Vendetta. Meredith Fletcher

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СКАЧАТЬ Christine Evans’s office. Christine had explained in no uncertain terms that learning to cook for oneself was just as important as any of the other skills she would be learning at the academy. She still didn’t necessarily enjoy the process, but she knew how to do it.

      “We’ve managed to reconstruct some of Aldrich Peters’s notes from Lab 33,” Christine replied. “We’re still working on other pieces, but it’s getting harder.”

      “But the girls were egg babies?” The term was foreign to Winter, but she’d picked it up because Christine had used it. She’d often unconsciously picked up sentence structure and vocabulary from people she interviewed.

      “Yes. We knew they had special powers, but the method of their conception was a surprise.”

      “Whoever took them knew more about the students here than you did.”

      “We realized that later.” Christine cubed the chicken and scattered it across a hot pan. The meat sizzled and started browning at once.

      Winter pushed the chopped vegetables into a salad bowl and shook them. She washed her hands in the sink and gazed around the kitchen.

      Christine lived on-site at the school. Most of the faculty did. Of course there were a few teachers and specialists who were transitory and taught only as specific coursework was offered.

      The house showed military order and precision. Winter would have expected nothing less. But there was also a softness and a personality that she hadn’t been prepared for. When Winter was in attendance, every student at the academy knew Christine Evans as firm but fair and as an ex-military officer. They even knew a little bit about her family, but none of them had ever been invited to her home.

      “It’s good, in a way, that whoever was behind the kidnappings knows more than we do,” Christine said. “I feel more certain that it’s not someone here.”

      Retreating to the island, Winter rested a hip against it and picked up a carrot stick. Her mind spun and clicked through the variables.

      “Not necessarily,” Winter said.

      Christine looked at her.

      Winter counted off points on her fingers with her carrot stick. “Someone here could have decoded more of the DNA fragments you’re working with than anyone else has. Someone could have found more of the fragments than you know about. Or someone here might be working with this mysterious A person.”

      “I truly hope not. We’ve already had one betrayal. A recent hire helped lure the girls away from the school. With everything that’s gone on, I don’t know how another betrayal in our midst would affect us.”

      Winter quietly agreed. She crunched the carrot stick and thought some more. “What do you hope I can do?”

      “Find Marion’s enemy.”

      Oh? Is that all? Winter barely kept her sarcastic comment to herself. She pushed her breath out and tried to relax.

      “How am I supposed to do that?” Winter asked.

      “We’ve decided to give you free rein at the school. Through the records. Through Marion’s notes. Everything.”

      Winter choked down the carrot and couldn’t believe what she was being offered. “There are a lot of people connected to the Athena Academy. Important people. Politicians. Military leaders. Philanthropists.”

      “We know that.”

      “Big philanthropists. People who don’t like their names in the news.”

      “That’s right.”

      “Information like that isn’t just handed out to anyone.”

      “No,” Christine said, “it isn’t. That’s why I insisted on getting you.” She turned the chicken on the stove.

      “Why did you insist on me?” Winter sat at the round table in the breakfast nook a few minutes later. The view outside the French doors looked out over a small, elegant English garden.

      Christine offered chicken cubes to Winter. “Because you’re good at what you do.”

      Winter put the chicken over her salad. “How do you know?”

      “Because I’ve read your books.” Christine fixed her own salad. She’d also prepared baby corn and placed it over the greens as well.

      “Read them before or after you decided to call me?”

      “I’ve always read them.” Christine poured sparkling white wine into two glasses.

      “Always?” Winter couldn’t help prodding a little. She was shamelessly seeking out ego pampering, but she couldn’t help herself. Her parents, affluent and as distant as ever, couldn’t be bothered. Every day she seemed to have less and less in common with them.

      “Yes. I read. I listen to music. I follow sports. And I appreciate artwork. Our young women have been successful in all those fields.”

      Winter knew that. She’d recognized names in the media from her days at Athena Academy.

      “Athena graduates have also become spies, forensics experts, military officers, attorneys and taken their places in careers that aren’t so easy to track.”

      “I make an effort to follow them whenever I can.” Christine took a bite of salad. “You’d be surprised at how many of them actually stay in touch and let me know what they’re doing.”

      Ouch. Guilt much? Winter knew she hadn’t been in touch often. There had been occasional Christmas cards, though Christine hadn’t missed a single one.

      “If you’ve read my books and followed my career,” Winter warned, “you know that once I start following a story I don’t back off and I don’t take direction well.”

      “I know. That’s why David isn’t happy about your involvement.”

      Gracelyn Ranch

       Outside Phoenix, Arizona Now

      Winter parked her black Lexus SC 430 in front of a large family home that sat off by itself just west of Phoenix proper.

      The grounds had been heavily landscaped. Gardeners walked through the immense area with wheelbarrows and other supplies. The grass looked like regulation green on a golf course. A tall security wall ran around the perimeter. Closed-circuit cameras had overlapping fields of vision.

      During her career as an investigative journalist who specialized in reconstructing the lives of famous people, Winter had sometimes been around those who lived extravagant lifestyles. She hadn’t been impressed. Her parents owned larger houses than most of those she’d seen.

      The Gracelyn family didn’t look as though they lived extravagantly, though. The house and grounds were large, that was true, but they also looked lived in. They weren’t just as showcases.

      A young, impeccably dressed houseman came out to the car. Winter remained where she was and allowed him to get the door.

      “Ms. СКАЧАТЬ