As she reached the curator’s side, she heard Colin’s voice as though it came from far away. Whatever he was trying to tell her, she didn’t hear it. All she could see was the curator’s blank stare and the blood on the side of his temple. And then Colin was next to her, pulling her out of the computer room, calling for someone to get her out of there.
They’d killed him. Actually killed him. But the room had been locked from the inside. He’d been alive just a little while ago. She’d been here, in this room. Spoken with him.
Nothing made sense.
“The safe with the memory card. The backup files.” She wrenched free from the police officer holding her shoulder and rushed back to Colin, who was checking the walls on each side of the curator. Looking at blood spatters?
Ginny’s resolve slipped. She’d tried to stay strong through Hilden’s betrayal, the news about Empress Oil and people shooting at her, but this was too much. One more glance at the curator’s lifeless form and she doubled over, losing the contents of her breakfast.
Strong hands gripped her forearms and pulled her upright into a tight embrace.
“I’m so sorry,” Colin whispered. “But we’ve got to get you out of here. They haven’t found the shooter from earlier and this door was locked from the inside. The window is open, so it’s possible that’s how the shooter came and left, but the police are still searching the museum and will need to secure this room as a crime scene. Let’s not get in the way.”
“Dr. Hilden?” Ginny’s words came out hitched and hiccupped. “Do you think it was him? But Beverly Dorn was the last person we saw here.”
Colin clutched her tighter and Ginny burrowed her face into his arm. She didn’t want to see the officers in the room or think about what she’d just seen. Maybe she could stay here awhile, forget about everything that had happened. Let the world evaporate around them. It didn’t need her anyway. All she did was get others hurt and killed, and for what? For some stupid research project?
“It’s not worth it,” she sputtered, voice muffled. “This isn’t supposed to happen. It’s not worth anyone’s life.”
Colin held her at arm’s length and she felt an urge to wiggle free and press herself back into his arms. She shivered even though she didn’t feel cold, and her mouth tasted sour from stomach acid. This was her fault. She’d taunted the man on the phone. She’d basically given him permission to do this. And she’d be next.
“I give up,” she said. “I’m done. I can’t be brave anymore. I did that and look what happened. He’s—he was a good man, Colin. No one deserves to die, and it’s all my fault.”
“No. Stop that. That’s just what the person who’s doing this wants. If they can’t kill you, they’ll break you.” Colin held her face in his hands. Ginny tried to hold her breath, afraid it would smell bad after her reaction to finding Curator Wehbe, but the utter inanity of being scared of bad breath when her friend had just been murdered was overwhelming and she started to laugh. Colin’s intense gaze immediately blossomed into one of deep concern, creases forming around his eyes and mouth. “We need to get you out of here. I’m going to have someone watch over you while I call this in since we were first on scene. Deputy Director Bennett and Chief Black need to be notified, but I want you far away from here and under armed guard.”
He didn’t say it, but she saw it in his eyes—he worried that she’d do something rash. He wasn’t wrong. “Find Beverly Dorn,” she whispered.
Colin nodded. “We’ll find her. And Dr. Hilden. One way or another, we’re finishing this and we’re doing it today.”
He called Officer Carlton over and explained that she was to be taken out of the room and watched over until he arrived to accompany her back to the station. Something about psychological trauma. Was he talking about her? Ginny only half listened, unable to shake the image of the curator’s lifeless body.
At some point, someone took her by the arm and led her away from Colin. He called to her from inside the room, but she didn’t turn around. Mr. Wehbe was dead. Dr. Hilden was missing. Beverly Dorn may have been the last person to see Mr. Wehbe alive, maybe even killed him herself. In fact, she might have keys to the curator’s office—maybe she’d stolen them after she’d killed him. After all, they saw Dr. Hilden leave.
But Dr. Hilden wasn’t Dr. Hilden, was he?
