That was a discussion he’d prefer not to have right now, not with more important things at stake. And truth be told, his past could be either a boon or a curse, depending on how the chief viewed government law enforcement—and Colin had met both types in local police departments.
“Sometimes the stress of the job gets the better of a man,” Colin said. How the chief reacted would let him know whether the man knew the circumstances of Colin’s departure or not. “Mistakes are made, and it’s time to start over.”
Chief Black thumped his fist on the back of a chair. “Don’t I know it, Tapping. Don’t I know it. Look, it’s good to see a government man making something of himself after, well, you know.”
Ah, so he did know after all. “Can’t sit around, don’t believe in giving in to vices. Only thing left is to move on and keep living.”
Chief Black waved at Colin to take a seat. The chief closed the door as Colin sat down, then joined them, hands folded across his knees. “Since this isn’t a social call, I’ll get to the point. Officer Carlton has kept me updated on what’s been happening up at the school. Military grenade, attempted kidnapping, possible bribery, homemade explosives and several break-and-enters. Sounds like a mess, Tapping.”
“A second letter arrived tonight at Miss Anderson’s apartment, a direct response to what transpired this afternoon. Did you take a look at the one I passed your officers earlier today?”
“I did. And you’re certain these letters are connected to the library incident and the attempted kidnapping?”
“I think that’s the best explanation we’ve got, Chief. The first letter referenced the kidnapping but neither has talked about the library, which makes me think the library incident was pre-meditated. I don’t think it was a success for whoever pulled it off, but it sounds like the kidnapping in contrast was the result of some overly enthusiastic lackeys. I know the grenade was military issue—which is the really odd factor when you consider the incendiary device tossed at us earlier was a fast home build, easily put together in minutes with the right materials. We seem to have a highly intelligent opportunist on our hands. I talked with Officer Carlton earlier, and he agrees. It’s like someone hired out a retrieval or hit contract to unvetted criminals and is calling shots on the fly.”
The chief chuckled. “It’s not like someone hiring out for this kind of work asks for a résumé.”
“You’ve got that right. Did your boys also mention the professor’s hard drive was stolen? She doesn’t have anything sensitive on it, but it’s maybe notable. The perp went for outdated storage tech and is sending paper letters. I don’t think our guy or lady likes or understands technology all that much.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time. Miss Anderson, do you know of anyone who might fit this description? Doesn’t have a full grasp on tech, likes to outsource work, tied to old ways of doing things? Too smart for their own good?”
Ginny glanced over the top of her mug, a bitter laugh on her lips. “I work in a history department of a college, sir. That description matches basically every single person I interact with daily.”
Colin cleared his throat to pull back the chief’s attention. “And the letter writer knows where Miss Anderson lives. Until this second letter we had no direct threats, but the manner in which the letter was delivered—dropped right in her apartment, with photos inside that show she was being observed today—is disturbing.”
“Agreed. I’ll send forensics over to look for prints, but I know we didn’t find anything on the first letter. We’ll check the second, too. She needs a place to stay tonight?”
“Hoping you can recommend a place, Chief.”
“Talk to Wanda at the front desk. She’ll give you the address of a place visiting officers stay. It’s just down the road. Need a detail to watch her?”
Colin raised an eyebrow, unable to pull back the immediate sarcasm in his expression. He kept his tone neutral, hoping not to offend while still getting his point across. “I’ve no doubt your officers are all fine policemen, but when it comes to experience with protection?”
The chief waved his hand and sat back in the chair. “Yes, yes. I know. Elite training for one of the highest-regarded protection organizations in the world. I have a feeling that being a civilian these days hasn’t changed much of anything for you, huh?”
The chief got it. He really got it, and that was as much of a relief as anything right now. “No, sir.”
Chief Black looked over his shoulder, then back at Colin, gaze intense. “I know you know the law, Tapping. And you’re no longer an active agent.”
“Correct.”
“But I also know you’re trained to do what’s needed. And my boys tend to be a little loose with information around you. As long as I don’t see you walking in here in cuffs...we understand each other?”
“Loud and clear, Chief.”
They both stood and shook hands again. With the chief out of the room, Colin sank into the couch next to Ginny for a brief moment of respite.
She looked bemused. “I’m not sure I followed that.”
Colin rubbed his face with his hands, relieved that the chief hadn’t tried to wrest control from him. Working together, he and the local police force would be that much more effective. So long as the Secret Service kept their end of the bargain and had his back.
“We’re going to catch the bad guy,” he said, with more confidence than he actually felt. Without enough evidence to figure out what was going on, the best strategy was to wait and see what would happen next—and hope the letter writer got impatient and tipped his hand.
The only problem with that approach was that they had no idea how it could play out. What if their opponent tipped his hand too far and harmed Ginny again in the process?
* * *
“Thanks for hanging around last night,” Ginny said, climbing into her car the following morning. Colin sat at the wheel. Since they hadn’t ventured back to her compromised apartment to retrieve Colin’s vehicle, he’d apparently spent the night in her car outside the motel door, watching over her. “Did you get any rest at all?”
