He was warming to his topic now.
“Think of the research you could explore for your thesis. And eventually your dissertation. This is such a broad subject that you could literally move any direction you want with it.”
He finally took a breath and looked at her, waiting for the obvious reaction to such an offer. And why would he expect any different? What poor college student, struggling to survive on a minimum wage job, wouldn’t jump at the chance to be able to afford real classes, with the real diploma that comes with them? She could have an actual career, a well-paying one at that, and her life could change completely.
Of course, with real classes and a real diploma comes real records and real documentation and the very real threat that’d she’d be found. So her diploma would probably have to be awarded posthumously and her well-paying job would go to the number two student in her graduating class. And poor Professor Michaels, with his pure heart and obvious innocence, would give a moving tribute at her funeral, proclaiming that at least she died well-educated. Of course, that’s assuming her body was ever found. Which seemed doubtful, considering she was running from shadowy secret agent types who wanted her for who knows what reasons. They just didn’t strike her as the type to leave pesky little things like bodies lying around.
“Quincy?”
She looked up. Professor Michaels had come around the desk and was perching on the corner, looking down at her with concern. The man had a serious case of bleeding heart and if she wasn’t careful, it would be fatal for both of them.
“Sorry. I zoned out for a minute.” She summoned up her sunniest smile and prepared to backpedal.
“I really appreciate you taking the time to talk to me. I really didn’t know I was doing that well in class. I know it’s kind of strange but I like to take tough classes. I usually only take one at a time because they’re so hard. That’s probably why I’m doing so well. I don’t have any other classes to split my focus.”
He didn’t say anything, waiting for her to continue. Awkward. She cleared her throat and went on.
“I can’t say I’m actually all that interested in mechanical engineering. It’s not even a hobby. I looked through the course catalog to see what classes were available for audit and this looked like the hardest one. I’m really not interested in making a career of it.”
She shot a glance at her watch. 9:20. She still had 40 minutes before she had to be at the library. But he didn’t know that. She stood and looped the strap of her backpack over her shoulder.
“I need to head out, work and all. But thanks again for taking the time. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”
She wasn’t sure why she said that. Going back to class now, with him so interested, would be a mistake. It would be smarter to just pack it up and leave. Still, it seemed the polite thing to say.
She turned to go but he stopped her with a light hand on her shoulder. She instinctively stiffened but kept from jerking away. She did her best to look natural as she turned back to him and he dropped his hand.
“Look, I know it can be really hard. I don’t know what your individual situation is but I want you to know that I’d like to help if I can.”
He smiled kindly. Trust me, that smile said. Please.
“If you change your mind, or need to talk about anything, please know I’m here and I’ll listen.”
He smiled again and backed up a few steps, sinking back down onto the edge of his desk, effectively dismissing her.
“I just hate to see good go to waste. And you are something good.”
Chapter 8
Quincy
Quincy felt unexpectedly sad as she left Professor Michaels’s office. She pushed out of Edgar Hall and took a deep breath of the crisp fall air, trying to shake the feeling. For anyone else, that would have been a dream offer. A whole new life, offered up on a silver platter. Someone who believed in her, who thought she was special and was willing to step out on a limb for her. But Quincy wasn’t anyone else. And as much as she wished she could take the professor up on either of his offers, she couldn’t. It was too risky. She couldn’t risk staying in one place long enough to finish a degree. She couldn’t risk putting down roots, creating a life tied to any one place. She couldn’t risk laying that kind of trail. She couldn’t risk letting someone in like that. She would love to turn around, go back into his office, and pour it all out. Tell him how someone was trying to kill her. How she didn’t know who or why. How they had been trying for years but she had managed to stay one step ahead of them by nothing more than sheer, dumb luck. She’d get it all out - how tired she was of being on guard all the time, how she couldn’t shut her mind off. How she just wanted to sleep, really sleep, for once in her life. Then she’d sink back into one of his ridiculously overstuffed chairs and wait for him to make it better. To take it all away. Which he wouldn’t, because really, who could listen to that and not believe that crazy had come out to play? No, Professor Michaels’s look of understanding and encouragement would shift, ever so subtly, to worry, maybe a little fear, and then pity. Pity for the sad girl who seemed so bright but obviously had some major issues in her life. Pity that this was beyond him, that he wouldn’t be able to help her like he so obviously wanted to. Quincy sighed. Life was what it was. You played the hand you were dealt. And right now, she decided life was going to deal her a coffee. A big one. With caramel. And the full fat milk.
Campus was more alert at 9:00 than at 8:00. People coming and going, in less of a rush than before but still harried. Or maybe that was just the style of the day. It would certainly be easier, Quincy mused, and faster too, if she ditched her hair brush. And the act of putting on pants. Pajama bottoms seemed to be acceptable college fashion she noted, watching a pair of fuzzy flannels sashay past her with a grin.
“Back again?” the kid manning the cart asked.
Quincy sighed. “It’s been that kind of morning.”
“I should make it a big one then?” the kid asked.
“Grande mocha latte with a shot of caramel and extra whip”.
