Labyrinth of Lies Read online

  “I’m the only person.”

  “You’re also the right person. We want someone on this who will dig deep and ferret out the truth, and—pardon the cliché—you’re like a dog with a bone when you’re on a case.”

  “I appreciate the compliment if not the analogy.” She gathered up the files.

  “There is a bright side to this, you know. Going undercover at a cushy girls’ school will be a cakewalk compared to the trafficking gig.”

  “That depends on what I find.”

  “If there’s anything to be found. Our team on the street may end up solving this before you do.”

  “Hold that thought.” She transferred the files to the crook of her arm and stood. “I’ll let you know if I have any questions after I get up to speed on all this. Any special instructions?”

  “Just keep your ear to the ground—and keep this gig under wraps. We’re sharing details on a need-to-know basis. The fewer fingers in this, the less risk of leaks.” His phone began to ring, and he picked it up. “And do something fun this weekend.”

  “Already on the books.”

  Thank goodness.

  Maybe the relaxing get-together she’d planned with her two sisters would help her shake the sense of foreboding—and dread—seeping into her pores, so pervasive it seemed almost like a premonition . . . or warning.

  Which was ridiculous.

  Huffing out a breath, she shifted the weight of the files in her arm and left Sarge’s office.

  Her nerves were kicking in, that was all. Being a bit spooked was normal in light of her aversion to the mere thought of plunging back into undercover mode.

  Yet a caution sign continued to strobe in her mind—as if warning her to beware of sinister secrets lurking in the shadows at the exclusive school slated to become her temporary home.

  She shook off a shudder as she entered the office she shared with a fellow detective. Dropped the files onto her desk with a thud.

  Too bad she couldn’t toss off this assignment as easily.

  But she’d agreed to take it on, and backing out wasn’t an option. If that young woman had, indeed, gone missing—and the school had played a role in her disappearance—someone posing as a student would be in an ideal position to find the truth.

  As for the unnerving vibes coursing through her?

  She’d control them as best she could . . . but she’d also listen to her gut.

  So just in case the challenges waiting for her ended up being far more formidable than simply convincing everyone she was seventeen, she’d go into this assignment on high alert . . . and she wouldn’t let her guard down until she left Ivy Hill—and her student persona—behind forever.

  2

  THAT WRAPS UP THE TOUR.” Richard Tucker opened the door that led from the school’s main corridor to the Ivy Hill administrative offices. “I’m sorry more staff members weren’t around for you to meet, but this place is a ghost town over Christmas break.”

  “Understandable.” Zeke Sloan followed the president into the office suite, giving it another discreet perusal. The place was functional, but the original artwork, mahogany furniture, and custom rugs on the polished hardwood floor spoke of a solid financial base.

  Not a luxury many private schools had these days.

  “I’ll introduce you to the rest of the faculty at our staff meeting next Friday and—” A door to the right opened, and Richard swung toward it. “Will! I thought you’d left for the day.”

  A uniformed, fiftyish balding man who could use a few extra trips to the gym paused. “I decided to make one more circuit.”

  Richard smiled. “I’ve been raving to our new Spanish teacher here about the dedication of our faculty and staff. Thank you for giving witness to that. Zeke, meet Will Fischer, Ivy Hill’s director of security. Will, this is Zeke Martinez, who’ll be filling in for Teresa while she recovers.”

  Zeke took the hand the other man extended as Richard introduced him with his new name, returning the security chief’s lukewarm squeeze as they exchanged conventional pleasantries.

  “How’s Teresa doing?” Will directed the question to Richard.

  “The infection is finally under control, but it set her rehab back by weeks.” Richard shook his head. “A car accident, broken bones, surgery, and then an infection. Not her best Christmas. We’re lucky to have found someone with Zeke’s credentials on such short notice.”

  Not to mention his pedigree—essential for a school like this.

  Richard was too discreet to put that into words, but they both knew Zeke had been a perfect fit on many levels for the position.

  “I consider myself the fortunate one.” Zeke slipped his hands into the Brioni trousers that spelled class—and breeding.

  For all he knew, his clothes alone had landed him this job.

  But his credentials were also impeccable.

  At this stage, though, whatever qualification—or combination of qualifications—had secured the position was irrelevant.

  He was in.

  That was all that mattered.

  “How did you hear about the job, anyway?” Will squinted at him, a hint of wariness in his demeanor.

  Hmm.

  Perhaps not everyone was as convinced as the school president that the new Spanish teacher was here through a lucky coincidence—nor as happy about his presence.

  Then again, security types tended to be suspicious.

  “A combination of circumstances and connections.” He maintained an easy, conversational tone. “My mother has a friend in St. Louis who knows the injured teacher, and she mentioned the accident—and Ivy Hill—to her in a phone conversation a couple of weeks ago while I was visiting. It seemed like a good fit during my own recovery from a messy Jeep crash.”

  “You’re not from this area?”

  “No. Nor from the States these days. I grew up in Denver, but my father returned to Spain after my parents divorced. I joined his extreme adventure firm nine years ago—but the accident has temporarily sidelined me.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “Taking people kayaking or hang gliding is a far cry from teaching.”

