That was the word to come into her mind, and she’d learned to go with gut feelings like that, because most of the time they were right. The man from the cold storage room in the morgue? That, she couldn’t tell.
She veered to the right, toward the riding arena. The open area left little cover for her follower. It also made Alex’s path quite visible in the moonlight, so whoever it was could see her direction without having to leave cover. It was clear he—she became fairly certain of her shadow’s gender as she watched the way he moved—was following her.
The question of why was looming, but she didn’t waste time on it. More important right now was the question of his capabilities. Trained could easily mean armed. But she’d already given him ample chance to try to take her out that way if that was his goal.
So if that wasn’t his goal, what was? Was he after someone else? Something else?
Alex changed course again, heading once more toward her original goal, the stables. She stepped inside. Her pursuer hung back, waiting, she guessed, to see if she emerged. She checked the door of the always lit up stable office. Locked. Did she have time to break in and use the phone? She could probably find something to use on the lock, but she would lose track of her stalker. She risked a look out the tack room window that faced back the way she had come.
After a moment she saw the slightest movement in the shadow of the science lab building. An even darker shadow. It moved again, barely, and she saw the slightest glint of moonlight on metal.
A gun?
It had been in the right place for a waistband holster. If she was right, he was indeed armed. She was not.
She darted out of the tack room, whispered an acknowledgement to the horses who nickered a greeting, then raced up the ladder to the hayloft with all the speed of the fourteen-year-old she’d once been. From there she could see clearly both where her follower was hiding and the path to the staff bungalows. She settled in to see what the man would do.
He waited.
Patient, she thought. But was he waiting until he was sure the coast was clear to make a move, or waiting for her to emerge?
She could be just as patient. They’d taught that at Athena, too.
She waited. And so did he. Minutes ticked away. She wished she’d brought her cell phone, she could call Christine and warn her there was someone skulking around. She wondered who would break first.
And with a sigh, she knew. She would. Because while Athena had taught her patience, it had also taught her about the benefits of taking action, striking first, of bringing the game to your own court and on your own terms.
Athena was her court. No one except another Athenan could know it as well as she did. She would use that. And whatever else came to hand.
Alex crept back to the tack room. Amid the hanging saddles, bridles and blankets, she found an old hunt coat. It was obviously due for retirement, more than a little threadbare, but it was dark and hid the white shirt that glowed like neon in the moonlight.
She harvested a bonus out of the right pocket, a large, dark blue bandanna. In a few seconds she had the red-gold beacon of her hair bundled up and covered. She searched around for additional trimmings and found a pair of rubber knee-high muck-out boots. They were large enough to slide on over her shoes. There was a mirror in the tack room, and she checked out the look. With luck, it would pass.
She went back to the door. She took a couple of deep breaths. Little steps, she thought. The boots would help, they were big enough that she’d have to alter her stride anyway. She purposely slumped her shoulders, as she’d seen women do who weren’t comfortable with their height. She bent her knees slightly, as far as she thought she could without it being obvious from a distance, to make herself seem shorter. She changed everything she’d been taught to watch for to see through disguises in her own training.
If the man was trained as she thought he was, he wouldn’t miss the marked differences beyond simple appearance. She just had to hope he wouldn’t look close enough to see through her ruse.
She stepped out of the stable through the same door she’d entered, figuring he’d be watching where she’d gone in. When she was in full moonlight, she turned back and waved at the doorway.
“See ya tomorrow!” she called out cheerfully, raising the pitch of her natural voice and injecting just the slightest bit of a drawl.
She set off toward the staff housing, humming a light, cheerful tune. But every bit of her awareness and concentration was focused on the perimeter of the science lab building. She caught the faintest glint as moonlight reflected on what she still suspected was a gun. Then she made out a slightly darker shadow within the shadow. He moved, she thought. No, turned. Just turned to watch her. Made no move to follow her. And after a moment, she saw the glint again, as he turned back and resumed his scrutiny of the stables, clearly indicating his lack of interest in this “second” woman.
So he is following me, specifically, Alex thought. She could handle that. At least the guy wasn’t after Christine. Although even if he was, he’d find he had his hands more full than he might have expected, especially if he judged her only by her age. Athenan women didn’t just age gracefully, they aged tough.
She took advantage of the fact that he’d returned his attention to the stables. She dodged behind the school’s large, four-horse trailer, parked beside the stable. From where he was, he shouldn’t be able to see beneath it all the way, and so couldn’t see her feet. Since it had living quarters at the front, it was nearly thirty-five feet long and covered her retreat back to the stables. Keeping the trailer between her and the man watching, she made her way to the back side of the stable, out of sight. She went over the fence, through an outside stall door and back into the building, whispering soothingly to the chestnut gelding who occupied the stall.
“Easy, sweetie. Just passing through.”
She quickly went out the inner stall door. She shed the dark jacket, the boots, and freed her hair. She knew which horse she wanted, although she didn’t know which stall she was in. But as if she sensed Alex’s presence, the gray stuck her head over the half door. Alex hastened to greet the mare, a granddaughter of her beloved Lacy.
“There you are, gorgeous. Wanna play?”
The mare called Charm—short for Charmeuse, another in the line of Forsythe fabric names—had the same bright intelligence in her dark eyes as Lacy had. Alex had ridden the mare back on her grandfather’s farm, before Charm was donated to Athena, so she knew what the horse could do. She also knew Charm had the same sensitivity, willingness and trust as her granddam. And for a gallivant such as Alex had in mind, that was what she needed.
She bridled the mare, who took the bit easily despite the oddity of the hour. Grabbing a handful of mane, Alex launched herself onto the horse’s back. She settled into place and headed the gray toward the still-open door she’d exited in her other guise. The clatter of the shod hooves on the stable floor was comfortingly familiar. In fact, it felt so good to be on a horse again, she wondered why she didn’t ride more regularly. It wasn’t like she had to go very far, since her grandfather’s farm was only half an hour outside of D.C.
She leaned forward to pat the mare’s neck. “All right, my Charm girl. Let’s teach somebody a lesson about messing with Athena.”
They stepped into the moonlight.
