“Yes. And there’s one more. Todd Moore.”
“Will fired him as soon as Moore’s intentions became clear.”
“I know. That’s not the problem. The liability comes in having recommended him for hire in the first place. Moore was his friend.”
“He wasn’t qualified for the job?”
“He was, but maybe not as qualified as the three other applicants—all out-of-towners. But what really hurts is that Moore proved to be a poor choice. It could be argued that if Moore hadn’t been Will’s friend, his lack of moral character might have been recognized during the interview process. In the end, Moore’s fall from grace is proof that he wasn’t the best choice and any of the three other applicants could have cause for suit against both Will and Montford. All three of their names are there.”
“Okay, we’ve got some potential problems here. But at least we’re on top of them. And that’s why we needed you.”
“I have to tell you, I hate every aspect of what I’m doing.”
“I understand. I also know that Will is sleeping at night because you’re here.”
“I wonder if he’ll still feel that way when he knows that I’ve found some things that could cause potential trouble for him.”
“Of course he will. You didn’t make his choices for him. You’re just giving him a heads-up on any choices he’s made that could potentially come back to bite him. Believe me, he’s incredibly grateful to you and even more fond of you than he is grateful. To listen to Will you’d think you were his kid sister or something.”
The tone in the sheriff’s voice, when he made that last comment, told Addy that Will hadn’t spilled the secrets from her past. She should have known he wouldn’t.
She longed for an evening in his company. His and Becca’s. She was living only a few miles from them, from their sweet and miraculous children whom she’d never even met.
She’d wept when Will had called to tell her that after twenty years of trying he and Becca had finally given birth, in their forties, to a healthy little girl. She had a picture of Bethany on her refrigerator. The beautiful child was twelve now.
“So what’s this about you needing to leave town?” the sheriff asked. “How long do you need to be gone?”
“Permanently,” Addy said. She told the sheriff about her immersion in campus life. “I suppose if I stayed longer something could present itself,” she allowed. “Wrongdoing isn’t immediately obvious, but I haven’t seen or heard of even a hint of impropriety in all the time I’ve spent on campus. And the historical research I’m doing, the computer work, could just as easily be done from my home in Colorado.”
Home. With the drive out to the desert, followed by a conversation that was much longer than she’d expected, she was way past soup time. After Nonnie had made the soup especially for her.
“I’m not sure that’s true,” Sheriff Richards said. “By your own admission, the case against Randi grew stronger after your meetings with her.”
“That’s true, but—”
“And you collected evidence to counteract a possible suit involving Matt Sheffield.... I’ll do this,” Richards said, straightening. “I’ll talk to Will and get back to you.”
Addy nodded, wanting to leave immediately, but not willing to jeopardize her relationship with Will Parsons to do so. She might have given Mark Heber her heart, but she’d given Will her word first.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ADDY HAD NOT YET returned by the time Mark had to go to work. Leaving Nonnie with instructions to call him if Addy showed up, he climbed into his truck and headed out. He was overreacting, he was sure.
It just wasn’t like Addy to tell Nonnie she’d be over and then not show up. It wasn’t like her to skip class, either.
At least not in the weeks he’d known her.
Before that, he had no way of knowing if Addy was the reliable sort or not.
What did he really know about her at all, except what his gut told him?
Out on the freeway, heading toward the cactus jelly plant, he pressed his foot to the gas pedal until the needle was teetering over the eighty mile an hour mark. He didn’t usually get so worked up. About anything.
The move across country had messed him up, or his next-door neighbor was doing so. Either way, he didn’t like it.
Going as fast as he was, he almost missed the little old sedan pulling out of an entrance into the state park. He’d never seen the driveway in use—the scenic views, picnic tables and facilities were located at two other entrances. But he knew Addy’s car—looked for it in the drive next to his truck every single night and every single morning, too.
He had driven past before he could think to wave, or in any way acknowledge that he’d seen her. But he watched her pull out onto the freeway from his rearview mirror.
And that was when he also noticed the sheriff’s car pulling out directly behind her. Two cars, one right behind the other, on a drive that had been otherwise deserted every time he’d driven past it for weeks.
Addy and a cop.
Which meant trouble no matter how you looked at it. Either she’d had to call the police. Or she’d been pulled over.
Pulling his phone out of the holster at his belt, he started to call her. And stopped. She had his number and wasn’t calling him.
He wasn’t going to trespass where he wasn’t wanted. No matter how much he cared. It wasn’t right.
