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Reagan glanced over her shoulder every few seconds between the elevator and her room. There was no one there, but that didn’t slow the hammering of her heart against her ribs.
Landlines are safest. Don’t trust anyone. Wayne’s voice echoed in her thoughts. She fumbled with her keycard before sliding it into the lock and pushing the door open.
She bolted both latches the moment she was inside, and clenched her hand into a fist, to keep it from shaking. She wasn’t going to surrender to paranoia. This was a coincidence. A horrible, tragic...
Grief surged inside, and she swallowed hard.
Everywhere she looked, shadows jumped out at her. Something moved on the wall, and she had to clench her teeth to keep from squeaking in shock. Just the sun reflecting off my phone. I need to chill.
She tossed her purse on the bed, grabbed the hotel phone, and dialed Mindy.
“Hello?”
“Hey. It’s me.” Reagan forced her voice to stay calm.
“Hey.” Sympathy lined Mindy’s tone. “I didn’t recognize the number. Did you get my message?”
“Forgot to charge my phone. Listening to your voicemail took the last of my juice.” It was easy to spit out the lie when her mind was splayed in a million spots at once. On top of the news, the creepy note from her one-night stand taunted her. God, how could she be so stupid? She didn’t know how Suit-Guy—it stung less to think of him that way, than by the name he left on the note—was related to this, but his finding and distracting her last night was too convenient.
“Reagan?”
Shit. She missed what Mindy said. “Beg pardon?”
“Everyone on campus is freaking out about this, but you and Dr. Dickinson were close. How are you holding up?”
“I don’t know. Not well?” Reagan sank to the edge of the mattress. She didn’t trust her legs to support her long enough to pace. “What happened?” Freak heart attack. That would be it. Or he choked on a hot dog. Aneurysm?
“Depends on who you ask. Some are saying suicide. I went by his place, being nosy for your sake, and all that. That big bay window out front is shattered. I’m thinking the people who say it was a burglary gone wrong have it right. Either way, Major tells me it was a gunshot.” Major was Mindy’s boyfriend and worked for the coroner’s office.
And bullet wound sounded as ominous as it got. “Fuck. He told me this was going to happen. He called me last night and tried to warn me, and I brushed him off, and I didn’t—”
“Stop. You swore you wouldn’t get sucked into the spooks he saw hiding around every corner. This has to hurt, but don’t let it tear down your reason.”
“Right. You’re right.” She wished she could be as rational about this as Mindy. Reagan had an idea of what kind of people hid in the shadows, though. “I’m shaken up, but you make a good point.”
“Good. Catch your flight, come home, and we’ll get blasted drunk tonight. Help you work through this.”
Reagan smiled at the phone, but it didn’t ease the ache inside. “Good call. I’ll see you this afternoon.” She hung up.
As she packed her bags, she let Mindy’s logic play on a loop in her thoughts. By the time she checked out, sorrow had muted anxiety. She headed to her rental car. She passed through the lobby and something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. Suit-Guy? When she whirled, it was just three business men jabbering, heads bowed together.
Don’t jump at shadows.
The drive to the airport was short. Check-in and security moved quickly. Less than an hour later, she was waiting at her gate. She grabbed a book from a gift shop. She had several on her phone, but that stayed in her purse, powered down.
Every third word, her attention drifted from the page as she glanced around the airport. A familiar suit caught her attention, and she whipped her head in that direction. Nothing. She was being ridiculous. Even if it were him, he wouldn’t be wearing the same suit today unless he’d spent the last of his money on it.
She needed to focus on the story she was reading. Vampires, demons, and lots of hot sex—perfect distraction.
A loud bang ratcheted through the room. Reagan screamed and dropped her book. Anyone not looking at the woman whose suitcase had fallen and broken open, was staring at Reagan.
Heat flooded her face, and she did her best to hide behind her paperback. By the time her flight boarded, she was jumping at everything and still didn’t understand the first paragraph of her book.
She scanned every face on the way to her seat, trying to memorize them, and continued to study the people who boarded after her. Once the plane doors were closed and it taxied down the runway, she found enough calm to unclench her fists and roll the kinks from her neck. It wasn’t a state of Zen by any stretch of the imagination, but she managed not to make a sound when the cart in the center aisle broke free, rolled to the back of the plane, and clattered against the wall with an ear-splitting crash.
As the flight reached cruising altitude, more of her tension faded. With thirty-thousand feet between her and the ground, she could grasp more of the calmness that normally kept her from getting sucked into conspiracy theories. For as many times as Wayne cried wolf, last night was coincidence. A horrible, tragic one, but still coincidence. As the stress ebbed, sorrow knotted in her chest until she couldn’t breathe.
She was grateful she was in an aisle seat. She fumbled with her seatbelt and rushed to the bathroom. Inside, she bolted the door, leaned back against it, and sobbed. She sank to the floor and pulled her knees to her chest. Tears spilled down her cheeks, as she let sadness wash over her. He’d been a good friend, and as over-the-top as he was, he looked out for her.
When she had herself under control, she splashed water on her face and returned to her seat.
The plane landed without incident, and her drive home was the same. The next few days passed in a blur of condolences while the university scrambled to find her a new thesis adviser.
Thursday afternoon, she scanned her thesis research and writing to date, to cement the highlights in her mind, and she sat down with Dr. Dunlop. Reagan didn’t have any classes with the instructor, but rumor was the woman was practical and fair.
