Flashback

Perhaps in the process of his quest, he’d found his true calling. She hoped so.

After that moment’s inner acknowledgment of his success, she went on. “Even when everyone told you there was no case, that she had simply died in surrogate childbirth, you kept on. For nearly twenty years.”

He sat there for a long moment. Alex guessed he was thinking, as was she, of the huge, frightening mess his sister had been devoured by—the mess she and the Cassandras had recently exposed. Since it had directly involved Athena, the Cassandras had vowed not to stop until the truth was uncovered. When it finally had been, the ramifications were so broad she still had trouble taking it all in.

“That was personal,” he said at last.

“So is this,” she said.

“What? Your federal cold case is personal?” He seemed surprised.

“It is. It’s connected to Athena.”

“Isn’t everything you do?”

His tone was wry, but he was grinning. Justin had come to know a great deal about Athena and the kind of women it turned out in the past year and a half. He knew what the school meant to all who attended, and Alex knew he’d come to appreciate the strength of the bond between the graduates and their alma mater.

“Yes,” she said without embarrassment. “But this is different. It’s not just the school. This has to do with the…creator of Athena.”

His brow furrowed. “Allison’s mother?”

He’d met Allison Gracelyn during the unraveling of the mystery surrounding Lab 33 and its genetic experiments, the motive behind Rainy’s murder. Rainy had found out that the lab had used her for an experiment, back when she’d been an Athena student. And when her adult investigation had threatened to expose them, they’d killed her. Alex felt the usual pang the thought of Rainy, and how much she missed her, brought on. But she buried it for now; there was another Athena murder to unravel.

“Yes,” she said. “Marion Gracelyn. Senator Marion Gracelyn.”

His forehead cleared. “Ah. Hence the federal investigation.”

She nodded.

“Didn’t they determine she’d interrupted a burglar?” he asked.

“That’s what they said,” Alex agreed, her voice neutral.

“But you’re not buying it.”

“I never did,” she said. “There was no reason an ordinary burglar would have broken into Athena.”

He considered that for a moment. “Can’t argue with that,” he agreed. “It’s too far out, too isolated, and there wasn’t enough to steal—except maybe some hard-to-fence lab equipment and computers—to make it worthwhile.”

She smiled, grateful he had so quickly seen the facts. His eyes widened, and she thought she heard him suck in a breath.

“Whatever brought on that smile, tell me so I can do it again. And again.”

Alex fought down the heat that threatened to rise in her cheeks. He always managed to do that to her. He was so…blunt, sometimes, about how much he wanted her, and wanted her to feel the same way. It was such a change from Emerson Howland’s cool, unaffected manner. It was taking her a while to adjust, to trust that it was real.

She pushed thoughts of her former fiancé away, along with any effort to respond to Justin’s unexpected request. She knew she was going to have to quit putting it off soon, but now was not the time. She had too much on her plate right now.

“There’s new evidence,” she said.

He seemed reluctant to accept the change back to the original topic, but at last nodded at her to go on. She told him about the letter. And again he wasted no time with trying to explain things away.

“So she knew someone—or maybe plural—was after her. And those supposed accidents were just failed attempts.”

She nearly smiled at him again, but stopped in time; she wasn’t ready for another round of dealing with his ardency just now.

“Exactly,” she said.

“How long’s the list?” he asked.

“Of suspects? Lengthy. I was thinking I’d start with the ones here.”

“Here? You mean in D.C.?”

She nodded. “There are a few of them who didn’t want to see Athena even exist, let alone succeed.”

“Which it has, and then some. It’s a force to be reckoned with these days.”

Athena Force. The new nickname they’d chosen for their expanding group of crime-fighting Athenians echoed in her head. The warmth of belonging to such a stellar group—and of having Kayla, one of her closest friends—back in her life, filled her.

“Given the circumstances and that a lot of those people are still here, that’s where I’d start,” he said.

“But?” she asked, hearing the unspoken qualifier in his voice.

