Moving Target. Lori May A.

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      But that was nothing compared to what she’d endured in fifth grade. Nothing could have prepared her for that.

      One of the few friends Chesca had made on the playground was kidnapped, raped and killed.

      It stung the core of Francesca, not understanding how something like that could happen with school officials, guardians, and passersby being unaware.

      Not only was it a blow to lose a friend to such a tragedy, there was no explaining how the criminal had hidden his identity so well from others.

      The murderer was a schoolteacher.

      One who had previously had respect and been highly regarded amongst the community. He let them down. He let Chesca down. She had enjoyed his manner of teaching, felt he had a great sense of humor and camaraderie with the students, and worst of all—she’d felt safe with him.

      In fifth grade, to be such an age, and lose so much faith and trust in adults, in teachers… Chesca was traumatized.

      How could someone like that be revealed as a pedophile who had killed more than once?

      The counseling sessions began, then multiplied. No matter how many times a shrink tried to help Chesca heal those wounds, however, there was nothing anyone could do to take away the hate and disappointment she felt toward society.

      Even now, so many years after the fact, Francesca Thorne could not make sense of what it was that drove some people to do such horrific things. As a child, it wounded her. But it also propelled her. To survive. To never let anyone get so close to her under such false pretenses.

      To pay attention.

      To observe and notice hints of personality traits that may subtly indicate something was at work other than what was at face value.

      Though she hated admitting it, that unfortunate incident might well have been the foundation of how and why she grew a passion for digging deep into profiling people. It was part of her nature, perhaps, because she felt it had to be, from a very young age.

      The old adage that from tragedy rises good, may have had some merit. Perhaps, had it not been for her personal experiences as a child, Chesca might not have taken such a keen interest in human behavior, psychology and social sciences.

      Perhaps, had it not been for her own personal experience, she would not have taken her work to heart and excelled to the point that the teachers at Athena Academy noticed her gift almost immediately.

      No matter what it was that had led her to the Academy, Chesca was grateful. And being reminded of her roots, the vast differences between her upbringing in a socially corrupt environment and in the nurturing environment of the Academy, was enough to fuel her senses and give her the push to settle the score made against that in which she believed.

      She would find out the truth behind Arachne.

      She would uncover the mystery of whether Giambi’s CIA blackmailer was the same woman who was doing everything in her power to destroy the Athena Academy for the Advancement of Women.

      She would ignore, as much as possible, the reminders of her home life while here in this city, and focus on her task at hand.

      Was Arachne also known to some as the Queen of Hearts?

      Chesca vowed to find out the truth.

      For Oracle. For her fellow Athenians.

      For herself.

      This was not a social visit. This was about work.

      And though her upbringing would argue otherwise, her stay in Boston was going to be anything but a tea party.

      Chapter 4

      After checking into the hotel, Francesca had quickly set up an appointment at Boston University before calling it a night. The drive had worn her out physically, but her mind was circling through the wee hours of the darkness as she contemplated the magnitude of this assignment. Then again, some of her best work was accomplished when in sleeping mode, letting her mind relax into a state of purity, where facts filtered and formed patterns, leaving her with a refreshed feeling of alertness upon waking.

      During that next morning, Chesca made a list of things she wanted to accomplish, and she got right on the phone to start the wheels turning.

      In a modest briefing with Delphi, they caught one another up on where Chesca was and what her initial plan of attack would be. Delphi agreed to dig up information on the possible connection between their blackmailer and the CIA.

      Though she didn’t know exactly how Delphi found access to such highly sensitive government information, Chesca was assured she would have CIA files couriered to her when it was safe to do so. In the meantime, Chesca had an appointment set up to get the case rolling and she felt confident in her to-do list.

      Once she had the hotel room feeling as close to home as possible for the next day or so, sorting out her work items from her wardrobe, Chesca set out again in the sporty Ford Edge to make the first stop in her investigation.

      Despite being on familiar ground, Chesca couldn’t help but notice how much the city had evolved since she’d lived here as a child. She rarely found the time or made the effort to come back for a visit, except for the odd “required” social gathering she made appearances at as the sole offspring of the Thorne family.

      Now, seeing the city as though she were a stranger visiting from a far-off land, Chesca felt bittersweet about her return. Focusing on the details of this assignment would be her saving grace and keep her from dwelling too much on the past.

      Her first stop was the Computer Science Department of the Charles River Campus, where she would see if she could evoke some fond memories of someone who may have had the goods to be recruited by the CIA.

      Allison had mentioned the apparent computer skills their suspect possessed, and thus Chesca had set up an appointment with the current department head.

      While it was unlikely she would find anyone on campus that actually knew their suspect personally, given the time frame they were dealing with, it was worth a shot. And, wasn’t that what student records were for? If the computer science nerds couldn’t dig up history, no one else would have a clue.

      Driving along Storrow Drive, Chesca took a moment to glance at the familiar territory and fight off her recurring historical demons.

      This was not her personal alma mater but she’d always had a fondness for the institution. It was, in America, the first university to open all its curricula to women, and in some ways that reminded her of the mission of Athena Academy.

      Though the views along the banks of the Charles River reminded her more of her playful youth.

      In the summer after graduating from Athena Academy, Chesca had a few weeks to spend at home in Boston prior to attending an internship program in Quantico.

      It was before she had actually set foot on her own college campus, and rather than witness the social niceties around the Thorne residence, Chesca found solace on a patio of one of the many coffeehouses on Commonwealth Avenue, and watched students go about their fevered summertime activities.

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