Ransomed Dreams (21 page)

Maria almost yawned as Gracie covered her mouth at the end of her story to pretend to sleep. Fifteen little pairs of hands followed her lead. What a great way to calm everyone down without yelling at them to sit and be quiet.

Introductions around the morning circle included a favorite Mother Goose story along with names and ages.

“I’m James Kessler and my favorite nursery rhyme is Baa Baa Black Sheep because the little boy gives out wool to help his neighbors.”

Gracie handed James a white wooly blanket. “That’s wonderful, James. Would you like to recite your rhyme in costume?”

Wrapped in white wool, Steven’s son hammed up the short poem and baa’d the best sheep impression Maria had heard in years. Of course it wasn’t a matter of routine to hear Secret Service agents making animal noises. Unless they were playing basketball in the gym.

When Victoria’s turn came, Maria held her breath. The girl had done little besides a puzzle with James. And she’d sat with perfect posture, silent while the rest of her class wiggled like normal six-year-olds.

“My name is Victoria Kensington. My favorite Mother Goose is Humpty Dumpty. But I don’t like that they couldn’t put him back together again.”

Gracie’s eyes watered.

Maria made a mental note to talk to Lady Kensington again about art therapy for Victoria. The little girl needed a child-friendly way to process the pain that she now wore like a cloak.

“Victoria, why don’t you recite your nursery rhyme and then, together as a class, we can put our special Humpty Dumpty puzzle all back together again.”

Even Agent Reynolds’s face softened at Gracie’s gracious gift to the little girl.

Maria mouthed a silent
Thank you
when Gracie caught her gaze.

Gracie beamed.

The morning flew by, much to Maria’s surprise. The rest of her detail could tease all they wanted, but this assignment would be one of the few she would enjoy each and every day.

Hope Ridge was everything Steven Kessler had said it would be. Perfect.

While the children worked with what Gracie called math manipulatives, Maria joined Gracie at her desk.

“Never underestimate the power of a great teacher,” Maria whispered to her friend. “You were so gentle with Victoria.
Thank you. Under your care, she may well recover.”

“I’m praying she will Maria. She’s a precious child.” Gracie scribbled a few notes on her lesson plans about adding more art activities, all the while keeping an eye on every one of the four tables in the middle of her classroom.

Gracie would make a good federal agent.

John and the others in Victoria’s detail were committed to keeping that same vigilant watch. But looking out the large classroom windows into the swaying green trees, she couldn’t help wonder how long this idyllic scene would last.

Victoria had already started to come out of her shell and Maria was glad.

Still, the feeling that the other shoe was about to drop never strayed far from her thoughts.

Gracie waved a drowsy good-bye as Maria and John left with the Kensingtons’ nanny.

“See you tomorrow, Mrs. Lang!” Victoria waved back and bounced down the hall.

If only Victoria’s mother could see the girl now. What a change from the reserved little diplomat who had entered her classroom that morning. In large part due to James Kessler.

Gracie watched him gather all the puzzles and return them to the wooden rack near her desk. The precious boy was everything she’d imagined her own Joshua growing up to be.

Careful
. She hated how easily she let her heart daydream sometimes. And the certain themes that kept intruding. Twinkling blue eyes and toe-curling grins at the top of the list.

Beth would be thrilled. But she still didn’t know about the park outing and the black-haired siren that had disrupted a wonderful Saturday picnic.

Or the resulting decision Gracie had made about Steven Kessler. The parent she was most thankful not to have seen this morning.

Parents and nannies arrived one by one to pick up their children. That kept her mind busy, but her face started to hurt with all the smiling.

“Mrs. Lang. For you. A picture,” Akemi, a senator’s adopted daughter, bowed her head and waited for a response.

Gracie knelt in front of her and took one of her hands. “This is a gorgeous rose, Akemi. May I put it on our bulletin board?”

The little girl’s short black bob shook as she nodded. “Oh yes. Thank you.” She returned to the center art table and giggled through a tic-tac-toe game with her new friend, Susannah Rollins.

Gracie watched Susannah’s fiery red locks escape her white bows while she played. The daughter of Steven’s partner was the spitting image of her mother, Sara, and as free with a smile as Agent Rollins had been the first time Gracie met him.

