Chapter Fifteen
Ford
By the third inspirational quote, I lost my patience. Jackson's students took a long time to leave his classroom. The smaller, more intimate room featured two rectangular tables of dark wood pushed together and ringed with chairs. Jackson sat at the head of the immense table, and the students filtered by and asked for feedback. I prowled the far wall of the classroom and ground my teeth, but it didn't hurry them along.
I paced back and forth at the foot of the tables as the last student asked if she should change the tense of her story. "Readers are most comfortable in past tense, but if you feel the need to highlight urgency, go ahead and try present tense," Jackson said.
"Oh, yeah, I hadn't thought of the readers," the student blinked a few times, then walked into the hallway in a daze.
Jackson shuffled the papers in front of him into one large, neat stack. Then he began perusing the first one, his hand reaching for a red pen.
"How can you stand looking at these quotes every day?" I asked.
Jackson didn't even look up. "The students like them," he said.
I paced to the narrow, lancet window and back. My students were taught to research the full motivational quip and read the quote in context. I wondered what would happen if my students did that with Jackson's literary gems.
"You know, you could put all that nervous energy to good use," Jackson said.
Clarity's image jumped to mind, her long arms bare in the formal dress. "What? What do you mean?"
He looked up and gave a dry laugh. "Obviously not what you were thinking about. I just thought you could run down the hall and get us some coffee. Make yours a decaf."
"Very funny," I said. Then I whirled around and hammered both hands onto the end of the tables. "How can this not bother you?"
"I don't know. I think it's disgusting, but people of privilege have always secured the education of their offspring no matter if they are deserving or not," Jackson said.
I growled. "It's obvious corruption. It drags down the student population. What if you have Junior in your class and the only thing he can contribute is juvenile heckling?"
"Then I follow protocol," Jackson leaned back in his chair. "Once this kid is at Landsman, his father won't be able to save him from academic probation."
I stalked around the long tables but stopped before I left the classroom. "Dean Dunkirk isn't totally innocent, but he doesn't deserve to be used just to get some unmotivated student into a good school," I said.
Jackson hooked his hands behind his head and leaned back farther. "Can you imagine what it must be like to be Junior? Being an unmotivated student is the least of his worries. Living the rest of your adult life knowing that daddy had to buy your place in college is going to leave some damage. Ugh, and imagine if his peer group found out."
"Are you done feeling sorry for this over-privileged, spoiled, and most likely uncaring kid?" I snapped.
"You want me to worry about Dean Dunkirk," Jackson said. He loosened his hands and sat up. "I do feel bad for the guy. He's between the figurative rock and hard place."
"I am literally going to punch you," I said.
"That's not the right usage," Jackson said. He faked a flinch before I even moved. "So, when are you going to tell me what's really bothering you about all of this?" he asked.
I unclenched my fists and let my hands drop to my sides. "What do you mean? You know exactly why casual corruption like this bothers me." I yanked out a chair and threw myself in it.
"You don't have to get involved," Jackson advised.
I glowered at him. "Macken's got my termination letter all ready to go, so what's the point of playing it safe?" I asked.
"You could keep your job. She can't just fire you without her decision getting reviewed. I, for one, would be willing to stand up and admit you're a good professor."
The air rushed out of me. "Thanks." I slumped in my chair and drummed my fingers on the dark polished table. "I just think this is a story that's worth pursuing. And what kind of newspaper editor and example would I be if I didn't pursue it? I am trying to inspire future journalists, right?"
"Future journalists or just one?" Jackson asked.
His question was like the shadow of a shark in the waters of our conversation. I froze and willed my heart rate to slow back down. "What do you mean?" I asked.
Jackson laughed and gathered up his papers. "Nothing, I don't mean anything. I mean, what could I, one of your best and only friends, know about your behavior?" Jackson stood up and swung his leather messenger bag onto his shoulder. "What could I, as a newly married and madly in love man, possibly know about the way you are acting?"
I stood up and shoved my chair back into place. "I'm just trying to help," I snapped.
"Couldn't you just be a confidential source? Isn't it enough that you're helping Clarity connect the dots? Let her get all the glory and keep your job. I'd call that a win-win," Jackson said.
I followed him to the door and slapped the lights off. "That doesn't feel good enough. I want to do more; I feel like I should."
Jackson paused in the hallway, trapping me in the classroom door. "The dean's a nice man, and he cooks a tasty turkey. I guess those count as good reasons."
I rubbed the back of my neck and groaned. "Fine. I feel like I'm already involved, and I want to help because of that. And I'm not doing it for the dean. His turkey wasn't that good."
