You can read all previous chapters for Treason of Fate HERE.
Almost as soon as they pulled out of the parking lot for the Temporal Sciences Center, Anit’s phone dinged with a text message with the residence hall, room numbers, and class schedules for Monica Savala and Alfredo Jaramillo.
Anit had driven straight over and parked front and center, giving them a prime view of the front door as multiple candidates were departing for their morning classes.
One after another, the students would slow down, looking into the black sedan at the two black-suited men. After the third student in a row stopped in his tracks to stare at Anit and Vicente through the windshield, mouth dropping open in paranoid alarm before scurrying away, Vicente had had enough.
“Did you park here on purpose?” he asked, turning to glare at Anit, who was chuckling to himself.
“Hell yes I did. The little shits should be challenging us. Asking who we are and if we have clearance to be on campus at all. But they’re not. Look at ‘em. So scared that we’re here for them they don’t even care about two strangers staking out the place they live. Shameful.”
Anit’s tone was light, joking. But in their brief acquaintance, Vicente had learned to pay attention to Anit’s jokes.
“You want to talk to them together or separate?” Vicente asked.
“Together,” Anit said, shifting his tone into bored professionalism. Like putting on a new jacket. “They’ve already had time to get their story straight, so no point in doing separate interviews. Besides, I wanna see how they play off each other. I wanna see who’s the alpha in that little dyad.”
Against his will, Vicente felt the corner of his mouth lift just slightly.
He loved interrogations, even low-stakes ones. A wife covering for her husband’s whereabouts. A kid lying to protect his stupid friend. It was fun to suss out who was lying and, more importantly, why they were lying. It was like a puzzle, one made all the more fun when there was more than one person who was lying to you.
“If it’s alright with you, I don’t want to linger. Maybe five questions tops. I want to make sure they’re at ease and don’t think I’m a threat.”
Anit lolled his head to the side and gave him a sly smile. “Yeah, that’s how I roll too. I’m just some nerdy guy asking stupid questions… until I’m not. Not sure how well you’ll pull it off though—looking like Steve the quarterback and shit.”
“Hey, who says the nerd and the dumb jock can’t team up?” Vicente joked back, keeping his disquiet hidden under the smile.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to see what Anit looked like when he dropped the “nerdy guy” act.
He got out of the car and the two of them walked into the dormitory. They had only made it two steps before a tall man in a guard uniform—with no mask—stepped out to ask for their credentials.
“Glad to see someone takes security seriously around here.” Anit grinned, handing over his badge.
The guard said nothing in reply, just studied their badges every bit as closely as the one at the front gate had, cross-referencing the photo with their faces and shining a penlight onto the IDs to check for the holograms. Once satisfied, he tilted his head toward the hallway behind him. “Follow me sir. I’ll escort you to the room and announce you.”
Their footsteps sounded loudly on the tile, drawing curious stares from the students who passed them in the hall and from those watching TV in the common rooms. A silent elevator ride and a few more steps later, they were outside room 4610 and the guard rapped on the door. One knuckle. Three raps. His gloved hand slightly muffling the sound.
A bare knuckle would have been innocuous enough to be mistaken as a friend or the RA. But the glove made it clear who was knocking, which was probably why the footsteps on the other side of the door were hurried, and the deadbolt rattled slightly as it disengaged.
The door swung open promptly—not one moment spared to look through the peephole.
Monica Savala stood before them, her full mouth turned down slightly at the sight of them. She obviously hadn’t been expecting company this early in the morning.
A lovely girl, her fair skin glowed beneath her black spaghetti strap top, showing off her well-toned arms. Her spandex shorts likewise revealed the lower body of a hurdler, thick and powerful. It was obvious why Sato had selected her to be one of the few females allowed into the Security Liaison program. A trained fighter, through and through.
Despite the strangers at her door, Monica’s face remained still and stoic—revealing nothing.
“This is FBI Agent Vicente Guerrero and Anit Chandrasekhar of the Temporal Investigative Service. They have been cleared to enter these premises and to interview you. Do you consent to their presence in your residence or do you prefer to be interviewed in the administrative building with a candidate representative present?”
