Richard knocked lightly on my open door, startling me from my research trance.
"Department meeting in thirty minutes."
"Thanks for the reminder." I shuffled papers over my notes, oddly protective of my unorthodox research project.
He lingered in the doorway. "You look distracted. Everything okay?"
"Readjusting to the rat race after my sojourn in paradise."
After he left, I stared at one name that appeared in multiple articles: Evelyn Shaw, former lead engineer at Reeves-Halvorsen who'd left the company abruptly a year ago. There was something about the timing that nagged at me, a historian's instinct for pattern recognition.
I logged on to the university's databases to search for any professional publications by Evelyn Shaw. Maybe her research would reveal something about Lars and their connection.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard. What was I doing? Playing amateur detective when I should be focusing on Ottoman trade routes and the rise of Suleiman the Magnificent?
I readied myself to type in the search terms. The cursor moved before I touched it. Suddenly, a red warning box appeared on my computer:
SUSPICIOUS LOGIN ATTEMPT DETECTED.
I frowned, and a trickle of unease wound down my spine. The warning didn't necessarily mean anything. I worked at a university, and faculty accounts were frequently subject to hacking attempts.
The warning message stayed on my screen, its red border pulsing like a digital heartbeat. I refreshed the page, hoping it was only a server hiccup. The same alert appeared, more insistent this time.
SUSPICIOUS LOGIN ATTEMPT DETECTED. ACCOUNT TEMPORARILY LOCKED. PLEASE CONTACT IT SERVICES.
I told myself it was only an annoyance, nothing more. IT could fix it with a few keystrokes, but it didn't feel like nothing.
I dialed IT.
"Let me check that for you, Dr. Kessler." I heard the clicks of keys on the other end. "Hmm. Interesting. There were multiple failed login attempts from an IP address in... Virginia? Then, immediately after, someone tried from on campus. The system locked you out as a precaution."
Virginia. An innocuous detail that shouldn't have raised alarm bells, but it did. Government contractors clustered in Virginia like barnacles on a dock.
"When did the attempts start?"
"The first one was this morning at 4:17 AM. Are you an early riser, Dr. Kessler?"
I wasn't. "Can you tell me specifically what they were trying to access?"
"They attempted to log in to your faculty account. Nothing specific." He paused. "I'll reset your password and send instructions to your personal email, but you should probably change any similar passwords you use."
After hanging up, I stared at my notebook full of names connected to Lars Reeves. My historian's brain tried to rationalize the timing. It was likely random. Statistical probability favored that conclusion.
My phone buzzed with an email notification. It was the password reset from IT, nothing more.
I gathered my notes and slid them into my messenger bag, suddenly reluctant to leave anything related to Reeves or Michael in my office. The research itself was innocuous. I'd only uncovered publicly available information anyone could find, but the act of collecting it seemed a little reckless.
Through my office window, I watched students crossing the quad, laughing and gesturing. Their world continued undisturbed by explosions in paradise or mysterious login attempts. Their biggest worries were midterms and dating drama, not whether they were being digitally stalked for investigating a death they'd witnessed.
I envied their simpler concerns.
Before heading to the department meeting, I logged into my email with the new password. Everything appeared normal.
***
My office was one of three exiled to a separate building from the rest of the department. As I stepped outside to walk to the meeting, I reflected on how I'd spent eighteen months perfecting the art of appearing normal while falling apart on the inside.
After Marissa died, I'd constructed elaborate routines: my precisely timed walk to campus, mechanical grading of papers, and carefully measured conversations with colleagues who didn't know what to say.
