of this school! She was your best friend! Hell, yes, I have a lot to say! And a lot to ask!
But Winter held back. “Christine,” she said softly, “you’ve already made up your mind to trust me or I wouldn’t be here. You’ve already decided that I’m the one you want to investigate Marion Gracelyn.” She turned to face the woman. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
Christine’s real eye grew moist. That was the only time any of the girls at school could tell which eye was a prosthetic. And Christine Evans didn’t often let her emotions show.
“Thank you,” Christine whispered. “I told David you’d understand.”
The mention of David Gracelyn’s name irritated Winter somewhat. He didn’t trust her or want her there. He’d made that perfectly clear.
“Marion Gracelyn is dead,” Winter said. “She’s been dead a dozen years. Why would her past suddenly be of interest? You want someone to write her memoirs?”
“No. This is of a more serious nature.”
Leaning against the paddock, Winter remained attentive. She was a good interviewer and she knew it, but that skill was sometimes complicated if she intimately knew the person she was interviewing. She not only knew Christine Evans, but she respected and liked the woman tremendously.
“Marion took a lot of secrets to her grave,” Christine said. “I couldn’t even imagine how many until these last few years. And those have been—” She stopped herself and shook her head. “Getting