Everything made less and less sense. Officer Carlton led her outside and radioed for one of the patrol cars at the end of the museum driveway to come and wait for her and Colin at the front steps.
“Can I sit down for a sec?” Ginny’s legs shook as everything sank in. This was all her fault. What was she worth, anyway? Physically scarred, and now the project she’d poured everything into could never secure her future, not anymore. Not after all this. She’d failed.
Her body felt weak from retching in the curator’s office and she craved fluids. She sat on the steps and looked up at the officer. “Do you have any water on you?”
Carlton looked back at the museum doors and then at Ginny. “If you can promise me that you won’t go anywhere, I think I saw a few bottles inside the reception station at the front door. Don’t move. The guys in the cruiser have eyes on you while I’m inside. Okay? You’re not looking so hot.”
Thanks a lot. Ginny would have found his comment amusing, under any other circumstance, but the image of Mr. Wehbe’s lifeless stare and the...the...
An unmarked black Crown Victoria pulled out of the parking lot and crept along the driveway toward the museum steps. One of the officers inside rolled down his window and waved to a second marked patrol car that had started moving toward the steps. It stopped and allowed the unmarked car to make its way to her. It made sense that she’d travel in an unmarked car, especially with a target on her back.
Why had Colin stayed behind? It wasn’t his job to deal with that kind of thing. He was a teacher now, a college professor. Clearly the man hadn’t let go of his past, but she didn’t blame him. He seemed born for the protector role, passionate and capable. He belonged in it.
“Miss Anderson?”
Ginny turned to see Officer Carlton peeking out the museum’s front door. “Yes?”
“There’s no water here, but I’m told there’s some in the staff room. Hang on, I’ll be one minute.”
She nodded and turned her attention back to the unmarked car that waited at the bottom of the steps. Getting inside that car and going back to the station, what good would that do? And what about Colin? After four days with the man by her side at every waking moment, not having him here felt strange. Unpleasant, in fact.
She was about to stand up and head back inside the museum to find him when her phone began buzzing. She answered on the third ring, recognizing her TA’s number. “Sam?”
“Hey, Professor A. Is this a good time?”
Ginny realized she’d been holding her breath, and was suddenly relieved to hear his familiar voice, alive and well, on the other end. When she’d seen his number, for a moment she’d feared that whoever was behind these attacks might have assumed she’d talked with her TA about her work.
“Not really, but—oh!” A sudden idea came to her. An idea that could change the tide of events for the better, perhaps give the police some leverage over whoever was conducting these attacks. “Can you go to my office? Head to my computer. I need you to log into my email and do something for me. I’ll give you the password so you can find the email that was sent to Dr. Hilden and Mr. Wehbe this morning.”
“Sure, Teach.” Sam’s voice sounded strained, as if he’d just stubbed his toe. “But I don’t have the keys to your office. And I need to talk to you about something else.”
Students. Ginny rolled her eyes, all too familiar with the refrain from students that they couldn’t do this or that for inane reasons. “Yes, you do, Sam, and Mrs. McCall will let you in if you’ve forgotten your key. She sh
ould be there. She comes in on Saturday afternoons. This is really important. You’ll also be able to access my accounts from the archaeology lab computer if my office isn’t accessible.”
“Professor Anderson, please don’t—”
“Once you’re in, forward that email to as many news media outlets as you can think of. The big ones. And to the journals, too, anything to do with history. Anywhere you can think of, Sam, send it and get it out there. Don’t tell anyone else you’re doing this. No one else in the department. Understand? Ready for the password?”
“No! Don’t tell me, it’s—”
Sam’s response was cut off as a male voice came on the line, muffled and distorted as though he spoke through a voice-altering device. Ginny’s stomach sank farther and farther as she recognized the sound from the call this afternoon.
“Thank you, Miss Anderson. Much appreciated. Your student here claimed he had access to your files, but now that I’ve discovered he’s an uncooperative liar, I have no more need of him. You, on the other hand, have become a valuable commodity.”