“In the end, I think most cold cases are solved at the scene, or in the place most closely connected to it.” He shrugged. “That’s why I kept going back to Athena over and over again after Kelly died. It was the only connection to her death that I was sure of.”

She’d already had the feeling that she was going to end up back in Arizona. It all seemed to come back to that. As before, Athena seemed at the center of the storm. Marion had to have known she’d be stirring up things when she’d begun the academy for young women, but Alex wondered if she’d ever imagined just how much. Or how far and for how long the ripples would spread.

So, she’d be going back. She hadn’t expected to be investigating another murder so soon, but when it came to her beloved school she’d do whatever had to be done. Any Cassandra would.

“Anything I can do to help?”

At Justin’s words she snapped back to the present. She appreciated the offer, but this was Athena, her home and her problem. Or theirs, she amended. She figured she’d end up calling on some of her fellow Cassandras before this was over and done. And Allison, of course. She was first on the list.

But she’d leave the door open, she thought.

“Not yet,” she said.

He nodded as if he understood.

And perhaps he did, Alex thought. He seemed to understand a lot. Perhaps it was just his innate knowledge and acceptance of the concept of loyalty. She knew he had it; the man had spent half his life pursuing the truth about his sister’s death. They’d been closer than most siblings, the barely legal Kelly having fought hard to keep her teenage younger brother with her after their parents had died. And Justin had never lost his determination to see through the last and only thing he could do for his beloved big sister.

Would he be that dedicated and loyal to anyone he loved?

She brushed away the question she wasn’t sure she wanted answered just yet. But she was going to have to deal with it soon. They were growing steadily closer, and she was going to have to make up her mind just how close she wanted to get to this man who was both a teenage dream come to life and a threat to her adult peace of mind.

But for now she had to focus on Athena. And a decade-old murder.

“I’ve moved on, Ms. Forsythe. Long ago.”

Was there a bit of extra emphasis on the Ms.? Alex wondered. Was that General Stanley’s way of releasing a lingering distaste for what, at the time, he felt had been forced upon him?

It made no sense, really. Marion had been one of the military’s greatest supporters, and to kill her over something like this would be an exceptionally grievous case of cutting off their own nose.

She pondered her next words. She’d taken the week off work, hoping in that time that she could at least get a feel of how difficult investigating Marion’s death was going to be. She’d already made a flight reservation to Phoenix for a couple days from now, based on what Justin had told her, so she was pushing to either clear the people who were here in D.C. or pry a direction to look out of one of them.

“How do you feel about Athena now, sir?”

She made her tone respectful, both because of his two-star rank and because she wanted answers more than she minded giving a verbal bow to the man. She had tremendous admiration and respect for the military—“land of the free because of the brave” summed it up for her—so it wasn’t difficult for her to speak carefully to this veteran.

“If you’re looking for a rash quote to spatter across the front pages, you’ll have to go elsewhere,” he said.

He sounds defensive, she thought.

“Why would you think that?” she asked, still careful to keep her voice level.

“Because you’re a graduate of Senator Gracelyn’s invention.”

She hadn’t mentioned that, but she supposed it wouldn’t take a genius to figure it out. And she couldn’t help but notice that for someone who insisted he’d moved on, he certainly seemed touchy about the subject.

But what she noticed most was that despite his obvious feelings about Athena, he referred to Marion Gracelyn by her proper title and with the respect it was due. That, and her gut was telling her this man hadn’t been involved. She’d learned to trust her gut.

“If you feel so strongly about it,” she said, not caring quite as much now about being tactful, “why did you agree to see me?”

The man in uniform leaned back in his chair. “You can’t live in this town for very long without learning that antagonizing a Forsythe isn’t wise, no matter who you are,” he said bluntly.

An image flashed through her mind of a dinner her grandfather had hosted a couple weeks ago, at the gracious Alexandria home he’d built for his late wife, Alex’s grandmother. Alex lived in the house now, as much as she lived anywhere other than her job and the farm.

