Page 75 of Troy Story
He stared her down, his face blotched with outrage, but she met his gazeand held firm. As he took a step toward her, her flight response kicked into gear. She dodged around him and sprinted for the front door. Wrenching it open, she raced to the truck, which he’d left parked on the gravel driveway. If she drove back to the site now, she could tell everyone what he’d done.
Her heart hammered as she tugged on the driver’s-side door. Locked. Same with the front passenger door.
Letting out a groan of frustration, she glanced back at the field house. Since Dr. Hughes hadn’t dashed out to stop her, he clearly held the upper hand. When she went back inside, he was leaning against the kitchen counter, bearing a smug expression.
He held up her passport. “While you were attempting your little getaway, I found this in your room on the nightstand. It would be a shame if you lost it, wouldn’t it?”
“Give that back, you fucking criminal. And give me my phone.”
“Not until I’ve put you on a bus to Istanbul.”
“What?”
“You’re fired, Miss Danforth. I’ll give you half an hour to pack up your things, and then I’m driving you to the bus depot in Çanakkale.”
“If you force me onto that bus, then I’ll call Stuart the first chance I get. Kerim, too. Once they hear about that tablet, they’ll come racing back here.”
He let out a mean laugh. “You won’t do that. You know why? Because if you report me, then Kerim and Stuart will have no choice but to tell Dr. Wagner. Then he’ll report it to the Turkish authorities. Imagine the fallout. It could be the last time that anyone from the University of Boston ever sets foot at Troy again.”
She swallowed. This wasn’t just about Stuart. It was about all of them. Despite the weeks of work they’d put in, a scandal like this would taint their dig forever.
“While I’d rather avoid another hit on my reputation, I’m due for retirement,” Dr. Hughes said. “I didn’t want to go out like this, but at least I’ve had my day in the sun. That’s not the case with Stuart. He’s just starting his career. Do you think he wants this on his record? Can you imagine—a charge of sexual misconductanda dig where artifact tampering took place? He’ll be lucky if the university doesn’t fire him outright.”
Dusty let out a whimper, knowing he’d spoken the truth. If she revealed what Dr. Hughes had done, she’d bring everything crashing down.
“Now, stop wasting time,” he said. “Get packing. While you’re at it, leave a note for Stuart. Tell him I’m the reason you left because you couldn’t deal with my toxic masculinity or some other bullshit. Make sure he understands you’re not coming back.”
She stood there, hands clenched, awash in frustration.
You can’t give in. You just can’t.
There had to be a solution. Some way to stop him without causing a tremendous scandal.
But she couldn’t think of what it was.
For now, it was easier to let him believe he’d won. In a matter of minutes, she’d packed up her clothes, toiletries, drawing supplies, and laptop. Under Dr. Hughes’ watchful eye, she dashed off a parting note to Stuart and left it in his room.
When she stopped by the library to gather up her notebook and sketch pad, she looked through the drawings she’d done yesterday. Mixed in with the knights and princesses was the cartoon of her and Stuart. The one he’d noticed last night, with the two of them drinking wine.
After checking over her shoulder to make sure she was alone, she drew a heart around the two characters and added the words “I love you” at the bottom. She left it under the pile of drawings, hoping Stuart would find it. Maybe it would ease the blow of the note she’d written. She’d just turned to leave when Dr. Hughes came in and ushered her out.
“Let’s go,” he said. “There’s a bus leaving in an hour. I want to make sure you’re on it.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
During the drive to the bus station, Dusty’s mind worked frantically as she tried to figure out her next move. Right now, she was helpless. But as soon as she got on that bus, she’d have her phone. She still didn’t know who to call or what to tell them, but at least she wouldn’t be cut off. There had to besomeonewho could help her sort through this mess.
Once they arrived, Dr. Hughes bought her a ticket, asked the driver’s assistant to load her giant backpack onto the bus, and escorted her to a seat in the back. Only then did he hand over her passport. She snatched it from him and held it tight.
“Now I want my phone,” she said.
He smirked. “You can buy a new one in Istanbul. I’m sure your parents will foot the bill. But after that farewell note you wrote for Stuart, I can’t have you backsliding and sending him a bunch of frantic texts.”
“You asshole,” she muttered. “You’re a terrible excuse for an archaeologist. And for a human being.”
Her words didn’t appear to make a dent. He gave her a small wave as he exited the bus. “Goodbye, Dusty.”
She wanted to go after him and raise a loud, angry ruckus, but all the fight had drained out of her. Whether due to sheer frustration or lack of food, her stomachache had grown worse. She hadn’t thought to pack any snacks other than a bag of candied ginger. She took out a few pieces and popped them into her mouth.
