Unknown Enemy. Michelle Karl
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gathering was her daughter’s only true redeeming quality—had been unequivocally lost forever, and thusly she would never really amount to much.
Ginny didn’t talk to her mother much anymore, but she’d worked hard to make a career for herself teaching and studying ancient history and linguistics. She’d become a specialist in ancient languages, and this morning’s meeting with the local history museum’s curator would bring her one step closer to securing a future at the college. A tenure-track position was up for grabs this year, and if she proved herself valuable enough to the college’s reputation to earn it, she’d be placed on the list of teachers eligible for a permanent tenure position after a few years of hard work. While there were at least six part-time professors vying for tenure track within the department, rumor had it the department head was leaning toward securing someone with a wide range of specializations in both language and history. Ginny shared this qualification with one other professor in the department, though she hadn’t yet formally met her. She only knew it was a woman who’d been a late hire to the faculty after the abrupt departure of the school’s Italian history and language professor.
“I was a last-minute addition to the team.”
Ginny waited for him to elaborate, but he said nothing. She leaned over her computer and began scrolling again through the list of faculty members at the college. If he wouldn’t explain, maybe his bio on the website would.
A chuckle escaped as he must have realized her intentions. “I’m former Secret Service. I don’t know what they’ve put in my blurb, but I hope it also mentions my degrees in criminal justice. I promise I’m qualified, if that’s your concern.”
Ginny felt herself staring. Had he just said Secret Service? “Oh. No, obviously that’s not my call to make. But sorry, what are you doing here? In my office?”
“I wanted to make sure you’re okay, after last night. An event like that can shake a person up. I should also apologize for startling you.”
A deep sigh welled up in Ginny’s chest. She released it slowly, uncertain how to respond to the man in front of her. He seemed kind enough, and it was a thoughtful gesture to check on her, but she couldn’t shake the memory of surprise in his eyes when he’d touched her ruined skin. It brought forth an ache she thought she’d buried long ago.
“I appreciate the gesture, Mr. Tapping, but I have to head out to a very important meeting now and don’t really have time to chat.”
He nodded and stepped aside as she rose and gathered her things. “Where to?”
Were all Secret Service men so nosy? She immediately scolded herself for the thought. He’d been thoughtful enough to ensure her well-being. She could at least engage in polite conversation. “The Rhoads Museum, just up the road. I’m meeting the curator about a recent request.”
“Oh? I haven’t been up there yet. Didn’t realize it was so close.” She glanced sideways at him and he shrugged. “I know, I should visit. Haven’t seen much of the town yet, to be quite honest. Maybe I’ll hit the museum tomorrow. It isn’t like I have any classes to teach this week.”
Had no one taken him on a tour of the area? She suddenly felt bad for trying to brush him off. She recalled feeling disconnected and a little lost during her first semester here, and she’d had several months to acclimatize back then. How callous would she be not to offer what help she could? “What are you up to this morning? I can’t promise a ride back, but I can give you a lift to the museum since I’m going already.”
“That’s very kind of you. Are you sure it’s no trouble? I do have my own car.”
“None at all, especially if you’ve not visited it yet. It’s a small museum but very well curated. I can point out a few local landmarks between here and there, as well.”
“In that case, lead the way.”
He walked alongside her as she left the Daviau Center, the building that housed her department, and headed toward her car. Ginny noticed that he didn’t walk looking forward as most people tended to—the rest of the way to the car and even on the drive, his visual orientation shifted constantly. Overcome by curiosity, Ginny couldn’t help but ask, “What are you doing? Can’t you sit still?”
Colin’s sharp laugh startled her. “Force of habit. Guess you can take the man out of the Secret Service, but not vice versa.”
“Why’d you leave?”
He grew silent and Ginny wondered if she’d pried too deep. When he spoke, his words were clipped. “Made a mistake, got dismissed. The inquiry is ongoing.”
Ginny mouthed a silent “oh.” What could she say to that? Her curious nature tugged on her to ask for more details, but his rigid posture suggested he wasn’t comfortable with the topic.
As they trotted up the gray, hewn stone steps of the museum, Ginny realized she’d joined Colin in scanning their surroundings. After giving her statement to the police last night, they’d told her to be on the lookout for anything unusual in the days ahead, suggesting that she use the campus Foot Patrol service in the evenings. The advice was practical, but useless. The attack had happened indoors in a building that should have been empty aside from several staff members, not while she wandered alone in a public area or parking lot in the dark.
And the police seemed to have no idea who’d done it or why. Each time she’d turned another corner since last night, she couldn’t help but wonder—what if she was walking into another attack?
* * *
“What are you here for, may I ask?” Colin pushed open the museum doors, glancing behind them at the parking lot for a moment before heading inside. Ginny appeared to be considering his question, a tiny smile appearing at the corner of her mouth. When she met his eyes, they sparkled with a contained excitement. When she spoke, her words were clear and strong. She sounded nothing like the deferential woman he’d spoken with so far today.
“If this goes the way I hope it will, I’ll obtain the resources I need to potentially pinpoint an ancient historical site that archaeologists and historians have been seeking for years.”
“Sounds exciting.”
She lowered her voice, flicking an apologetic glance toward the staff at the entrance. “If it works out and I find it, or at least find enough information to support my theory on the location, I’ll be one step ahead of the other tenure-track candidate at the college. If not, well, I’ll be back at square one with this career and have to start all over again at another school. If I can even find another position. It’s not like colleges these days are lining up in droves to hire in the humanities.”
He kept stride alongside her as she made her way to the curator’s office. “Starting over’s not always a bad thing. In the Service, I moved through a variety of departments and had to start at the bottom each time.” He stopped walking, looked back over his shoulder and then at her. “And now, of course. Can’t say I anticipated this career change. Is this where your meeting will be?”
Ginny nodded and raised an eyebrow. “Expecting someone?”
He rubbed his jawline. “After last night, can’t be too careful is all. Looks like your contact is here. Thanks again for the ride.” He backed up toward a wall of Renaissance paintings as Ginny turned toward a man exiting from the office.
“Professor Anderson?”
Ginny shook the curator’s hand as Colin did his best to appear unobtrusive in the moment. They were engaging in the typical social pleasantries and Colin knew this was his cue to move along, but a nagging in the back of his mind stopped him. He didn’t feel comfortable leaving Miss Anderson by herself, not after the events of last night and what he’d learned this morning.
After a visit to the local police station, he’d learned that the stun grenade tossed inside the library last night had been military issue. It was privileged information, sure, but a few officers on the local force had recognized him as a former Secret Service agent from