By early February, one-quarter of the semester was already over. Renovations on her usual teaching space had also been completed, so Reine had no reason to anticipate accidentally running into Gabe on campus any more. After finishing work for the day, her walk to the parking garage was relatively quiet. It was peppered only with the sound of casual conversations from students walking across campus or the occasional roar of an airplane descending toward the nearby National Airport.

Nevertheless, she had a strange sense of foreboding as though she was being watched. Although it took no more than five minutes, by the time she arrived at her car, her heart was beating feverishly. In spite of feeling foolish at her nonsensical paranoia, she didn't turn onto her usual way home.

Looking in her rear-view mirror, she saw a large, dark vehicle leave the garage right behind her. Shifting her attention between the road and the mirror, she tried to follow the other car's movements, but she soon lost track of which bright headlights she was trying to spot.

As the traffic signal in front of her turned yellow, Reine made the split-second decision to step on the gas pedal. She managed to squeeze through before it turned red, allowing her to get ahead of all the vehicles directly behind. In case someone had been following her, she had now increased the distance between them.

Between all the soccer moms, trust fund kids, and federal agencies, black SUVs were a dime a dozen in the metro DC area. Yet Reine's breathing was still becoming rapid with concern. She had to end her irrational suspicions. The only way was to prove to herself she wasn't being followed.

Almost passing the perfect location for the experiment, she made a sharp left into the parking lot designated for visitors to Glen Echo Park. The sprawling grounds were a historical amusement park and local arts center that - judging from all of the cars and bright marquee lights - was currently open.

It was very close to her home, and she'd been there many times. In fact, she occasionally volunteered to lead guided museum tours for the park's members.

Amazed at her luck at finding an empty parking spot, she turned off the engine and dashed towards the entry gate. Looking back across the road, Reine saw an SUV stopped on the shoulder. She was sure it wasn't there before, which seemed to confirm her hunch. She had to figure out what to do next, but one thing was for certain: she had to get out of plain sight as soon as possible.

Stepping into the park, she passed the Puppet Theater. Its doors flew open, releasing a flood of adults and children into the open courtyard. Reine was swept up among the masses. Now there was no way for her to know if anyone had actually followed her inside.

As the throng of people slowly dissipated, she was able to finally catch her breath at the carnival game stations. Here, the laughter of children mixed with the plink-plonk sounds of the ring toss and the live jazz music coming from the old bumper car pavilion. The smell of freshly made buttery popcorn and cotton candy also permeated the cold February night. Getting sensory overload and feeling slightly claustrophobic, Reine tried to stay vigilant of anyone questionable behind her.

As she turned around, something caught her eye. A man - tall enough to tower over the rest of the crowd - had shifted out of view as soon as he noticed her scrutiny. Although the move could have been entirely coincidental, Reine's already heightened state of alert urged her to start heading in the opposite direction. She found refuge among the people standing around the meticulously refurbished 1920s carousel.

The nostalgic melody of a loud waltz played from the historic Wurlitzer organ, incessantly repeating after each round. With her nerves already frayed, she was on the edge of panic from the various stimuli. She could no longer watch the flashing lights and the colorful menagerie of almost grotesquely rendered animals bobbing up and down on mechanized poles. The intermittent shrieks of children and the sea of unfamiliar faces led her to hyperventilate to the point of almost passing out.

Grabbing a nearby railing, she took out her phone, moved a few steps away to minimize the distracting ambient noises, and scrolled through the contact list. She briefly considered calling Noor, but dismissed the idea. The girl would ask too many questions, and all she needed was to safely get home.

No, her advisor was less likely to read anything into the situation if she told him she was having car trouble and needed a ride home. If, by any chance, someone had been following her, being accompanied by a mature individual would be a deterrent.

Finding Gray Iverson's name on the screen, she pressed the 'call' button. It rang five times before anyone answered, but it wasn't the voice Reine was expecting to hear. Temporarily speechless, she checked the handset's display. Sure enough, it read 'Gabe Moran'.

"Damn it." She scolded herself for alphabetizing the saved numbers by first name. She had obviously misdialed.

"Hello?" Gabe repeated when he still didn't get an acknowledgement.

She was about to hang up without identifying herself, when he addressed her directly. "Reine, say something."

Apparently, he had also saved her to his contact list.

"Hey, Gabe. Sorry about that. It's so loud here, I'm having a hard time hearing you." She lied.

"Where are you? Are you okay?" He sounded worried.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm having some car trouble though and well, I was wondering if you could give me a ride home?"

This was probably the stupidest thing she could have asked. Gabe was just as suspect for being involved in whatever was going on around her as anybody else. On the other hand, if he had anything to do with the situation, then he already knew where she was anyway.

"Sure, no problem." He agreed. "Are you at some sort of party?"

"Glen Echo Park. I'll meet you by the bumper car pavilion?"

"I know where it is. I can be there in fifteen minutes."

