Page 134 of Kingmakers, Year Two

“No,” I say. “I was very happy with our arrangement. Rocco hadn’t said a word to Zoe or me. I trusted that he intended to abide by the agreement.”

Not entirely true . . . I wouldn’t trust Rocco to lick a stamp for me, but I don’t need to get into that with Dieter Prince.

“I assume the Chancellor told you I was in full view of the entire school at the time of the incident.”

“That was his impression,” Prince admits, stiffly.

“That’s a fact,” I repeat. “I’ve got hundreds of witnesses.”

“You could have hired someone to do it.”

“Who?” I’m almost laughing. “The whole schoolwas there.”

Dieter is silent for a minute, considering.

I notice that he hasn’t rushed to Kingmakers to retrieve his son’s body.

And the money’s still piling up in the joint account. He’s just about to receive his first infusion of American dollars from the Malina. He wants it. I know he does.

“So our arrangement continues as agreed?” He says, after a long pause.

“I certainly hope so.”

“So be it,” he says briskly, ending the call.

Zoe’sin a daze the week after Rocco’s death.

I know she’s deeply relieved. But at the same time, she seems unable to celebrate.

“I just can’t believe it,” she says, shaking her head. “I almost wish I’d seen the body. It seems impossible . . .”

“He’s definitely dead,” I assure her. “The Chancellor wouldn’t be giving me so much shit otherwise.”

“Fuck Rocco, I’m thrilled,” Chay says ferociously, spearing a fried potato with her fork as we sit eating breakfast in the dining hall. “Wish we had time to throw a party to celebrate before school lets out.”

Cat is quiet, picking at her food.

“You gonna come to Chicago with us?” I ask her.

She hesitates. “Oh . . . I don’t know. I’m sure you two would rather be alone . . .”

“No we wouldn’t,” I say. “Zoe needs company so she’s not too scared to meet my family. They’re pretty intense, I’m not gonna lie—but they’re going to love you girls. I’ll warn you, Caleb will hit on you, he won’t be able to help himself.”

Cat blushes, squirming in her seat.

Zoe smiles at me encouragingly. I know she really wants Cat to come.

“We can go see a Cubs game . . . and there’s this bakery with a purple coconut cake . . .”

“I like coconut,” Cat says, perking up a little.

Cat has seemed even more shaken by Rocco’s death than Zoe herself.

I understand that for these girls Rocco was a boogeyman, a terror almost as powerful in his absence as in his presence. He was a huge fucking source of stress in my life, too.

But I can’t help thinking . . .

Only a very few people were out of my sight when Rocco was killed.

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