Say It Again (First Wives, #5)(22)

“How does the word military fall into what you just described? Outside of weapons training.”

AJ remembered how his sister would talk about her years at Richter, about the things she observed. “The doors are locked for all ages, from the youngest students to the oldest. Punishments that would land any American principal in jail for quite a long time.”

“They’re abusive?” Reed asked.

“Think of putting a kid on restriction like an inmate being put in solitary. If the rules the students broke were severe enough, a couple of days in the hole slapped them into shape.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah, but according to what my sister told me, it worked. According to my parents, every parent knew what they were getting their kids into.”

“Why would anyone . . . ?”

“To make their kids street-smart. To keep them alive when the world might want them otherwise,” AJ said.

“So locks and security kept the kids in and the bad guys out. And now that you want answers on Richter, no one there will talk to you.”

“You got it.”

“Give me twenty-four hours.”

The tension in AJ’s neck started to ease. “Can I ask a question?”

“Of course.”

AJ had a hard time wording what he wanted to ask, so instead he started to ramble. “Sasha is very cloak-and-dagger, and a little badass.”

“She defines badass,” Reed chuckled.

“Yeah. Okay. I can see how she might know her way around finding people and such. What makes you qualified?”

“I’m in security. I still dabble in private investigating. And I was a detective with the police force.”

AJ blinked a few times. I’m talking to a cop. “Overqualified.”

“Be sure and tell my wife that if you ever meet her.”

AJ’s smile beamed. “Your wife?”

“Yeah, do you have one of those?”

“A wife?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Another pause on the line.

“Are you still there?”

“Yup. Just taking down a few notes. I’ll get in touch with you tomorrow at this time.”

“Thanks, Reed.”

“You can thank Sasha. I’m doing this for her.”

AJ ended the call feeling a lot more accomplished than before he’d picked up the phone.

Reed knew what he was doing, was going to help . . . and he was a married man.

And a cop.

Ex-cop. AJ glanced at his cell phone, happy he made a habit out of never bringing one along when he got his adrenaline rush. The last thing he wanted was to find Amelia’s killer and end up in jail for his own crimes.

Although if it could bring his sister back, he’d walk into the police station without a lawyer.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

AJ decided the night needed to end with a beer.



“For a woman in such great shape, you sure spend a lot of time in the library.” Claire sat across from Sasha, much like she had the day they’d met.

And like the day they met, Sasha had her nose in a yearbook.

“Don’t you have class?”

Claire grinned. “It’s Saturday, and since Checkpoint Charlie won’t give me a pass, I’m stuck here.”

Sasha remembered those days well. “Let me guess, no family to come and get you.”

“I’m gifted a week in the summer and Christmas with a host family. Just like you did when you were here.” Claire looked her directly in the eye.

“You’ve been doing some research.”

“I asked Charlie.”

“He’s a good source of information. You’re right. I was stuck here, too. I made the most of it, as I’m sure you do.”

“It gets old. There isn’t a day I don’t think about living on the outside. I already have all the credits I need to graduate. I could leave.” Claire looked around the room.

“Why don’t you?”

The girl shivered and lost her smile. “You’ll think I’m weak if I tell you.”

“You beat me on the obstacle course. I will never label you as weak.”

Claire kept silent, as if contemplating whether or not to answer Sasha’s question. “I know no one outside this school. Host families don’t count. They do it because they’re paid. If I leave with only my high school degree, what’s that going to do for me? I can’t go out and explore life and then come back after a year to finish college.”

“Richter doesn’t work that way.”

“I know. And my benefactor made it clear that I had to stay all the way through to keep their support. But now that I’m eighteen, it’s up to me.”

Sasha’s and Claire’s situations at that age were nearly identical.

“Do you know who your benefactor is?”

Claire shook her head.

“Mine was a woman who was once married to my biological father. He was a disgusting human who murdered my mother. My benefactor kept me here to keep me safe.”

Claire looked at her again. “Then you have family . . . kinda.”

Sasha shook her head. “They’re both dead.”

“Oh.”