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  THIEF

  Annie Reed

  Published by Thunder Valley Press at Smashwords

  Copyright 2011 by Annie Reed

  Cover Art Copyright Esterio | Dreamstime.com

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This story is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Thief

  Annie Reed

  The Frisbee missed the top of Abby Preston's head by a mere inch, if that. She ducked, even though by the time her head moved, the Frisbee was already skimming the green grass of the quad behind where she sat trying to concentrate on her Sociology 101 assignment.

  "Hey!" She looked up at Ryan in mock annoyance. "Watch where you're throwing that thing."

  Ryan leaned down and kissed the top of Abby's head. "That's not what you said last night," he murmured just loud enough for her to hear.

  Abby felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She'd only been dating Ryan for a month and sleeping with him for two weeks, and she wasn't quite comfortable yet with the newness of their relationship. College life was tough enough without complicating it by throwing a boyfriend into the mix. Then, of course, there was the whole "don't worry, dear, you'll find someone to settle down with in college" thing from her mother. That, more than anything else, was why she'd resisted Ryan Maxon's attempts to flirt with her for as long as she had. The last thing Abby wanted to do was fulfill her mother's expectations.

  "Are you going to make out with your girlfriend or play Frisbee?"

  The question came from Jimmy Fisher, Ryan's best friend. Abby's cheeks grew warmer. That was another thing. Dating Ryan didn't mean just hanging out with Ryan. It meant tagging along with Ryan and Jimmy while they did their ex-high school jock thing. In their case, it meant watching them try to beat each other in whatever sport happened to catch their fancy. Today it was tossing a Frisbee around the University of Nevada - Reno quad. The afternoon before, it had been killer tennis on the university courts. The day before that, touch football with some guys from one of the frats.

  "Both, of course," Ryan said. He kissed Abby again, this time on the lips, then jogged over to pick up the Frisbee. "See if you can catch this one," he said to Jimmy.

  Abby tried to refocus on her textbook. Her Sociology text was thick and boring as hell, and she had sixty pages to read by tomorrow. She should have stayed in her dorm room, but the first warm snap of early spring had drawn her outside along with what looked like half the student body. The quad was loaded with students sprawled out on blankets or simply sprawled out on the grass, backpacks overloaded with books by their sides, out enjoying the bright northern Nevada sunshine. It was a wonder that Ryan and Jimmy weren't tripping over people and books with every throw of the Frisbee. Lucky for both of them, they had the kind of natural charm that together with their competitive natures and striking good looks equaled charisma out the wazoo. Why someone like Ryan would be interested in someone like Abby was beyond her. She knew she wasn't ugly, although like most of the women in her dorm, she would have changed parts of her body in an instant if she could. She'd just never dated anyone like Ryan before, and he really seemed to like her. They had a spark, or a connection, or whatever you wanted to call it, but it was something special. Abby didn't want to mess whatever it was up before it got a real chance to grow, so when Ryan suggested she take her studying outside, she said yes.

  Only Sociology wasn't nearly as fun as watching Ryan enjoying himself.

  Abby closed her book and crossed her legs, yoga style, and let herself enjoy watching her boyfriend.

  She never even saw the guy who lifted her purse from the blanket behind her until he was halfway down the sidewalk leading to the engineering building.

  "Hey! Wait!"

  She scrambled to her feet. Her wallet with her I.D. was in that purse, not to mention twenty bucks that had to last her for the next five days until she got paid again.

  As soon as she yelled, the guy started to run. He never even looked behind himself to see who was yelling. He was tall and skinny and had on a plain blue jacket and faded jeans and tennis shoes. Abby was no natural athlete. Her legs were short, and she knew she'd never catch him, but damn it, that was her purse.

  "Ryan!" she screamed over her shoulder as she took off after the guy. She didn't wait to see if he heard her or if he was following. She just ran.

  The University of Nevada campus in Reno was built on a gradually rising hill at the north end of town. The quad where she'd been sitting watching Ryan was relatively flat, but the buildings housing the various university departments were constructed on multiple levels, none of which seemed to match. For a small campus, the university had more stairs and sloping walkways than anyplace Abby had ever seen. Just walking to and from her classes had taken ten pounds off during her first semester, not to mention toned her legs, and anger was a great motivator. Still, Abby could see that the guy was pulling away from her. When he bounded up the steps to the library two at a time, Abby knew she'd lose him as soon as he turned the corner of the building. There were too many places to disappear from there. Too many places for him to ditch her purse after he took her wallet. She hoped he choked on whatever he bought with her money.

  Ryan and Jimmy caught up to her, but she didn't stop for them. "That guy," she said, panting now and pointing an unsteady finger at the thief. "He stole my purse!"

  "What guy?" Ryan asked.

  But it was too late. The thief had rounded the corner of the library and was gone.

  "Damn it!" Abby's legs gave out on her and she stumbled to a shaky halt. "Damn it."

