by K. T. Lee
Ree placed her earbuds in her ears and selected a playlist on her phone before retrieving the thick pad of graph paper from the corner of her desk. The cheerful, fast beat of her favorite song served as the perfect complement to the calculations that needed to be finished by the end of the week. Bobbing her head as she worked, she pulled open her desk drawer to pluck out the pencil and ruler that were stored next to her “break in case of emergency” chocolate and high-powered calculator.
Holding the ruler steady, Ree drew crisp lines and arrows on her diagram, making sure she’d made the right assumptions before plugging the problem into her 3D stress analysis software. She nodded in satisfaction and turned to the keyboard. Her fingers danced across it, tapping to the rhythm of the music that drowned out her surroundings. Ree looked up from her computer to check her diagram and realized, too late, that she wasn’t alone. Her focus was broken by the sound of her own shriek.
When she realized that the cause of her alarm was waving a piece of paper and not trying to kill her, Ree slapped a hand to her mouth and felt her cheeks flush. Grinning, the man said, “Dr. Ryland? I’m sorry to sneak up on you...but do you have a moment?”
Ree’s heart pounded as she rummaged through her mental file to work out who was standing in front of her. While students were most often the people that visited her office at odd hours, the man in front of her wore dress pants and a polo instead of the typical uniform of a sweatshirt and jeans. He was tall and youngish, with short, dark blond hair, but looked too old to be one of her students. His eyes darted around her office, which meant that either she had scared him or he was in a hurry. Ree tried to remember if there had been any gossip about new professors starting this week but came up empty. Powers of deduction at a loss, she gathered up her dignity, smiled pleasantly and confirmed, “That’s me. What can I help you with?”
Parker returned a smile to Dr. Ryland with practiced ease. She wore simple but trendy clothes, had an athletic build, and her brown hair was pulled back into a neat twist. At 32, he couldn’t count on his looks to fool the professor into thinking he was an undergraduate student and had planned accordingly. Parker was playing the part of a college student interested starting a new career after spending several years working as an electrician. This alias was easier than most. Parker worked as an intern for an electrical contractor for a summer in college and had graduated with an engineering degree before getting recruited into the FBI. That the FBI recruited engineers wasn’t a secret, but it also wasn’t widely known, which would come in handy when he tried to convince the young professor that he was just another student.
Parker placed the form on her meticulously organized desk and explained, “I’m Parker Landon, and I was wondering if it wouldn’t be too much trouble to transfer to your section. I’m completing most of my school work after my day job and your 6 p.m. section would really help me out. But, your class is already full and I have to get your permission to attend. Can you sign off on an extra student? I promise not to be too much trouble.”
When the professor stared past him instead of answering the question, Parker tapped a finger on the paper, keeping his face even as he watched for signs that she had somehow seen through his façade. While unlikely, the possibility was ever-present in his line of work, and he forced himself to appear relaxed as he waited for her response.
Ree envisioned her classroom and the students in it to determine if she could take on an additional student. She should try and help him –working full time and taking courses was hard enough, and coming into the university in the middle of the work day was a major inconvenience. She mentally reconciled the number of empty seats against her enrollment estimates and looked into the air past him, biting her lip and tapping her pencil against the desk. They were only a week into the semester and she had a few no-shows after the first class, a fact which both concerned and annoyed her since hers was a specialty, and her classes were nearly always full. Realizing her train of thought had run on for nearly a minute, she refocused her attention on the student still standing in front of her desk, watching hopefully for her response. “I’m sorry. I seem to have completely forgotten your name, but…”
“It’s Parker. No problem, Dr. Ryland.”
“Yes, Parker. You are welcome to join my class if you’ve taken the prerequisites and are a third-year mechanical, materials science, or physics major.” He nodded. Ree signed his slip, placed her earbuds back in her ears, and turned the volume down a few notches to prevent future heart attacks. She returned to her sketches and calculations before her newest student even left the room. Scrunching her nose and pulling out her big white eraser to change a detail on her diagram, she was oblivious to Parker’s scan of her desk, lab equipment and computer program. When she finally looked up from her work, he was gone.
