Part 1
The thing was, Rose Kafka had already noticed the man from her office window a few stories above the campus courtyard. He was nothing out of the ordinary, which meant that he was trying too hard to be ordinary, as ordinary as a college campus was. Which meant that something about him was off. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing it was difficult to determine at the moment. It could have been the sunglasses perched on his eyes in the bleak late autumn rain, it could have been the spotless, tailored three-piece suit he wore with no coat over it. It could have been the briefcase that could have been a rifle kit. It was good to dwell on those things, if only because it distracted from the skittering in her gut. Rose sighed, standing up and rearranging the papers on her desk. Preston has been correct: she had incredibly judgemental parents, and she had spent too much time during her college years looking at pictures of pepper moths.
She debated switching out her coffee machine from making tea to coffee again (courtesy of a few good friends in the engineering department with too much time and Red Bull on their hands, they called it the BrewSwitch), but she decided that it was too early to raise the alarm yet. She tidied the rest of her office, this time not even bothering to hide the frames full of insects. She debated again, and made tea.
She balked when the phone rang—but it was only Laurence, two floors down. “Were you able to see him?”
“What makes you think that?” She looked out the window. The man had vanished, as she expected.
“He just passed the Chem Lounge. Nobody buzzed him in.”
Now her nerves began to riot in earnest. “So it’s definitely one of mine, then.”
“Are you sure?”
She sucked in a breath, “I have a name now, Laurence. It was only a matter of time.”
The line paused. The hallway seemed strangely silent.
“So what can we do?” Laurence started. She heard the panic in his voice, but panic wouldn’t help the situation, not when she had the sneaking suspicion that her mysterious guest was doing this on purpose. She shuddered, knowing what it meant.
“Nothing for now. I’ll deal with this. Whatever happens, don’t call the police,” She bit the inside of her cheek, wanting to do anything to leave. But she knew she couldn’t. She had a life now. Family, friends, a career that didn’t really involve hiding who she was. And she swore long ago that no matter what happened, she would fight to her last breath defending them. Her life. Her choices--
“I hope I didn’t interrupt you, Miss Buchanan.” a voice like mercury dripped in her ears.
He hadn’t even bothered knocking. He simply walked through the door, like the laws of physics or manners meant nothing. Like her life meant nothing.
“It’s Doctor Buchanan,” She straightened up, steeling herself. “I’m just about finishing grading some papers. How can I help you today?”