by Ali Franklin
“I’ll just go over there,” said Ryan. She walked down a short hallway to the last door on the left. The plaque affixed to the wall announced the office’s occupant in large black letters: “BENJAMIN LOBO, PHD, DIRECTOR OF CAMPUS LIBRARIES.” Ryan stepped through the doorway.
Dr. Lobo’s assistant looked up from his computer. “Good morning, Dr. McCabe. What brings you to the library?”
“Hi, Steven. Is Benjamin here? I need to see the tapes from the surveillance cameras on the fourth floor.”
“Are you trying to find out what happened to Kenn Kennedy last night?”
Ryan nodded.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t have the surveillance.”
“Someone stole the tapes?”
“There are no tapes. It’s all digital these days, and it’s managed by the campus police. Benjamin talked with Chief Statton about it this morning. By the time she tried to access the records, they’d been erased.”
Ryan sat in a chair against the wall.
“Erased.” She stared at a little pewter dachshund figurine on Steve’s desk. “When was this?”
“We found out about it just after seven o’clock this morning.”
The little dachshund looked back at Ryan. Finally, she snapped to attention.
“Thanks. I’ve got to go.”
“Do you want to leave a message for Benjamin?”
“No. I’ll talk to him later.” Ryan punched a button on her phone and lifted it to her ear.
Ryan met Nicki on the walkway between the library and the SUB five minutes later. As they walked, Nicki told her about their discovery of the missing digital files.
Ryan said, “If someone erased the evidence, it’s because he or she had something to hide.”
“It is suspicious. Kyle is trying to restore the data, but he says whoever this is did a thorough job of it.”
“We have to find out who did this.”
“Listen, Ryan. If someone’s working this hard to cover his tracks, trying to find him could be dangerous. I want you to leave this up to me.”
“I can’t—”
“—No.” Nicki lifted a hand to stop her. “Someone might have tried to kill Kenn. I don’t want you to be next. I’m going to ask Jack to help. He has more resources through the Sheriff’s Department.”
“Of course.” Ryan felt a familiar pain sneak up the back of her neck as a sneer distorted her lips. “Another chance to work with a department of ‘real’ detectives.”
“It’s not that. I just want to make sure everyone is safe.”
“Go ahead and call him. I should probably get used to solving problems here without you.”
“That’s not what I said.”
Ryan didn’t answer. For a moment they just stood there, looking at each other.
Nicki gestured for them to sit on a bench. “I haven’t made up my mind about Jack’s offer to become his partner. I’m still fully committed to what’s happening here on campus. This is my priority.”
“But for how long? I know you miss being a detective.”
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the challenges, but there’s no decision yet. Let’s focus on getting through this situation. Then we’ll talk about the future.”
“The future? If you go to work for the Sheriff’s Department, it will change everything.”
Ryan felt Nicki reach for her hand, then stop. The women were silent for a moment as they watched students walk in and out of the SUB.
Finally, Nicki spoke. “Things could change. But they could change for the better.”
“I don’t see how.”
“Come on, Ryan. You know what I’m talking about. We don’t have to work together to spend time together. And I want us to spend time together.”
After a long pause, Ryan said, “I want that, too.”
“If I went to work with Jack, we could…see each other outside of that.”
“What’s wrong with staying on campus?”
“I miss being able to make a difference for the people in the community.”
“You told me you liked making a difference for the campus.”
“I do. But we have a good squad here.” Nicki made a wide gesture that took in the nearby buildings. “The campus is in good hands. If I work for the county, I’ll still be just a phone call away. I can consult on anything that comes up.”
“There are too many things that can happen out there.”
“So you’re worried about my safety?”
“Of course,” whispered Ryan.
“You don’t just want me to stay at the college because it’s…comfortable?”
Ryan’s wry smile betrayed that she understood how silly it sounded.
They fell silent as they watched a mother duck lead six ducklings of various sizes across the path toward the pond. The tiny duckling at the end of the little procession kept veering off to the left, then running to catch up with its brothers and sisters. Ryan hoped its growth spurt came soon so it didn’t get left behind.
Ryan screwed up her courage and said what she really wanted to say. “Nicki, I like the way things are. Please tell me you’ll stay.”
“I can’t promise that.”
Ryan looked down at her feet, then lifted her phone to check the time. “I’d better get back to the office.” She turned to walk away. There was more to say, but she couldn’t form the words. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned.
“Ryan, we really need to talk. Why don’t you let me take you to dinner?”
“Like a date?”
“Like a date.”
Ryan’s stomach did a little flip. She met Nicki’s eyes. “Okay. A date.”
6
Elsewhere on campus, the mood was lightening as the weekend approached. Students finalized their plans or sat out by the duck pond, catching some rays. Faculty members arrived in advance of afternoon classes and powered up their computers to see which students had sent excuses for that day’s lessons. Friday afternoon classes tended to have the lowest attendance, and some of the smaller classes could even be canceled.