Monica’s eyes drifted from the security guard to Anit’s face, her eyebrows raising just slightly at the sight of him. Like she knew him.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said, her tone one of disappointment. Maybe even betrayal.
Vicente kept his face locked in stone, concealing his curiosity at how they knew each other. He couldn’t get a read on the girl and was determined to be just as opaque to her. At least until he knew what he was dealing with.
“I’m fine being interviewed here,” Monica said, returning her attention to the guard.
The man gave a curt nod to her and retreated down the hall.
She waited a moment for the sound of the guard’s footsteps to fade, then sighed heavily. “Well come in, I guess,” she said, allowing the displeasure to permeate her voice.
“Thank you,” replied Anit, his voice bright and friendly, as if her invitation was the highest compliment.
They stepped into the common area of the suite and Vicente blinked in surprise to see someone sitting on the couch.
A tall young man with tanned skin wearing a white tank top and pajama pants… looking distinctively like he’d just woken up.
Looks like they’re a couple after all.
“Glad to see you here, Mr. Jaramillo,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Agent Vicente Guerrero with the FBI. This is—”
“Yeah, I’ve heard all about you.” Alfredo stood up, looking right past Vicente and his extended hand to Anit with undisguised fury. “Figures they’d send you.”
Vicente retracted his hand slowly, turning his head to take a cue from Anit. The man’s face was blank, and he didn’t fire off a retort at Alfredo. No question, no reprimand. Just silence.
Anit was never at a loss for words. The only time he kept his trap shut was when he was giving people enough rope to hang themselves with.
He doesn’t know these kids. But they know him. Interesting.
“We’ve already given our statements to Warner Personnel. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m a little confused about why you’re here. Specifically why the FBI is concerned with our advisor’s death.” Monica’s words were polished and practiced, and she slid gracefully between him and Alfredo.
Okay, I guess now we know who’s in charge. Good.
“I was actually hoping to ask you about your roommate,” Vicente said, molding his face into a warm, fatherly expression. “Though I am sorry to hear about your professor. We spoke with Dr. Sato right before we came and he told us what happened. He also spoke very highly of you.”
Monica lifted her chin, a proud smile tugging at her mouth. “I’m glad to hear that.” She tilted her head toward the sofa. “Please, have a seat.”
Vicente stepped past Alfredo and sat down immediately, smiling at Monica as she lowered herself to sit beside him, brushing her dark hair off her shoulders. She angled her knees toward him, sitting close enough he could smell the fruity lotion she was wearing.
Anit and Alfredo remained standing, both of them watching the scene on the sofa carefully.
“I don’t want to take up too much of your time, so I won’t rehash what you already reported to Security,” Vicente assured her. “In your statement, you say you didn’t see any odd behavior from Shannan Fitzroy leading up to the day of travel. But I wasn’t able to determine how well you knew her. Were you friends or…”
“Not exactly.” She shook her head, looking almost apologetic. “When you’re in the security program, it’s not a good idea to be cozy with people. You may end up investigating or arresting them and that brings complications.”
“I know exactly what you mean. Do you know if she was dating anyone?”
Monica’s face flicked to Anit for just one second, then returned to Vicente, her face going utterly blank, like her brain was glitching.
A second of silence. Then two. Then, “No. She was single. No boyfriends. Pretty sure she was celibate too,” said Monica, the cadence of her voice clipped and unnatural.
“Okay, that’s good to know. So no boyfriend. No close friends, it sounds like?”
Monica shook her head and in his peripheral vision, Vicente saw Alfredo cross his arms over his chest.
“Did she say anything to either of you about Dr. Edwards’ prosecution? Any indication she was planning to disrupt the proceedings?”
“I believe she tried to have her grandmother intervene,” said Monica, returning to her normal cadence. “But by that point, I think she was already in hospice care. It was obviously quite upsetting for her. His arrest, I mean.”