  “My undergraduate degree is in secondary education. I taught for a few years in Spain at a private boys’ school before joining my father’s firm. It will be a pleasant change of pace to return to my roots for a few weeks—or however long Ivy Hill requires my services.”

  Richard flashed him a silent apology. “I’ve thoroughly vetted Zeke’s credentials, Will, and the board is delighted he accepted the interim position. Finding a qualified Spanish teacher on such short notice was a godsend.”

  “Sorry.” A faint flush tinted the other man’s cheeks. “I didn’t mean to overstep or give offense.”

  “None taken.” Zeke called up another smile. “I think it’s admirable for staff members to be concerned about the quality of the faculty.” He checked his watch. “Richard, if we’re finished for the day, I do have an engagement this evening.”

  “Of course. This is still the holiday season, after all. Let me show you out.” He retrieved Zeke’s Brooks Brothers wool topcoat from a rack near the door. “Will, are you staying for a while?”

  “No. I’m almost finished with my circuit.”

  “I’ll swing by before I go to turn off lights.”

  “Okay. Welcome to Ivy Hill, Zeke.” With a clipped nod, the security director exited into the main hall, closing the door behind him.

  Richard waited while Zeke slid his arms into the coat and retrieved the folder of information the man had passed on earlier. “Will’s a bit on the worrywart side, with a tendency to be overly suspicious—but those are admirable qualities for a director of security. And he’s also been a little high-strung since he separated from his wife a few months back. I hope you’ll cut him some slack.”

  “No worries.” Zeke followed the president into the corridor and toward the main door. “I doubt our paths will cross much.”

  “True. Have you found a place to live yet?”


  “Yes. A corporate housing firm arranged a short-term lease for me on a condo at the western end of Chesterfield.”

  “Perfect. That won’t be a long commute.” Richard pushed open the main door. “Enjoy your evening, and I’ll see you here next Friday at the staff meeting.”

  “In the meantime, my work is cut out for me—bone up on lesson plans and school information.” He lifted the bulging folder.

  “I suspect you’ll be a fast study.”

  Yeah, he would—in terms of staff and faculty backgrounds. He was already fully briefed on the players.

  The lesson plans, however, would require total focus for the next week or he was going to tank at this job.

  And after all the work that had gone into securing this position, he wasn’t going to flunk out before he’d gotten what he’d come for.

  “What do you mean, you’re going back undercover?” Eve froze, mug of coffee poised an inch from her lips.

  Ignoring her, Cate picked up another piece of the world-class baklava her youngest sibling had brought to the Reilly sisters’ gathering and meticulously gathered up the crumbs. “This is spectacular as usual, Grace. I wish you made it more than once a year.”

  “It’s too time-consuming—and don’t change the subject. I thought you said never again?” Grace set her fork down beside her plate, the moussaka Eve had contributed forgotten.

  “It was a special circumstance.”

  “What does that mean?” Eve shifted the mug away from her mouth and leaned forward.

  “Down, girl. This is not a media interview.” Cate tried for a teasing tone. “And before you jump in”—she turned to Grace—“save that forensic pathologist curiosity of yours for people who can’t talk back. I’m not at liberty to discuss the case. I only told you about it to keep you from worrying when I don’t respond to your calls and texts.”

  Eve and Grace exchanged glances.

  “I don’t like this.” Eve took a sip of coffee and skewered her with one of the probing, razor-sharp looks she usually reserved for unsuspecting guests on her drive-time talk radio show. “Did they strong-arm you into this?”

  Sort of.

  But she was the logical choice for the job.

  “The term strong-arming may be too . . . strong.” She shrugged, as if the assignment was no big deal. “I fit the criteria for this particular investigation.”

  “Do you want to do this?” Grace joined the inquisition.

  “I want lawbreakers to pay for their crimes. If going undercover is what it takes to get justice in this case—so be it.”

  Her conviction sounded so convincing she almost fooled herself into believing she was fine with her decision.

  Almost.

  Her sisters, however, seemed to buy her assurance.

  “How long is this going to last?” Grace jabbed her fork into the last bite of her cooling moussaka.

  “As long as it takes.”

  “Will you be here for my birthday next month? The big three-oh only comes around once.”

  “And we can’t celebrate properly without you,” Eve added.

  “I’ll do my best. You know I try to make every family gathering.”

  But her sisters weren’t concerned about her missing the landmark birthday.

  They were concerned about her.

  Her vision blurred, and she swallowed past the lump that formed in her throat.

  What would she do without Eve and Grace? With Mom gone all these years, and Dad doing a stint as a visiting professor at Cambridge, the three of them were tighter than ever. Siblings, yes, but also best friends.

  So of course they’d worry about their big sister—especially after her negative comments about her previous undercover assignment.

  Yet much as she dreaded this job, she could handle it. While the trafficking case had soured her on undercover work, it had also boosted her confidence that she had the acting chops to handle whatever was thrown at her.

  And she had to convince her sisters of that. Vanquish the sudden pall that had fallen over their holiday get-together.