After a few iterations of calculations, Ree’s eyes began to blur. She blinked hard and leaned back in her chair to stretch. An hour had passed, and students were starting to shuffle past her open office door. Dr. Kenneth Moran walked in and gave her a wave. While Dr. Moran’s name was on the door as the lab manager, he spent so much time traveling to conferences as a keynote speaker and working with the management at the college, Ree did most of the actual work in the automotive safety lab. However, Dr. Moran was an easy man to like when he was around. He always had a smile on his round face and loved telling stories about his grandchildren, pictures of whom formed dense wallpaper around his desk. She greeted him with a quick hello and undocked her laptop to take it to class. Her schedule this semester included a dynamics course, and she had a herd of sophomore undergraduates to teach. She would have to make time to catch up with Dr. Moran later. He was still her boss, if in name only.
Later that evening, Ree was setting up for her automotive safety engineering course when the angry growl of her stomach disrupted the silence of the empty classroom. She’d forgotten to eat. Again. She pulled a protein bar from her purse, placed her laptop on the large desk at the front of the room and plugged the cord into the projector. Leaning into the computer screen to select the correct presentation, she heard a noise in the hallway. It was likely just someone coming to class early, but her students typically arrived with just seconds to spare, not fifteen minutes.
She slowly turned around to assess the situation. Her newest student, Parker, stood just outside the door. His eyes darted to his cell phone, as if to check that he was in the right place. She gave him a wave and took a bite of her snack. Over-thinking a simple arrival time was a good reminder that if she wanted a clear head, she shouldn’t skip lunch, since there was no crime in arriving early.
Ree tried to focus on her materials but a tingling sensation crept up her neck, and she couldn’t reconcile the feeling that everything was not as it seemed. Maybe it wasn’t all in her head after all. Whatever it was, it was best to face it head on. She made eye contact with Parker as he dropped his bag on top of a desk and leveled his gaze in return. It wasn’t threatening, but there was still something different about him that she couldn’t place. Fearing that this was another case of a student trying to hit on her, Ree measured her next steps carefully. While it didn’t happen often, Ree had learned the most successful approach was to stare them down while feigning ignorance. It was a delicate balance to avoid hurting feelings without appearing as if she was flirting with a student. If she successfully navigated the minefield tonight, some chocolate and a glass of wine would be in order.
When Parker looked up from his phone into the observant and suspicious eyes of his new professor, he forced himself to appear sheepish. Clearly, she was nervous to see an unexpected guest. Interesting. Parker said, “Hi, Dr. Ryland. I know I’m early, but I was hoping you could catch me up on Monday’s material, to make sure that Dr. Knight covered the same material that you covered.”
Ree put her hand on her heart and let out a sigh. Parker looked behind him to try and decipher the cause of her alarm. His attention was drawn back to Dr. Ryland as words began to tumble out of her mou
th. “Of course, no problem. I don’t think you missed much. We really just covered the syllabus and my expectations for homework. As a third-year student, I have high expectations for the work you will accomplish. I’m counting on you to do your own research, cite your sources, and make assumptions, just like I do in my lab every day. With any luck, you’ll fall in love with the subject, just like I have. In some cases, my work has been used to demonstrate that a client is injured and not faking pain. In other cases, by determining where forces are transmitted to passengers of a vehicle, large automotive manufacturers have been able to design better crash protection systems. I think this is a subject worth getting passionate about, and I therefore expect the best from my students. Do you have any questions?”
Parker wasn’t expecting a follow-up question, but Dr. Ryland was looking at him expectantly, poise regained and eyebrows raised. He improvised the second question that came to mind, since he couldn’t exactly ask if she was committing felonies on a regular basis. “So, with all of your experience, are you planning on writing a textbook or anything?”
