And Then I Found Out the Truth by Jennifer Sturman Read Free Book Online Page A

text on the billboards — just the two of us, standing there for no obvious reason. And judging by the way people had been staring before we reached 51st Street, there were similar billboards at other subway stations.
    “Yes,” said Charley, not in response to anything I’d said but as if she’d definitively resolved an internal debate. “Dieter must die. I’m not going to tell you how, because that might make you an accomplice, but rest assured it will be a slow and painful experience for him.”
    Charley had her phone out and Dieter’s number pulled up before we’d reached the station for Prescott, and she pressed SEND as soon as she had reception. Not surprisingly, his number went straight to voice mail. If Dieter had even half a brain, he’d hightail it out of the country before Charley could strangle him with his own scarf, and he’d stay away until she had an opportunity to calm down.
    I couldn’t say I was thrilled, either, though I took some comfort in the knowledge that I didn’t have to worry about what people would say at school — hardly anybody at Prescott would have seen the billboards, since doing so involved public transportation. Except for the faculty and a few kids on financial aid, the Prescott community traveled by limo, car service, or taxi.
    I only hoped the evildoers were equally subway-averse.

Seven
    Rage made Charley walk faster, which also might explain why Patience was always so speedy. We arrived at Prescott a full ten minutes before the first bell.
    Even though we were early, there were so many people out front it looked like school had already started but the building had been evacuated. Practically the entire student body and half the faculty had collected on the broad steps leading up to the main entrance, and they were all standing around in groups of two and three and four, talking intently in low voices.
    “Is something special happening today?” asked Charley, taking in the mass of people.
    “Not that I know of,” I said. It was possible there’d been an announcement of some sort, but I hadn’t been doing such a great job of paying attention lately.
    Then a silver van pulled up and double-parked on the street, fencing in the headmaster’s Volvo in its reserved spot at the curb. This was like the Prescott equivalent of aggravated assault and treason combined, so a hush fell over the crowd, but the murmur of voices resumed with even greater intensity when two guys got out of the van. They wore matching black suits and white shirts, and each carried an aluminum attaché case. Wordlessly, they marched up the steps and disappeared inside.
    “Was that the Secret Service?” asked Charley. “Is the president coming?”
    I might not have been as attentive as I should be, but I was pretty sure I’d remember if the president was visiting Prescott. “They weren’t talking into their wrists, and they didn’t have the wire thingies coming out of their collars,” I said.
    “Or the mirrored glasses,” Charley agreed, but she was disappointed. “I’ve always wanted to go out with a Secret Service agent, and they’re so hard to meet. This would have been a perfect opportunity.”
    “Now I know what you’re looking for, I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”
    “That’s sweet of you. Though eye peeling sounds disgusting so maybe you shouldn’t.”
    “I don’t think I’ll be running into many Secret Service agents anyway,” I said.
    “It’s probably better that you don’t. But if it’s not the president and that wasn’t the Secret Service, and since I don’t see any SWAT teams or bomb squads, I’m going to assume it’s nothing to worry about and track down Dieter. Unless you want me to stay until we know what’s going on, because I can if you want me to …”
    Her voice petered out. We’d both spotted Gwyneth across the street, and she was heading in our direction.
    “I’ll be fine,” I told Charley.
    “It’s not that I’m a complete coward,” she said.