Page 38 of The Ruling Class

The agent glanced from me to the street. He watched Asher pull away from the curb and tracked his progress until the car disappeared. I was about to reiterate the fact that Iresided in this housewhen the front door opened.Bodie. He walked out and whispered something into the Secret Service agent’s ear, letting the door close behind him as he did.

“Tess,” Bodie said, turning his attention to me. “Meet Damien Kostas. Kostas, this is Ivy’s sister, Tess.”

The Secret Service agent made no move to allow me into the house. I was about to suggest that he ask the First Lady ifshethought I was a threat when Ivy’s front door opened again. Another agent stepped outside.

Behind the agent was the president of the United States.

Not the First Lady, I thought, my brain scrambling to catch up as President Nolan glanced over at Bodie and the Secret Service agents before his gaze settled on me.

Ivy stepped up beside him, her eyes locking onto me. “You’re home,” she said.

“By some definitions,” I replied, trying not to stare at the president.

The leader of the free world offered me a smile. “Tess,” he said. “Short forTheresa, isn’t it?”

I managed to nod but couldn’t summon up a verbal reply.

“It’s nice to meet you, Theresa.” President Nolan was in his late sixties. He had an easy smile and—unlike his wife—noteven a hint of an accent. “I’ve heard a lot about you—a bit from Ivy, but mostly from Georgia. She said something about a dinner?” The president gave me another trademark smile. “My wife has an uncanny knack for getting her way,” he said. He eyed Ivy. “Something she and your sister have in common.”

“Mr. President,” one of the Secret Service agents prompted, glancing down at his watch.

The president nodded. “No rest for the weary,” he told me before turning back to Ivy. “You’ll do some digging?”

Ivy worded her response carefully. “I doubt I’ll come up with anything your people missed.”

The president wasn’t dissuaded. “You’re resourceful. If there’s a skeleton in his closet, I want to know.”

Whose closet?I wondered. I flashed to the First Lady saying that Justice Marquette’s death wasan opportunity, tragic though it may be. Was the president already working on digging up information on possible replacements?

“If there are skeletons,” Ivy said coolly, “will I be burying them or exposing them?”

This time, Peter Nolan gaveherhis most presidential smile. “Let me have a chat with the party leadership,” he said, “and then I’ll let you know.”

And just like that, the president was gone.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take Ivy long to turn the full strength of her attention on me. “You want to tell me why you skipped your afternoon classes?” She crossed one arm over the other and tapped the tips of her fingers against her elbow, one by one. “Or where you went?”

I went to see a girl who thinks her father murdered Justice Marquette, I thought. Out loud, I opted for: “Not really.”

Ivy pressed her lips together, like if they parted, she might say something she would regret. “You know that you can come to me, right?” she said finally. “With anything, at any time.”

Maybe I believed that, and maybe I didn’t. With Ivy, it was always the maybes that hurt me most.Vivvie asked me to keep this secret. I concentrated on that.Until she’s sure. Until we have proof.

There was no maybe about that.

“Are Supreme Court justices normally treated by the White House physician?” I asked.

Ivy blinked once, twice, three times at the change of subject. The question had caught her off guard. “No,” she said finally. “They’re not. But Theo wasn’t just a justice. He was a friend.”

Not just Ivy’s friend. Thepresident’sfriend, treated by one of the military’s most highly decorated physicians.

“Is everything okay?” Ivy asked me.

I pushed past her into the house, my heart pumping like I’d just run a marathon. “Sure,” I told her, lying through my teeth. “Everything’s fine.”

CHAPTER 24

The next day, Vivvie was back in school. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail on her head. Makeup covered the bags under her eyes. She did a fighting job of looking normal, like everything was fine.