Deadly First Day, page 16
part #1 of Embassy Academy Series
My mouth clamps shut. I don’t know what to say.
“It seems that you are lying to us, so I’ll ask you again, now that you’ve been confronted with the evidence. Had you met Li Na before you arrived at the academy two weeks ago?”
My lie was inadvertent, but I doubt the two women across from me believe that.
Ms. Cain shakes her head. Don’t answer that.
My gut screams in my head. Won’t avoiding their questions make me look even more guilty? “I talked to her at the party, but I didn’t know who she was. I didn’t even remember it when I met her at the academy. I didn’t realize it was the same person.”
The senator puts a hand on my shoulder, and the pressure shuts off the spew from my lips.
Officer Cahill’s eyes shift, her disbelief apparent. “If that’s all you have to say, you may go.”
My eyes widen. “I can go?”
“Unless there’s something else you’d like to tell us, yes. You’re free to go.”
Surprised, I swivel to look at our lawyer, who nods.
“Outside,” my father says, his campaign voice slipping back into place. He strides down the hall, past cluttered desks of officers doing paperwork and working at computers. I focus on my shoes, because if I think about anything else, like the chaos that has overtaken my life, I’ll crumble to the floor.
My fingers clench, aching to shove deep into a bowl of dough so I can knead away the hard knots of stress in my shoulders. But I’m emotionally bruised, battered, exhausted. There will be no baking tonight. Instead, I’ll crawl under my comforter and curl into the tightest, smallest ball I can. Maybe then I’ll be able to block out the predatory look in Officer Gupta’s eyes. The one that says she’s found the suspect she likes: me.
Ms. Cain follows us at a respectful distance, ever the professional, even at this late hour, as we walk outside into the parking lot. Cold air whips around me, making me wish I had brought a jacket to the dinner. I wrap my hands around my upper arms, but my trembling fingers do little to ward off the goosebumps that prickle my flesh.
“In the car,” my father orders, stalking ahead of me to pull open the door to the sedan.
Once we’re all inside, he offers me his jacket, which I wrap around myself like a cloak. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he says. “I’m trying not to say anything I’ll regret later, and I need to call my team about damage control. Ms. Cain will drive you back to school.” Leaving his jacket, he exits the car and gets into another dark sedan, which pulls away silently.
Ms. Cain slides her tablet into her purse and turns to look at me over her shoulder. “As your lawyer, I advise you to follow my lead next time.” Her eyes are serious, but she gives me a reassuring smile.
“I will. Sorry. And thank you.” I sag against the leather seat, closing my eyes to ward off the fear that threatens to take hold. The loudest thought swirling in my head as we drive back to the academy is, what am I going to tell Callahan?
I don’t have to wait long. Two minutes after Mikhail escorts me to my room, giving me a reassuring squeeze on my arm before excusing himself for the night, there’s a tentative knock on my door. I know who it is without even having to open it.
“Hi,” I say, waving for my stepbrother to come into my room. I shut the door quietly behind him and turn, leaning against the wooden panel.
Callahan paces, his movements manic. His feet scuff over the rug. His fingers shove roughly through his hair. He halts, turning abruptly to me. “What the hell was that? Are you involved in this?” he whispers, his gaze jumpy as he looks at me.
“No! I’m not. I promise.”
Honest. Be honest, even if it hurts him. Resolved, I take a deep, steadying breath. “The police thought I had met Na before coming here to the academy, that I was lying about knowing her, before.”
Callahan’s eyes fall to the floor, as if he can’t bear to look at me as he asks, “Were you? Lying, I mean?”
My eyes dart around my sparse room, looking for a way to explain this, even though I don’t even know how it happened. I pick up my phone, scrolling through my photos until I reach the ones I took at the party this summer. But there aren’t any clues there. Na isn’t in any of the photographs. I shake my head. “Not technically.”
He kicks at the floor with his socked feet. “What does that even mean?”