  Ryan wrapped his arms around her. Abby let herself be held only because she didn't want to fall down. She felt hollow inside. She tried to tell herself she was being silly. It was only twenty bucks. Maybe she could pick up an extra shift. She worked at the sub sandwich shop two blocks from the campus. The pay was awful but she got one free sandwich for every shift she worked. She'd survive, somehow.

  But she shouldn't have to do that. What made people think they could just take whatever they wanted and get away with it? She was sure her Sociology prof would have a name for people like that, but all Abby cared about right now was that some random guy had taken something that belonged to her, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  "Hey, Abby."

  That was Jimmy. He was standing behind her, talking to her like she was an egg that might crack open if he spoke too loudly. She didn't turn her head to look at him. Any minute now she was going to break out in angry tears, and she didn't want him to see. She didn't want Ryan to see, either, but at least with Ryan, it wouldn't be any more embarrassing than the first time he'd seen her naked.

  "What did your purse look like?" Jimmy asked.

  When Abby didn't answer, Ryan said, "Black leather with a shoulder strap and a zipper on top, right, Abbs?"

  He was right. She didn't think he noticed stuff like that. She nodded, her face still up against Ryan's chest. Why did she have to be so short?

  She didn't hear Jimmy leave. She tried not to think of anything. It was an old trick she'd learned when her mother pushed all of Abby's buttons and then feigned innocence when Abby lashed out. Today it wasn't working.

  "Hey," Ryan said softly. "It'll be okay. It's just stuff. Stuff can be replaced."

  She knew that, but it was her stuff. She'd worked hard for all her replaceable stuff.

  Like the textbooks she'd left on the blanket in the quad.

  "I
need to go get my books before someone steals them, too," she said.

  She felt him relax just a little. "Books? Are you kidding? No one's going to steal your books."

  He was right. When they got back to the blanket, her Sociology text was right where she left it. Everyone had gone back to their studying or playing or simply enjoying the sun. It was like nothing had ever happened, but something had.

  She'd been robbed, and she and Ryan and Jimmy were the only ones who seemed to care.

  * * *

  She filed a report with campus security, but since she only had a vague description of the thief, she knew the report would be filed away and that would be that.

  "You need to keep your purse with you," the security officer told her. "Or better yet, carry your valuables in a front pocket of your jeans. Harder to steal that way."

  Abby suppressed the sharp retort that threatened to pop out. She wasn't an idiot. She was just momentarily distracted. The campus security cop made her feel like a victim all over again, and she didn't like that feeling one bit.

  A thought occurred to her. The security officer, sixty if he was a day, had given his advice like he had to give it often. "Has that happened before? Like what happened to me?" she asked. "I mean, lately?"

  The security officer shrugged. "I'm sure it has. Most minor thefts around campus aren't reported, and the ones that are... well, there are thousands of people who attend class on this campus, not counting all the professors and assistants and grad students, and we don't have the staff to interview everybody. If we've got something to go on, like a name or a real description of the perp, then we can investigate."

  A real description. It wasn't her fault she'd never seen the guy's face. He'd deliberately not turned to look at her.

  That fact bugged her all the long walk back to her dorm room. The thief knew what he was doing. Not only had he not turned around and shown her his face, he'd fled to the one spot on campus where he'd be hidden from view long enough to blend in with the crowds headed in any one of a half-dozen directions. Jimmy had found her purse -- minus her wallet and the Sony Walkman her mother had given her for her birthday last year -- behind a shrub at the back of the library building. Abby'd had a fleeting thought that the thief might have left fingerprints on the smooth black leather, but after the lukewarm response she'd gotten from campus security, she decided to keep any mention of fingerprints to herself.

  So if the thief had snatched purses before, maybe someone else had gotten a better look at his face. Instead of attacking her Sociology reading assignment, Abby spent the next hour talking to every girl she saw in her dorm building. Three of them had had their purses stolen while they were on the quad. Only one of them had reported it. None of them had seen the thief's face.

  Abby flopped down on her bed. So much for that angle. Maybe she just wasn't looking at things right. She was the fourth woman he'd robbed, or at least the fourth that Abby knew about. There were probably more victims out there. Even when the weather was colder, people still hung out at the quad. The thief knew the area well. He should. He'd done his little snatch and run before, and he'd probably do it again.

  She sat up straight as the thought sunk in.

  The thief would probably do the same thing again in the same area. If she wanted to get a good look at him, good enough to give a description to campus security so they could catch him, she'd have to catch him in the act first. It would just take time and patience, and being in the right place at the right time. She already knew the right place. All she needed were a couple of extra eyes to help her watch, and she was pretty sure she knew where she could get a couple of volunteers.

  * * *

  Abby didn't know if Ryan was merely humoring her or if he really believed her plan might actually work, but she didn't care. All that mattered was that Ryan as well as Jimmy Fisher said they'd help her "stake out the quad," as Jimmy called it. Jimmy liked to watch cop shows on television, which was funny because Ryan was the one who was pre-law. Jimmy was a business major, but he still peppered his language with quotes from his favorite television shows. Ryan said not to worry, that it was just a phase Jimmy was going through.

