hen reporting for duty, you present yourself to your commanding officer immediately upon arrival. I wasn’t in the military, and Major Taylor wasn’t my boss, but lessons instilled by Benson would never be easy to shake. I’d been slack in not seeking her out earlier, but with days more tightly scheduled than meals at Ramadan, it wasn’t my fault. It was the drone sighting that reminded me I had bigger worries than just dealing with high school drama.
I managed to slip away after the last class the following day, making my way to the ground floor of the great hall. Located in the rear of the building, the security offices took up a lot of real estate. Several desks, all manned by uniformed personnel, faced the door. Three enclosed offices, each with names and titles stenciled on the door, ran along the exterior wall. I spied the Major’s name on the furthest door and padded in that direction.
“May I help you?” The man stationed at what would typically be the secretary’s desk might be a great typist, but he looked nothing like a deskbound assistant. The touch of gray at his temples was the only sign he wasn’t in his prime. Fit and trim, his crisp blue uniform still held its creases, and his squared shoulders had that ramrod bearing twenty years in the military will give you. His silver nametag read J. Wieringa. This had to be one of the new hires.
“I’d like to see Major Taylor. My name is Riley Collins.”
The spark of recognition at my name made me wonder what he’d heard about me. My true purpose at Harrington was a closely guarded secret, but perhaps he was the Major’s confidante as well as assistant. He said a few words into the phone. “Go right in. She’s expecting you.”
I recognized the unsmiling woman from her picture, and she stood up from the desk as I entered.
“Sit down, Miss Collins.” It wasn’t an invitation.
I took a chair, a straight-back metal job that would be at home in an interrogation room, but she remained on her feet, towering over me.
The sleek, navy uniform she wore hugged a slender figure that appeared much younger than her forty-something years. She was quite pretty, with long, dark hair swept into a sleek bun, and suntanned skin. Her movements were spare and deliberate, as if she were in perfect command of herself and everything else around her. Her eyes flicked over me with little interest, and I sensed an impatience to be done with me as quickly as possible. I seemed to have that effect on a lot of people lately.
“I think having you here is a mistake,” she announced. “You’re too young, your training is spotty, and if there is a real problem you’ll just get in the way.”
I had watched Benson dress down rookies way too many times to react. I often stood on the sidelines and willed them to keep their mouths shut, knowing the fool who talked back would be verbally eviscerated.
The hint of a smile told me I’d passed the first test. “It’s a miracle Harrington has never seen trouble before,” she continued, warming up to her subject. “The safety measures in place are outdated, the lighting on campus is from fifty years ago, and McKenna fights every attempt at upgrades. As we both know, a school by its very nature is one massive soft target.”
In military parlance, a target that is predictable and stuck in a routine is soft and therefore more vulnerable. It also meant if someone was truly motivated to kidnap or otherwise harm Hayden, they just might succeed.
She stalked to her desk chair and perched on it as if she expected to jump up again at any moment. The silence dragged out long enough I decided it might be safe to speak.
“I’m no cowboy, Major Taylor,” I said evenly, “and I’m not looking to be a hero, but I can be useful.” I had no idea if I could be remotely helpful, but I’d seen my dad look around at Cairo after the Arab Spring uprising and say, “Meh, it could be worse.” Best to put a good face on it.
She cocked her head, an invitation to continue.
“Hayden Frasier seems friendly enough to everyone, and she’s one of the trendsetters, though she doesn’t talk much.” Today several girls had come to class in knockoff versions of the way she’d worn her uniform yesterday. “Her wingman is Quinn Sheffield, who seems okay, maybe.” Quinn had been friendly enough to me, but the way people scuttled out of her way when she strolled through the halls made me wonder. “Once Hayden gets used to me, we’ll be fine.” Yeah, right. We hadn’t exchanged two words since I’d stumbled into the room yesterday.
“You’re the girl’s roommate, for God’s sakes,” Taylor huffed. “How is it you can’t just ingratiate yourself?”