But she’d absented herself that night, intentionally; she didn’t have the clearance required to be present given the guest list and some of the topics that would be discussed. It had been a small gathering inside, but the number of secret service men outside spoke volumes about the attendees.

No, in this town Forsythe was not a name to take lightly. The name was a weight Alex was always aware of, although she preferred her grandfather’s style to her mother’s more pretentious, self-aware version.

“No,” she admitted, with a grinning, inward salute to G.C., the man who’d so quietly built the Forsythe name into what it was, “it’s not. But I thought perhaps it was the FBI on my ID card that convinced you.”

“We try to cooperate with all federal agencies,” he said stiffly, “but although you’re an agent, you did say your visit was…unofficial.”

Which, Alex nearly said aloud, was akin to having a reporter say you’re off the record. “It’s personal,” she acknowledged.

“You writing a book or something?”

“A book?”

“About the founding of that school of yours?”

Not a bad idea for a cover, actually, Alex thought. “Everyone else in this town seems to be,” she said.

“Yeah.” An inelegant snort accompanied the tone of disdain. “So, if your question is did I support the senator’s plan, the answer is no. It was too late. We’d already been forced to open up the established academies to women. I didn’t see the point.”

Alex went back to her earlier question. “And now?”

“Hasn’t done any harm,” he said, and to his credit there was a minimal amount of grudgingness in his voice.

But still, Alex thought, faint praise. She’d be upset if she didn’t know the truth. Athena tracked alumni well after graduation, and she’d seen the figures comparing their success to that of women who hadn’t had the advantage of an Athena education. The difference was nothing less than remarkable. Athenas consistently went higher faster than any others, living proof of the validity of Marion Gracelyn’s vision.

But part of that vision had also been maintaining a low profile. Drawing less attention was one of the reasons Athena was a college prep—grades seven to twelve—and not a university. Athena’s goal was to empower women, not gain glory for itself. It didn’t rely on fund-raisers or tax dollars, and so didn’t need a high profile to curry favor and cash. Which explained why many still didn’t know of its existence, or that the difference they were seeing in the number of women raising the glass ceiling and earning influential positions these days was because many of them were Athena graduates.

Alex thanked the general, noted he didn’t try to crush her hand as she stood and shook his, and moved him down toward the bottom of her list.

She didn’t take him off it. She wasn’t taking anybody off at this early stage.

Her afternoon appointment netted her an endorsement from a senator she wouldn’t have expected it from. Patrick Rankin, Junior Senator from New Hampshire, told her that he’d only opposed the school for political reasons, that he himself had always thought it would work.

This was a surprise, because the man was an ally of senate lion Eldon Waterton, who had been an Arizona senator since long before Marion was elected. Waterton had opposed her on nearly every matter, although he’d stayed out of the Athena issue.

G.C. had always suspected that it was because he had a granddaughter he hoped might attend someday. Politicians, he grumbled, were all for standing on principle for everybody else.

As Alex barely managed not to gape at Rankin, he went on to say that he was glad he’d been proven right, that Athena women were shining in all fields. He seemed a bit too curious about why she was asking, but she also couldn’t help but notice that his statements were peppered with comments that revealed a certain admiration for Senator Gracelyn. Or perhaps it was simply courtesy to a fellow senator.

She moved him farther down the list as well.

Not that I won’t put you all back on top if necessary, she said to herself later as she wearily kicked off her shoes in the foyer of the Alexandria house.

The second her bare feet touched the floor the phone rang. She considered not answering since she was so tired, but a glance at the caller ID told her it was Justin. She was answering before she even realized it.

“How’d it go today?”

“Just got home. I’m afraid I haven’t had the proper appreciation for you field guys,” she said.

“Well, that’s certainly true.” She could almost see him grinning, could almost see the dimple that slashed into his right cheek when he did.

“People complicate things. Forensics, physical evidence, is…not simpler, but cleaner somehow.”

“It doesn’t lie.”

“Exactly. And it doesn’t try to hide. If you can’t find it, you’re just not looking hard enough, or in the right place.”

“Welcome to my world,” he said. “You sound a bit weary of it all.”

