The Fixer
Page 48“I’m fluent in all varieties of Kendrick silences,” Bodie declared. “And you and your sister both stare very intently at absolutely nothing when the wheels are turning in here.” He lazily reached over and tapped the side of my head. I swatted his hand away.
“I have a lot to think about.”
“And would some of that lot concern a certain First Lady with sweet, Southern manners and the mind of Machiavelli?”
I snorted at that description of Georgia.
“How did you guess?” I asked Bodie.
“I didn’t.” He merged onto the highway. “I caught a glimpse of Mark pulling away as I pulled in.”
“Mark?” My brow wrinkled in confusion.
“Mark Maddox,” Bodie said. “He’s one of the agents on Georgia’s detail.”
“You’re on a first-name basis with the Secret Service?”
“I make it a point to learn names. Half of the time, the Secret Service wants to be noticed. Their presence is a deterrent.”
“And the other half of the time?” I asked.
“They fade into the background. They try not to engage, not to interfere. If you’re not careful, you forget they’re there.”
“Unless you know their names,” I said.
“What was that for?” I asked disgruntledly.
“That,” he replied, “was for trying to distract me from the fact that when I asked you about Georgia, you didn’t answer.”
I was still processing my interaction with the First Lady. I wasn’t used to processing out loud. Bodie reached over and flicked my ear. Clearly, unlike Adam, he didn’t believe in driving with both hands on the wheel.
“Fine,” I said, before he could escalate further. “Yes, I’m thinking about the First Lady. She had a meeting with the headmaster today, supposedly.”
“Supposedly.” Bodie didn’t turn it into a question, but I responded like he had.
“She had me pulled out of class. Just to check on me, see how I was doing.”
“Of course,” Bodie said dryly.
“Of course.” This time, I didn’t make him press for more information. “She was fishing for details about what Ivy’s doing in Arizona.”
Bodie snorted. “I told Ivy we’d have to loop Georgia in sooner, rather than later. What did you say?”
“I told her that Ivy was just doing what the president asked—looking into Pierce’s background.” I paused. “And I asked her if her husband was really moving at an accelerated rate toward nominating Pierce.”
Bodie glanced over at me. “You saw the article in the Post?”
I nodded. “Vivvie came to school today. Her father’s funeral was this morning, and she came to school to find me, to show me the newspaper.”
“She said the source was probably some intern.”
Bodie snorted. “Doubtful.” He glanced over at me, then fixed his gaze back on the road. “There are two reasons to leak a story like that, kid.” His voice was casual, like he wasn’t imparting wisdom that neither Ivy nor Adam would have shared. “You either do it in hopes that it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, or you do it to sink the potential nominee’s chances by putting him in the spotlight too soon.”
Help Pierce get nominated, or hurt his chances.
“Did Ivy leak it?” Twenty-four hours ago, I wouldn’t have asked that question.
“This time?” Bodie asked with an arch of one brow. “No.”
This time. He wasn’t saying that Ivy wouldn’t strategically leak a story like that. He was saying that she hadn’t.
“The day we found out about Vivvie’s father, I heard William Keyes say something to Ivy.” I caught my bottom lip in my teeth. Now I really was thinking out loud. “He said that he’d taught her everything she knew.”
Once upon a time, Ivy had worked for Keyes. He’d taught her how to manipulate the system. How to make things happen.
“He could have leaked the story.” I turned that possibility over in my mind. “The First Lady said Keyes is pushing Judge Pierce for the nomination.” I could have stopped there, but I didn’t. “That photo I gave Ivy—the one that connects Vivvie’s dad and Judge Pierce—was taken at Camp David. According to the First Lady, Keyes was the one who arranged the retreat. That means Keyes brought Vivvie’s dad and Pierce together. And the night before the chief justice died, he attended a fund-raiser for the Keyes Foundation.”
Bodie drove one-handed, the other resting on his threadbare jeans. He cast a lazy glance toward me. “I seem to recall something about you staying out of this.”
“You’re the one who just told me that there are only two reasons to leak an article like that,” I said.
Bodie put his free hand back on the wheel. “I was making conversation.”
“He’s not.”
The certainty in Bodie’s voice made my stomach twist. If it’s not Keyes . . .
“The president?” I asked softly.
Bodie gave me an incredulous look. “You think the president might be behind this, so you asked Georgia about that picture and the article in the Post?”
I decided that was probably a rhetorical question.
“Keyes is in the clear,” Bodie told me. “So are both of the Nolans.”
I blinked. Twice. “The president and William Keyes were the only people in that photo who—”
Bodie didn’t let me finish. “They were the first people Ivy cleared.”
The first people Ivy cleared. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I could hear Henry: Your sister solves problems. Professionally. Whoever the other number on that phone belonged to, I’d say they have a pretty big problem right now.
“How did she clear them?” I heard myself ask.
Bodie’s answer—if he was going to answer me at all—was cut off by the sound of a siren. His eyes flicked toward the rearview mirror, and he cursed under his breath.