by Claire Adams
"Whatever it is, you didn't do it. Did you?" I asked.
"That's not going to matter. It looks like I did," Patrick said.
I slapped the coffee table. "Come on, we can fight this. Just tell me what kind of leverage this donor thinks he has, and we'll figure out a way to take it apart. If we expose what he was trying to do, then you'll be proven innocent."
Patrick sat up a few inches. "It's an old plagiarism case. It was higher priority just because it had to do with a football player during the season last year."
"Who was the student?" I asked.
"Brian Tailor."
It was my turn to slump back in my chair. The name set off too many alarm bells in my head, but somehow Clarity's father had revived his hope.
He sat up and scrubbed a hand over his chin. "You think that we could expose what Michael Tailor is trying to do and save my job?"
The words were sluggish in my mouth. It was too late to tell the dean anything but the truth. I didn't want him or his daughter to get hurt any farther. "No. There's no way. He obviously had this planned, and he wouldn't have gone ahead if he thought you could get free of it."
Patrick's face fell. He dropped his head to his hands and tangled his fingers in his red hair again. "I don't understand how I got caught up in this in the first place. There were no signs of plagiarism; Brian Tailor is a good student. I didn't even think about him being on the football team. Everyone thinks the coach and the administration might have pressured me, but there wasn't anything wrong. From what I thought I saw, Brian Tailor was innocent."
I stood up. "I'm sorry, Patrick," I said. "There's nothing you can do at this point. There's nothing I can do to help you."
"But you, you said—"
"I didn't know who we were up against. Trust me. I've come up against people like Michael Tailor before, and it ruined my career." My arms felt heavy as I reached down to pat Clarity's father on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, but anything you do now is only going to make things worse."
He buried his head in his hands again. "And not just for me. If I speak out or try to fight this, then they'll ruin things for Clarity too. Oh, god, what have I done?"
I looked at the ceiling, but the tug in my chest did not loosen. "You did this for Clarity, didn't you?" I asked.
"Of course I did. When I met Michael Tailor at the donors' dinner, it turned out his friend is the owner of Wire Communications," Patrick explained.
I sat back down as if pushed. "Yeah, I know him."
"So, I mentioned to Michael how interested Clarity was in the Wire Communications internship, and he promised to put in a good word for her." Clarity's father bolted to his feet and stomped around the coffee table. "I was trying to help her, and now I can't even help myself. Damn it!" He kicked the coffee table leg and continued to pace. "All I can do is sit here and suffocate while I wait for Clarity to come home. Oh, god, I hope she doesn't hear about it from someone on campus."
"I know exactly how you feel," I said. "Like a fish caught in a net. Let me guess, if you go ahead and fix that application, then this will all just go away."
Patrick growled and stomped the floor harder. "I can't do that. I'm not going to do that. It's one thing for Michael Tailor to trick me, but it's another to give in to his bullying. I just wish there was some way to get Clarity out of the line of fire."
I stood up to face him. "All you have to do is tell your daughter the truth. She's going to want to fight for you, and I can't think of a better person to be on your side."
The shadow of a smile appeared on the dean's face. "True. I'll tell her everything." His relief was short-lived as he thought about all the other fallout from his suspension. "Why did this have to happen now? There are so many little political fires going on all over campus, and the president used to trust my input."
I snorted. "Then he should take your side over the big money, don't you think?"
Patrick waved that thought away. "It's not so easy balancing everything a college administrator has thrown at them. He's doing the right thing, but now my hands are tied."
"You just worry about yourself and Clarity," I suggested.
"No," Patrick said. "I had been slated to make certain personnel recommendations that would affect a large number of students. You are one of the professors in question. Without my recommendation, the college is just going to go ahead with across the board lay-offs. This is going to be awful for the students."
"The students need to see the way things are run. If they don't like it, they are the only ones that can change it," I said.
Patrick came over and squeezed my shoulder. "Ford, I'm so sorry, but this might directly affect your job in the School of Journalism."
I laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. "As if I don't know that Florence Macken has it in for me," I said. "Don't worry about me."
"But I could have helped you," Patrick lamented.
I shrugged off his hand. "I didn't ask for your help. That's not why I befriended you," I snapped.
The dean chuckled. "And here I thought I befriended you. I gotta say, that's the best thing I've heard all day. Thank you, Ford."
I didn't want to smile, but it broke through anyway. "Oh, to hell with it. What's the point in my fancy journalism degree and all my experience if I can't rattle a few cages?"
Patrick's eyes turned serious. "No. I'm not going to have you endangering your position at Landsman just to help me out. I got myself into this mess, and I'll figure a way out of it. Like you said, I've got Clarity to help me."
The mention of her name cemented my resolve. "Sorry, Patrick, but you wanted to be my friend, and now you're stuck with me. Besides, if I'm going to get fired anyway, I might as well do some good on my way out."
#
I left the dean in a much lighter mood and raced back towards campus. The fact that I had class soon was a far second to finding Clarity. Her father's news would spread fast all over campus, and I was sure she was going to hear about it from someone any second.
I charged towards the Language Department, where I knew Clarity was just finishing her required course. Landsman College required all students to master a foreign language, and she had become quite good at Spanish.
