"He was one of my best teaching assistants," Harrington said, his voice growing weaker. "Brilliant mind. I just wish I could have protected him."
"So do I," Haley said, applying more pressure to his wound as sirens wailed in the distance.
As the sirens grew louder and campus security vehicles appeared in the driveway, Matt went out to update them. This attack had been more aggressive than the last, more professional in nature, and if he hadn't been able to fight back, they might all be dead. They weren't just dealing with spoiled rich kids. They were at war, and they still didn't know exactly who they were fighting.
ChapterTwenty-One
It was after four on Monday afternoon by the time they left the Westbridge campus, and Haley's nerves were tighter than they'd ever been. Every car behind them seemed like a possible threat. Every turn could hold some unexpected new horror. She twisted her fingers, not sure where they should go next. They had learned a lot from Justin Harrington but had almost lost their lives in the process.
After Harrington had been taken to the hospital, they'd talked to the local police as well as the campus police. Two of Matt's team members, Jason Colter and a woman named Andi Hart, had shown up at the house, and Matt had given them the update on everything that had transpired.
The intensity of the attack had definitely ratcheted up the danger of the investigation, and before they'd left the university grounds, Jason had given Matt the address and directions to a safehouse, where they were headed now. She wasn't sure why Matt's apartment was no longer safe, but she hadn't had the energy to ask questions. She felt overwhelmed and numb.
Her phone buzzed, and she saw a text from Julia, asking her what the hell was going on. She'd just heard about the shooting at Professor Harrington's house. Julia wanted to know if she was there, if she was okay, and if she had learned anything new. She couldn't begin to answer that question in a text, and since Matt didn't want her to talk to Julia anyway, she just said she was okay, and she'd be in touch.
As she sent that text, she realized she had another one from her editor at theSentinel, checking in on her, wondering if she knew when she'd be back to work. She texted her back as well, saying that she needed at least the rest of the week to figure things out.
"Who are you talking to?" Matt asked.
"Julia. She heard about the shooting, wanted to know if I was there, if I was okay. I told her I'd fill her in later. I can't get into it now."
He frowned, his gaze narrowing. "How did she hear about that?"
"I don't know. Maybe it was on the news. Or maybe she has access to a police scanner. Does it matter?" She paused. "I'm not going to tell her anything, but I couldn't just blow her off."
"I understand. Was that the only text you got?"
"My editor checked in. She knows I'm looking into my brother's death. I told her I'll need a few more days off."
"Good. Now that you've done that, I want you to turn off your phone. Power it all the way off."
"Why? What if someone tries to call me?"
"They can still text you. We'll be able to retrieve your messages at the safehouse, but I don't want anyone tracking your phone."
"What about your phone?"
"I shut it down before we left Westbridge and have forwarded my calls to a secure landline at the safehouse. I meant to tell you to turn it off earlier, but I forgot." He shook his head, irritated with himself over that mistake.
"Well, you've had a lot to deal with," she said as she powered down her phone and put it back in her bag. "Do you want to talk about what we learned?"
"If you want to talk, I'll listen. I'm also happy to be quiet. Your choice."
She stared down at her hands, which she'd scrubbed a half-dozen times but were still tinged with pink from Harrington's blood. "I've had the blood of two people on my hands in two days. And all I can think is that at some point I'm going to be the one bleeding out on the floor." She gave him an anxious look. "I feel overwhelmed, Matt."
"I know. I'm going to do everything I can to protect you."
"The attacks are getting worse and worse. I wonder if we'll be safe anywhere."
"This will be a safe space for us," he assured her. "Trust me."
"You're the only one I can trust," she said, meeting his gaze. "Don't let me down."
"I won't."
Twenty minutes later, Matt pulled into the parking garage of a two-story townhouse that appeared to be part of a duplex. It had taken two codes to get into the garage and then the house, but once inside, she was pleasantly surprised by how modern, up-to-date, and nicely decorated the house was. "This is better than I expected."
"It apparently used to be the home of the head of my task force. He turned it into a safehouse after he got married."