Putting my phone down, I focus on my stepbrother. He deserves to hear the truth from me, even if it doesn’t make any sense. “It means there’s a photo of me talking to Na at a party this summer. The police found it on social media. I didn’t even remember talking to her until they showed it to me. She asked me where the bathroom was. We chatted for a minute, that’s all. I had no idea who she was, and I didn’t recognize her when I met her here on move-in day.”
Callahan runs a hand through his hair. “A party? Out in Wood View?”
“Yeah.”
“What was she doing out there?”
It’s an excellent question. One I can’t even begin to answer.
21
The headlines this morning are brutal, but after Charlotte briefed me last night on what a faux pas it was for those detectives to come to the dinner to request my presence, I’m not surprised.
Daughter of Vice Presidential Candidate Tied Up in Murder Investigation
Is Senator’s Daughter More Trouble than Bargained For?
Will Senator’s Daughter Derail Negotiations with African Oil Block?
Mysterious Death at Elite Academy Puts Blot on Senator Holt’s Candidacy
I cringe at the last one. The senator warned me when he brought me to D.C. that I would be under scrutiny, and it wouldn’t have been a problem before. The only time I’d gotten into trouble was the one time I’d gone to a party where they were smoking weed, and I’d come home smelling like it. Mom grounded me, and gave me a lecture on the dangers of taking mind-altering substances in an uncontrolled environment.
But this was so much worse. I wasn’t just another teenager from the middle of nowhere who got caught smelling of pot and sent to her room for a week. No, I was the teenage daughter of a vice presidential hopeful and a curiosity to journalists across the country. Late last night, one of the biggest papers in the country put out a profile on me, even though there wasn’t much dirt to dig up, until I got tangled up in Na’s murder. I wonder how long the paper has been sitting on that article, if they’ve been waiting until I made a mistake to run it in a bid to draw more attention to me, and, thus, their own publication. My stomach rankles. The idea of being used as ammo for mudslinging at my father, in spite of our less-than-close relationship, stings.
I close my eyes to shut out the headlines burned onto my retinas, and slide my phone into my backpack.
“You’ll be better off once you learn to ignore it,” Charlotte says, fork in hand. “They tried to do a hit piece on me last year. They dug up photos of me shopping with a friend and blasted my choice of designers. As if buying expensive clothes means I can’t possibly care for people who aren’t as well off as I am.” She rolls her eyes. “Anyway, don’t worry about it. You’re such a loser, they won’t be interested in you for long.” A teasing smirk lights her eyes.
“That’s easy for you to say, Char. You aren’t being questioned by the police in relation to a murder.” Genevieve tilts her head toward me.
Dali keeps her nose in her tablet, swiping back and forth between tabs. I’m not sure what she’s looking at, other than a depiction of the soil levels in Lilongwe, Malawi. It looks technical. Her eyes flick toward Charlotte as she speaks, but Dali’s mouth remains firmly closed.
There’s a possibility I’ve chosen to ignore since Ricardo told me Dali was the one Na had been bullying, but my mind turns to her over and over, wondering, my thoughts in a whirl like a candy apple being twirled in dark, sickly sweet caramel. She lied to me about the whole thing, after all.
Dali could have killed Na.
She had motive, if the bullying she’d hinted at was any indication. And she had access to my pen. In fact, Dali was the last person I’d seen using it. Sure, she’d put it back on the table in front of me, but I was so focused on not looking like a complete basket case my first day of school, it wouldn’t have been hard to slip the pen off the wooden surface and into her own bag.
I sigh. Why didn’t she tell me about Na? I have to ask her.
“I would never allow myself to get caught up in a mess like that, obviously,” Charlotte says, bringing me back to the present.
Genevieve merely shakes her head, her hair wafting around her shoulders.
“Come on, Char. It’s not her fault she…” Callahan trails off, unable to continue.
Found the body.
Stepped in her blood.