“Because Hayden Frasier’s a total bitch, that’s why,” I snapped without thinking. I took a moment to regroup. “What I mean to say is…”
The Major stood and marked off a few restless paces. “You don’t need to explain.” For the first time she looked at me like I might be worthy of her time. “The students have only been back for a few days, and already I have a list of spoiled children I’d like to see airdropped into the Amazon with nothing but a KA-BAR knife and a granola bar.”
She did paint a vivid picture.
She strode over to a metal wall cabinet and picked through a few shelves before finding what she was looking for. “Here,” she said, handing me an unlabeled USB stick.
“What is it?”
“GPS tracking software. Latest thing. Using your computer, you can sync your phone with that of the subject, and you’ll be able to triangulate her position using any one of twenty-eight military satellites. It has a code-breaking feature, which will get you past any password protection in sixty seconds or less.” She leaned against her desk with satisfaction. “The best part is she’ll never know it’s there.”
There was just one problem. “How am I supposed to get hold of her phone? She even sleeps with it, for some unknown reason.”
She shot me a skeptical look. “Doesn’t the girl ever shower?”
“I’ll do it as soon as possible.” The stick went into my backpack.
She tapped a fingernail against her teeth as if she were hatching an idea. “You know, if you’re to blend in, it would be best if we weren’t seen together. I also would rather avoid electronic communication.”
I sat forward in my chair. “What do you suggest?”
“A code word to be texted whenever we need a face-to-face. Let’s make it ‘horses’. If it’s an emergency, text ‘zebras’.”
Curiosity got the better of me. “Why horses and zebras?”
A faint smile crossed her lips. “Most people hear hoofbeats and think horses. If you should hear something more exotic, well then…”
“Zebras,” I concluded. “Got it.”
We agreed that any meetings would take place in her office right after the nightly study period. That would give me exactly thirty minutes to get back to the dorm before Sarah Jane sicced the dogs on me.
“Anything else?” She turned her attention to the papers on her desk.
“By any chance, are you using drones to patrol?”
The shocked look on her face said it all. “No. Why?”
I told her about the one seen hovering near Watson Hall the night before, and though troubled, there wasn’t much she could do. We agreed I would text her immediately if I saw another one, and to hell with discretion.
“One last thing,” I said. “What happened to Rose Winters?” Von had given me the Spark Notes version, but I couldn’t help being morbidly curious about the girl whose place I had taken. Major Taylor was the only one I could really ask.
“There’s not much to tell.” She walked over to the window and stared down at the rolling landscape. “Single car accident right down the road. She’d come early, the first day students were allowed back on campus, and according to the police report she was on her way back after buying a cell phone. They found it in the wreckage unopened. Quite a loss, I understand.”
Hayden had most likely been off in Saint-Tropez, or wherever it was heiresses went to perfect their summer tans. Despite their friendship, Rose had probably come early to enjoy the peace and quiet without a roommate.
Major Taylor broke into my thoughts. “How’s Karl?”
I didn’t think even Benson’s mother called him that. “He’s… good.” I barely knew the woman. Volunteering that my honorary uncle turned into a heartbroken teenager at the mere mention of her name was too personal.
She turned from the window to face me, but her expression said she was miles away–6,913 to be exact.
“He talked about you, you know,” she said, a smile transforming her face. “You were just a baby at the time, but he couldn’t have been prouder of you if you were his own daughter.”
I flushed with pride and pleasure. “Other than my dad, he’s the best man I’ve ever known.” I decided to take a chance. “I think he still misses you.”
Her smile tightened as reality intruded. “But apparently he would have missed his stubborn pride a whole lot more.” She crossed to the door and opened it. “Thank you for coming, Riley.”
I slowly stood, feeling I couldn’t leave without speaking up for Benson.
“I’m all alone here. My family has my back, but I wish there was someone standing by my side.” I took the few steps to the threshold and met her flinty gaze. “What I’m trying to say is if I loved someone, I’d do almost anything to make it work.”
It may have been my imagination, but her expression softened for just an instant. Finally she said, “Karl must be quite proud of you.”
A few seconds later, I was out in the hall. The interview was over.