"Hola, Professor Bauer," a student called as I neared the building's front steps.
"Hi, Ben," I said as I slowed my pace.
"You looking for someone?" he asked.
I pressed two fingers to my throat and looked at my watch. "Nah, just trying to get my heart rate up before I'm stuck in another lecture," I said.
The student laughed and went on his way just before Clarity emerged. Her red hair flared as she stepped into the sunshine, and then her emerald eyes clapped onto me.
"Clarity, wait," I said.
She took off at a fast clip across the lawn towards the library. I used the sidewalk in the same direction and hoped that it was not too obvious to the other students that I was chasing her.
Clarity dodged through the double doors of the library before could charge up the steps. I didn't dare call out in the echoing lobby. I pretended to glance into the research librarian's office on my way past, just in case anyone wondered why I was tearing through the library stacks.
Then I spun and followed her down the staircase. Her clattering footsteps disappeared before the basement floor, and I knew she was cutting through the archives. I sped back upstairs, through the periodicals, and into a second staircase. Back down on the half floor, I cursed the old library's maze like design. Finally, I had to run in order to catch Clarity.
She must have heard me coming because she jogged into another alcove where a hidden set of steps acted as an open fire escape. I ran after her and we both popped out into the arch-ceilinged reference room at the same time. Clarity rounded the long, low bookshelves and made one last dodge near the Oxford English Dictionary.
"Clarity, please, I need to talk to you. It has to do with your father," I hissed.
Clarity stopped cold. "My father? Is he ok
ay? What happened?" She dug in her backpack for her cell phone and turned her back on me. "Why isn't he answering my call?"
"He's waiting for you to come home so he can tell you the truth, face to face," I said.
"Then why are you chasing me all over campus?" Clarity snapped. "I need to go home."
I held up both hands and stopped her. "I wanted you to hear it from me, before anyone stops you on campus," I said.
"Hear what?" Clarity cried.
I took a deep breath. "Your father has been suspended on charges of falsifying evidence in a plagiarism case," I told her.
Clarity's eyes took on a green fire. "I don't believe you. Why are you telling me this?"
"In light of our, um, discovery at Thanksgiving, I thought it best to let you know everything I heard."
Clarity narrowed her eyes. "Why would I believe you as a source? You don't have much credibility in my book."
The comment hit me like a slap in the face. "Credibility? Clarity, I was just with your father. I went straight to the source."
"And you want me to believe that my father was suspended over some plagiarism case? Are you just trying to soften the blow for when you break the other story?" She crossed her arms tightly over her stomach and searched my eyes.
"No. I told you, I'm not pursuing that unless you want my help," I said. The sheen of tears in her eyes made my chest clutch. "I came to find you right away because this is a bigger story, and I need your help."
"You want me to help you help my father?" Clarity snorted. "Sorry, but that doesn't strike me as something you'd do."
"Even though you accused me of befriending your father to help secure my position here at Landsman?" I snapped. "What do you think would happen if your father was suspended? My job is the first on the chopping block. So, whether you believe that or what I'm telling you right now, I'm helping your father."
She shuffled her feet and re-crossed her arms. "Even if it means you'll lose your job anyway?" she asked.
"Yes." I reached out to grab her shoulders, but she stepped back. "Clarity, it's an old case that your father was sure he handled appropriately. Something's wrong. Someone set him up, using that plagiarism case, in order to pressure him to help with what you saw on Thanksgiving."
Clarity rubbed her shoulder and thought that over. "Like leverage? But I thought my father had already fixed Junior's application?"
I smiled, relieved to give her one piece of good news. "Your father refused, and that's why he's suddenly been suspended."
"How are the two connected?"
I could have kissed her. Clarity's tears had evaporated as she locked on to the details that would interest any journalist. "The plagiarism case involves another Tailor. Brian Tailor, to be exact," I told her. "Michael Tailor's nephew."
Clarity let out a harsh laugh and shook her head. "I know Brian Tailor, and there is no way he was involved with a case of plagiarism. First rule, check your facts, right?"
I rubbed my neck. "I'm trying to help you, Clarity. Can't we work on this together? Why are you treating me like the enemy?"
"Because you are," she cried. Clarity remembered the quiet of the library and dropped her voice to a rough whisper. "I don't want your help. I don't want anything from a man like you."
Chapter Thirteen
Clarity
Half a dozen classmates stopped me on my way across campus. I apologized and dodged around them. Thomas tried to tell me the college president was looking for me, but I pretended I didn't hear him. By the time I made it to my front steps, I was terrified I had been followed.
Ford was right: my father's scandal was all over campus. If he had not chased me into the library in order to tell me, I would have found out in the middle of the commons with everyone watching.
"Clarity, sweetheart, I'm so sorry," my father rushed to meet me at the door.
The house was shuttered and dark, and it was hard to see my father's face through my tears. "I'm sorry. You only got involved with Michael Tailor because you thought his connections could help me."
"They still can," my father said. He led the way to the sofa and we sat down. "I'm not going to give in to Tailor's demands, but Wire Communications should take you on your own merit alone."
