Collateral Damage A Matt Royal Mystery

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

The University of Virginia campus in Charlottesville was busy with summer school students scurrying from one class to another, lugging books and computers, frowns of concentration on their faces. A few lolled in the grass under the trees that studded the campus, the light from the July sun diffused by the leafy cover.

A U.S. Army first lieutenant dressed in the summer uniform of dark green skirt and light green shirt, black epaulets with the single silver bar of her rank, strolled toward the army’s Judge Advocate General Corps School. She was in her second week of learning how to be an army lawyer.

She was a very bright young woman, blonde, fit, and personable. She’d easily finished college and law school, never breaking a sweat while earning top grades. She’d had a number of offers from large civilian firms, but decided to be a soldier, like her dad, the man who’d meant the most to her growing up. She wasn’t sure if the army was the ultimate career for her, but the four-year commitment she’d made would give her time to mature, gain some courtroom experience, and serve her country. In a way, she was putting her life on hold, but it seemed the right thing to do. She needed some breathing space before locking into the future.

The JAGC School wasn’t particularly difficult. She’d met some nice young people, all with the same interest, law. The class was small and everyone seemed compatible. The only blot on this otherwise idyllic portrait was a student from New York who had attached himself to her on the first day. He had, in a short time, become almost obsessive about her. She’d tried nicely to tell him that she wasn’t interested, that she had a boyfriend back home, and that they should just be friends. But the New Yorker was getting worse. There were calls to her cell phone from a blocked number. The caller always hung up when she answered. She’d see him watching her, even in places where he had no reason to be, like the local shopping mall when she was buying clothes the day before.

Only this morning she’d found him waiting outside her quarters when she left for class. She approached him, angry and a bit frightened, and told him that he had to stop following her, that it was creepy and unbecoming for a brand-new army officer. He laughed at her, told her to grow up, that he had a right to be where he was and if she happened by, so be it. He knew that she wanted him and that it was just a matter of time. She told him that if there was one more phone call, one more stalking incident, she would go to the colonel who commanded the school. He laughed and walked away.

She’d thought some more about talking to the administrators of the school, but she didn’t want to be tagged as a complainer, a wimp. She was in the army, and that sort of thing was not tolerated. She only had eight more weeks of school before being assigned a duty post. She could handle the harassment until then, and she’d probably never see the guy again.

The day was drawing to a close. She was headed for the library for some book time with her study group. There were four of them, two men and two women, who’d come together in the lounge of the school on their first day. Their backgrounds were varied, different colleges and law schools, hailing from different parts of the country. She was the only northern Californian in the group, although there were a couple of students in her class from the southern part of the state. She’d grown up in a small town in the Trinity Mountains, not far from the Oregon border, in a close-knit family of four. Her sister, older by two years, was married with a baby, living happily within spitting distance of the trim house in which the two girls had lived their entire lives.

A good life, but not for her. She wanted to see some of the world, and the army was a good vehicle for that. Her life was good, her future rosy and exciting. She was looking forward to joining a unit somewhere in the world, to suiting up and going to court, to representing the interests of the army and the United States.

She mounted the steps to the school building, warm thoughts of the years to come suffusing her brain. She walked into the portico and was reaching for the door when a man stepped out of the shadows and plunged a knife into her heart.