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 news reports several years back and had opened up after he’d asked them a few carefully worded questions. Something about the situation didn’t sit right. Nothing in the library had been taken, according to the police. An unprovoked attack on the head librarian and a stun grenade inside a college library held little logic and it worried him.
In fact, crossing the wide-open space of the parking lot to the museum had reminded him just how exposed and vulnerable Ginny Anderson was. Sure, the police didn’t know whom the assailant had actually targeted last night, but he didn’t like not knowing for certain whether the danger to her had passed. Assuming it had could be a terrible mistake, the kind of mistake he knew all about. The kind of mistake that cost other people their lives.
No, it would be a bad idea to leave Ginny on her own. Touring the museum took an easy second place to making sure the lovely professor wasn’t still in serious danger.
“Your grandchildren are truly adorable,” Ginny commented as the curator closed his wallet and slipped it back into his pocket. The man had been eager to show off photos of his family after she’d politely inquired after their well-being. He was such a kind man who obviously cared about others and his work that she’d been happy to listen before turning their meeting’s focus onto the real reason she’d come to the museum this morning. “I must say, Mr. Wehbe, thank you so much for meeting with me and considering my request. I really do appreciate it.”
“No thanks needed, I’m quite happy to do so. It’s not every day that I meet another local academic interested in ancient history and language. Your predecessor spent precious little time with us here, so I was pleased to oblige.”
Ginny’s hopes skyrocketed. “Was pleased to oblige? I don’t suppose that means you already sent in the request?”
Mr. Wehbe chuckled and waved at something—or someone—in his office. “Like I said, it’s not every day that someone requests that our little museum borrow tablets from the basement of the Ashmore Museum in Oxford, England. Fortunately, as you are no doubt already aware, I’m still on excellent terms with the curator there and visit my former place of employment several times a year. In fact, only last week I was there for a brief conference.”
As Mr. Wehbe spoke, movement at the edge of her vision distracted Ginny from the curator’s words. Colin Tapping stood only a few feet away from where she’d left him, gazing at a reproduction of the Wedding at Cana late-Renaissance painting.
Surprise and confusion flared in Ginny’s senses. Was he eavesdropping on her conversation? She shook her head to dislodge the thought. Maybe he really did have an interest in the artwork. Who was she to think otherwise when she’d just met the man yesterday?
“Professor? Is everything all right?” Mr. Wehbe regarded Ginny with concern.
“Sorry, sorry.” Ginny snapped back to reality. “No doubt you heard about the disturbance on campus at the library last night. I spent most of my evening in the hospital and giving a statement to police, and I’m still a little stunned, I suppose.”
“Oh! I read about it in the paper this morning but somehow I didn’t make the connection. I’m so sorry to hear you were involved. I do hope you take some time to recover. I’m surprised you’re here this morning.”
“I’m fine,” Ginny said, waving his concern off with a pinched smile. After all, she’d truthfully been through much worse in the car accident twenty years ago. “But you were saying?”
“Ah, yes. I’m saying I have the tablets here. I received clearance and was able to bring over the tablets you requested. There is, however, a caveat.”
Ginny gaped at the curator. “They’re here? Right now? And I can study them immediately?”
“Well, yes and no.”
From the curator’s office, a gentleman emerged wearing a well-fitted brown tweed suit and Panama hat and carrying a hefty brown leather satchel. He appeared to be at most in his midforties or early fifties. He strode forward and offered his hand to Ginny as Mr. Wehbe made the introductions.
“Professor Anderson, please meet Dr. Hilden. Hilden, this is the ancient history and language professor I’ve been telling you about. She’s the one working on a theory concerning the location of King Ramesh’s summer palace in the Kingdom of Amar.”
Dr. Hilden smiled warmly and took Ginny’s outstretched hand in a firm handshake while she continued to gape at the both of them, struggling to make sense of the moment. Dr. Hilden? The name sounded vaguely familiar. “Pleased to meet you, Professor Anderson.”
The
