Unknown Enemy (Love Inspired Suspense) Page 13

  Colin watched as her face morphed from disinterest to confusion and then to shock. Her eyes flicked to his and she pulled the phone away from her ear. “Who is—?”

  She put one finger to her lips and pressed a button on the screen. Immediately, the caller’s voice came through on speakerphone.

  “—no time for letters, Miss Anderson. You have failed to heed my warnings, and others have paid the price. Do you care so little for your colleagues, Professor?”

  The voice was muffled and distorted. The person on the other end was using a voice-altering device. Colin moved in closer to the phone to block the breeze from the speakers. When neither of them responded quickly enough, the caller continued.

  “I admit I am impressed. Beyond all comprehension, you have evaded my attempts at forcing you to stop this ludicrous research. I put a great deal of thought into my gift this morning, Professor. If you won’t die, the least you could do is give up.”

  “You tried to kill me and it failed,” Ginny retorted. “And I’ll never give up.”

  The caller chuckled, as though the act of taking a life was nothing more than a schoolyard prank. “Ah, so impulsive. Where is your logical brain now? You no longer have your precious tablets, so you are unable to physically support your theories. Your relationship with the Kingdom of Amar is tarnished and you will never gain access to the land. Your paper will be easily refuted and your reputation besmirched. Your effort to obtain tenure at the college will fail. Thus, I propose one final arrangement.

  “To amend the situation you find yourself in, and to ensure you live long enough to do so, you will publish a retraction of your previous work. You will pull the submitted abstracts and destroy them. You will forget you ever saw the tablets and you will relinquish all claim on this line of work and withdraw from all contacts with Amar and its people. Do this, Miss Anderson, and I shall personally see to it that you live to see another sunrise.”

  As the man talked, Colin watched Ginny’s face. The woman looked scared, certainly, but as the caller continued, her expression hardened. By the time the caller demanded that she relinquish all claim on her work in Amaran history, her face had turned a shade of deep pink.

  “Who do you think you are?” she shouted into the phone. “You can’t just demand that I give up my life’s work. This discovery is important for the people of Amar. The country needs—”

  Colin tapped Ginny on the shoulder, trying to signal with his other hand that she shouldn’t respond to the man. The more emotional she became, the more power she gave him.

  “Am I to understand,” the caller interrupted, “that you refuse my offer?”

  Colin signaled again that she shouldn’t speak, but the woman had a mind of her own and an anger that burned hotter than he could extinguish in the heat of the moment.

  “Not only do I refuse,” Ginny said, “but I’m publishing my paper today. Whoever you are, you won’t get away with this. I’ll make my findings public, and then we’ll see how the international community feels about selling off land full of Amar’s ancient history to be destroyed by some heartless oil company that only cares about—”

  “Wrong answer.”

  A dial tone cut through Ginny’s diatribe, and Ginny dropped the phone as though it burned her. Colin sat back on the grass, his stomach sinking into his feet.

  “What just happened?” Ginny whispered. Fury abated, she regarded him with wide, frightened eyes. “Did I just...”

  “You antagonized the man who hired someone to try to kill you this morning, yes.”

  “Oh, no. Colin, I didn’t think, I reacted... He asked me to...”

  “It’s your life’s work, and something that will change others’ lives. I understand.”

  She launched herself across the small space of grass between them and slipped into his arms. He wrapped her in a tight hug and then released her. When she sat back on the grass, he stood and reached out to help her up.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking his hand. “But now what? Do you think they’ll come after me again?”

  Something zipped past Colin’s ear and kicked up dirt next to Ginny’s knee.

  Colin knew instinctively what that was. He yanked Ginny to her feet and pulled her into the parking lot. Her vehicle sat in the same spot as it always did, but when a second bullet whizzed past his arm, he pulled Ginny behind the closest parked car.

  “What is that?” Ginny cried. “Is someone shooting at us?”