True to his word, she didn't have to wait long. Sitting on the backrest of a wooden bench with her feet on the seat, she was drinking hot chocolate when he quietly slid beside her.

"The infamous boots." He chuckled, looking at her footwear.

Lost in thought while people watching, he caught her mid-sip. Before responding, she wiped her lips with the back of her wool glove. It wasn't very ladylike, but neither was a cocoa moustache.

"Thanks for coming so fast," she said.

"You can call me for help any time, Reine. Wow, I don't think I've been here since I was a kid." He looked around.

She wanted to sound grateful, but could only manage apologetic. "I'm sorry you had to come down here just for me."

Under normal circumstances, the fact they only had a few personal encounters, hadn't seen each other in weeks, and he still came to her aid without question would have been flattering. However, his actions now just made her more leery of his motivations. In spite of this, she truly didn't want to believe he was part of whatever delusions she'd created around herself.

"Don't worry about it. Are you ready to get out of here?" He jumped off the bench. "It doesn't seem like you're having much fun."

She scrunched her nose. "I'm not a fan of crowds."

"Maybe you just weren't with the right person." He turned up the charm again.

"I'll keep that in mind next time," she said with unbridled sarcasm.

As they walked toward the main gate, Reine remembered something she'd been hoping to find out. "How's your research going?"

"My what?" he asked with a flinch. Now he was the one caught off-guard.

"The research you were doing in our library. The Congressional Records?"

"Oh yeah. Great. It's going great." He appeared to be searching for the right words. "I mean, I'm working on another piece now that doesn't need as much background info, but I still go in there once in a while. Best library in the city."

The hesitation made it hard for Reine to believe him, and she was tempted to call him out on it. But what would she say?

Are you following me? Why were you REALLY in the library? What do you want from me?

The questions all sounded like they belonged on a late-night crime series and not coming out of her mouth. If he was being untruthful to her, he'd just continue lying no matter what she asked.

It may have been imprudent of her, but she felt safe with him.

When they got to the parking lot, he looked around. "Where did you park?"

"I'm down there," she said, pointing to the end of the nearest row of cars. "But please just take me to my house, and I'll get it towed tomorrow."

Because there was nothing wrong with the car, her story for calling him could easily fall apart. However, his masculine ego didn't allow him to be deterred so quickly.

"I may be able to save you the trouble if I could just take a look." He walked toward the silver BMW.

Realizing the futility in arguing further, Reine followed and remotely unlocked the doors before handing him the key.

He slipped behind the steering wheel. "What kind of problem were you having?"

"Uhm, it just started making this weird, knocking noise." She lied, scanning his face for a reaction. It was such a girly description, and he probably saw right through her.

"And it wouldn't accelerate right when I pressed the gas pedal." She tried to sound more convincing in her ignorance of automobile mechanics in order for him to buy the charade.

"That could be any number of things, so let's just get it started first," he said as he inserted the key and pressed the ignition button.

Naturally, it started on the first try.

Letting it idle for a few seconds and then revving the engine for good measure, he seemed satisfied with the results. "It looks to be okay right now, but I can't let you drive it home by yourself. I'll follow you just in case, all right?"

Although it wasn't what she had planned, the end result would be the same. She wouldn't have to make it home alone. "Let's go."

As she drove the short distance - it wasn't more than a mile - Reine was very happy the silhouette of Gabe's black Range Rover didn't match the outline of the car she'd seen behind her earlier that night.

By the time they arrived, it was past ten. The narrow, dark streets in her neighborhood were blissfully deserted, without even a hint of any ominous activity.

Reine parked at her usual curbside spot and silently walked to the front door. Gabe followed closely behind. The motion sensor of the porch light reacted to their approach and illuminated the immediate area.

"Did you hear any more knocking on the way here?" he asked, as she unlocked her front door.

"What? Oh, no I didn't." She momentarily forgot what she'd falsely claimed had been wrong with the car. The lock turned and she pushed the door open.

"I'd still call the service, if I were you." He turned to leave. "Good night."

"Good night," she quietly echoed his words, both surprised and disappointed once again at how easy it seemed for him to go. She watched as he took step after step, getting closer to his car with each one. Attempting to be similarly nonchalant, she was both unable to go inside the house, and also didn't want to look away.

It may have been wrong to previously turn him down. Somehow knowing she wouldn't get another chance like this, she called after the retreating figure. "Wait!"

He spun around and waited for her to continue.

"Are you free on Sunday morning?" she asked.

He paused for an agonizingly long several seconds. "What did you have in mind?"

"Meet me at the National Gallery at 10 a.m. West entrance." She deliberately avoided phrasing it as a request and ducked inside the house before he could refuse.

Even if he ended up not going, she wanted him to think about it and not decide on the spur of the moment. Leaning against the closed door, Reine wondered if he would accept the invitation, but also whether she had just made another colossal mistake.