“No!” Ginny leaped up, phone pressed to her ear. “Don’t hurt him. Please. He doesn’t know anything.”
“I’m afraid I can’t take any chances, and he has already proved himself untrustworthy.”
Ginny thought of Donna, Mrs. McCall and Mr. Wehbe. This person had tried to have her killed at least twice, and abducted once. He clearly had no qualms about harming anyone he thought might be in his way. She couldn’t let that happen to Sam, too. Sam was just a kid. He had no part in this. Could she possibly bargain for his life? This had to end today. Right now.
She could not allow another person to get hurt.
“I’ll give you my passwords if you promise not to hurt him.” Ginny tried to sound strong and in control. “Don’t you dare touch him, or I’ll go to the police station and log into my email there and send my report to every major news outlet in America and Amar.” She’d find Colin first. He’d know what to do.
“You do that,” the caller said, matter-of-factly, “and this boy dies. Tell me your passwords now and he might live.”
If she told him now, there was no way he’d let Sam walk out of there alive. There’d be no chance of getting Colin outside and down to the campus before Sam’s usefulness ran out, but if she made him promise to keep Sam alive... “I’ll come to you. With the passwords, in person.”
The caller laughed harshly. “I’m not above compromise. You have ten minutes. Come alone or he’ll be dead before you set foot on campus. Not that I didn’t expect this from you, Professor. I’ve already sent a car. I suggest you make use of it.”
The phone went silent. Ginny stared at the device and then down at the cruiser. The caller claimed he’d sent a car? Not possible. It’d never get through the police blockade, and besides, she wasn’t naive enough to get into a car sent by a killer. That meant she had ten minutes to work with. She could run and get to the campus in fifteen, but the police would certainly chase her down. Plus, it’d be foolish to go alone.
Please, God. Sam is innocent. This is all my fault. Let me make it right. She ran down the steps of the museum and knocked on the window of the unmarked car. There were two officers inside listening to the scratchy sounds of police radio chatter.
She spoke loudly to be heard over the noise. “Excuse me? Can you radio the officers inside and ask them to send Colin Tapping out? It’s an emergency.”
The officer in the driver’s seat regarded her with calm, turned down the radio, then casually drew his gun and pointed it at her. “About time. Get in.”
Ginny gasped and backed away, stumbling on the curb lip behind her. Before she could scream, the second officer climbed out of the passenger’s seat. As he drew closer, something about his uniform looked wrong. As if it had come from a costume shop. “You scream and the kid dies,” he growled. He waved a cellphone at her, the screen showing a connected phone call.
Frantic, Ginny looked back at the museum doors, willing Officer Carlton to return. But of course he’d take his time. He thought there were other officers watching out for her. The closest real officers—whom she presumed were in fact real—were at the end of the museum driveway forming the entrance blockade. Could she signal them somehow?
The phony officer must have caught her looking. He grabbed her upper arm with force and pulled her toward the unmarked police car. She tried to resist, dragging her feet.
“What if I refuse to come with you?”
“You hard of hearing? The boy dies. You made a deal, right? You got seven minutes now before he dies anyway. Boss gets impatient.”
The phony officer in the driver’s seat grunted agreement as the other guy shoved her into the front seat. “Got that right. We do all the dirty work, can’t get no respect.”
“Who are you?” Ginny swallowed the lump in her throat. This was no time to get emotional. If she’d learned anything from watching Colin these past few days, it was that a cool head kept a person alive. She could do this. The real officer who’d been assigned to guard her would discover she’d gone missing and tell Colin. He’d know what to do.
They drove slowly past the police cars at the driveway exit. Despite the gun pressed into the back of her ribs, Ginny tried to signal distress with her eyes. None of the officers made eye contact with her and simply waved the unmarked Crown Victoria through, which didn’t come as a surprise. They thought the trouble was inside the museum. Why suspect one of their own vehicles?