Clearly she was fine enough to drive. Or dial her cell if she needed him. Knowing that, he turned his focus to the things he had in his control.
Like work.
* * *
MARK WAITED FOR Addy’s call while he worked—not that she’d ever called him at work before. The only time his cell vibrated was when Nonnie phoned just after he’d clocked in to tell him that Addy had pulled in the drive.
By the time his first break came around, he’d talked himself into making a friendly call. Just to put his mind at rest. If she didn’t want to hear from him, she didn’t have to answer. She picked up on the first ring.
“Are you okay?” He didn’t mean to sound territorial, but damn it, they had a future. Sometime in the future. She was a friend—one of the few he had in this town.
He was one of her few friends, too. She’d told him so. It was his job to look out for her.
“I’m fine, Mark. I’m sorry I missed your earlier call.”
“And Nonnie’s soup.” Not a big deal, except that it wasn’t like Addy. Which was why he’d been concerned.
And then he’d seen the cop car right behind her.
“No, I got the soup. Ate it at your kitchen table, actually. Nonnie wanted to chat.”
If she could sit and chat with his grandmother, she must be all right.
Leaning against a wall in the break room, he slid down to the bench beside him, breathing easier. “I’ll bet she did,” he said. Based on the not-so-subtle inquisition he’d been subjected to that morning, pertaining to his late-night visit with Addy the previous night, he cringed at the thought of what Addy had been put through.
“Who was the victor?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I think that remains to be seen.”
“When?”
“Sometime in the future.” That future they’d talked about the previous night?
“I passed you on the way to work,” he told her because he approached life from the front line. Always. “You were pulling out of the state park land.�
�
“You did?”
“Yeah, but I noticed you too late to honk.”
“I didn’t see you.”
“There was a cop car right behind you.”
“Oh.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yes. Everything’s fine.” Was it his imagination or did she suddenly sound different?
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” It wasn’t like she owed him any kind of explanation. It was just odd.
He didn’t think for one second that Addy was seeing someone else. There’d be no reason to lie to him about that. Or any reason to ask for a future with him if it were so.
“Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“No.” She didn’t give him any more.
* * *
MARK WAS A SMART man. He knew something was up.
Which meant that she was either going to have to engage in more lies, or tell him the truth.
The idea made her blood run cold. She’d lose him for sure.
Or would she?
If he really cared, he’d know that Adele was only a cover, like a piece of clothing she had to wear for a short time—that the woman he cared for was Adrianna. Once he got past the initial shock, Mark would forgive her for the betrayal.
Or not.
Either way, she had to finish this job so she could have her life back.
Montford entrance qualifications were steep. Greg was waiting for them so, sitting at her table later that afternoon, she read through them, studying the various methods by which they measured academic proficiency. She visited websites of private institutions that issued accredited testing opportunities. Compared them to accepted public scholastic exams.
If acceptance into the university was behind the threats against Will, an attorney defending him in court would need to have the statistics she was compiling.
She had to have them in order to fairly compare the specific entrance qualifications of individual applicants.
Addy knew from experience that any one of the names she’d given Greg Richards could easily file suit against the university. Especially with athletics involved.
These days, courts were looking closely at the things universities covered up with regard to their athletes.
Her search engine stalled briefly between sites. Addy listened to her fountain.
The website for the testing facility she was looking at declared that it had been founded by college professors from Yale and Georgetown. Their tests were administered under strict supervision at secure sites during regularly scheduled intervals. They appeared to be valid and legitimate, so she moved on to the next facility.
Several hours of research later, Addy had found nothing of concern regarding Montford’s entrance exam practices.
She moved on to scholarship applicants. She performed a search of their student records and compiled various testing and GPA data into a spreadsheet. From there she made three lists: applicants who’d been denied entrance due to lack of scholarship funds, those who’d been denied due to lack of qualifications and those who’d been granted scholarships and entrance in spite of the fact that they lacked the entrance qualifications.
Looking up only specific names might have gained her the information pertinent to the question at hand, but any prosecutor or civil attorney would search out all possible incidents of discrimination. Just because one person sued didn’t mean there’d only been one who’d been wronged. And the case would be much stronger if there were more.
Thinking like an attorney was what Addy did best. It was why Will had hired her.
She wasn’t there to think like a woman—about the man next door.