  “That’s exactly what they’re doing,” Colin growled. “Keep your head down.”

  She crouched in front of the rear tire as Colin peeked over the hood of the vehicle. The shots had come from behind them, back toward the museum. His rapid visual scan revealed no one, so he rejoined Ginny.

  “I can’t see anyone. Do you have your phone?”

  Ginny shook her head. “It’s still in the grass. I didn’t get to pick it back up when you pulled me over here.”

  Colin tugged his phone from his pocket and handed it to her. “Call 911, tell them we’re taking fire.”

  A bullet zoomed past Ginny’s hands and she screamed, dropping the phone. The shot had been fired from a completely different angle. Where was it coming from?

  “Forget it, let’s move!” He grabbed Ginny’s arm as she snatched up the phone and pulled her toward her car. “Get your keys out!”

  “They’re in my purse on the grass,” Ginny shouted.

  Gritting his teeth, Colin drew his SIG Sauer and met her eyes. “Together. On three. Stay behind me, I’ll cover you.” She nodded and he counted backward. “Three. Two. One. Go!”

  He burst out of cover first, returning several rounds of fire toward where he surmised was the direction of the shooter based on the angle of the receiving shots. If the shooter wanted Ginny, he’d have to go through Colin first. Ginny screamed as shots hit the ground near her purse, but she grabbed the bag and they raced to seek cover at the back of her hatchback. They crouched by the vehicle as Ginny dug into her purse. She pulled out her keys, unlocked the car and tapped on the rear door. “We can crawl in through the back. The rear seats fold down, so we should be able to slide through and climb into the front.”

  It was a good plan, with one exception. Based on the ability of the shooter to change angles so quickly, they were dealing with someone up high—possibly on the museum roof. If there was a sniper on the roof, they could feasibly target Ginny through the car windshield, which faced the museum.

  “I’ll go for the driver’s seat,” Colin said, coming to a decision. “You’ll crawl in after me but stay in the backseat, just like the other day. I’ll get us out of the parking lot while you call the cops. Deal?”

  Ginny hesitated only a moment. “Deal.”

  Colin didn’t want to consider what might happen if they were dealing with more than one shooter or if he’d misjudged the angle of the shots. The moment required decisive action. He pressed the button to unlock the hatchback and slipped inside the cargo space to lower the seats. In a matter of seconds, he’d climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car, praying that Ginny had climbed into the vehicle behind him.

  “Are you in?” he shouted, throwing the car into gear. A glance in the rearview mirror showed Ginny pulling the rear door shut from the inside. “Leave it, let’s go!”

  A thud told him the door had shut. He let the car shoot forward as Ginny scrambled into the backseat. Colin banked the car sharply to the left as stuffing exploded from the passenger’s seat headrest and tiny cracks spread out like webbing from the bullet-shaped holes in Ginny’s windshield.

  “You okay?” he called back, his heart pounding. If those bullets were from a powerful-enough rifle—

  “Yes,” she said, sending relief flooding through his veins. “Just get us out of here.”

  * * *

  Ginny crouch
ed in the backseat on the driver’s side as Colin sped toward the police station. They—the mysterious they—had shot at her? They really did want her dead. Even the burning satchel this morning hadn’t seemed like a real threat on her life, despite Colin’s and the caller’s assertion that it was, but having bullets whiz by her ears...that was real. She could have died in the parking lot, all because someone wanted her to stop her research.

  It was so surreal, like a plot from a movie. Except in the movies, the good guy always won, and right now, her chances of making it looked slim.

  Colin escorted her inside the police station when they arrived, having her sit in the waiting room while he talked to the chief. Minutes later, he returned and sat next to her. “The chief told me the guys they sent out after your call are almost there. They’ll check the place out and secure the area if need be. We’re going to find this guy, Ginny.”

  As much as she appreciated his confidence, the logic didn’t fly. “We left the scene, Colin. You think the shooter stuck around after that? He probably disappeared as soon as we did. What if he followed us? He’ll be out there somewhere, waiting.”