Dr. Ryland paused for a moment, and then replied, “Right now, I’m focusing on my work and my lecture materials. If anyone ever thinks I’m smart enough to write a book, they know where to find me.”
Okay, so she had a little spunk. While that fit the profile of their suspect, Parker didn’t get any negativity from her, just a healthy dose of the self-deprecating humor that he’d seen in his good friends in college. Too bad she could be smuggling weapons in her free time, instead of writing that textbook.
Parker nodded at the professor and settled into his desk. He pulled out a pen and a notebook and prepared to make some professional observations of her character without any more small talk. He had a sneaking suspicion she was clever enough to realize when she was being bullshitted, and even with a solid cover, he didn’t want to get too friendly and take chances. Dr. Ryland was clearly capable of pulling off the crime, but then again, so were a number of her colleagues. However, the packages had been addressed to her lab, and every time they were delivered, her boss was conveniently out of town. Dedicated surveillance would be the best way to determine if she was a suspect or an innocent civilian lucky enough to have the FBI watching her back.
Three
“Okay, Parker, what do you think?” Mike Moretti, Parker’s longtime friend, poker buddy, and partner asked, as he made himself comfortable in the faded green chair next to Parker’s desk. The two agents worked out of the FBI’s Chicago field office and, like every other government building in the country, it was filled with utilitarian furniture. Mike had been conducting surveillance at Indiana Polytechnic for a few days, but Parker was the one who had face-to-face interactions with their suspect. Mike’s carefully cultivated air of carelessness served him well in the field, but didn’t fool his friend, who knew Mike was eager to get right to business.
Parker said, “First impressions? She’s a young, eager academic who has no idea what is going on. Second impression? Being a young, eager academic is a great cover for someone trying to smuggle weapons to earn a little extra cash. She’s smart, driven, and a little jumpy. I have hard time believing this could be going on right under her nose without her having a whiff of it. Background check turned up a concealed carry permit and third degree black belt in karate.”
“Hardly a crime, but she’s awfully prepared for one.”
“Exactly. The thing of it is though, her record is squeaky clean. She shows up at work the same time every day, she gave me a long speech about why she cares about what she does, makes sure her students understand the material, packs up after her last class and goes home. I haven’t caught her doing anything wrong, but I’ve been at this too long to believe it’s that simple.”
“Anything else show up in the background check? Grudges? Homicidal tendencies? Gambling problem?” Mike and Parker had worked together for years, and when they were talking shop, neither saw a point to sugarcoating the realities of the people they investigated. They both figured it took less time to get to the answer that way, and most of the time they were able to rein in their bluntness around anyone who wasn’t an agent or a cop. Mike had been fortunate enough to marry a profiler from the FBI who found his honesty endearing. As a result, his brain-to-mouth filter was now nearly nonexistent from lack of practice.
Parker shook his head. “Nothing. No personality traits that scream sociopath, terrorist, or drug addict. Nah, if she’s doing it, it’s got to be for the money. But she lives in a modest house, drives a modest car, walks almost everywhere. Works all the time, seems to get along with people okay.”
“So, she makes decent money, and she doesn’t seem the type, but our intel says she’s still getting missile guidance system components shipped to her office when her boss isn’t around. That doesn’t exactly help us. Guess we need more information?”
“Yeah. Unfortunately, we need to do a little digging, see if we can find evidence or motive. I already filled out the paperwork to search her office and want you to come with me when we go. It’ll take a couple of days to go through, but that’ll give us some more time to see if she’s up to anything.” Parker slid a piece of paper across the desk to his partner. Paperwork or not, they weren’t planning to get caught. Nothing would save them from the ridicule from their fellow agents if they got busted by an academic. Even if they could talk their way out of it, they’d never live it down at the Bureau. Per protocol, they treated her as armed and dangerous, even though Parker hadn’t seen Dr. Ryland armed with anything other than the barely-drinkable beverage they called coffee from the student lounge.
