backup.
They went through the house. Jolie doubted Kay was capable of violence, but it was second nature for Jolie to question assumptions. Wary, she kept her eye on Kay’s purse. She knew Kay carried. She had a small snub-nosed revolver, a “girl’s gun.” Kay moved with jittery purpose. They landed in the kitchen, the old round-shouldered refrigerator humming. A card from the realty office sat on the round table. Kay picked up the card, which had been folded in half so it stood up in a triangle. She took out a McPeek Realty pen and scribbled something on the card.
Kay finished writing and looked at Jolie, her breath coming quickly. Her arm draped over the shoulder bag, which rested high on her body.
Jolie looking for a quick move.
“Zoe told me she’s not going to Brown.”
“Why not?”
“She told me she doesn’t want to go, and I can’t make her.”
“What does she plan to do?”
“The big thing? The most important thing? Get back in Riley’s good graces. Be best friends again. She cried for an hour
The thunder in Jolie’s chest grew. She saw Kay’s hand inch toward the clasp of her bag. “Do you believe her?”
“I don’t know. She was destroyed. What did you say to her?”
Jolie told her the truth. Eye on the shoulder bag, she told her that she asked if Luke knew about the passageway. If they had been spying on people at the cabanas. Thinking, it wasn’t that important. Thinking, Riley was overreacting. Thinking, you were a kid once, too.
“Are you investigating my family? Is that it? You befriend me, worm your way into my family, and then try to gin up something against us? Is this all revenge?”
“Revenge?”
She swept her arm out. “For
Jolie stuck with what she knew to be true. “I did not try to worm my way into your family. If you recall, I never even wanted to set foot on Indigo. I was not interested. And my parents loved each other—”
“Loved each other! You don’t know the first damn thing about their relationship.”
Kay held out the card, and Jolie took it. Kay had written “Belle Oaks,” on it, and underneath, “Tallahassee.”
“Belle Oaks?”
“Yes, Belle Oaks.”
“What is it?”
But Kay didn’t appear to be listening. She stared into middle space, in her own world—unaware of Jolie. She was working something out behind her eyes. Then her expression cleared, as if she’d decided on something. “Did you see the bathroom?”
“The bathroom?”
“Miss Baby Soap—did you see the bathroom?”
“Yes I saw it, the last time I was here.”
Kay said nothing. Went back into that middle space. Jolie could almost feel the electricity in the air between them. Kay was like an exposed wire. Jolie had the feeling that if they touched, she would get a shock.
Then Kay came out of it again. When she spoke, her voice sounded neutral, almost dead.
“Right now, the way I’m feeling, I could do you real harm. You know why I brought you here? No, you don’t.” She stopped. The air seemed to go out of her. “This is fucked.”
Jolie had never heard Kay use that word. “Kay? What’s this about?”
“I can’t. You deserve it for what you did, but I’m not like you. I’m not going to be the one to tell you. I can’t.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re the detective. You figure it out.” She hitched her bag higher on her shoulder. “This is the end, though. We’re not friends anymore.” She turned and walked to the front door, opened it, and was gone.
Jolie’s ears burned. What was Kay talking about?
Kay brought her here to show her something. Something that would hurt her.
Jolie couldn’t fathom what she could have asked Zoe that would upset Riley so much. It was clear Zoe wanted to be Riley’s friend in the worst way. Kids, these days especially, could be devastated by bullying. They could think the whole world was falling apart, that their lives were worthless. Yes, Zoe could quit college over this. Yes, Zoe could contemplate suicide. Maybe Jolie had been so intent on the prize, she had forgotten that.
She looked at the Realtor’s card. It was made of good stock. Pleasant to the touch, excellent production values. Jolie looked at the inside again.
The bathroom. Jolie walked down the short hall to the open doorway. Kay had used the word squalid, but that description didn’t quite fit. The place was gloomy, sad, and small. Jolie had a hard time picturing young love flourishing here.
This was the real home of the Petal Soft Soap Baby. Her mother had bathed her in this bathtub. This room was nothing like the photo spread in the magazine—everything fresh and clean and white. This was the reality. Just two young people who loved each other and their baby—
She heard Kay’s scornful voice again.
Jolie pushed the door open further, thinking of her small family, “just the three of us” as her dad liked to say. She thought about what little childhood she’d had here. The Soap Baby’s house. No memories. The card Kay had given her pricked against her palm—Belle Oaks. A bad feeling welled up inside, and her hand clenched, crushing the card. Something hot and hard as iron clamped around her chest, making it hard to breathe.
Then came the thunderclap, the chasm yawning underneath her feet. The feeling she was being crushed to death, blackness dropping like a curtain over her eyes. Her heart rate jumped into the red zone, fear hurtling through every synapse and nerve.
45 MIKE CARDAMONE
As he approached his building on F Street, Mike Cardamone glanced at the American flag flying above the mansard roof. It never failed to inspire him. He loved this country—its strength, its resilience, the fact that it was a beacon of light to the world—even if the world didn’t appreciate it. He climbed the steps briskly to the back entrance, glancing at the gold plaque by the door. Whitbread Associates, LLC. Suites 201 A-E. Discreet, not showy. Old Washington—exclusive.
He’d come a long way from trading fire with Iraqis in the heat and sand of Desert Storm. Even his stint at the CIA seemed like a century ago. He was where he wanted to be—the CEO of an up-and-coming security firm in DC.
His Jamaican administrative assistant told him the new advertising material was on his desk. Her name was Filigree, no kidding, and she wore bright colors, bracelets, and scarves; she gave everybody in the building the willies, but she was the best assistant he’d ever had.
He walked into his inner office and set his briefcase down on the chair by his massive mahogany desk. He could look out the bay window and see the Old Executive Office Building from here, but today he barely noticed it. He had a lot on his mind.
