The Long Game
Page 37
“What you’re saying,” Bodie commented from behind me, “is that the kid had enemies.”
I wondered how long he’d been standing there, how much he’d heard. I twisted in my seat.
“I’m saying that I’m one of them.” I turned back to Ivy. “I threatened him in class this morning. I told him that I would bury him.”
And now he was dead. I knew that didn’t look good. I couldn’t quit thinking about the blood, the empty look in his—
“Hey.” Ivy reached across the counter and took my hand in hers. “No amount of hating him caused this.”
I nodded, as if I could will myself into believing what she’d said. “Right before you showed up, the police started asking more pointed questions.” I met her eyes. “They’re not going to have to talk to many people to figure out that John Thomas and I didn’t get along.”
“Don’t worry,” Ivy told me. “I’ll take care of it.”
When Ivy Kendrick said she’d take care of something, she meant it.
“I tried.” My voice broke on that word. “When I saw him, I tried to save him. I screamed for help, and no one came. I called 911—”
Ivy came around to my side of the counter. She wrapped her arms around me. For once, I didn’t stiffen in her grasp. “If I could take this away,” she said, “if I could snap my fingers and go through this for you, feel it for you, I would.”
“I’m fine.” I managed to form the words, but we both knew that was a lie.
Bodie crossed in front of us, pulled a large glass out of the cabinet, and started rummaging around in the fridge. After a few minutes—and some rather questionable blender use—he put the glass in front of me. “Drink this,” he told me.
The liquid in the glass was murky brown.
I eyed Bodie warily.
“Drink,” he told me.
“Is that your hangover cure?” Ivy asked him.
Bodie ignored her. He nudged me with his foot. “Drink,” he ordered.
I took a gulp of the liquid and almost choked on it. “And the purpose of me drinking this is what exactly?” I asked, grimacing.
“Distraction,” Bodie replied. “You’re welcome.”
Before I could formulate a suitable reply, Ivy’s phone rang. She moved to answer it, then let her hand fall back to her side. I could see her thinking, Tess needs me right now.
I could also see her wanting to answer.
“Answer it,” I told her. “Take the call.”
The president was in surgery. There was no way of knowing if he’d make it out alive. Whoever was calling Ivy right now, she needed to pick up.
After a split second of hesitation, Ivy did as I said.
“Georgia. How is he?” Ivy turned and walked out of the room before I could get a sense of Georgia’s reply. After a long moment, I turned back to Bodie.
“Take another drink,” he advised.
“Very funny.” I took a gulp of my hot chocolate instead. “Do they have any idea who shot the president?” I hadn’t wanted to ask Ivy, but now that it was just Bodie and me, I couldn’t keep the question back.
Bodie didn’t respond, but his eyes betrayed the answer. Ivy had an idea, one that—if it weren’t for me—she’d be following up on right now.
“Does she think this has something to do with Senza Nome?” I asked. “The group that targeted Walker Nolan, the group Daniela Nicolae works for—does Ivy think they’re involved?”
Before Bodie could answer—or tell me to stop asking questions—Ivy walked back into the room.
“The president is out of surgery,” she said, her voice strangled. “There was a lot of damage. They don’t know if . . .” She shook her head, shaking off an unwanted rush of emotion the way a dog shakes water off its fur.
“Go,” I said, meeting Ivy’s eyes and nodding toward the door. “Whatever Georgia needs, whatever she called to ask you to do— just go.”
Ivy hesitated. She didn’t want to leave, but we both knew she couldn’t stay here, holding my hand, when the stakes were this high.
“Bodie can keep you company,” Ivy said after a moment. “I’ll drive myself.”
Ivy wasn’t known for her driving prowess—and given that we were talking about an assassination attempt, I didn’t want her out there alone.
“Don’t be stupid, Ivy. Take Bodie with you.”
She bristled. “Tessie, I’m not leaving you alone after what you’ve been through today.”
I wondered how long he’d been standing there, how much he’d heard. I twisted in my seat.
“I’m saying that I’m one of them.” I turned back to Ivy. “I threatened him in class this morning. I told him that I would bury him.”
And now he was dead. I knew that didn’t look good. I couldn’t quit thinking about the blood, the empty look in his—
“Hey.” Ivy reached across the counter and took my hand in hers. “No amount of hating him caused this.”
I nodded, as if I could will myself into believing what she’d said. “Right before you showed up, the police started asking more pointed questions.” I met her eyes. “They’re not going to have to talk to many people to figure out that John Thomas and I didn’t get along.”
“Don’t worry,” Ivy told me. “I’ll take care of it.”
When Ivy Kendrick said she’d take care of something, she meant it.
“I tried.” My voice broke on that word. “When I saw him, I tried to save him. I screamed for help, and no one came. I called 911—”
Ivy came around to my side of the counter. She wrapped her arms around me. For once, I didn’t stiffen in her grasp. “If I could take this away,” she said, “if I could snap my fingers and go through this for you, feel it for you, I would.”
“I’m fine.” I managed to form the words, but we both knew that was a lie.
Bodie crossed in front of us, pulled a large glass out of the cabinet, and started rummaging around in the fridge. After a few minutes—and some rather questionable blender use—he put the glass in front of me. “Drink this,” he told me.
The liquid in the glass was murky brown.
I eyed Bodie warily.
“Drink,” he told me.
“Is that your hangover cure?” Ivy asked him.
Bodie ignored her. He nudged me with his foot. “Drink,” he ordered.
I took a gulp of the liquid and almost choked on it. “And the purpose of me drinking this is what exactly?” I asked, grimacing.
“Distraction,” Bodie replied. “You’re welcome.”
Before I could formulate a suitable reply, Ivy’s phone rang. She moved to answer it, then let her hand fall back to her side. I could see her thinking, Tess needs me right now.
I could also see her wanting to answer.
“Answer it,” I told her. “Take the call.”
The president was in surgery. There was no way of knowing if he’d make it out alive. Whoever was calling Ivy right now, she needed to pick up.
After a split second of hesitation, Ivy did as I said.
“Georgia. How is he?” Ivy turned and walked out of the room before I could get a sense of Georgia’s reply. After a long moment, I turned back to Bodie.
“Take another drink,” he advised.
“Very funny.” I took a gulp of my hot chocolate instead. “Do they have any idea who shot the president?” I hadn’t wanted to ask Ivy, but now that it was just Bodie and me, I couldn’t keep the question back.
Bodie didn’t respond, but his eyes betrayed the answer. Ivy had an idea, one that—if it weren’t for me—she’d be following up on right now.
“Does she think this has something to do with Senza Nome?” I asked. “The group that targeted Walker Nolan, the group Daniela Nicolae works for—does Ivy think they’re involved?”
Before Bodie could answer—or tell me to stop asking questions—Ivy walked back into the room.
“The president is out of surgery,” she said, her voice strangled. “There was a lot of damage. They don’t know if . . .” She shook her head, shaking off an unwanted rush of emotion the way a dog shakes water off its fur.
“Go,” I said, meeting Ivy’s eyes and nodding toward the door. “Whatever Georgia needs, whatever she called to ask you to do— just go.”
Ivy hesitated. She didn’t want to leave, but we both knew she couldn’t stay here, holding my hand, when the stakes were this high.
“Bodie can keep you company,” Ivy said after a moment. “I’ll drive myself.”
Ivy wasn’t known for her driving prowess—and given that we were talking about an assassination attempt, I didn’t want her out there alone.
“Don’t be stupid, Ivy. Take Bodie with you.”
She bristled. “Tessie, I’m not leaving you alone after what you’ve been through today.”