“Skim like last time?”
“Absolutely not,” Quincy answered. “Sugar and fat, as much as you can pack in there.”
“It really has been a day,” he said. “Hey, we got a new snickerdoodle flavor in. Crazy good if you’re interested. And I can still put a shot of caramel in for you.”
“Why not?” Quincy said. If cool coffee cart kid said it was good, it was probably a safe bet. He should know.
“Make it two,” a voice behind her said. She turned as a giant hand dropped a $20 on the counter. The man attached to it leaned casually against the cart and smiled down at her. “If it isn’t the girl with no name. What are the odds?”
That was an excellent question. Because meeting Blondie for the third time in twenty-four hours seemed pretty long. Logan, she reminded herself. He’d said his name was Logan.
“We’ll take those to go,” he told the kid and accepted both drinks. “Keep the change.”
“Thanks man,” the kid said, obviously not used to such stellar treatment.
“That’s basically a 50% tip,” she pointed out, trailing after Logan as he started down the walk. Maybe he was an idiot and she just hadn’t picked up on it yet. That would actually make her feel a little better.
“That kid works eight hours a day for people who barely look at him.” Logan said as he handed her coffee over. “He deserves a little something extra now and again.”
So, not an idiot, or at least not yet. Just kind.
“You coming or going?” Logan asked.
“A little of both,” Quincy said. When Logan looked at her, she debated briefly and then decided, why not. “I just left a meeting with my professor and I have a little time to kill before work.”
“Care to walk?” he asked. Before Quincy could blow him off, which he clearly saw coming a mile away, he went on. “It’s broad daylight, in the middle of a campus full of students and staff, on a walkway in full view of anyone wh
o cares to see. There’s no stranger danger here.”
So they walked. It was a beautiful day, sunny and cool, a light breeze making the coffee even more welcome. Quincy sipped at hers, acutely aware of the very large man walking beside her. He was quiet, which seemed incongruent with his behavior the last time she’d seen him. She took a drink, sneaking a glance from the corner of her eye. He didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry, blowing on his coffee before taking a drink and just generally enjoying the day. But old habits die hard and she couldn’t quite keep the suspicion out of her voice.
“So. Just happened to be in the neighborhood, did you?” she asked, physically unable to let the silence linger.
“You’re kind of paranoid, you know that?” he remarked mildly, taking another slow drink of his coffee. “And this is bad,” he said, dumping the entire cup in a trash can as they wandered past. “It’s so sweet. How can you drink that?”
She glanced down at her own cup. “I didn’t really notice,” she said. “Huh. It kind of is, isn’t it?”
Logan smiled. “And yes, I did.”
“Did what?” Quincy asked, annoyed by the thought that she’d wasted good money on that coffee.
“I did just happen to be in the neighborhood.”
It was Logan’s money though, so maybe it wasn’t such a tragic loss.
“Most of my classes are in the afternoon but I’m always up early. Sometimes I run, sometimes I just come here and wander around. See what kind of trouble I can get into.”
“Like Frisbee on the quad?” she asked. He grinned. It was that same, reckless grin from last night. The one that said he was going to wrap her around his finger and he knew it.
“Exactly like Frisbee on the quad. You can usually find some kind of game going on.”
“I’m sure,” she said. “Frisbee’s not usually a contact sport though.”
“No, but it’s definitely more fun when it is.”
“Boys,” she said, rolling her eyes. But she couldn’t help smiling as she took another sip of her terrible coffee. Trouble or not, his smile was infectious.
“Where are we walking to?” he asked. She hesitated again. This was usually where she’d shut him down, politely or not, and walk away. Although really, who was she kidding? She was already way beyond that point. She’d blown past it last night, in fact, when she’d chatted with him over tacos. That stupid smile was just so disarming. It was hard to walk away from.
“I work at the library on campus,” she finally said, momentarily forgetting her rule about not giving out useful information. Or just outright ignoring it. “I had a meeting with my professor and I got finished a little early. I like to walk so I figured I might as well kill the time.”
“Then I guess it’s lucky I happened by,” he said.
“How so?” she asked.
“Well, spending my morning roughhousing with a bunch of overgrown boys is fine. But I don’t get the chance to walk a beautiful woman to work every day.”
“Hmm. Charm,” she said wryly. “That does nothing for me.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know I’ve had average to medium success with my charm.”
“Well, everyone gets lucky now and again I guess,” she said lightly.
He laughed, clearly pleased with the back and forth. “You’ve got spirit,” he said. “I’ll give you that. But the real question is,” and he paused, for nothing more than dramatic effect if she had to guess, “Do you have a name?”
“I do,” Quincy said. “But I only give it out to my friends.”
“I bought you coffee,” he pointed out when no name was forthcoming.
“So?”
“You accepted. A gift given and a gift received. That constitutes a binding accord. It’s contract law.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve read several law books in my time and I’m pretty sure coffee exchange isn’t binding in a court of law.”
“You’ve read law books?” he asked skeptically. “Plural? Why?”
“Because they were there,” she answered. “They make for excellent reading when you can’t sleep.”