  Colin sighed and leaned back in the chair. “We’ll find him. After all, it’s—hang on, my phone is buzzing.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen before answering on speakerphone. “Deputy Director? You’re on speaker. Thought I was supposed to call you.”

  “You’re going to want to hear this, Tapping.”

  Ginny took in Colin’s expression, which had turned dark. The man obviously held on to a great deal of bitterness over what had happened with the Service.

  “Go ahead,” Colin said. “But make it quick. There’s a shooter on the loose over here and I’d prefer to not have any more bullets heading my way in the near future.”

  “Then maybe this will help. How’s that Dr. Hilden we spoke about a few days back?”

  Ginny shrugged as Colin glanced up at her.

  “Stormed out in anger this morning during a meeting, but otherwise healthy,” Colin said, not even bothering to hide his exasperation. “What’s this about, sir?”

  “I just got a phone call, and you’re not going to like it. According to my sources, Dr. Hilden’s flight from Amar arrived an hour ago, and the man is presently napping in his hotel room as he had some difficulty getting in touch with his contact at the museum over there.”

  Ginny shook her head. “That’s not possible. His sources must be wrong.”

  “Who’s there, Tapping?”

  Colin reached over to squeeze Ginny’s shoulder. “I’m with the woman who’s been receiving threats about her work, sir, and we both say that’s impossible. She’s been working with Dr. Hilden here for the past week.”

  “Then someone isn’t who they’re claiming to be,” said Bennett. “Because my source has a contact with the Kingdom of Amar’s embassy in Washington, and they confirm it’s him. Whoever you’ve been interacting with this week? It’s not Dr. Hilden.”

  FOURTEEN

  The room spun as the words sank in. Not Dr. Hilden? Then whom had she been working with? The man had known all about her work, and all about Amar’s history.

  But he’d only been a consultant, hadn’t he? At no point had he actually taken over the translations or offered anything but counter-suggestions to the points she’d made. Most of the time, she’d thought of him as a glorified babysitter for her and the tablets. He’d supervised her work this week, asking questions and trying to understand her information, until what point?

  Until she’d formed her full thesis and revealed that the archaeological ruins of an Amaran king’s ancient summer palace were most certainly buried on the very same land that was about to be overturned and pulverized by Empress Oil.

  As Colin asked more questions of the Secret Service’s deputy director, Ginny struggled to keep her emotions in check. Anger and horror mixed together to make her insides hurt and her eyes burn with the sting of fear-induced tears. After he hung up, he sighed deeply and stared at the phone in his hand.

  “We have to go back,” Ginny blurted, a dawning realization opening up a pit in her stomach. “To the museum.”

  Colin gaped. “You’re kidding, right? Someone just tried to kill you at the museum. That’s the last place you should be right now.”

  “No, that’s exactly it. They’re trying to kill me because I know something and they don’t want it released. Dr. Hilden isn’t actually Dr. Hilden. Who does that leave who knows about this project? Who knows the truth of the palace’s location? There’s only one other person who has that information.”

  Colin jumped up from his seat and grabbed her outstretched hand.

  She passed him her keys as they ran back out to her car, Ginny’s heart pounding. Please, God...

  Colin sped back to the museum as Ginny dialed the curator’s number over and over on her phone. No answer, just as the deputy director had said. She tried the front desk, but the answering machine picked up, which wasn’t unusual for this time of day. The museum was small and the front desk staff often sparse. Ginny left several messages and continued calling until they pulled into the small road that split off to the museum parking lot on the left and a circular driveway up to the museum steps on the right.

  Taking the driveway would get them inside the fastest and, Ginny recognized, prevent them from outdoor exposure to a potential shooter, but the entrance to the museum driveway was blocked by several police cruisers. One of the officers ran over to the hatchback as Colin rolled down the window.