I bite my cheek, hoping to ward off the gruesome images. Instead, I focus on what I know about Na’s death, and the questions I have. Like where Callahan and Dali were the morning of the murder. “I wish it wasn’t me,” I whisper. “I wish I was anywhere else. Even Professor Bins’ History of Trade and Embargos class.”
Dali exhales. “I know what you mean. I was in the health center with a migraine, and I’m almost thankful for that, now.”
Well, that answers that. Dali was in the health center, nowhere near the crime scene. She lied to me, but she has an alibi for the time of the murder. I’m so relieved, because she’s becoming my best friend.
“Miss Lewis?”
The formal tone of Mikhail’s voice makes my head snap up. He’s standing at the foot of our table, hands clasped in front of him, like usual. His expression is so guarded, there’s no way for me to tell what he’s thinking. Sometimes I wish he was a little more expressive so I could get a read on him, but the only time I’ve seen him so much as crack a smile was when we were swing dancing. Since then, nothing. I think he’s warmer toward me, but maybe I’m imagining it.
“Morning, Mikhail. What’s going on?”
“Senator Holt is here. He would like to speak with you in the headmistress’ office. Please, follow me.”
“Daddy is here? Does he want to see Cal and me, too?” Charlotte starts to get out of her seat, but Mikhail holds out a hand to stop her.
“Just Miss Lewis, Miss Cavendish-Holt. Have a good day.” With that, he turns his attention back to me, his gaze alert.
“Charlotte,” my stepsister snaps, but Mikhail doesn’t acknowledge it beyond a fleeting glance.
I take one more bite of my scrambled eggs, heave my bag onto my shoulder, and follow him.
Every person I pass seems to do a double take, staring at me as if I’ve got a third eye in the middle of my forehead. No doubt they’ve seen the headlines, too.
“Ugh. How bad is it?”
He glances at me while he walks. “The senator was not… pleased with the news this morning.”
I flinch. The pause in that sentence says it all. The senator is pissed with me. Again.
“You were not involved in that girl’s death. Do not let your father make you feel inferior for this. You are—”
He cuts himself off, but I’m wishing he had finished that sentence.
“I’m what?”
His eyes are soft on mine. “I should not have spoken out of turn. It is not my place.”
“We’re friends, Mikhail. You can talk to me.”
“I do not think your father would agree, Adrienne.”
I’m about to argue, but as we round the corner to the administration office, the jagged cadence of angry voices reaches us. I slow automatically, fighting the urge to cut and run. Confrontation and I are not friends.
But Mikhail is there, like a wall of protection. He steps in front of me and moves ahead, his steps slow and measured. It’s one more reason I’m thankful for him.
“Why is she still enrolled at this school? She should be expelled, before she hurts someone else.”
“Ambassador Li, I assure you the police are—”
“I read it in the newspaper this morning. The police think she’s somehow involved. If she had anything to do with my daughter’s death, I want her arrested. Do they still practice the death penalty here in the capitol?”
Wait, what? The words reverberate through my ears, making my knees go weak and my heart rattle in my chest. My hand flies out as I reach for the wall, trying to steady myself.
Mikhail’s hand comes protectively under my elbows, holding me loosely until my wobbly knees are once again under my control. The steely look in his eyes steadies me.
“Ambassador. That is enough. I must ask you to calm down, and leave the premises. When the police know more about your daughter’s death, they will be in touch with you directly. For the privacy of the rest of our students, I ask you not to return to our campus unless you are invited. Good morning, sir.” Headmistress Morgan has a tight rein on her voice, but I can hear the shudder of frustration that runs underneath it.
The office door bursts open, walloping the wall with a sickening crack, making me jump back.
Ambassador Li storms out, his face streaked red with fury. He stops short when he sees me, his shoulders bristling. “You. You killed her, and you’re going to—”
Mikhail steps between us and puffs out his chest, stopping the ambassador’s jabbing finger from digging into its target: my ashen face. My bodyguard is an ally in my corner, and he’s proving that he’ll fight for me, no matter what happens.