Jackson grinned. "Alice is going to be so happy. All she could talk about on the way home from Thanksgiving was how happy you looked in love."
"Whoa, slow down. Who said anything about love?" I asked.
"Alice. She said that you and Clarity make a great couple." Jackson strode down the hallway with a jaunty smile.
"Shhh, what are you nuts? You can't say things like that."
"Oh, come on, Ford. We both know we're not talking about some tawdry fantasy or some cheap affair. As consenting adults, you two are a great match," Jackson said. "Are you coming?"
I was rooted to the hallway floor far behind him. My heart beat slowly under an onslaught of feelings. The way Jackson dismissed our student-professor problem gave me wild surges of hope. He also approved, and I suddenly realized that meant a lot to me.
When I caught up with Jackson, I tried to tell him thank you. He watched me unable to form words, then he slapped me on the shoulder. "So you're going full bore on the corruption story. I like it; you're a knight tilting at windmills."
I rolled my eyes. "I thought it didn't end so well for the knight in your stories."
Jackson sighed. "Yeah, well, this just seems like something you have to do." We walked out onto the Landsman campus and braced ourselves against the chill. Jackson wrapped a scarf around his neck.
I popped my collar up and pulled it tighter around me. "I've felt sick for years about not standing up to Barton."
"Yeah, I know. I seem to recall stopping you from lunging at the man more than once," Jackson said into his scarf. "You gotta stop beating yourself up for that. You didn't pursue the story then because you didn't want it to affect Liz. You backed down for your sister's sake."
I ground my teeth. "That's just an excuse. I could have pushed hard enough that he couldn't touch Liz without the whole world knowing, but I backed down. I let him take away my career without a fight."
"So maybe this little detour to Landsman College has turned out to be the right route to getting your career back," Jackson said. He dug out his keys and unlocked his car. "You want a lift?"
"Detour?" The conversation with Clarity came back to me. The thought of driving with her off into the sunset made everything worth it. "Nah, I gotta call Liz and tell her what I'm about to do."
"Good. You know, she's tougher and smarter than you. I bet she'll be glad to get off your dime and prove what she can do," Jackson said. He ducked into his car, then called out the window. "I don't mind waiting to give you a lift. Tell her I say 'hi.'"
"Ford! I'm so glad you called," Liz answered her phone on the second ring.
I could hear laughter and clinking glasses in the background. "Are you at a party? Is this a bad time? No, scratch that, if you're at a party, get outside, we need to talk."
"Whoa, big brother, slow down." Liz laughed. "I'm a bar, but it's a study group." She creaked open a door, and the bar sounds faded. "Alright, I'm outside. Are you alright? What do we need to talk about?"
I took a deep breath. "I'm going after a big story, and it's not going to be pretty. Most likely I'll be jobless by Christmas," I said.
"A big story? This sounds just like what happened at Wire Communications. I swear to god, you were better off in the Army," Liz talked fast when she was excited. "I'm glad you're going for it, though. Enough playing it safe for my sake."
The bubble of anxiety burst out in a chuckle. "So you're fine with me tanking my respectable career for a story? I won't be able to cover your rent anymore."
"For god's sake, Ford, you do know how old I am, right?" Liz snapped. "I've been working two jobs anyway, and I've probably saved as much as your yearly salary. You did it, big brother, you got me on my way. Now let me take care of the rest."
"But I don't want you to work two jobs—"
"Everyone is. It's what the really motivated doctors all did. I'd feel like a cheat if I didn't put in my time too," Liz said.
I grabbed the phone closer. "But, what if this reflects badly on you, Lizzy? I don't want to smudge your record or reputation."
"Please," Liz groaned. "You don't think my skills speak for me? I haven't just been sitting around over here."
"I'm still going to send you money," I snapped. "I still need to know that you have everything you need. Sorry, but it's still just you and me, so that's still the deal."
"You need to find someone, Ford," Liz chided. "But first, spend some of your money on a better sofa. There's no way you're going to romance anyone on that thing."
"I am not taking romantic advice from my younger sister. Though, now that you're all ready to take care of yourself, I might go buy myself a car," I said.
Liz's voice was tinged with curiosity. "A car? You got somewhere you want to be? Or someone you want to take for a ride?"
I groaned. "I'm hanging up now, Liz. Be safe. I love you."
"Love you too, big bro."
I hung up my phone and climbed into Jackson's car. I couldn't sit still. The cold vinyl seat cover creaked, and I shifted. Liz had happily released me, and now I was free to do what I wanted. My first thought was Clarity. I wanted to show Clarity that I could be what she believed in.
"Liz told you to go for it, didn't she?" Jackson asked.
I chuckled. "In no uncertain terms."
