Proof

Moved by an emotion born of her discussion with Christine and her thoughts afterward, she walked to the front entrance of the school. She went on to Script Pass, the only road that led to Athena. She turned and looked back, past the fountain and flowers at the center of the circular drive, over the lawn in front of the main building, up to the dark shapes of the mountains beyond. In the moonlight it all had an ethereal silver glow.

It was almost as ethereal in the public eye. The founders had decided from the beginning to keep Athena low profile. Their goal was not glory for the school, but for its students. And invitation-only institutions were subject to too much speculation and self-righteous curiosity, especially when it came to those that were funded the way Athena was. The students were not encouraged to discuss their alma mater with outsiders, but in educational circles and beyond, the sheer and consistent excellence of the Athena graduates was beginning to create a stir.

Most people have never heard of us, but we are changing the world, Alex thought.

In a burst of nostalgia, she headed back onto the school grounds, her goal the stables. She and her horse Lacy had spent many a long hour exploring those mountains. She’d honed Lacy’s condition in the White Tank Mountain Regional Park. Now twenty years old, Lacy—registered under the name of Chantilly Lace, a tradition with Forsythe horses since the family fortune had been founded on rich fabrics centuries ago—was living a well-earned retirement on her grandfather’s Virginia ranch, nothing more pressing to do than graze on the rich grass. But several of Lacy’s offspring were here, contributing to the versatility of Athena students just as the mare had.

Alex was past the admin office when she felt the tickle at the back of her neck.

Chapter 3

She was being followed.

She knew her hair alone made her quite recognizable, even in just the moonlight. Red, curly manes like hers weren’t that common. So it followed that if it were Christine, or one of the other staff who knew she was there, they would call out to her.

She picked up her pace without appearing to hurry, merely lengthening her stride. So did the person behind her, although he—or she—kept to the shadows to stay hidden. And if Alex’s nerves hadn’t been so ragged, the ploy might have succeeded; whoever it was was good. Very good.

Trained.

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. Alex sat the horse casually, as if a moonlit bareback ride was what she’d had in mind all along. She reined the mare slightly toward the building where the watcher was hiding, just to make sure he got a good look. Alex sensed as much as saw a sharp movement in the shadows.

Gotcha.

She headed the horse slowly toward the trail that led into the mountains behind Athena. Then she urged the gray into the leggy canter that was like riding a rocking chair, even bareback.

She had mentally picked her spot before she’d ever started in that direction. She’d spent so many hours staring up at the mountains from the grounds that she knew exactly what could be seen from where. She cued Charm as they neared the cluster of scrubby whitethorn acacia trees. The moment they were past them she spun the gray off the trail into the soft dirt behind the trees, the perfect spot for an ambush. The mare dug in her heels and executed a stop that would have done a champion stock horse proud.

Alex leaped down and ground-tied the mare by tossing the reins over her head to dangle, all it took for the well-trained animal. She moved in a crouch to where she could look back the way they’d come. She spotted him immediately. Her lure was working, and he’d stepped out from the shadows and stood in plain sight, looking up toward the mountains.

“If I had my HK, I could take you out just like that,” she whispered to herself. “Come on, follow me.”

She was joking about the Heckler & Koch sniper rifle. But she took the man seriously. Whoever he was she sensed he was a threat to someone or something she held dear. And she, as any Athenan, would protect what she loved. Whatever it took.

She waited, watching, as he moved across the open land between the science lab and the stable. He stopped near the stable door and stared up the trail. Charm stood quietly, patiently, as any Athena horse was expected to do. Seconds, then minutes ticked by. Still she and her amiable companion waited and watched, Alex deriving not a little pleasure in having so completely turned the tables on their observer.

She saw him glance at the stables, and instinctively knew what he was thinking.

She almost hoped he would do it. It would be something to see, since she somehow doubted he was an experienced horseman.

Instead of getting a horse he started walking along the path she’d taken between the stable and the arena. He probably thought she had continued at full tilt up the mountain trail, and thus was long out of sight and hearing. Which had been, of course, her intent. He’d have been more on guard approaching her in the stable, but here he had no idea what her position might be.

He stopped at the foot of the mountain trail, still looking upward. She could see him a little better now, not his face, but at least that he had dark hair, was solidly built and tall.

So was the guy at the morgue in Casa Grande.

Was this him? Could she have been followed? Was he good enough to tail her without her noticing? She didn’t think so, not all the way to Athena.