  "You missed out on his Playboy bunny phase," Ryan said. "That's why he's so hot on Karen."

  Half the college was hot on Karen Sullivan. She'd been the first runner up in the Miss Nevada pageant. Jimmy actually thought he had a shot with her. Abby thought Karen was too much of a snob to be interested in a former jock like Jimmy, but stranger things had happened.

  Like the fact that she'd started to haunt the quad, watching and waiting for the purse snatcher to strike again.

  By the end of the first week, Abby had caught nothing but a cold in the ever-changing Nevada weather that roasted her one day and chilled her with a cold north wind the next. Even the trees surrounding the quad couldn't make up their minds whether to bloom or not bloom. Abby spent every spare minute between classes sitting on a bench if a seat was available, or sitting on a blanket when all of the benches were spoken for, her Sociology text propped up on her knees, pretending to read while in reality she scanned the people in the quad, trying to figure out if anyone looked familiar.

  The problem with that was that soon every skinny guy in a dark jacket and jeans looked like the thief. There had to be something unusual about him. The way he walked? Only he hadn't walked long before he broke into a run. How about how he ran? Both Ryan and Jimmy ran with the fluid grace of a natural athlete. For them, running was as easy as walking. The guy who'd robbed her had seemed to work at it, even though he took the narrow, steep, concrete stairs to the library two at a time. So, he might be in good enough shape to run for short distances, but he wasn't an athlete.

  There was something else nagging at her. Abby blew her nose and ran through the mental checklist. Dark jacket. Dark hair. Faded jeans. Tennis shoes. No backpack.

  No backpack.

  No books. The guy was on a campus full of students, and he had no books. Even Ryan and Jimmy brought books as well as a Frisbee to the quad. The campus was too spread out, parking too far away, to leave books in a car or a dorm room and go get them between classes. Plus, every class used more than one book. She'd bought five for her Sociology class alone, and that was only one of five classes she was taking this semester. She figured that by the time she was done with college, her back would be permanently screwed up just from the weight of her backpack. The thing was already coming apart at the seams, which was why she didn't carry her wallet in her backpack like a lot of women but kept using a purse instead. She'd thought it would be safer. So much for that bright idea.

  She liked her new idea much better. She didn't have to look at every skinny guy in the quad, she only had to look at the skinny guys who didn't have a backpack.

  Abby got up off the bench. She had no idea if her theory was right, but it felt right, and she needed to let Ryan and Jimmy know. They were tossing the Frisbee around at the other end of the quad, the end closest to the library. They figured if they spotted the guy running toward his getaway spot, they could cut him off before he disappeared again.

  She was halfway across the quad when she spotted the thief. He was still wearing faded jeans and tennis shoes, but today he had on a heavier denim coat with a wooly collar. More memorable than the black jacket but not unique on campus. Abby wouldn't have noticed him except for the fact that not only didn't he have a backpack, he wasn't carrying a book or even a notebook. He was walking across the quad like he belonged there, but he was doing the same thing Abby was. He was watching the crowd.

  Looking for another victim.

  Abby tried to signal Ryan and Jimmy, but they weren't looking her way. She didn't want to yell. She didn't want the thief to run again, not when they weren't ready to chase him. So instead she followed him, keeping her distance but keeping him in sight.

  He must not have found what he wanted. Instead of circling back across the quad, he moved off and trailed behind a group of women headed toward the Humani
ties building. From there, he could follow a service alley that ran behind the building to the student union, and then take any one of a number of pathways that led off campus, and he'd be gone again.

  Abby couldn't let him get away, not without getting a really good look at his face this time.

  She adjusted her backpack and fell into step with the rest of the students leaving the quad for classes in the Humanities building. She only hoped that Ryan and Jimmy would see her leaving the quad and follow.

  She thought she'd lost the thief for a minute when the students bunched up at the entrance to the Humanities building. By the time Abby had worked her way around the group, she realized the thief was no longer there. She breathed a sigh of relief when she caught a glimpse of his denim jacket as he rounded the side of the building, walking down the service alley toward the student union. Abby hurried to catch up, and in her hurry, was totally unprepared when the thief reached out from behind a bush at the side of the building and grabbed her elbow.

  His grip was hard and rough, and he was more than strong enough to pull her behind the bush and shove her up against the building. Only Abby's heavy backpack kept her from hitting her head against the building's brick facade.

  "You're following me," the thief said. "I don't like people following me. It makes me nervous, you understand?"

  Abby had more than a good enough look at his face now. He was standing so close that his nose was mere inches from hers. He wasn't quite as tall as Ryan or Jimmy, but tall enough that he was looking down at her. His eyes were dark and angry, and he looked a little older than the average college student, but other than that, he was perfectly average. No distinguishing scars or facial features. He was clean-shaven. His hair was long enough to make him fit in with the rest of the college crowd but not so long as to make him stand out anywhere else. She didn't know what she'd hoped for. A mole? A tattoo? A piercing? How would she have described him to security even if she'd gotten a good look at him the first time?