“Okay, remember: don’t do anything that’s going to make you stand out. The entire point of this mission—”
Teddy held back a laugh. “Wait, we’re on a mission?”
“Cannon,” Kate said, “if we’re doing this, we’re taking this seriously.”
“You got me in a dress, Kate.” Teddy hadn’t worn a dress since the last time she’d tried to go on a “mission,” when she’d also been wearing a fat suit and a wig. “I’m taking this seriously.”
Four months ago, Teddy couldn’t have pictured working with Kate, let alone going to a party with her. “I’ll have your back in there,” Kate said, “but I’m not going down for you.” They locked eyes for a moment. “Got it?”
“Got it.” Teddy looked up the large staircase, past the tuxedoed staff hired to be valets for the evening. She studied the guests arriving—plenty of people in military uniform, women in fancy dresses. She’d been in training for more than four months to develop her combat, psychic, and crime-solving skills. Certainly she could tackle a cocktail party.
“Ready?” Kate asked.
“As I’ll ever be.”
* * *
The interior of the mansion was every bit as elegant as it appeared from the outside. Crystal chandeliers gently lit rooms arranged with love seats, chaises, and ottomans. Knickknacks sat on shelves that probably cost more than Teddy’s deposit for college. Though this place was fancy, so they wouldn’t be called knickknacks—they would be objets d’art.
Teddy tried not to gawk. But even the guests were intimidating. She spotted one U.S. senator, a petite woman she recognized as a news anchor from one of the cable networks, the mayor of San Francisco, and their very own Hollis Whitfield in line at the raw bar.
About an hour into the party, Teddy found herself in a conversation with a hair-sprayed matron in pearls. “So then I said, ‘I never go there in the summer. That’s when tourists go!’ ”
Kate elbowed Teddy in the ribs, nearly causing her to spill her drink.
“Excuse me,” the lady said, looking between the two of them. “I think I see someone over there I must say hello to.”
“Why are you talking to her?” Kate said to Teddy.
“I honestly have no idea,” Teddy said. “And I haven’t been able to sneak off, because those damn waiters keep trying to direct me to the bathroom on the first floor whenever I say I’m looking for a toilet. They must think I have an overactive bladder or a cocaine habit.”
“Think about what you’re looking for,” Kate said.
“I don’t know what I’m looking for! This was your idea, remember?”
“You’re doing recon on Jeremy. Trying to figure out why he would want to take you down. And why he would have used Molly to do it.”
“It’s not like there’s going to be a piece of paper on his desk outlining a master plan.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Enjoy the free food.”
Teddy hesitated. She couldn’t believe she was going to do this. With Kate, of all people. The last time Teddy Cannon had asked for help wittingly was when she couldn’t tie her shoes at the age of three. “I—” She sighed. “I need help.”
“Okay,” Kate said. “Let me into your head.”
Teddy expected Kate to make a big deal of it. To lord it over her.
Kate asked, “Don’t you trust me?”
Did she? Teddy grabbed Kate’s hand. “Fine. Channel seven.”
Teddy lowered her wall and pictured the walkie-talkie in her mind’s eye. Having someone in her head was still uncomfortable. Like having a pebble in her shoe. Especially if that pebble is a stubborn military brat who thinks she’s God’s gift to the Whitfield Institute.
I heard that, Kate said.
Glad we’re on the same page, then.
Teddy walked out of the main foyer and slipped through the kitchen, a route she had watched waiter after waiter walk. She hoped there was a back staircase that led to the family’s private rooms.
Teddy found her way down a long mahogany-paneled hallway. Up one flight, she turned to the room on her left, which seemed to be a guest bedroom. An unopened suitcase lay near the foot of the bed. Teddy opened it. A hair dryer. Ladies’ underwear. Definitely not Jeremy’s. Or hopefully not Jeremy’s.
This is useless.
It’s not like TV, Cannon. The information isn’t going to fall into your lap.
Teddy made her way back to the hallway. She went into two other bedrooms. Neither seemed to be Jeremy’s. None had any clues.
We’re sitting down for dinner soon, Kate telepathically wired to Teddy. Hurry.
Teddy went toward a partially opened door at the end of the hallway.
“I don’t understand why I have to leave Whitfield before graduation.”
She knew that voice. Christine Federico’s. Teddy leaned closer. She couldn’t make out what the other person was saying. It was a male voice. Calm. Quiet. Jeremy’s? She couldn’t be sure.
“What about Brett?” Christine asked.
Teddy hoped that her spying would reveal what had happened on the course, but if her time in Jeremy’s house solved another mystery, she wouldn’t complain.
She heard footsteps at the end of the hallway. She ran through her options: she could pretend she was lost, but that wouldn’t explain why she was standing outside a door, listening to a private conversation. She would have to go inside.
Shit.
Language, Cannon, Kate said.
“Hey,” Teddy said, walking through the paneled doorway into what looked like an office. Oak bookshelves lined the walls; a large captain’s desk took up a significant portion of the room. “Got lost on the way to the bathroom.”
Christine and Jeremy sat close together on a leather couch; they looked cozy. If Teddy hadn’t been listening in the hallway, she would have been suspicious for another reason altogether. Jeremy looked up, surprised. “Teddy, what are you doing here?”
“I’m Kate’s plus-one.” Teddy shrugged.
“I should probably be going,” Christine said. She gave Teddy a once-over, lingering on the combat boots.
“Don’t let me interrupt,” Teddy said. She backed toward the door.
“There’s a bathroom down the hall,” Jeremy said. “Two doors to the right.”
“Thanks,” Teddy said, turning around and walking straight into a uniformed, fully decorated officer.
“Jeremy,” said a voice that made Teddy’s hair stand