She looked over the scholarship applicants who were turned down due to lack of qualifications. Six of the names she’d given to Greg Richards were listed among the more than two hundred applicants who’d been turned down for scholarships due to low test scores the semester that Randi Parsons Foster had privately accepted Susan Farley into the basketball program.
Which gave rise to a fourth search. Students who’d been admitted to the university without meeting academic standards. On scholarship and not, at any time in university history. Will Parsons and Randi Parsons Foster needed that spreadsheet to be empty.
Addy held her breath, expecting it to be empty.
It wasn’t.
Eleven names were on that list.
There were eleven times in the more than one hundred years the university had been in existence that students had been admitted without the proper qualifications.
Skimming the list quickly, Addy wanted first and foremost to assure herself that Susan Farley wasn’t named there. The female basketball player posed the biggest risk to the university based on the perceived benefit her time at Montford had provided to her. She had measurable assets, which meant measurable damages to those who’d been denied the opportunity she’d been granted.
There it was. Second on the list. Farley, Susan. The girl’s high school grade point average had been a full point lower than Montford’s minimum acceptance score. Looking further, she noted that Susan’s collegiate GPA had been above minimum by the end of that first semester, and according to official records, the girl had maintained an average that met Montford guidelines through graduation.
All bad news to Addy. The point could be argued that Montford’s superior tutelage had fostered the girl’s higher scores, which could then be argued in defense of the external economic value theory that would award damages against Will and the university if charges were pressed.
The worst-case scenario would be if there was proof that Susan’s assignments and tests had actually been written by another university student. It happened. Her first year in practice, Addy had argued a case against a junior college for expelling a student due to a low GPA when athletes with equally low classroom performance had been allowed to stay. She’d been able to prove false testing—papers being turned in by athletes that had actually been written by someone paid to write them on the athlete’s behalf.
In lieu of an expensive civil lawsuit, the college had allowed Addy’s client to remain enrolled and paid for a private tutor for her client, after which her client’s performance had improved substantially. He’d graduated just below honors and entered a four-year degree program at a state college. The athletes who’d been involved in educational fraud had been expelled. She had no idea what had happened to them.
Addy’s mind shot memories like bullets, reverberating back and forth, blocking her focus from the here and now.
From the third name on the spreadsheet of eleven. Right below Farley.
She’d seen it. She just didn’t want to be in possession of the knowledge.
Didn’t believe it. So she performed another search. This one for specific test score data. She rearranged the information by date, most recent first.
And the name rose to the top.
Mark Heber.
* * *
MARK WORKED HARD. He got home in time to finish the paper he had due by the end of the week for a freshman English class. Had a cup of hot chocolate with his grandmother while she sipped on chamomile tea. And he waited until he could slip outside his back door and sit in the dark with his beautiful neighbor.
She was already outside when he arrived, which surprised him. He’d been listening for her glass door to slide open. And he knew the second he sat down that something was not right.
The bottle of wine they’d opened the night before but hadn’t finished, sat chilled on the table beside two empty wineglasses. Sensing that the wine was there for a purpose—that he was going to need it for some reason not yet known to him—he poured two glasses, leaving only a little bit at the bottom of the bottle.
It wasn’t much if he found himself in sudden need of liquid tranquilizing.
She hadn’t said a word yet.
So he started in. “You free Thursday evening?” Until he knew they had a problem, there wasn’t one.
“Yes.”
Nodding, he settled lower in his seat, his untouched glass of wine on the table beside him.
“I invited Jon to drop Abe off at my place,” he said, watching her face for clues. She looked the same, albeit more formal than he was used to in her blue cotton pants, silk blouse and leather sandals. “I told him Nonnie and I would watch Abe for a while so he could have some time to himself.”
“I’ll bet he was thrilled.”
Mark shrugged. Jon and “thrilled” didn’t exactly go together. “He agreed readily enough. You want to join us?”
“Sure.”
Okay, then. She’d agreed to a date with him. Of sorts.
How bad could things be?
The stricken look in her eyes as she peered up at him told him things were bad, and fear sliced through him.
“You’re leaving.”
“Yes.”
“How soon?”
“By the weekend, I hope.”
“You’re dropping out of school midsemester?”
“I think so. I’m...still waiting to... I haven’t had confirmation on that yet.”
“What kind of confirmation do you need to drop out of school?”
“I need to know the consequences before I make my final decision.”
Mark listened to her words, but what he heard her say was that there was still a chance she’d be staying.
“Have you given notice on the duplex?” He dealt with facts.
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