But three professors’ email inboxes held an unwelcome addition: a message from “[email protected].” The subject line was “The Paladin Speaks.” It read:
Congratulations—You have been selected as one of the first three faculty members whose secrets will be unveiled. Make your apologies to loved ones and colleagues now. This is what you deserve.
Three professors froze in their chairs. Each looked around their office, though they were all alone. Questions swirled. Why am I being targeted? Who are the other two professors? Can I talk to the Paladin?
Most importantly, What does the Paladin know?
☐ ☐ ☐
Bobbi Herman stood and walked to the door of her office. She poked her head into the hallway and looked both ways before closing the door softly. She turned the lock and leaned with her back against it.
Her heart hammered in her chest. Intellectually, she knew there was nothing to worry about. But it was shocking to know she’d been targeted. Why her?
She returned to her desk and stared at the email again. She didn’t see any clues about the Paladin’s identity. And no clue about why he was threatening her.
Bobbi spent the next few minutes imagining what negative information the Paladin might have. She and her husband been married for over thirty years and neither had ever strayed. Bobbi didn’t take money for grades. She didn’t rob banks on the weekends.
She couldn’t think of any student who’d been ticked off at her recently. Most of her students did well in her classes, and she offered extra assistance when they didn’t. The vast majority of her end-of-semester evaluations had always been positive.
She turned in her desk chair and stared out the window.
☐ ☐ ☐
Faith Cho read the email four times before her brain kicked in.
How had this happened? She slapped a palm on her desk.
“You don’t know a thing,�
� she snapped aloud.
She recognized the anger boiling up and took a mental step back. She read the email again. The terse message didn’t offer much to decipher. The fact that the sender recommended the faculty make apologies suggested it might be a woman. But the dominant tone reeked of testosterone.
She opened a desk drawer and pulled out her copy of Wednesday’s Herald. The Paladin’s message that day had been a scant few sentences. Like the email, it focused on faculty secrets.
Faith was sure of one thing: there was no shortage of secrets at Haverwood. The college was like one of those small villages you read about in the English countryside, where everything seems fine on the surface but tensions roil in the background.
She sighed. This was the worst time of the year for someone to cause trouble on campus. It would consume the faculty’s time and energy, leaving less for their students. The students would worry for their professors. And as soon as the story hit the local news, the college would have to contend with parents wanting to bring their sons and daughters back home.
It wasn’t fair. The Paladin had to be one person with a gripe against another person. But instead of handling it like an adult, they’d decided to spread the trouble around; to hurt innocent people who weren’t part of his problem.
She looked back at the message on her screen.
“Who hurt you?”
☐ ☐ ☐
Rick Jensen read the email message from his office in the Journalism Building. Then he mentally rewrote it so it “popped.” He smiled at his automatic response to the written word. Then he started outlining the story for the Herald.
Rick knew President Martinez and the others didn’t want the story getting out just yet, but he wanted to be ready to publish as soon as he got the green light. He sketched out the timeline of events: The Paladin sent the text alert on Monday, the ad came out in the Herald on Wednesday and this email message arrived today.
If the Paladin stuck to the pattern, they should expect the next incident by the end of the weekend. The whole thing was going to be in the news by Monday, regardless of what the administration wanted. And it would remain the top story until something more interesting took its place.
Rick knew some of his colleagues slept with their students. He also knew some took bribes for better grades. One even went out in drag on Saturday nights. Those faculty members were probably squirming in their boots right now. But Rick was calm.
☐ ☐ ☐
Bobbi Herman picked up the phone. She had to talk to someone.
“Teddy, it’s Bobbi. Can you meet for coffee?”
☐ ☐ ☐
Faith Cho dialed the non-emergency number for the campus police. “This is Dr. Cho in the psychology department. Is Chief Statton available?”
She was connected a moment later.
“Dr. Cho, this is Nicki Statton. How can I help you?”
Faith told Nicki about the email message.
“Would you forward it to me?” asked the chief.
“Of course. Are you any closer to finding out who it is?”
“Not yet. But every bit of information we get—like this email—brings us closer to understanding who the Paladin is.”
“I’ve been doing some profiling based on what little we have,” said Faith. “I may have some insight.”
“I’d love to talk with you about it. Could you come over to the station this afternoon?”
Faith straightened up, feeling a glimmer of hope. “Of course. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
They settled on a time and both women hung up the phone feeling a little more hopeful than they’d been a few minutes earlier.
☐ ☐ ☐
Rick Jensen called Ryan. “You realize this is going to hit the news soon, right?” he asked.
Ryan concentrated on keeping her voice even. “We’re doing everything we can to keep that from happening. We don’t want any of our faculty to be harmed by this.”
“I’m not worried for myself. But an awful lot of faculty members must be terrified right now.”
Ryan wondered if his blithe tone was genuine. “Thanks for letting me know about the email. Will you forward it to me? I’ll take it to Nicki Statton.”
He sent it before they ended the call.