“I suppose that’s true,” he allowed. They were both quiet for a moment. “You must have a lot of trouble sleeping to get through more than one,” he said.
Quincy shrugged. “I guess.” That wasn’t that weird, right? Lots of people had trouble sleeping. Didn’t they? “Who doesn’t have trouble sleeping now and again?” she asked, a little defensively.
“Now and again, huh?” he asked, glancing at her sideways. “Yeah, a little insomnia is normal. But I’m not sure two or three law books worth would be considered normal. Or healthy.”
“Then I guess I won’t mention the medical and forensic books,” she said, only half joking.
He looked at her askance, seemingly torn between amusement and concern. She needed to refocus this conversation, fast.
“I like to read and I work in a library. I read more Jane Austen than world encyclopedias but if it’s handy, yeah, I read it. I’m not snobby about my literature.”
“Oh, pointed and barbed. I like it,” he said, accepting the redirect with more grace than she expected. “I’ll have you know, I’ve read my fair share of Jane Austen.”
“Really?” she asked, more than a little skeptical.
“Well, okay, I’ve watched a couple of movies. But I’ve read Mary Shelley. And I love a good western.”
“Frankenstein and cowboys.” She pretended to think it over. “I’ll accept it.”
“Does that mean we’re friends yet?” he asked hopefully.
“Nope.” She took another sip of the coffee, deciding she could tolerate it. She was more interested in the caffeine than the taste anyway. “But you moved a little closer.”
“Tough crowd,” he said, looking more gleeful about it than he really had a right. “But I like a challenge”.
Oh yeah. Trouble with a capital T. Maybe she should just tell him her name, save herself what she suspected would be more trouble than it was worth.
“So. Roughhousing with a bunch of kids?” she asked.
“Overgrown kids,” he corrected. “And yes. I believe our game of Frisbee yesterday counts as roughhousing.”
“Do you just roam about campus, looking for new friends?” she asked brightly. “Because suddenly, I’m sounding like the normal one.”
Logan laughed. “I’m taking a couple of courses this semester and when I have breaks, I try to find something fun to do. I live a couple miles away but it seems like such a waste to go home, especially when it’s nice outside. And even though I’m 10 years older than some of them, I like to think I give them a pretty good run for their money.”
Quincy thought back to the game she’d seen yesterday. “I’d say that’s fair,” she admitted. “What kind of classes are you taking?”
She regretted it the minute she asked. It was a classic mistake. She didn’t care what classes he was taking. Or she shouldn’t, anyway. It was one thing for him to pester her with questions and endless chatter. It was a whole other matter for her to question him. The more interest she showed, the more he was going to read into it. He already wouldn’t go away. She didn’t want to give him any encouragement.
“I’m retired Army,” he said and she flashed back to the dog tags she’d seen around his neck yesterday. “I always considered myself career military, so now I’m at a bit of a loss.” He paused, running his hand through all that beautiful hair. “I have to find something new. Something that matters.”
She didn’t respond. There was pain in his voice. A story to be told. But she couldn’t let him tell it. Nothing personal. Nothing shared. Nothing she couldn’t walk away from without looking back. Thankfully, he moved away from it on his own. Maybe he wasn’t so willing to jump right in either.
“So I’m taking an anthropology class, a mechanics class, and an English class.” He grinned down at her, shaking off his momentary lapse. “Variety is good for the soul.”
She couldn�
��t help but smile back. “It’s been said.”
She stopped at the foot of the stairs leading up to the library and he followed suit.
“This is my stop,” she said, surprised by how reluctant she was to go in. It had been almost nice having someone to walk with. Conversation. Coffee. With someone who could have been a friend in another life.
“Here,” she said, handing him her empty coffee cup.
“Really?” he called as she jogged up the steps. “That’s all I get?” He said it like a challenge.
Quincy pulled the door open and turned, shooting him her own version of his megawatt grin. “That’s all.”
If it was a challenge he wanted, then a challenge he would get.
Chapter 9
Logan
Logan lost the smile the minute Quincy was out of sight. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone.
“Well?” the voice on the other end asked as soon as the call connected.
“I’m sure.”
Silence. “Well,” the other man said again. “We knew we were close. What’s your assessment?”
Logan stuck his free hand into his pocket, making sure to keep a casual posture. He had been watching Quincy for awhile and he couldn’t afford to attract any unwanted attention. The last thing he needed was for her to get spooked and take off again. He didn’t think she was close with anyone on campus but he didn’t want to draw the eye of anyone who might be watching out for her.
“I think she has no idea. About any of it. She can’t sleep and she’s reading electrical engineering books. She won’t tell me her name and she displays obvious signs of paranoia and suspicion. She clearly knows she’s in danger but I don’t think she has any idea what it means.”
“Interesting. Most patients in her condition have either been heavily medicated for depression by this point or have already ended things. She must be beyond exhausted.”
“Well, she definitely looks it and she’s always out on her run by 5 every morning. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s sleeping less than three hours a night. No one can survive like that indefinitely.”
Shattered Highways Page 6