When neither of her captors offered up any more information, she tried a different approach. “Where are you taking me?” Still no response, but judging by the direction they’d turned onto the main road, they were heading back to the college. “What did you do to the cops who were in this car? Or did you steal it?”
That got a laugh from the guy in the back. “You’d be surprised what you can buy at a police auction, lady. Slap an antenna on the back, add some polish and it looks like new again. We ain’t no cop killers.”
Incredulous, Ginny twisted in her seat. The gun pressed against her front, closer to her heart. “You’ve got to be joking. You know you almost shot a Secret Service agent earlier, right?”
Surprise flashed across the man’s face and disappeared just as quickly. “Doesn’t matter,” he growled. “After this, our contract is up. Payday and off to the beaches, baby.”
“Don’t tell her anything,” the driver snapped.
“Why not? It’s not like she’ll ever get a chance to tell.”
“Shut up.”
The car pulled up to the curb near the Daviau Center. The guy in the back jumped out and swung open her door with a mock flourish. “Right this way. Better hurry. You’re outta time.”
She tried to scan for an escape, for help, anything at all, but the campus seemed more abandoned than usual for a Saturday. And if she tried to run, what about Sam? She didn’t doubt that they and their boss would not hesitate to kill.
As they led her into the Daviau Center, one more fact occurred to her. After days of using ski masks and concealing their identities, both these lackeys were now showing their faces.
Whoever had arranged this did not intend for her to get out alive.
FIFTEEN
“Sam?” As soon as they entered the department, Ginny pushed past her captors, calling for her student. Silence filled the empty space, devoid of life. Had she arrived too late after all?
“Miss Anderson,” came a voice from inside deep inside the department. The male voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. “I suggest you and the gentlemen who escorted you here join us in the archaeology lab.”
Heart pounding, Ginny glanced toward the lab. The room looked empty from her vantage point, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone inside. The lab’s L-shaped design meant not the whole room could be seen from the main e
ntrance.
If only she could contact Colin somehow, signal her whereabouts to him.
“I’m coming. Please don’t hurt Sam,” Ginny said, trying to keep her voice level. “I’m stepping inside the room now.”
Her heart pounded triple time as she crossed the threshold of the lab. From this angle, she saw the cabinet where she’d originally stored the tablets, its doors still open and shelves still bare. The memory of seeing the crumbled tablets cascaded into the memory of discovering Mr. Wehbe’s lifeless body. It’s all my fault, she concluded, swallowing hard on the lump in her throat. Maybe I’m not cut out for this job, either. Maybe my mother was right and modeling was the only job I could have been good at. But I lost my chance for that in the car crash twenty years ago. What use is a scarred girl who can’t even keep her friends safe?
She gave her head a shake. Colin had warned her that their enemy was trying to get into her head, tear down her confidence from the inside. Allowing despair to creep in would only make things worse. How many more people would have to be hurt, would have to die, before this lunatic gave up and left everyone alone?
Taking a deep breath, Ginny closed her eyes and asked for wisdom from the only one who could help her now. Please keep Sam safe, Lord. Keep everyone safe. Give me the right words to say so that no one else gets hurt. She stepped around the corner and her heart sank.
She’d been right after all. The false Dr. Hilden stood in front of a table at the far wall, gripping Sam by the shoulder and pressing a gun directly into Sam’s temple. If he pulled the trigger right now, it would leave a little hole in same place Mr. Wehbe had been shot. Ginny swayed on her feet, but righted herself by gripping the corner of a nearby display case full of reconstructed ancient pots and ceramic shards. They didn’t look like much, but appearances could be deceiving. Never had Ginny been more certain of that than in this moment.
“Who are you?” she said to the false Dr. Hilden, before shooting a glance at Sam. The boy looked scared, but not as panicked as she’d expect him to be under the circumstances. “What’s going on here? Where is everyone?”
Unknown Enemy (Love Inspired Suspense) Page 14