Page 51 of Spies Like Us

I move silently down the stairs to my room, where I open the door and step inside. Jessica is snoring like a grizzly bear in hibernation.

I’m not sure what’s worse, flirty, playful Miller or distrustful, aggressive Miller, and why the sudden change of heart? Not that I’m really complaining. He is damn delicious, but we are going to have to talk about this one eighty of his. Not tonight though. Tonight, I’m going to enjoy the cease-fire, because tomorrow may see the return of the asshole.

The next couple of days are quiet. I go to school, come home, and do my homework. I don’t have to work at the Life Lounge again until Thursday night. The school is abuzz with the gossip of Bishop’s body being discovered at the hot springs. Rumors circulate, each one more dramatic than the last, about what happened to him, but no one seems particularly distraught.

I was invited to the movies with the others on Monday night. They wanted to check out the entry to the sex club, but Martha flat-out refused to give permission. Both Miller and I had to stay home, and the guys went on their own. They were able to confirm the elevator inside the movie theater has a card access only basement. They didn’t use it because there were too many people around.

Tuesday night, I get a call from Dayton asking if I want to go on a date with him on Wednesday. Holy crap, another date with the delightfully decadent Dayton? Hell yes! I quickly respond that I’d love to, but I need to figure out an excuse for Martha. Work won’t cut it because she could ask Matthew, but I tell him I’ll figure something out.

On Wednesday afternoon, I get called out of my PE class to see the guidance counselor again. Unfortunately, we aren’t running the cross-country track, so I have no excuse not to go see him.

I don’t bother changing out of my uniform, since it’s my last class of the day, and I grab my things and hurry toward Mr. Marshall’s office. When I arrive, I’m surprised to see that not only is he there, but so are Martha and Mr. Turner. Max leans against the wall, his arms crossed as I take a seat next to Martha.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, looking between Martha and the counselor.

“Yes, of course it is. We have some amazing news for you, Mackenzie,” Martha gushes as Brock holds up a letter.

“Oh?” I ask. I know where this is going, but I need to show confusion.

“The school received an invitation for you to visit a most prestigious college in upstate New York. MITHOS College has scholarships set aside for underprivileged students, and somehow, you have made it onto the list of possible candidates.” Mr. Marshall sounds somewhat bemused. “Apparently your class scores in your previous school were excellent, and they tracked you down when the offer was sent there, and they told them you moved.”

“This is so exciting,” Martha squeals and gives my hand a squeeze. “I knew you had potential.”

“MITHOS College? I’ve never heard of it before,” I say, sounding surprised. I thought they would send an offer to some mainstream school. I guess it’s a good reason to send the jet.

“It’s a privately funded institution that advocates for education in the underprivileged. Of course, they have their more mainstream admissions as well—how else would they fund scholarships—but they are heavily into advocating for change. A good education is the way to break the poverty cycle.” Mr. Marshall hands over the brochure my father created for recruitment. Potential agents are heavily investigated before they are offered a spot. How else is he going to keep a top-secret spy academy top secret? If he invited too many people who said no, then word would spread.

“And they are interested in me?” I sound as skeptical as Brock looks while I look over the brochure.

“And why wouldn’t they be, Ms. Walsh? You’re an intelligent and resourceful young woman. You would be an asset to their program,” Mr. Turner rumbles from his spot on the wall.

“They are sending you a private jet so you can visit and take a tour of the facilities next week,” Martha tells me, beaming with pride like she was the one who achieved this. “Oh, if only they had that kind of opportunity when I was young. I would have jumped at a chance to attend a school like that!”

“Yes, but everything worked out for you in the end, Martha. You’re running the house you used to live in now, and you’re a damn sight kinder than the old dragon lady who was in charge when you, Melissa, Lisa, and June were residents,” Brock tells Martha condescendingly. “All four of you made advantageous marriages, and now you are pillars of society.”

Martha’s eyes narrow ever so slightly as I process what Brock just said.

Holy fuck, it’s all I can do to keep my mouth from dropping open. Martha was a foster kid. Not just Martha, but her sister-in-law, and the wives of the pastor and chief of police as well. That seems like too much of a coincidence.

Chapter 23

“You lived at Serenity House?” I ask her, and she nods, her jaw tight.

“Yes, I did, then I got into a good college and moved away for a little while to better myself. James and I were high school sweethearts. We had a long-distance relationship all through college as well.”

I wonder how often he cheated on her during that time.

“Didn’t your foster daddy go to jail for touching one of the kids once you left?” Brock asks, making Martha even more tense. I stay quiet because this is interesting information. “And then he was shanked in jail?”

“I think I heard that,” she replies primly.

“So how did you come to run the place?” Max asks quickly before she clams up completely. “You’ve been so successful with so many children. You are a fine example of what someone can achieve,” he adds in a hurry, and it seems to work. She relaxes and preens at his praise.

“Well, James asked me to marry him, and we moved back here. I was working at the hospital. I’m trained as a nurse, you see, but when my foster mother died suddenly, and there was a space open, I knew it was meant to be. I can’t have children, and I thought this was God’s way of giving me children, so I gave up nursing and have been running the house ever since.”

“That’s right. You were Dr. Molloy’s scrub nurse for a while before he had his medical license revoked for his alcohol problem. I had forgotten that.” Brock leans back in his chair and turns to me. “See, you have the chance of becoming so much more than you are now.” I can hear the underlining words. Instead of a hooker, I could be a nurse.

“So I can go?” I ask Martha, and she nods.

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