☐ ☐ ☐
Ryan hung up the phone, then picked up the handset again. The call from Nicki rang before Ryan could dial the chief’s number.
“I just talked to Faith Cho,” said Nicki. “She received an email today from the Paladin.”
“So did Rick Jensen.”
“That’s two. Who do you think the third one is?”
Ryan felt her mobile phone vibrate and looked down at the screen. The text message from Teddy was addressed to both Ryan and Nicki:
One of you needs to
call Bobbi Herman -
she just got an email
from the Paladin
“There you go,” said Ryan. “Jensen, Cho and Herman.”
“It’s another piece of the puzzle. I’ll call Dr. Herman and see if she knows anything about why she’s being targeted. Maybe we can figure out how they’re connected—and why the Paladin is picking on them first.”
Nicki told Ryan about Faith Cho offering to help develop a profile of the Paladin. “Can you get me any files on student-professor disputes that might help her gain some insight?”
“I can, but,…” Ryan squinted for a moment, considering the ramifications of having Faith view files regarding her colleagues.
“We’ll have to get Faith to sign a non-disclosure agreement. I’ll ask Legal to send me something. And I’ll make copies of the student and faculty files from this year. Will that be enough?”
“It’s enough to start with.”
Ryan promised to send the paperwork as soon as it was ready, then ended the call. She walked to the window, deep in thought. The rec fields were busy with students getting an early start to the weekend. Normally the scene would have cheered her, but she couldn’t shake the undercurrent of fear in her chest.
She looked across the length of the campus and spoke softly.
“Who in the world are you? And what do you want?”
☐ ☐ ☐
An hour later, the Paladin finished reading Mike Garza’s story notes. Monitoring Mike’s cloud drive had been a good idea. The cub reporter hadn’t published his story yet, but he’d collected a solid batch of information about the Paladin’s threat.
Mike’s notes were full of conjecture and holes that needed to be filled, but he was making it interesting. He’d outlined a few avenues of inquiry the campus police and IT departments might be following. None of these would lead anywhere, as far as the Paladin was concerned. The authorities were handling their investigation the way all authorities handled all investigations.
They didn’t seem to realize the Paladin was a talent for the new millennium. Okay, the millennium wasn’t exactly new, but the Paladin’s methods were unlike anything these cyber detectives had ever seen before.
“Just keep investigating this like you’re looking for some baby hacker,” the Paladin said to the laptop screen. “Just when you think you’re about to find me, I’ll pop up somewhere else.”
Fingers tapped the keys and eyes scanned multiple monitors as the [email protected] email account was spoofed. A smile crossed the Paladin’s face.
The signal switches were functioning even better than expected. With the ever-changing array of password and location combinations, it could take months for an IT team to connect the email account to the Paladin. If they’d had a government computer it might be a different story, but this was Haverwood. They’d never catch up.
Eyes returned to the newspaper and a head nodded. Things were going even better than planned.
The ad in yesterday’s paper was designed to make people nervous and gather even more dirt on professors. The response was unexpectedly enthusiastic. Students from across disciplines were sending messages, telling the Paladin what t
hey knew (and suspected) about their professors. If there hadn’t been enough compromising information to cause a stir before, there certainly was now.
“I could confound this college for months. Dispense a tidbit here, a morsel there. Watch those sanctimonious professors drop like flies.”
And that was just on campus. The story would soon be released beyond Haverwood, with further consequences for the faculty. But the Paladin didn’t care about further damage. Once the goal was reached, all traces would vanish and life would go on, even better than before.
The Paladin leaned back in the chair and stretched. The hours between the first message and the ad in the paper had been tense. It was the only time when the authorities might have been able to trace the signal. But they hadn’t.
Beyond the window, students rushed between classroom buildings and residence halls, sometimes stopping to talk to friends. From this side of the glass, it was an idyllic picture. But the Paladin knew there were undercurrents of fear throughout the campus.
Eyes flashed back to the monitors. Fingers tapped at the keyboard again and this time, the smile turned into a frown. There was a new email in the other inbox. It was from The Enemy. With a grunt, the Paladin tapped a key to open it.
“Damn you, can’t you leave me alone for even an hour?”
The message was as expected. The Paladin was being given an assignment—an assignment for which the requesting professor would take all the credit.
“This is the last time.”
The Paladin took a moment to internalize the hatred felt for The Enemy; the self-satisfied, holier-than-thou, drivel-spouting Enemy who lorded authority over everyone. Well, that enviable existence was going to come crashing down.
The Paladin felt a stab of something—fear? No, that wasn’t it. Hatred? No. It was guilt, and it caused sharp pain that made the Paladin squirm in the chair.
“Stay the course. You’ve been planning this for too long. Stick to the plan.”
To this point, there hadn’t been any real damage. Just a threat, just some people made uncomfortable. But soon there would be no turning back. With the push of one more button, the remainder of the plan would be set in motion.
A hand hovered over the keyboard once more. The Paladin looked out the window again, then pressed the button.