  The officer leaned over to look inside. “Sir, you’ll need to move your—oh, hey, Tapping. You’ll have to head to the parking lot or turn around. The museum’s under lockdown. There was a shooter on the roof.”

  “I know,” Colin said, exasperation in his voice. “We’re the ones who called it in. They were shooting at the woman next to me. We need to get in the building. We have reason to believe the curator is in danger.”

  The officer shook his head and Ginny empathized with Colin’s perturbed expression. “Sorry, but I’m not authorized to—”

  Colin stepped on the gas and the car shot forward, jumping the curb around the police cruiser and driving onto the grass. Ginny clutched the sides of her seat as the car slammed back down onto the driveway with a bang. Shouts behind them told her they’d angered the officer. He’d probably radio their defiance to the other officers. They’d never even make it inside.

  Colin pulled up to the museum steps with a screech of tires. He slammed the car into Park and jumped out his side door without turning the vehicle off, as Ginny climbed out of the passenger seat. She held her hand out and he grabbed it, pulling them both inside as two officers emerged from the building.

  “Hey, you need permission to come in here,” one protested as Colin elbowed past him.

  “Call the chief,” Colin shouted over his shoulder, yanking Ginny through the doors. “You stop us and you may be responsible for a murder.”

  Ginny pushed her way past several more officers who’d appeared at the doors, but no one stopped them. Inside the front atrium, a group of schoolchildren and their teachers huddled around a Baroque-style fountain, fear in the teachers’ eyes as they tried their best to stay calm and cheerful for the children. The police officers guarding the children were acting chipper and answering the kids’ questions about their guns and uniforms, but the responses were interspersed with wary glances around the atrium.

  “Carlton! Found him?” Colin asked another officer, whom Ginny assumed he recognized from the precinct.

  Officer Carlton shook his head and spoke in hushed tones. “Hey, Tapping. Checked the roof, only found expelled casings. The shooter left in a hurry and wasn’t able to clean up.” He pointed at the various gallery entrances around the atrium. “Our guys have checked the galleries, but there are only two other entrances as
ide from emergency exits, and using either of those would have set off alarms. Initial questioning rules out an inside job, as the only person here with the security code for those alarms isn’t physically capable of getting up to the roof and back down here in time. Bad leg, confirmed by other staff. The front desk staff didn’t see anyone suspicious come in, but the greeter here for the midmorning shift did have a rowdy visitor to deal with.”

  “A distraction?” Ginny offered.

  The police officer shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll have to check the security footage, but I don’t think there’s anyone in here. I suspect there never was. Shooter probably rappelled down outside or took the fire escape. Building’s not too high, seems feasible.”

  Colin glanced back at Ginny. Her stomach lurched at the intensity of his expression. “That may be good news, Officer. Ginny?”

  Ginny had felt a surge of hope at the officer’s speculation, but they needed to be sure. She rushed past Colin, heading toward the curator’s office. The door was locked. “Good, right?”

  Colin shook his head. “No idea. Hopefully. Maybe someone called and told him to lock himself inside until the police arrived.” He knocked on the door, but received no response. “We’re going to have to break in.”

  Ginny pointed at the door handle, an antique style set inside the heavy wooden door. “That thing’s ancient. I doubt it’ll give you much trouble.”

  She watched as he shoved his shoulder against the door several times, checking its give. When it didn’t budge, Colin backed up and slammed his heel into the door above the handle, again and again until the wood splintered. The door swung inward as they rushed into the room.

  Ginny scanned the small office but didn’t see the curator. She raced around to the back of the desk, praying she wouldn’t find Mr. Wehbe facedown like Mrs. McCall. The floor was empty, but from this angle she saw that the computer nook door stood open.

  The sensation of a gentle breeze on the back of her neck barely registered as she crossed the office to the computer nook. Mr. Wehbe sat at the computer with his back to them. A wave of relief washed over Ginny. “Curator? Thank goodness, we were so worried.”