“Ambassador, I didn’t… I couldn’t have… I didn’t even know her.” My chest is heaving as I attempt to make him understand that I didn’t hurt his daughter. I didn’t kill Na.
“I saw the photo in the newspaper, you little viper. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t know her. You’re a liar, and I’ll make sure you pay for it, you horrible little girl.”
“That’s enough, Ambassador.”
The senator stands in the office doorway, steely eyes locked on Ambassador Li. His jaw clenches. “I’ll ask you not to accost my daughter again.”
The ambassador glares at him, then at me, and stomps down the hall toward the exit.
I flag, shuddering, and Mikhail puts a hand on my shoulder to steady me. His brown eyes are concerned when I meet them. “Thank you,” I mouth. He drops his chin in acknowledgment.
“Does everyone really think I did it?” The question comes out as little more than a whimper.
“Not here,” the senator says. “Step inside, please.”
Mikhail and I follow him into Headmistress Morgan’s office. She’s sitting behind her desk, sipping a glass of water as if she wasn’t just in a screaming match with the Chinese ambassador. “Miss Lewis. I wish you were here under better circumstances. I’ll leave you to it. Senator?”
“Thank you, Headmistress Morgan.”
She rises gracefully and leaves the room, shutting the door behind her.
As much as she intimidates the crap out of me, I wish she’d stayed.
“You saw the headlines this morning?” I squeak, chancing a look up at my father’s expression.
“I did. Adrienne, I have to ask you again, were you involved in this somehow? If you were, you have to tell me right now. I need to know exactly what happened so I know how to fight it. How to protect you, and the campaign.”
An invisible knife slices through me. That’s why he’s here. He’s not concerned for me as much as he is for his precious campaign, and how my involvement in the investigation of Na’s death reflects on him. I know we haven’t spent much time together over the years, but I’d like to think he knows me well enough to know that I wouldn’t murder someone. The questions in his eyes give him away. He’s hoping I have an explanation for this other than the one the police seem to be fixing on.
“I swear, I didn’t hurt her. I did talk to her at that party, but I was a little... buzzed, and I had no idea who she was. I didn’t even remember it until I saw that photograph. I didn’t know I’d met her. I wasn’t lying.”
He nods, finally relaxing the rigid lines of his shoulders. He believes me. “Good. ” His tone is rough, but his words are surprisingly tame. I thought he was going to rip me to shreds. “I’ll remind you not to talk to the press, or anyone else who comes around asking questions. I know quite a few journalists who would love to get an exclusive on a story like this. It’s not just your life we’re talking about, although they could ruin that too. It’s the future of our entire family. It’s something we’ve worked very hard for, over the past few years. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve notified the headmistress that Mikhail will be attending all of your classes for the time being.”
Mikhail glances down at me. The corner of his mouth twitches up into the tiniest smile. He’s throwing me a lifeline.
“It’s settled then. I’ll be in touch. And Adrienne, we’re going to work this out.” With a squeeze of my arm, he leaves.
Despite the deep crap I’ve found myself in, the man who just left feels more like a father, and less like a senator. An angry father, but still. A ragged sigh pulls my shoulders down.
“Well, Mikhail, are you ready to learn about international diplomacy?”
“Indeed. Too bad the Chinese ambassador is not required to come, too.”
I snort in surprise, which makes the bodyguard’s mouth curve higher.
Try as I might, I can’t focus in my classes. Having Mikhail stand at the back of all of them like one of those expressionless guards at Buckingham Palace makes it hard. So does the scrutiny that accompanies us as we move through the hallways. By lunchtime, I’m so sick of the weighty stares and armor-piercing whispers that I’m about to snap.
The only thing I’ve learned today is that if I have any hope of being treated like a normal person here at the academy, it’s not going to happen until the police have Na’s killer in custody. And their questioning of me indicates that they’re not even close.