“Chief Black sent a uniform to spell me for a few hours. Our cars traded places for a bit.”
Though she was still physically tired, an overnight rest had removed the fog of yesterday’s events and renewed her strength to face the day. “That’s not nearly enough. You’ll keel over by morning.”
He laughed, a happy sound on an uncertain morning. “Sleep deprivation was a regular part of being an agent. I’ve done plenty of twelve-hour overnight shifts where I’ve gone home to get rest after, only to be called back in because the president or whoever changed their plans and they needed more personnel to cover it.”
Ginny couldn’t imagine being under that kind of pressure and being sleep deprived. “That’s dedication. I find it hard enough to function on less than seven hours of solid rest. And even that needs caffeine afterward.”
He started up the car. “Then let’s find you some before we get this day under way.” Her heart skipped a beat as he glanced over and smiled at her.
Stop it. It’s nothing personal, Ginny. His actions were simply part of what he knew how to do: protect. He’s doing this to try to get his job back. It’s not about you.
Drive-through breakfast sandwiches and coffees in hand, Colin took them the rest of the way to Gwyn Ponth. He parked on a small side road, out of the way from the main parking area. “I know you have important things to do today, and I’m not going to stop you, but I’m going to do whatever I can to reduce the potential risk of being on campus.”
That wasn’t what she expected at all. “Really? Why not just lock me in the motel until this is figured out?”
“Because you have me.” He paused as though deciding what to say next. “Watching your back, I mean. Look, let me put it like this. When the pre
sident of the United States wants to go for a run around downtown DC during morning rush hour, what do you think the Secret Service does?”
Ginny had no idea, but it sounded like a ridiculous proposition. “That seems terribly unsafe. Surely you tell him he has to use an indoor track or a more secure area?”
Colin shook his head. “Nope. We accommodate. We have as many agents as needed along the route, plus someone to run with him. I know some law enforcement teams and agencies are all about hiding people away, but that’s no way to live. How would you like being cooped up all day? You’d never get your important work done and you’d feel like a prisoner. That’s why people like me have the training we do. Nothing less than perfection is expected from us, because that’s the only way we can guarantee your safety and allow you to conduct your necessary business.”
“But you’re not Secret Service anymore.”
His features grew dark and the lighthearted moment they’d shared earlier evaporated. “For one moment, I forgot to be perfect.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Forget it. Let’s go.”
It had come out all wrong. That’s not what she’d meant at all—was it? Or had she intentionally antagonized him because he was getting too comfortable to be around?
They walked in silence to the Daviau Center, regret churning in her stomach, yet she was unable to think of what to say to make things right. Instead, she turned her thoughts to the day’s appointment with Dr. Hilden. The man had seemed very enthusiastic about the work yesterday and even requested that she make a copy of her notes for him to personally send to the University of Amar back home. If she made the summer palace discovery, would they invite her to come speak in Amar? Maybe she’d get to meet the archaeological team that would head out to the dig site, or maybe she’d even get to help head it up herself. In a consultation role, of course. She was no archaeologist. That field of study was a whole different and complex ball game.
Mrs. McCall, the department receptionist, was back at her desk this morning. She waved cheerily as Ginny and Colin approached. “Morning, sweetie. I hear things got a little exciting yesterday.”
Ginny groaned and rested her bags on the floor. “You heard? I guess you had to, what with the lock getting changed last night and all.”
“Wouldn’t you believe it. Oh, a few students stopped by to hand in papers this morning. I slipped them into the box next to your door. Beverly Dorn also stopped by a little while ago, but I told her you were out.”
Ginny frowned. “Who’s Beverly Dorn?”
“That’s me,” came a silky-smooth voice behind her. Ginny whirled around to see an immaculately dressed, elegant, age forty-something woman crossing the department common area toward her. The woman’s black heels were muffled against the carpeted floor, but Ginny had a feeling they’d be the kind of shoes that clicked loudly wherever this woman walked. Her chin-length black hair was straight, symmetrical and reminded Ginny of wigs she’d seen on department store mannequins.
Ginny offered what she hoped was a friendly smile, but the woman didn’t return the expression. When Ginny stretched out her hand to greet Beverly, the woman’s eyes spared Ginny’s palm the briefest of glances before ignoring it entirely. Her gaze slipped past Colin as though he didn’t exist.
“Dr. Beverly Dorn,” the woman said. “But Professor Dorn will also do.”
“Whatever you say, Bev,” mumbled Mrs. McCall, loud enough for only Ginny to hear.
Ginny suppressed a laugh and folded her arms across her chest, since Dr. Dorn clearly had no intention of engaging in common social gestures. “By process of elimination, I assume you’re the new Italian prof?”
“Certainly,” the woman said with a sniff. Her eyes traveled up and down Ginny’s figure, as though sizing her up. Ginny shifted uncomfortably. She hadn’t bothered to shower this morning at the motel and she looked like a grubby mess. Of course she’d have to meet the elegant Italian professor today of all days. “So. You and I are in competition?”