She would have liked to get to know the Rollins family better outside of Hope Ridge Academy. Not a possibility anymore, though. But among Akemi, Susannah, and Victoria, Gracie’s days would be filled with beautifully drawn flower gifts and gentle manners.

A knock sounded at the door.
Please, don’t let this be Steven
.

She opened the door. Breath catching in her lungs, she forced a smile. “Good afternoon, Steven.”

“Hello, Gracie.” His eyes searched her face. “I’d like to speak with you a minute if I could.”

Part of her job consisted of short, impromptu parent-teacher conferences at the door with concerned parents. She’d already endured the usual round of “Did she cry long after I left?” to the academic grilling, “My son made straight As today yes?” Gracie tried to comfort and reassure each parent and affirm their love for their offspring.

But talking with Steven felt unsettling, which had nothing to do with his son and everything to do with her resolve crumbling as she looked into his pained blue eyes.

“I feel like I’ve said ‘I’m sorry’ far too much already.” He ran
a hand through his thick brown hair. “Last Saturday at the park, I—”

She held up a hand. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I think maybe we’d better keep things focused on James.” She glanced over her shoulder into the classroom. “He’s a wonderful little boy and I’m so thankful he’s in my class.”

Steven clenched his jaw. A carbon copy of the last look she’d seen from him on Saturday.

“James made fast friends with every one of his classmates and was especially kind to Victoria. I believe this will be a good year for both of them.”

“With you as their teacher, I’m sure it will.”

The compliment heated her cheeks. One more brick fell from her wall of resolve. “Thank you. I’ll go get his things.”

Steven touched her hand. “That woman was Angela. My ex-wife. I didn’t want her there, Gracie.”

She swallowed the lump rising in her throat and placed ten more bricks on her wall. No way did she want to stand in between Steven and the ex-wife whose glance could slice steel. The same woman who still elicited powerful emotions in her ex-husband.

Love and hate weren’t opposites. Love and indifference were. And Steven was as far from unaffected as a sloth was fast.

“I’m sorry, Steven.” She gripped the door with white knuckles.

“I’d like to explain. May I call you tonight?”

Thomas Perkins walked down the hall, eyes fixed on her. The vice principal stiffened as he stepped to Steven’s side. “Is there a problem here, Mrs. Lang?”

“No, sir. I was just getting James.”

Gracie turned away from the door and Steven’s once again clenched jaw. She heard the vice principal’s clipped tones, something about dating and maintaining decorum, and cringed. Maybe she should give Steven another chance. At least listen to him, let him talk out whatever had morphed his entrancing eyes into heated lasers of pain.

She and James walked to the door, gathering art projects as they went.

“Daddy!” James rushed into his father’s open arms.

“Hey little man. I heard you had an awesome first day.” Steven’s eyes, focused on his son, resumed some of their former twinkle.

Mr. Perkins turned on his heel and left without a word.

“I’m sorry about that.”

He shifted James to his hip, a smile nowhere to be found. “Not a problem and not your fault. We’ll see you another afternoon, Mrs. Lang.”

“’Bye, Mrs. Lang.” James waved. “See you tomorrow!”

Gracie waved like a robot and held her breath until the pair disappeared down the hall. Tears fought for release. Steven’s pleasant but clear dismissal replayed in her mind as she shut her classroom door.

So much for second chances.

T
hursday morning’s early teleconference with Britain’s Security Service and Secret Intelligence Service had Steven’s boss fuming.

Steven leaned back in one of the conference room’s leather chairs and smirked at the backpedaling the Brits were doing because of the unit chiefs bellowing.

“You mean to tell me you believe you were justified in with-holding information from my agents conducting a federal investigation?” Agent Maxwell barked at the large video screen. Clint and Michael stayed focused straight ahead and said nothing.

The honorable Sir Peter Barnstable closed his eyes and took a deep breath before answering. “Agent Maxwell, you are aware we have similar protocols to your American agencies in regards to protected information.”

