Page 80 of Forever Defiant
Then I opened my laptop and typed,Mason Sterling,disciplinary hearing, andathleticsinto the search bar. Nothing. It would have pissed me off if I finally found something; this wasn’t my first time searching for it.
Next, I typed,Student complaint confidentiality policy, and the search returned pages and pages. I started going through each search result. Again, I would not stop digging.
There was a campus police report from that spring with the date, location, and names redacted, but the category was still visible:SUSPICIOUS INCIDENT — RESIDENCE HALL — REFERRED TO ADMINISTRATION.
I hadn’t seen this before, had I? I read it again.
Suspicious. Referred to administration.Did that mean no further investigation was conducted? My stomach tightened. Was this it? Was this the fracture line the university hoped no one would notice?
I was noticing it.
My phone buzzed.
Mike: Hey... are you okay? QB10 looked really serious this morning.
I checked the time. How was it nine thirty? I stared at the screen. I should ignore him. Instead, I decided to answer him.
Me: Why would I not be okay? Why is Spence serious?
I almost deleted it, but I hit send.
Mike: He was reminding us all how to conduct ourselves with the media, I thought of you, I miss your company.
Aww.
Me: Tell Dante to worry about his own life.
Delete.
Me: Did you ever hear Mason’s name from ANYONE? Just yes or no.
I pressed send. He wrote back immediately.
Mike:No. Never.
Exactly what I expected, and exactly what scared me. I closed the messaging app and pushed my laptop aside. If no one knew Mason’s name... if no one knew the girl’s name... if the administration erased every trace... then there was only one place left to look.
The original student paper’s email archive — not the printed version or the archived draft. The internal inbox, with drafts, notes, corrections, and the conversations the editors didn’t print. I knew they’d have it because editors never really delete anything. Not permanently.
And I knew exactly how to get access, but it was risky. I just needed a friend on the newspaper staff willing to ‘accidentally’ stay logged in to their email. That meant it was time for a quick coffee drop-in at my old friend’s place, who had already graduated and moved back to Nashville. I stood up and thought about it. Would she help me? We didn’t end our friendship on the best of terms.
I hesitated. I’d tried not to think of her at all.
“Fuck it.” She owed me this, plus a stolen plant.
I grabbed my bag, zipped the Sterling file inside, and headed for the door. There was always a lead, and I had one; I just needed to be brave enough to follow it.
Well, no one ever called me a coward.
I jogged down the stairwell and out onto the sidewalk, and determination lengthened my stride as I headed to the parking lot two blocks away, where I paid cheap monthly rent. My car was a little rusty and decidedly dirty, and I prayed to whoever was listening for it to start. It did. With a cry of victory, I put the car in drive and set off for Nashville.
I almost ran over Savannah Cole.
Her hands were on my hood, and her eyes were wider than mine as she stared at me through the windshield.
“Shit.” I threw the car in park and got out. “What are you doing?”
She gulped. “I was crossing the street...” She looked down at herself, checking to make sure I hadn’t run her over.