“How about you, Alfredo?” asked Vicente, turning his body to look at the boy. “Did you talk to Shannan? About Dr. Edwards or anything else?”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “I didn’t really know her either.”
Vicente furrowed his brow in an exaggerated look of confusion. “Says in your records you took two of her classes, both electives.”
Alfredo’s lips went white as he pressed them together, then muttered, “She’s a TA, so yeah. But we didn’t really socialize. They frown on that.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
The soft touch of Monica’s fingertip landing on his hand jerked Vicente’s head back around to face her.
“Have you spoken to Shannan at all?” she asked, a flicker of worry in her eyes. He couldn’t tell if it was sincere or manufactured for his benefit.
“No, I haven’t. Though I plan to, obviously.”
Begrudgingly, she turned toward Anit. “Dr. Chandrasekhar?”
Dr.?
To his credit, Anit kept that same neutral look on his face. “I was able to observe her initial questioning, but I wasn’t able to speak to her.”
Monica nodded, pressing her lips together and looking down at her lap. “Is she okay?”
“She seems… angry. Otherwise not talkative. Do you have something you want me to pass along to her?”
She seemed to think about it for a moment, keeping her eyes trained on her lap as the silence stretched on. But then she looked up again and shook her head. “No. She… Like I said. We weren’t that close.”
“Well, we appreciate you taking the time to speak to us,” Vicente said, rising from the couch. “If we have more questions, we’ll contact the campus to arrange another interview. Sound good?”
Not quite able to conceal her relief, Monica battled to restrain her nervous smile as she too rose from the couch and politely walked them to the door. Alfredo remained where he was, still obviously seething at Anit’s presence.
“That sounds just fine. I’m just so sorry that Shannan did what she did,” Monica said as they stepped out into the hall.
“Well by the time it’s all said and done, no one is gonna be as sorry about it as Shannan herself. That’s for damn sure. You have a good day now,” Anit said in his chipper voice.
They both watched the stoicism fall right off Monica’s face, replaced by a moment of unvarnished dread before she closed the door.
“Nice. Very nice,” Vicente whispered as they made their way toward the elevators.
“It just came to me.”
They didn’t speak again until they got back to the car, both of them knowing full well every inch of Warner was surveilled and recorded.
Once they had climbed into the sedan and had the door shut, Vicente looked over at Anit. “Did you get a doctorate when I wasn’t looking?”
“Nope. And before you ask, I’ve never seen that girl before. Not once. I would remember.”
“Shit.”
“Shit indeed.”
Makeba had been right. Shannan did change something in the timeline. Whatever it was… we think it was small, she had said. Both Monica and Alfredo thought Anit was a professor here at Warner, and they remembered him. Obviously didn’t like him much either. The question still remained what else did Shannan change? And was it as inconsequential as one spy’s graduate degree?
“Just to make sure we’re on the same page,” Anit said, starting up the car. “Those two were in 1688 London to observe religious strife leading up to the Glorious Revolution. That’s where they were when their professor died.”
“And?”
“And that dress Shannan was wearing would have fit right in.”
Vicente felt himself nodding, his mouth tightening in irritation. “Yeah, we’re definitely on the same page. Those two are full of shit.”
“You wanna go back at ‘em?”
Vicente opened his mouth to say yes, his mind already at work to determine the best time to haul them in and interrogate them properly.
But then he closed his mouth, thinking better of it. He had been dragged kicking and screaming into this, dreading the thought of getting his hands dirty with Warner business.
But now he wanted to know. He was dying to know what those two little bastards were lying about. And why.
“Not yet. I want to talk to Shannan first. I need to get a bead on her before I know what angle to take with those two.”
“Awesome.” Anit backed out of the parking spot, the smile returning to his face. “I knew you’d come around.”
Vicente didn’t smile back. He hadn’t forgotten the look of worry on Monica’s face when she’d asked about Shannan. He was pretty sure it was genuine. And she was right to be worried.
His interrogation of her would determine far more than his usual case. It wasn’t just a matter of whether she would do prison time and how much.
Her life was at stake and depending on what she had changed in the past… maybe everyone else’s lives were too.