“I’ve read over Professor Dickinson’s notes, but to start, I’d like you to tell me in your words what your thesis is about.”
Reagan could do this. She’d memorized the elevator-pitch version before she even started the project. “Advances in digital security are made every day. However, as long as human beings are an access point to that information, there’s no way to make it one-hundred percent secure. Through an examination of technology and human nature, I’d like to show where the weak points are, and why their existence is not a terrible thing, as long as we recognize it.”
“Good, good.” Dr. Dunlop nodded, as she scanned the tablet in front of her. “I do have one concern about your research.”
Reagan’s enthusiasm slipped. “I’m sure I can address whatever you’re seeing.”
“It says here you’ve been tracking a Jabberwock. That’s his name, not what he is?”
“That’s correct. As possibly the best-hidden figure on the deep web, he made a perfect case study.” She spoke with confidence, despite the odds the advisor was about to tell Reagan this was a wild-goose chase.
“I see. So Dr. Dickinson let you chase imaginary people.”
And there it was. “Not imaginary. Private.”
Dr. Dunlop set her tablet aside, steepled her fingers, and looked at Reagan. “I’ve read some of your essays and looked at your academic record. You’re intelligent, and you excel in your courses. Professor Dickinson was the best at what he taught, but he saw conspiracies around every corner. I don’t know that the best use of your research hours is falling down a rabbit hole, to find an invisible man who supposedly is some sort of Godfather of the internet black market.”
“I don’t—” Reagan bit the inside of her cheek, to keep from blurting out something she’d regret. Even if she didn’t buy into Wayne’s various paranoias, what she was looking for existed. But phrasing that the wrong way wouldn’t leave a good impression.
“Ms. Lidell, it’s been a tough week for you. Before you respond, take a few days to think about it,” Dr. Dunlop said.
“I’m sorry—what am I thinking about, exactly?”
Dr. Dunlop’s smile wilted at the corners, and pity lingered in her gaze. “Whether or not this topic is the best use of your time. Your initial theory is sound, but consider whether you might be better served with a new proof.”
“I’m satisfied with what I’ve chosen.”
“As I said, give it a few days to simmer in your head.” Dr. Dunlop stood and gestured to the door. “I have other meetings. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
Reagan let herself be ushered into the hallway, struggling to grasp the right protest. Where was she going to find anyone else with the same kind of experience as Wayne? She could adjust her thesis, but it wouldn’t change her desire for answers about Jabberwock.
The viewing and funeral were on Saturday. The chapel was crowded with former and current students, as well as staff. Wayne might have been paranoid, but he was also a good guy, liked by most people who knew him. She let her attention trip over faces, some familiar and others not. She stalled on a man in the back row. His blond hair was pulled into a ponytail that fell past the collar of a black suit. Even seated, it was clear he was tall and slender. His face, chiseled and handsome, stole her thoughts and made her stare.
He met her gaze, hazel eyes boring through her, and she jerked away as heat flooded her face. What was it about him? He didn’t look like he belonged here, but she couldn’t say why. He also seemed familiar, in an eerie way that clung to her memory but didn’t shake anything loose.
Whispers rolled through the room as everyone took seats in the chapel.
“Such a wonderful man... can’t believe he’s gone.”
“...a bit off his rocker, though...
“...conspiracy theories... nutty... hope he’s finally at peace.”
At the wash of doubt and gossip, Reagan clenched her jaw until it ached. It was worse that the eulogy contained a lot of the same.
She wanted to stand up in the middle of the church and scream that these people had no idea what was going on in the world around them. Men in shadows making deals and deciding fates with no checks and balances.
“Hey. You all right?” Mindy nudged her.
Reagan yanked herself from her head and looked around the room. People were filing toward the exit. She must be extra distracted, to not realize it was over. “I’m good.”
“Are you up for the cemetery?” Mindy studied her, concern lurking behind her gaze.
Reagan nodded and fell into step beside her roommate. They reached the church steps, and she spotted a man leaning against a tree, across the street. Hatter. Her stomach dropped into her shoes, and she stopped.
“Watch it.” Mindy tugged her arm.
Reagan moved out of the flow of traffic and whirled to face the people behind her. “Sorry.” She looked back over her shoulder, and he was gone.
“What’s up with you? Is it just the funeral or something else?” Mindy asked.
“Nothing. The funeral. School.” Reagan’s thoughts weren’t on the conversation. She searched their surroundings but saw no sign of him. But she hadn’t imagined it this time. It wasn’t a trick of light or her overactive imagination. Even from that distance, she swore she’d felt his pale eyes boring into her. An afterimage of him had pressed itself on her thoughts.
Mindy pursed her lips. “Okay. Should we go?”
“I’ll meet you there. I need a little time. Please?”
“I get it. Catch up when you’re ready.”
Reagan surveyed the church grounds from her spot at the top of the stairs, as the procession thinned. Then, there was no one else around but her. She didn’t see Hatter. He hadn’t simply vanished. Where did he go?
“Reagan Lidell?” An unfamiliar male voice greeted her, and a hand rested on the small of her back. “I didn’t think I’d find you alone. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
She whirled to find herself face-to-face with Ponytail-Man from the church. “How do you know my name?” It wasn’t the politest thing she could have led with, but whether he was handsome or not, his lead-in had her heart grinding against her ribs.
“I know a lot more about you than you realize.”