"I don't want the internship, Dad. I'm going to help you fight this," I promised.
My father shook his head. "No, Clarity, I'm asking you to please stay out of it."
"You sound as if you've been talking to Ford. Oh, wait, you told him before you told me!" The accusation sounded petulant, but my emotions were causing a storm of thoughts that I couldn't quite control.
"Ford is right about this, honey. He's trying to help. If we try to expose Michael Tailor, then everyone loses. The college loses a major donor, I still lose my job, and you lose your internship and future career connections," he said.
He reached out to hold my hands, but I yanked them back. "No. I'm not just going to sit back while you suffer through this alone. How can you think that's right? Let me dig into the story, get all the details, and I can be the one to publish it in the Landsman student newspaper. Corruption can't be allowed. It'll only get worse," I pleaded with him.
"Clarity, sweetheart, I can't let you be involved. This was my mistake—"
"You didn't make a mistake," I cried, "you trusted the wrong person. You always think the best of people. That's not your fault; that ability to believe in people is one of the things I love most about you."
My father's eyes were washed with unshed tears, but he shook his head. "I should have gone directly to the college president when I was given gifts by Michael Tailor. Instead, I hoped to leverage his friendship into something good for you. It was all my mistake."
I jumped up from the sofa, too irate to sit still. "I cannot believe I'm hearing this from you! What about the truth? What about the honor code that you helped forge? I can't just stand aside while you are attacked."
The conversation went ten more rounds of the same words. My father asked me in every imaginable way to leave the story alone. He even threatened me as if I were child and could still send me to my room. I told him in no uncertain terms that I would not stay quiet and that I intended to uncover everything I could about the plagiarism case.
"Please, Clarity, the Tailors are all cut from the same cloth. They know all the advantages, and when they are cornered, they simply put the pressure on someone else. Leave Brian Tailor alone," my father begged.
It hurt, but I ignored his words. I jumped into my car and called Lexi before the garage door opened. "Hey, I was wondering if you could introduce me to one of the football players." I asked.
"About time," Lexi giggled. "Which one has finally tickled your fancy?"
"Brian Tailor," I told her.
There was a long pause, then Lexi sighed. "Clarity, I'm not stupid. Please tell me this has nothing to do with your father's, um, news."
"Just meet me at the coffee shop, okay?" I begged.
Lexi was there with her hands on her hips and a stubborn expression on her pixie-like face. "I'm going to do this for you. You know I'm going to do it. But, first, I want to know the truth from you."
"Why ask like that? Since when have I ever lied to you?" I asked, insulted.
"Thanksgiving. You have feelings for Professor Bauer, don't you?" Lexi asked.
My mouth opened and closed, but I could not get the words to come out. Finally, I forced out, "What? Why are you asking about Ford?"
Lexi's smile was sad. "You called him Ford. Look, Clarity, we all knew you weren't into college guys and that's great, but I don't think you need any more scandals right now. And you certainly don't need the heart ache."
Hurt strangled my voice, but I whispered. "I already know about Libby Blackwell. She rubbed it in my face."
"And have you talked to Ford?" Lexi asked.
I threw my hands up in the air. "How am I supposed to process that when my father's career has just been ruined?"
"Alright, fine. But we're coming ba
ck to this conversation," Lexi said. "Now, there's Carl with Brian. Come on, I'll introduce you."
Brian Tailor was the all-American boy complete with white-blond hair, chiseled chin, and dark blue eyes. He smiled as we shook hands. "Nice to meet you, Clarity. Actually we had class together freshman year. Chemistry 101, remember?"
"Was that a line?" Lexi asked with a laugh.
"No," I smiled at Brian. "I remember you helped me memorize the periodic table of elements. Isn't Chemistry your major?" I asked.
"Bio-Chem," Brian said. "I'm hoping to go to work as a research and development scientist at one of the big pharmaceutical companies. Great pay and the added benefit of helping the human race."
"Good looks and good intentions. I like him." I stepped forward so Brian could get a good look down the loose neck of my shirt. Then I traced a finger down his forearm. "Bio-Chem can't be an easy major. Lots of pressure?"
Brian's dark blue eyes hardened, and a muscle tensed in his square jaw. "The only pressure I feel is outdoing my own test scores."
"Brian's top of his class," Carl said.
I blinked, surprised. Carl didn't often speak up, but his tone was adamant. "Oh, so, he's one of those super-brainy football players?" I asked.
Carl nodded.
Brian punched his friend in the shoulder. "I suppose Carl never tells anyone that his professor just asked him to publish his last paper. Seems like I'm not the only smart guy that knows how run a play."
"Speaking of plays..." Lexi pulled Carl aside with nothing more than a heated glance.
"That's some play you just tried to pull on me," Brian said when we were alone.
"I'm sorry, what?" I asked.
He narrowed his eyes. "I get it. Your father is in trouble for a plagiarism case, and I'm the defendant. It makes sense that you'd come after me to get at the truth. I just didn't think you'd drag Carl into this or try to flirt the truth out of me."
I swallowed hard then jutted my chin up at the tall man. "It seems to me like you would want to defend the man that defended you. Unless there's more to the story than anyone else has heard."