Another thought struck her. What if he hadn’t had to follow her? What if he’d already known Athena was where she was going? Or would go?

That idea made her jaw tighten. Being followed was one thing. Having somebody know for certain where she would go, and having him also know where Athena was, indicated prior knowledge and had implications she didn’t like.

She inhaled sharply when he turned and walked back to the stable. As he peered through the stable door she’d left open, she had to suppress a sudden urge to vault onto Charm’s back and charge down there, yank the guy off his feet and do whatever it took to get him to talk, to tell her what he was doing here, what he was after. Patience had been a long and hard lesson for her to learn in her years here, she who had never had to wait for much in her privileged life. But like everything at Athena, the lessons—both academic and otherwise—had been tailored to the individual, and she’d been forced to learn that one, albeit sometimes the hard way.

She waited.

He stepped inside the stable.

She waited some more.

And waited.

Waited still.

After an hour, she wondered if he were simply going to stay there until she came back, stage an ambush of his own. Did he figure he could get away with it because there was so little staff here on the break between trimesters?

As she sat there she puzzled through what few facts she knew. She was fairly certain no one would be after her because of any cases she’d worked. As a Forensic Scientist II in the Trace Evidence unit, she wasn’t high profile enough for that. She hadn’t testified in any big cases that would bring someone down on her. Her superiors generally took care of that, even if she had done the work. She wasn’t in it for the glory, so didn’t care. Although if the promotion she was up for came through, that would change.

It had to be about Rainy. And if that were the case, that left only a few possibilities she could think of. Somebody thought she knew something they didn’t want her to know. Or, they were afraid she’d find something.

If she was right and this was connected to Rainy’s death, it quite simply proved her theory that there was much more to this than an accident.

Suddenly she sharpened her attention, realizing her tired mind and body had been drifting. She hadn’t slept, she was sure, but the sky was changing from black to inky blue. As the first glow of actual light broke in the distance, she realized she’d have to risk the gun and go down before it became too light to move surreptitiously, if she wanted to catch him. Moving quickly, running on sheer willpower, she remounted the ever-patient Charm and tried to keep the stable in sight as she headed down the trail slowly enough to stay quiet.

As it turned out, she didn’t need to be quiet. She heard the throaty roar of a motorcycle break the stillness. Charm’s ears snapped forward at the unaccustomed sound.

Not a machine to sneak around with, Alex thought as the sound echoed around her, but ideal for coming and going cross-country rather than by the road, which probably made it a good choice, she admitted reluctantly.

Moments later as the sound began to fade to the north, she realized he’d done exactly that.

“Okay,” she muttered, “so you’re a smart boy.”

She legged Charm into a gallop and sent her cutting across the grounds back to the stable. She entered cautiously, but the man was gone. Quickly she took care of the willing gray, crooning to her as she did a quick grooming and checked her hooves for stones. Satisfied, she double-checked the feeding instructions posted on the stall and gave the horse a small scoop of the appropriate grain mixture, not enough to interfere with her routine but enough to reward her for the extra effort of the night.

Then she set about searching the stable, both to make sure he’d left nothing behind and that he had done no damage. The horses began to nicker greetings, no doubt thinking she was there for morning feeding. She checked the stalls first, to make sure each animal was safe and unharmed. Then she went about the rest methodically, starting at one end of the building, intending to work to the other, from top to bottom. Then she stopped. Turned to look from the doorway across the stable.

He was good, she thought. She’d seen that. Likely a pro. So where would he have gone to wait? Where would she have gone? She scanned the shadowy interior, gauging. After a moment she headed for the third stall on the right.

It was empty. There was no feed and care regimen posted, so she assumed it had been vacant for a while, the straw inside waiting for a new occupant.

He’d been very careful. But she knew. Not just because the empty stall was the most logical, but because there was the faintest of flat spots in the straw near the outer door. When she got there she covered her hand with her shirt and unlatched the top half of the Dutch door, knowing she’d come back to check it for prints, though she doubted there’d be any. Then she knew she was right, because without opening it any farther, she could see straight up the trail she had taken into the foothills.

He’d watched from here. Patiently. Until the growing light had chased him away.

What he would have done if she’d come back, she had no idea. Would he have attacked? Tried to kill her? He’d had a chance at that, so she didn’t think murder had been his intention. At least, not yet. But what could he have hoped to accomplish simply by watching?

Contact? Had that been the goal? And if so, why? And why her?