Before the week was over, two FBI agents wearing Indiana Polytechnic sweatshirts and carrying shoulder bags arrived at the mechanical engineering building at 8:55 a.m., just before Dr. Ryland’s first class. If their intel was accurate, her colleague had left for a conference the previous day, and Dr. Ryland’s shared office would be empty inside of five minutes. While Mike and Parker preferred to perform the search at night, when the risk of being caught was lower, Dr. Ryland wouldn’t be careless enough to leave anything important behind in the evenings. Since Enterprise, Indiana, wasn’t usually the epicenter of FBI investigations, this part should be straightforward. Still, Parker had been in the business long enough to know that things often went sideways when you least expected it, and saying anything was “straightforward” was one of the best ways to invite disaster onto your investigation.
Parker and Mike both wore earpieces so they could talk freely without too much notice, even though Dr. Ryland’s office wasn’t on a busy floor. There was no sense in being careless just because there weren’t many people around. Mike edged into the lead position as the two men changed their respective paces to put some distance between them. When Parker caught up to his partner, Mike had positioned his back in a corner. This spot would give him visibility down both hallways that led to the automotive safety lab and his phone would stream the surveillance feed from adjacent hallways. Parker would depend on Mike for defense, and a camera embedded in Parker’s glasses would collect evidence without him needing to extract anything physical during his search. It was as good as it was going to get, considering they were conducting a covert search on a busy campus in broad daylight.
When Parker reached Dr. Ryland’s office, he eased the door shut behind him and began to work. Given the time constraints, he kept his search localized to the office space.
Mike waited a few minutes before giving in to his curiosity; impressive, considering Mike didn’t have a lot of patience and was used to watching a live feed. “Finding anything, buddy?”
“Nothing yet,” Parker said, as he flipped through the files in Dr. Ryland’s desk drawer. Fortunately, the weather was cool, and it looked as if Parker just hadn’t removed his leather gloves upon coming inside, rather than his more calculated motivation of ensuring he wouldn’t leave fingerprints behind. The lab was lined with windows to the hallway, but there was a door separating the lab and the o
ffice. He had closed it upon his arrival to minimize exposure, noting the position so he could open it back up again before he left. Parker lifted stacks of papers on her desk and flipped through them. He took a few minutes to read the contents of the papers but didn’t find anything outside of a lot of calculations and diagrams. He carefully arranged them back into the neat, color-coded pile he had found them in. It took a few extra moments, but his attention to detail would ensure he left no evidence of his visit. He pulled out his lock picks and went to work on the only locked desk drawer, briefly glancing at the clock to note the time he had left. The simple lock clicked open and he began to examine the contents of the drawer.
“Shit.” Parker’s body tensed. While he had been reminding his brain that she might be guilty, his gut thought they were chasing the wrong lead. However, he had misjudged the seemingly good-natured Dr. Ryland. “Mikey, she brings the gun to work.” Parker carefully lifted a gun with the muzzle pointing at the floor from Dr. Ryland’s handbag so Mike could see it on video later as adrenaline seeped through his system.
“What is it?”
“Small Glock with a trigger lock.”
“A criminal that locks up her piece out of her possession near the scene of the crime? Too easy, Parker. Keep looking.” Since Mikey was occasionally right, Parker bit his tongue instead of telling his partner that not all criminals were masterminds, and sometimes evidence was easy to find. Parker placed his hand back inside the bag, and his shoulders relaxed a fraction as his mood flipped from angry to amused.
“I just found her concealed carry permit. It matches her purse. Did you know you could buy a purse with a gun pocket and matching concealed carry case?” Parker quipped. Dr. Ryland wasn’t off the hook, but in his years at the Bureau, he hadn’t found a lot of hardened criminals who kept the appropriate paperwork in a stylish case next to a secured weapon. He placed the weapon and paperwork back into the handbag and fiddled with the inexpensive drawer lock until it clicked back into position. Checking his watch, Parker quickly mounted a small surveillance camera in the vent over Dr. Ryland’s desk.