“For tenure track, yes,” Ginny said, glancing back at Mrs. McCall with eyebrows raised. “But I wouldn’t call it competition. We’re colleagues, and it’s ultimately up to the college to decide who they believe has more potential to become a valuable permanent member of the staff.”
Beverly’s face remained flat and impassive. “Indeed it is.”
Who did this woman think she was? No, Ginny scolded herself, that wasn’t fair. Maybe the woman had issues with social cues, or maybe she was a shy person who overcompensated with coldness. It didn’t mean that she was being rude on purpose, even if it seemed that way.
“Ginny’s doing some exciting research on an ongoing project,” Mrs. McCall piped in. “She’s studying some ancient tablets to support some of her published theories. She might discover the location of an ancient palace, isn’t that exciting?”
Ginny felt heat rush to her cheeks. She wasn’t sure whether to thank Mrs. McCall or beg her to stop. Her work wasn’t that exciting...all right, that wasn’t true. She loved it, despite her mother’s feelings on her chosen career path.
Beverly’s eyebrows raised and she tut-tutted. “Oh, dear. I’m so sorry.”
“What?” Ginny couldn’t stop herself from blurting it out. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You haven’t heard? Oh, my. One should really keep up on current events, particularly as they pertain to one’s life’s work, don’t you think?”
Ginny glanced back at Mrs. McCall and Colin, suddenly feeling frantic, but the receptionist only shrugged. She looked almost as confused as Ginny felt. Had something happened to the museum? Or to Dr. Hilden?
When Ginny didn’t respond, Beverly laced her fingers together in front of her stomach and looked down her nose at the other woman. “I’ve heard of your work, of course, Miss Anderson. One must keep abreast of their competition’s progress in some way, but it seems that someone else has done that for me. Surely you’ve heard that the land you’ve posited as a possible location for the ancient summer palace has been sold.”
Ginny’s stomach dropped into her toes as she and Colin blurted the same thing at the same time. “What?”
“You really haven’t heard this? Dear me. The details of the sale have yet to be released, but it happened a few days ago. Don’t you read world news? Really, my dear. You should keep track of these things.”
Sold? The possible location of an ancient historical site had been sold? To whom? “That’s impossible,” she said, the words slipping out as tiny squeaks.
A dark, thin smile spread slowly across Beverly’s face. “Not at the right price.”
NINE
As he had yesterday, Colin stood in Ginny’s office doorway, keeping an eye out for anything amiss—but unlike yesterday, he was having a harder time concentrating. As if meeting the snooty Beverly Dorn hadn’t left enough of a bad taste in his mouth, the poor woman sitting behind him looked as though the world had come crashing down upon her shoulders. He had a strange longing to say or do something that would erase the distress from her lovely features, but verbal reassurance had never been one of his strengths.
After forty minutes of enduring silence, he couldn’t take it any longer. “Are you going to be okay? Do you need to take the rest of the day off?”
When Ginny didn’t respond, he followed her eyes to the screen. She was reading an article from the Amaran Daily News Online, written in English, about the sale of a piece of land to an unnamed corporation. The story described the terms of the sale but failed to note the amount or the purchaser. According to the article, the nature of the sale was under a confidentiality agreement until the final papers were signed.
“The land should belong to the Amaran people,” Ginny finally said. “I’ve already published preliminary reports about this area and how there might be extremely important historical sites
buried here. And the government of Amar knows it, because they sent Dr. Hilden here to consult with me on the tablets. How could this happen?”
“This could be a good thing,” he offered. “It doesn’t say who bought the land, so there’s no need to think the worst. It could have been the University of Amar or an archaeological company.”
Ginny turned a frustrated eye on him. “You don’t know how these things work, do you? Not disclosing the nature of the sale until its completion means that someone doesn’t want anyone to know so that there won’t be attempts to block the sale.”
“Don’t they have to disclose it? It’s public land, right?”
“Amar isn’t the United States, Colin. Things work differently in other countries, especially countries in the developing world. The rules aren’t the same.”
Colin knew that, but he’d hoped that his words would ease her fears a little bit. “That still doesn’t mean that you need to think the worst.”
Ginny went silent for a few moments, then swung her chair around so she faced him. “Amar is an oil-rich nation. It’s also the kind of country where foreign companies like to invest and build expensive buildings or tourism resorts. A small country like that needs all the financial help it can get, because the wealth from oil doesn’t always trickle down into the rest of the population. And if it’s the choice of a massive cash influx versus waiting for a possible historical and archaeological discovery that might not even happen—and, if it does, for which the financial return won’t happen for many years—it’s not hard to see where the government’s choice would fall.”
Sadly, Colin understood all too well how these kinds of politics worked, and he agreed with her. If the details weren’t revealed, it likely meant the buyer feared blowback from the sale. “You think the buyer knows about your work?”
“Me? A little ancient languages and history professor in Pennsylvania? I doubt it. They probably just want to avoid protestors picketing the area or the desert tribes raising a stink. Those tribes still live out there in the desert areas, and if they decide to hold a blockade, the international community is sure to hear about it. No doubt the company wants to quietly pay off the desert tribes once they have the rights to the land.”
Unknown Enemy (Love Inspired Suspense) Page 8