"So, where to?" Jackson asked.
"The nearest windmill," I joked.
Jackson grinned and turned his car towards the city. "I know you think I'm just going to drop you off at your apartment, but you're wrong. If you're going to see Barton now, then I'm coming with you."
"What?" I yelped. "Why would I be going to see Barton right now? And, why would I need you to chaperone?"
"Let's see," Jackson said. "You just heard from Liz that she'll be alright. You're free. The first thing I would want to do is confront the man that ruined my career."
I drummed my fingers on my knee. "Yeah, well, it just so happens I'm not a rash as you. I'm going to see Barton because I think he can help with Dunkirk's problem. Barton and Michael Tailor are buddies, remember?"
"Ugh, there's a pair I do not want to meet out at the bar."
I called Barton's line at Wire Communications and flirted with his secretary. She still remembered me, and within five minutes, I hung up and told Jackson our destination. "He's at his country club."
Jackson stopped at a red light and rolled his eyes. "Of course he is. See? It's a good thing I'm with you, or you'd never make it past valet parking."
It turned out to be much easier to get past the front doors and out onto the course than either Jackson and I had imagined. We found ourselves cruising along in a golf cart.
"Alright, I can see the appeal," Jackson said.
I hung on to the thin support bar as Jackson whipped down a wide fairway. "Golf? Seems like a waste of time to me."
"Look around, this is beautiful."
I had to agree with Jackson. The golf course was lush, the grass a deep kelly green and perfectly manicured. High trees kept the course private, and even the sand traps were groomed.
"No wonder all these rich and shady types love golf," I said. "Plenty of room to talk in private."
"I hope all you want to do is talk," Jackson muttered.
"Come on, I'm not going to punch Barton," I said. "At least not right away." Then I saw him and jumped out of the golf cart before Jackson stopped.
"Ah, Ford Bauer, perfect timing. I was just telling my friends that some reporters are like lightning rods. Good stories just seem to find them," Wesley Barton said with a smile.
I strode up so close that the smile slipped on his face. Barton refused to take a step back, but a faint expression of discomfort flickered in his eyes. "A word in private, please?" I ground out.
Barton yanked his arm out of my grip and adjusted the collar of the polo shirt underneath his plaid sweater. "You're missing an opportunity here, Bauer. Like you always do. Those men there happen to be very influential with Reuters. You should let me introduce you."
"Why would I trust you to do that for me?" I narrowed my eyes as I studied his face.
The wealthy businessman smiled. "You've been so good keeping quiet these past few years. The least I can do to the return the favor is introduce you. Maybe someone can get over your reputation and hire you. You never know. I might put in a good word for you."
I stepped forward again and dropped my voice to a low threat. "And what are you going to do if I decide I'm done being quiet?" I snarled.
"Is career suicide addictive?" Barton asked. "I mean, that's the only explanation for all this that makes sense."
"No," I said. "The only thing that makes sense is I'm done keeping your dirty secrets. I'm done keeping my head down. You can't touch me anymore."
Barton's cheek twitched. I could see him running over all the possibilities in his head. I had a job that I didn't love and was getting edged out of anyway. My sister was established in medical school, and her reputation was beyond reproach. We had no other family and no fortune.
Then Barton glanced at Jackson. A red lens dropped over my eyes, and I stepped in front of him. My hands clenched into fists as I fought to control myself. "You're not going after anyone else just to scare me into staying quiet."
He leaned back then shuffled one foot back very slowly so his friends wouldn't notice. Barton looked in my eyes one last time, but couldn't find a trace of fear. He cleared his throat. "Well, then I guess congratulations are in order. You finally grew a set."
Every muscle fiber in my body tensed with the desire to deck him. I took a deep breath and kept Clarity foremost in my mind. She was the reason I was here, and because of that, I could let Barton's jabs bounce off.
"I tell you what," I said as I advanced on Barton. "I'll take you up on the offer of an introduction."
"Great idea, glad to see you're ready to get back into journalism. Let's go join them—"
"Not them," I snapped. "How about you introduce me to your friend at Landsman, the football coach."
"The football coach?" Barton asked. "What would I have to do with him?"
"Oh, only the fact that you donated new video equipment to him this fall. Bet he loves being able to play back games, zoom in, and coach his players with all the cutting edge technology."
"How do you know that?" Barton cut himself off. "So, you did your research. Why do you need me to talk to the football coach for you?"
I grinned like a wolf. "Because you are going to convince him to tell me all about how another donor forced him to pressure a player into handing in a plagiarized paper."
Barton frowned. He knew exactly who I was talking about, and he had to weigh his friend's agenda against his own. "Fine. Give me your phone. If I get him to talk, you're not going to let this trace back to me."