  “Hey.” She waited until she had their full attention. “Stop worrying. I have the skills for the job, and the environment is much nicer than my previous gig. You could almost say cushy. I’ll be fine. And I’ll be back in the ranks of regular detectives very soon.”

  “Until the next undercover job comes along.” Eve wrapped her fingers around her mug, mouth flat.

  “Sarge knows this is a one-off.”

  “You said that after the last undercover job.”

  “This time I mean it. I was very clear about that. The stars just aligned for this one in a way that made me the right person to handle it. If I said no, there’s a reasonable possibility the truth would never be found—and that doesn’t sit well with the truth-seeking gene we all share. Look at the careers we chose.”

  “At least my clients don’t carry guns or knives or other lethal weapons.” Grace skewered a piece of baklava and transferred it to her plate.

  “Of course not. They’re dead.” Eve shuddered. “I couldn’t do what you do every day if they paid me a million bucks a year.”

  “I wish it was that lucrative.”

  “It should be. There isn’t enough money in the world to compensate people who are willing to cut up dead bodies.”

  “I don’t do it for the money.”

  “Lucky thing. And as for Cate”—Eve pointed to her—“they don’t pay her enough either to hang out with the dregs of society.”

  “I’ll pass that on to Sarge.” Cate took a swig of her Diet Sprite. “You guys up for a game of Scrabble?” If a cutthroat round of their favorite board game didn’t distract her sisters, nothing would.

  “I’m in.” Grace washed down a bite of baklava with the last of the high-end mango iced tea she favored.

  “Me too.” Eve gathered up their empty plates and stood. “You want these in the dishwasher?”

  “Yeah. Thanks. I’ll go get the game.” Cate rose and headed for the hall.

  “Wait. When does this undercover job start?”

  At Grace’s question, Cate pivoted. Over the counter that separated the small kitchen from the eating area, Eve had angled toward her to hear the answer too.

  “Next Friday.”

  “You’re coming over on New Year’s Eve, aren’t you?” Eve propped a shoulder against the wall, the determined set of her jaw brooking no argument.

  “I don’t know. I feel funny about barging in on a newly engaged couple.”

  “The Reillys always get together on New Year’s Eve.”

  “Things change—as that four-day-old ring on your finger demonstrates.”

  Eve lifted her left hand, lips curving as she examined the sparkling solitaire. “Some change is positive.” She lowered her hand, smile vanishing. “But it doesn’t have to alter a family tradition. What excuse will you use next year? That we’re newlyweds, and you don’t want to barge in then either?”

  “You’re getting married in May. You won’t be newlyweds next New Year’s Eve.”

  “Actually . . . according to everything I’ve read on the internet, a husband and wife are considered newlyweds for one year after their marriage,” Grace offered.

  “You read about wedding stuff online?” Cate stared at her.

  “I can hope, can’t I? Don’t you want to find a hot guy like Eve did and be blissfully happy? Have a real home with a yard and porch swing instead of this one-bedroom, bare-bones apartment?”

  “For as much time as I spend here, this place suffices. And I can be blissfully happy without a hot guy. You can too.”

  “True—but maybe I can be even happier with one.”

  “You should go read a few books about female empowerment.”

  “Hey—I’m empowered. How many women cut up dead bodies for a living, as our middle sibling so elegantly put it?”

  Eve wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure that’s empowerment. It’s kind of ghoulish if you ask me.”
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  “I’m blazing a trail. That’s empowerment.” Grace stuck out her tongue at Eve.

  “Whatever.” Eve waved a dismissive hand at their youngest sister. “Back to the subject at hand. You’re both coming for dinner, right?”

  “I am.” Grace brushed a few crumbs from the table into a neat pile.

  “Are you certain Brent is on board with the plan?” Cate crossed her arms. “I mean, he’s a great guy and all, but I bet he’d rather have you to himself on New Year’s Eve.”

  “He’s fine with the plan. Better than fine, to tell you the truth. He hasn’t had many family traditions in his life, so he’s looking forward to being part of one—and I have the document to prove it.” She pulled a folded sheet of paper from the pocket of her jeans and passed it across the counter to Grace with a smug look.

  Grace gave it a quick scan, grinned, and held it out.

  Cate returned to the table, took the paper, and read the handwritten message.

  Cate and Grace—

  Eve tells me you’re concerned about intruding on our New Year’s Eve celebration. Don’t be. I’m all for family gatherings. And remember—Eve and I will have the whole next day all to ourselves to welcome the new year privately.

  Brent

  “Satisfied?” Eve smirked at her.

  Leave it to the host of a controversial radio show to anticipate and prepare for every counterargument—and secure documented proof for her position.

  “Fine. I’ll come.” She handed the paper back to her sister.

  Eve slid the note in her pocket. “So how are we supposed to keep in touch with you while you’re on this undercover job?”

  They were back to that.

  “I’ll have a handler again. As soon as I get contact information, I’ll pass it on. And FYI, my gig is being shared on a strict need-to-know basis, so keep it under wraps.”

  Eve picked up the dishcloth and swiped the counter. “Is Brent in the loop?”

  Logical question, since he was also a County detective.