“I am,” she admitted. “Exhausted.”

“People will do that do you,” he said, sounding annoyingly chipper. “But since you have the grace to admit that you’ve underestimated us field grunts, I’m going to reciprocate.”

“Reciprocate?” she asked, puzzled.

The door chimes rang—they were loud, to be heard throughout the large house—and drowned out whatever his answer had been.

“Hang on,” she said, “there’s someone at the door.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

Boy, I am tired, and apparently confused as well. He’s not even making sense to me, she thought as she walked back to the front door, glad she hadn’t sat down yet; she wasn’t sure she could have gotten up again.

“I know,” he repeated as she peered through the security peephole.

“Oh.”

She felt beyond silly. Not even the fish-eye lens of the peephole could totally distort Justin’s dark good looks. She pulled the door open to the sight of him standing on the porch, cell phone in one hand and a large bag in the other.

“Cute,” she said, disconnecting.

“I thought so.”

His smile was irresistible. “Not that it’s not good to see you,” she said, accepting the kiss he planted somewhere between her cheek and her right ear, “but…what are you doing here?”

He flipped his cell phone closed and held up the bag in his other hand. “Dinner. Chinese okay?”

The smell had hit her nose by then, a lovely, warm barrage of soy and spice and sweet, and her stomach lurched hungrily.

“Bless you,” she breathed fervently.

“I thought you might be glad not to cook tonight.”

“I’m always glad not to cook,” she pointed out as she stepped back to let him in.

“And I’m glad to let you,” he retorted, ducking her halfhearted swipe at him.

“I have other skills,” she said as she snatched the bag from him.

The familiar white cartons were stacked high, topped by a pile of napkins and plastic utensils and emitting those luscious aromas that made her stomach growl in anticipation yet again. She barely managed to stop herself from burying her face in the bag just to get a deeper whiff.

“Indeed you do,” he said. “And I hope to sample them all someday.”

Alex was glad she had her back to him, although she didn’t need to see his expression to know what it looked like. Not when his voice had gone so dark and smoky all of a sudden.

The Dark Angel speaks, she taunted silently, trying to chide herself into a cooler response.

It almost worked.

But then he stepped up behind her, put his hands on her shoulders and bent to gently kiss her neck. The shiver that went through her warned her yet again what she was likely in for should she ever—perhaps inevitably—give in and sleep with the guy.

Holy fireworks was all she could think of.

“I’m reading an awful lot into the shiver that just went through you,” Justin whispered.

That dark angel voice nearly made her shiver again. “I suppose saying I got a chill won’t work.”

Her irritation at herself for being unable to control her reaction to him echoed in her voice.

“Not a chance,” he said, his voice still soft, his breath still warm and making her skin—and other things—itch. She barely managed not to squirm, he was so close.

She twisted and ducked away from him. “Just what were you figuring I tipped for food delivery?”

He made no move to come after her, merely stood watching her with an expression she could only describe as amused. In a tone that sounded just as amused, as if it were the middle of some casual conversation, he said, “I’m very patient, you know.”

Alex swallowed tightly. She knew that. He’d waited years to get the people who had murdered his sister. She’d just never quite applied the knowledge to their personal situation before. And now that she had…

She was going to lose this battle, she thought. He would wear her down with that damnable patience of his. She’d hold out a good long time but in the end she would lose.

She tried not to hear the little voice that seemed to emanate from the tightness low and deep inside her saying that in this case, losing meant winning.

Chapter 3

As usual when she needed to think, Alex retreated to Forsythe Farms and the back of a horse.

“I hear you’re writing a book.”

Alex blinked, startled. She reined her horse in as she stared at her grandfather. “Well, that didn’t take long,” she said.

“I have my sources,” he said blandly.

“Don’t I know it,” she said, remembering the times when he knew about her college escapades before she’d even returned to her dorm room. She’d always been aware he seemed to know things—even trivial information—before anyone else, but she hadn’t quite expected this to get to him this quickly.