“My agents requested information on Harry Landridge the eleventh of August and were told he died of natural causes after working for years as a glorified file clerk for your agency Now you’re telling me he was actually killed in the line of duty as an SIS officer investigating arms deals that you now believe involved Ambassador Walter Kensington? The same ambassador we’ve been investigating concerning his daughter’s kidnapping and subsequent death?”

“Yes.”

“Agent Kessler, what were we told about the ambassador?” Maxwell’s face grew redder with every tick of the clock.

Steven flipped open his case file. “That the investigation concerning Sir Walter’s consuls had been closed satisfactorily that
the ambassador was independently wealthy, and any further investigation into his character was unnecessary.”

“That was
after
we’d been told none of the ransom note’s black market references were relevant to our investigation.” Michael spoke to Agent Maxwell, then crossed his arms and glared at the video screen.

“Our new information has only recently been authenticated …”

“It’s high time you came clean with us.” Maxwell stood and jabbed a finger toward the stuffy British officer. “Exactly what information do you now have?”

Sir Peter’s stony disposition set Steven’s jaw on edge.

“Because our intelligence officers are reopening this case, we cannot acquiesce to your further demands for information. This is a British security concern. As a courtesy toward your government, we will keep you apprised of our investigation.”

Maxwell paced around the conference table. “You’ll do better than that.”

Sir Peter opened his mouth to reply, but Steven held up a hand. “Sir Barnstable, we understand that you have an open investigation, but we have a homicide that occurred on American soil we are tasked with solving. We need to know the information pertinent to our apprehending the killer.”

It was a good thing the Brits were safely across the pond because their stretching silence had Maxwell ready for blood.

Clint’s bowed head went wholly unnoticed by everyone else in the room. Steven didn’t know what to make of his partner’s way of handling the standoff. But he hoped the prayer worked.

The Brits shuffled papers and a few Security Service officers clicked away on their keyboards. Nothing moved in the FBI conference room.

Sir Peter cleared his throat. “Our information on Ambassador Kensington was received from Harry’s brother, Gordon Landridge, former SAS officer.”

“Special forces soldier and SIS officer. That explains why neither
brother appears in Charlotte Brown’s file.” Clint shook his head. “I’d say we have motive and strong evidence Gordon is capable of everything we’ve seen thus far.”

Maxwell returned to his chair. “Where is Landridge now?”

“Unknown.”

“Rollins, I want warrants for Charlotte Brown’s phone records. Parker, get surveillance on Brown’s house. Kessler …”

“I’m on my way.” Steven hotfooted it out of the Hoover building. He would have liked to stay and hear the full dressing-down Chief Maxwell was sure to unload, but he had a killer to catch and the gut assurance that they’d finally gotten the break they needed.

The embassy was fast becoming Steven’s least favorite place.

Right up there with anywhere Angela Carter could be found. Funny how Pavlovian instincts hooked Angela’s name to the stress of an adrenaline rush.

He maneuvered in and out of DC traffic, letting his mind spiral through what he would say to Charlotte. He’d spoken with her supervisor and verified that she was at her desk. Now all he had to do was get there and not arouse suspicion before he secured concrete evidence of Gordon’s whereabouts. Surely she’d make a slip like she’d done with Clint a few weeks ago. Then they’d find Landridge. Make an arrest. And put this case far behind them.

Rush-hour gridlock forced the other mental balls he was juggling to the forefront, stealing his focus. Gracie’s obvious disinterest still stung. And he could do without her bothersome boss. Something about the vice principal nagged at his conscience.

Just like Gracie’s smile refused to disappear from his dreams.

Then there were his father’s words about the whole fiasco with Angela at the park. His dad had only meant to help by directing her to Chinquapin. Like Clint, he had wanted Steven to work things out with Angela, for James’s sake. Dad sure had
to be disappointed with Saturday’s fallout and the problems that had started over a decade ago with the proposal.

All his father’s logic hadn’t swayed Steven. Angela wasn’t a Christian. Right after college wasn’t the ideal time for marriage. Not even his dad’s insistence that things weren’t what they appeared had altered Steven’s course.

It hit him now with perfect clarity Dad had been right. About all of it. And Steven had paid the price ever since for ignoring him.