#
"Oh, man, I am never going to get over the look in Barton's eyes. He really thought you were going to clock him, and he got all smug, like he could already see you losing a personal injury trial. Then, you told him, and everything just changed. Ding! Like a light finally turned on in his lizard brain. That's what happens when you don't let a bully bully you," Jackson crowed. He pulled into the Landsman parking lot and turned to grin at me. "You've got to be feeling like a million bucks."
"That's probably what all this is going to cost me in libel suits if I can't pull it off," I said.
"Buzz kill. Get out of my car." Jackson laughed. "Oh, and good luck with that next windmill. She's a doozy."
I thanked Jackson, got out of the car, and then saw Florence Macken strolling down the sidewalk. She pretended to be on the phone so she could stall long enough for me to have to pass her on my way onto campus.
Sure enough, I was four feet away from her when her phone call magically ended. She beamed at me and said, "Professor Bauer, I'm glad I caught you."
"Sorry, ma'am, I've got to get to class," I said. I refused to slow down, even when she moved her formidable figure into the center of the sidewalk.
"Now, just a minute, professor," Macken said.
I dodged around her. "Don't worry about calling me that anymore. It never sounded good the way you said it anyway."
I left her flabbergasted, and as much as I wanted to look back and savor it, I kept marching across campus. It wasn't until I reached Thompson Hall that I realized my department head was close on my heels.
Any hope I had that she was just returning to her office was dispelled when she cleared her throat.
"Professor Bauer, I must insist you stop right now," Macken barked as we stepped into the echoing lobby.
"Not now, Macken. I've got to get to class," I snapped over my shoulder.
"Class? You don't have a class at this time. Have you lost your mind? Do I need to call security?" The volume of her voice elicited the attention she was hoping to garner. "You do realize that insubordination is grounds for termination, Professor Bauer."
I spun on my heel and braced for impact. She stopped herself just in time, and her chunky heels squeaked on the tile floor.
"Just go ahead and start the paperwork. I'm sure you've got it all queued up and ready to go. Go ahead and do it now if you've got the time, but I'm not stopping."
I pulled open the lecture hall door and strode over the desk. My colleague looked confused but nodded when I asked to speak with a student.
"Clarity? A minute, please?" I asked the crowded hall.
She stood up, her eyes wide. Then she scrambled to gather her things and join me on the main floor. Every student watched with interest, even as the professor continued with his lecture.
"Are you crazy?" Clarity hissed as she led the way to the door. "Your department head is standing right there."
"Notice she has nothing to say," I pointed out.
Clarity waited until we were in the stairwell heading up to my office, then she spun around and pinned me with her wide-eyed look. "I can tell you've already started on the whole exposé."
"What tipped you off?" I grinned.
She frowned at my obvious joy. "I just hope you aren't making a huge mistake. I don't want it to be a bad decision."
"What decision?" I said. It was as simple as that. When it came to Clarity, there was no decision for me to make. She was it. She was everything. As she stood two steps above me, we were eye to eye, and I took a breath to tell her.
Her rosy smile stole my breath. "Well, if that's how you feel, then you should probably take a look at this." Clarity handed me a folded piece of paper.
She turned and started up the stairs again. I couldn't wait and opened the paper as we walked, then I stumbled on the first landing. "Wait, how did you get this?" I asked.
Clarity caught my arm to steady me and laughed. "That's not the important part," she said. "The important part is that the plagiarized essay is part of an official file that many other witnesses have seen. This exact paper cannot be switched out or faked at this point."
I took her hand from my arm and gripped it tight. "You mean you found a connection between this essay and Michael Tailor? How is that even possible?"
"Ego," Clarity smiled. "Michael Tailor never for second thought that anyone would investigate a case the Dean of Students bungled, so he took whole sections of the essay directly from the nearest source."
I looked at the paper again, though it faded when she leaned close to point at it.
"It's an article written by Michael Tailor's lawyer. I used the online search engines to match it, then looked up the name in connection with Tailor. He cut and pasted from his own lawyer's article," Clarity beamed.
Before I could process anything past the press of her warm body, Clarity ran up the next flight of stairs. We were out of breath when we finally made it to my office, and she collapsed on the narrow sofa. I sat down next to her and handed her back the key piece of evidence.
"So I guess this is it," she said.
"No," I said. I reached for a folder on my desk and handed it to Clarity. "This is it. I want you to read it and make your additions."
Her eyes flew over the first few lines. "This is the exposé? You started it before we knew anything for sure?"
"I know a few things for certain, and one is that that's a good-looking byline," I tapped the draft of the article where Clarity's name shared the byline with me.