“I assume that’s your cover, for those who don’t already know you’re with the FBI?”

She nodded and nudged Silk forward again. The cream-colored filly was aptly named; her gait was as smooth as her coat. As was her disposition. Even the fidgeting of the temperamental Twill, in an exceptionally feisty mood this evening and only grudgingly bending to her grandfather’s experienced hands, didn’t seem to phase her.

Her calm temperament was unusual for such a young horse, and Alex suspected they had a real treasure in the making. It was horses like this that made her sometimes wish she’d stayed in this world and pursued her riding career. But she knew she wouldn’t trade the challenges of her job for anything, and that moments like this she could steal would have to do for now.

“General Stanley guessed that that was what I was there for, and I sort of let him go on thinking it. It seemed like a decent cover. Although he did say to pass along his thanks to you, for always being there for the military when they need you.”

G.C. nodded. “What little I can do these days. But we’ll stick with the book story for now. I suppose being rather well-known here could make things difficult.”

“It’s a handicap and a benefit,” she said. “I get in to see higher-ups more easily, but those higher-ups know more about me than I’d like for this purpose. It affects what they’re willing to tell me. I think I may do better in Arizona, where I’m more anonymous.”

“You’ve called Allison?”

“Yes. I left a message since she was out. I didn’t say it was urgent, since we’re just starting, but I thought she should know.”

Twill snorted and danced as a dragonfly darted in front of them. With practiced ease G.C. brought him back in line. Silk shook her head when the insect came too close to her nose, but otherwise remained calm.

“Learn from your daughter,” G.C. told the big bay stallion in mock sternness.

It was a minor chastisement directed in jest to an animal, but Alex couldn’t help thinking how the words he’d said demonstrated one of the things she loved most about her grandfather. Despite his position and the importance others assigned him, he never thought he was too big or too important, never thought he knew too much to ever learn from anyone around him.

They finished their ride, untacked and groomed the horses under the hovering eye of head groom Jacob Garner. Garner, even after years of working for the Forsythes, had never quite gotten used to their penchant for taking care of their own horses. He’d even told her once that it was a topic of discussion among other grooms in the area, how unusual it was that the Forsythes insisted on doing such things themselves instead of just handing their horses off to staff as most others in their circle did.

It wasn’t until they were walking from the stable back to the house that G.C. returned to the subject of her investigation.

“Will you be talking to the police in Phoenix? Asking them to reopen the case?”

“Officially? I’m not sure yet. I’ll talk to Kayla, certainly, and maybe the detective assigned to the case if he’s still there.”

Her beloved Lacy, registered name Chantilly Lace, whinnied at her from the paddock where she was enjoying the spring day. She laughed, and changed direction.

“She’ll never forgive me if I don’t take her out soon.”

“Jacob says that tendon is healing nicely, so a little ramble shouldn’t be out of the question by next week.”

Alex nodded, glad the horse she’d grown up with since she was a child was doing better. She didn’t push her so hard anymore, now that she was in her twenties, but Forsythe horses were long-lived and spirited, so she expected to be out on the trails with Lacy again soon.

After the horse had been greeted and cooed over and seemed satisfied for the moment, they resumed their walk up to the house, and the conversation.

“I’d like to do as much as I can under the radar,” Alex said. “Less warning, and less time for the roaches to scurry into hiding.”

She was certain Kayla Ryan, her friend and fellow Cassandra, who was now a lieutenant of the Athens Police Department, would have some ideas on how to proceed. And knowing Kayla, she’d be off and running herself once she found out what Alex now knew from Marion’s letter.

Alex felt no hesitation about letting Kayla in on what they’d found out. Despite the rough patch their friendship had been through, she had never questioned Kayla’s loyalty to Athena. And she didn’t question it now, or that Kayla would be eager to start digging the moment she heard.

“And I suppose professional courtesy requires that I let the locals in Phoenix know that I’ll be poking around,” she went on, thinking aloud now. “I don’t want to use the book-writing cover story with them only to have them find out later I was scamming them. I might need their cooperation before this is over.”