The Fixer (The Fixer #1)(43)

Once he had his hand back, John Thomas gave Henry a look that was just as proper, just as polite. “You, too?” he said. “I knew Tess here was, shall we say, servicing Asher, but I had no idea she offered a two-for-one deal.”

For one horrifying moment, I thought Henry might actually punch him. “I’d defend your honor, Henry,” I cut in, “but he’s not worth it.”

Henry gave a curt nod. “His own father would be the first to tell you—he’s not worth much.”

John Thomas’s veneer of control evaporated the moment Henry said the word father. He lunged at Henry, slamming him back into the locker. This time I really did come to Henry’s defense.

Some people just need to be flying tackled.



“Would any of you care to explain your behavior to me?” Headmaster Raleigh glared at the three of us from the other side of his desk. I was sitting to his left, John Thomas to his right. Henry was in the middle.

“I believe someone must have spilled something in the hallway,” Henry said. “It was terribly slippery.”

He had quite possibly the best poker face of anyone I’d ever seen.

“You expect me to believe you fell?” the headmaster said.

“Well, first John Thomas fell,” Henry said diplomatically. “Then I helped him up. Then I fell. I think that must have thrown Tess off balance.” Henry offered the headmaster the same polite smile he’d given John Thomas. “She fell last.”

“Ms. Kendrick?” Headmaster Raleigh raised an eyebrow at me.

I adopted an expression that mirrored Henry’s. “I do believe Henry is right. I fell last.”

The headmaster was not amused. He turned his attention to John Thomas. “If you would prefer we talk alone . . . ,” he started to say.

“No.” John Thomas’s voice was stiff. “There must have been something on the floor. We slipped.”

John Thomas Wilcox might have been a psychotic jerk, but he was a psychotic jerk who didn’t want any blemishes on his permanent record.

The headmaster clearly did not believe us, but just as clearly, he didn’t seem to fancy the idea of dealing with any of our parents. So instead, he launched into a lecture on personal responsibility, which I tuned out approximately five seconds in.

My eyes drifted to the photograph on the wall behind him—the same one I’d noticed the last time I was here. Six men: three in the back row, two in the front, one off to the side. I recognized William Keyes. But this time, I also recognized the man standing beside Headmaster Raleigh. Balding. Early fifties. Deep-set eyes.

Judge Pierce.

And in front of Pierce stood Vivvie’s father.





CHAPTER 34

I needed to get another look at that picture. The president’s physician. An appeals court judge from Arizona. The idea of them being in the same place at the same time, in that small of a group . . .

Your sister’s just trying to establish a timeline, Vivvie had told me. How my father got involved, when he got involved, how he and Pierce know each other, if they know each other.

I wanted to know when that picture had been taken, where it had been taken. I wanted to know who else was in it. And I wanted to know what Adam’s father had been doing there.

And that meant that I needed to arrange another visit to the headmaster’s office.

“You look like someone who’s thinking deep thoughts.” Asher slid in beside me at lunch. “Deep thoughts about telling me what you’ve spent the past two days not telling me, perhaps?”

Asher probably wasn’t expecting an answer, but I gave him one. “When I called the second number on that phone, someone answered. I know who it was, and I might have found a clue that could tell us how that person and Vivvie’s father know each other.”

“This new, forthcoming Tess is a strange and wonderful thing,” Asher remarked. “Should I be suspicious?”

I answered his question with a question. “How good are you at getting sent to the headmaster’s office for something that won’t actually get you expelled?”

Asher smiled beatifically, as if he’d been waiting his whole life for someone to ask just that question. “How would you feel about some Mentos and Diet Coke?”



As it turned out, the Hardwicke administration was not terribly fond of explosions. Asher and I sat outside the headmaster’s office, awaiting judgment.

The headmaster’s assistant shook her head at the two of us. “Weren’t you just in here a few hours ago?” she asked me.

I did my best to look ashamed—and probably failed miserably. She turned her attention to my companion. “Asher Rhodes. What are we going to do with you?”

“Win me over with patience and gentle correction?” Asher suggested.

In retrospect, I probably should have taken the fall for this particular explosion myself, but I needed to get a good look at the photo on Raleigh’s wall, and that meant that I needed someone to distract the headmaster while I did it.

“Mr. Rhodes?” Headmaster Raleigh appeared at the door to his office. “I’ll see you first.”

Asher and I glanced at each other. The plan required us to go in together.

“Ladies first,” Asher said. “I insist.”

The headmaster sighed. “All right,” he capitulated. “Ms. Kendrick, I’ll see you first.”