She had no idea and at this point was simply glad he hadn’t hurt the horses in any way. She hastened out of the stall, secured the doors once more, and continued her search. When she was satisfied that he’d left nothing behind—at least, nothing that she would be able to find without some equipment she didn’t have—she headed at a jog toward staff housing and the principal’s bungalow.

This was not going to please Christine at all. Athena was her baby, she had dedicated herself to the school and its students completely, and she would take any threat to it very, very seriously.

“I’m taking it pretty damned seriously myself,” Alex muttered aloud. “In fact, I’d have to say I’m downright ticked off.”

Well, whoever he was, he probably hadn’t gotten what he wanted. And if he came back, he would soon learn it wasn’t smart to tick off a Cassandra.

Chapter 4

“You’re certain you’re all right?”

“Of course,” Alex told her former principal. “He never got anywhere near me. Unfortunately, I didn’t get near him, either.”

“Mmm,” Christine murmured. “And if he’d gone after someone or something else?”

“I would have stopped him.” She frowned. “I should have just grabbed him while I had the chance. I would have found out what he was after.”

“You said he was armed. You weren’t.”

“Yes.” She turned to look at Christine head-on. “So?”

Christine chuckled. “I wasn’t impugning your competency, Alex. Merely pointing out that in those circumstances, with an opponent you haven’t been able to assess, it’s wisest to leave hand-to-hand combat as a last resort.”

“Well,” Alex groused, “at least we’d know who he was, or who sent him.”

“We will,” Christine said. “Eventually.”

“I want to know now.”

“Remember that old Dutch proverb, Alexandra.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. A handful of patience is worth more than a bushel of brains. But somebody else said you had to have patience to learn patience.”

Christine chuckled. “It was always your biggest challenge, wasn’t it?”

“Isn’t it,” Alex corrected her wryly, acknowledging the lifelong battle it would probably be for her.

“That you know it is still your challenge indicates you’re winning the fight,” Christine said, ever the wise mentor. “Of course, wandering around Athena at night isn’t exactly new to you, now is it? After all, you’re one of the few to actually see the Dark Angel.”

Alex’s eyes widened and she sucked in a breath. Christine smiled at her.

“Did you really think I didn’t know what you girls called him?”

“I…we…”

Alex fumbled to a halt, a little amazed at how embarrassing it was now, looking back over the years at that bit of adolescent romanticizing.

“You were teenage girls,” Christine said soothingly. “It’s in the nature of the creature to romanticize something like that.”

Alex’s mouth quirked. “I suppose. And it did seem wildly romantic to us back then, this tall, dark and handsome guy so desperate to find out what happened to his sister that he broke in here.”

“He was that. For him to come back after the first time we caught him here, when he was just a boy, he had to be desperate.”

“It was crazy that he thought Athena had something to do with her death. I don’t get that, his sister wasn’t even a student here. But it was still romantic. That we never knew his name, or who he really was, just made it more so.” Alex’s smile faded. “I hadn’t thought about him in years.”

“Considering the celebrity seeing him made you, I’m surprised you could ever forget.”

Alex’s smile returned then, but it was touched with a lingering sadness. “He did increase my cachet considerably. I wonder what ever happened to him?”

Christine shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just glad we made the right decision in not prosecuting him for burglary. He never came back.”

“It was just the desperation,” Alex said with a shrug. “People do crazy things when someone they love…”

Her voice trailed off as she realized they were now in the same boat that young man had been in, over fifteen years ago. Were they crazy for believing there was more to Rainy’s death than what the officials believed? She didn’t think so. So, were they any different than he had been?

“I guess I understand him better now,” she said, her voice softened by emotional pain.

Christine smiled, a smile that was as pained as Alex’s voice had been. But her words were gentle, approving. “You’ve come a long way, Alex. All the Cassandras have. I’m so very proud of you all.”

Alex saw the smile, saw the moisture in Christine’s eyes, and guessed she also had been thinking about the new presence of death here in this place they both loved.

“We’ll find the truth about Rainy. I promise we will,” she said.

“I know you will.”

A yawn crept up on Alex, and she couldn’t quite stop it. “I am tired,” she admitted before Christine could point out the undeniable fact.

“I should think you would be. I thought when you finally hit the pillow last night that you’d be out like a light for hours.”

“So did I. I haven’t really slept for more than a couple of hours for—” she had to stop to calculate, proving the truth of what she was saying “—almost forty-eight hours now.”

“You’d better now. Stay here this time. I’ll be making some calls to step up security around here.”

“I can’t. I need to call Kayla, and then get over to the morgue and take another look.”