It's Never too Late - By Tara Taylor Quinn Page 0,38
much discussion it was agreed that it was in Montford’s best interests not to press charges. To do so could have affected Montford’s reputation and, in a domino effect, the university’s academic rating, as well, which could then affect our alumni and the several thousand students who were currently enrolled. A diploma from Montford has external economic value....”
Greg’s tone was not quite defensive, but close. And Addy respected him that much more for the heart he obviously put into his community.
“I know and that’s a valid argument,” Addy told the lawman. “One he could feasibly win with if it ever went to court. Still, we need to be aware that the situation exists and is potentially flammable.”
“You’re saying that thing with Tory could be a valid basis for charges against Will?”
“Yes.”
“Shit.” Sheriff Richards stood back, turned to the road and then spun around to face her again.
“We don’t know that the letter writer even knows about Tory.”
“There was an article in the university paper, as well, after the board made its decision. Will insisted on complete disclosure.”
“I know.” She’d found that article, too. “And if he has to answer to charges, that article will be to his benefit. I just wanted you to know my opinion based on what I’ve found.”
“You want me to tell Will?” Greg was to be their go-between if Will or Addy needed to relay messages to each other.
“I leave that up to you,” she said. “For now, I’m a researcher looking for possible lawsuit opportunities against Will. I can’t think beyond that.”
Adrianna Keller had always been good at emotionally compartmentalizing.
She hoped to God that Adele Kennedy was equally adept.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NONNIE WAS STILL UP, sitting at the computer, when Mark walked in the front door just after eight that evening.
“Who’s winning?” he asked. Judging by the poker hand on the screen, it wasn’t her, which was unusual.
“I’m waiting for the river.” She continued to watch the screen. “The River.” A draw card in Texas Hold ’Em, Nonnie’s current game of choice. “I’m up two tokens for the night.” She had to win ten hands to earn a token.
“Which brings your overall token account to, what, nine hundred and forty-six?”
“One thousand and sixty-two.” He could barely hear her.
“What?”
“One thousand and sixty-two,” she said, somewhat breathlessly.
“Don’t pull that with me, old woman,” he said, coming closer to watch as she won the hand. “Don’t go lowering your voice like you’re out of energy just so I can’t hear you.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” She didn’t look at him. And her cantankerous tone didn’t put him off a bit.
“Yes, you would.”
“Don’t you have homework to do?”
“How many tokens, Nonnie?”
“One thousand and sixty-two.” He’d heard her correctly.
“That’s over eighty hands of poker in three days!”
“Winning hands,” she pointed out. “I’ve still got my touch.”
He didn’t doubt that. And hoped she kept it forever. But he wanted more for her than a life spent playing poker against other lonely people online.
* * *
ADDY WASN’T GOING to set one foot outside her house Friday evening. To prove that fact to herself she pulled on the pair of cutoff black sweat shorts she wore for cleaning, and her favorite T-shirt. The one she only wore in private because she figured she was the only one who’d appreciate the saying emblazoned across the chest: I Live in My Own Little World, But That’s Okay—They Know Me Here.
The threat against Will had escalated. She had so much to do, so many personnel files to get through. Scholarship recipients to investigate. Athletic programs to look at. Clubs to join on campus so she could see how they operated.
And homework to complete. Her cover would be blown if she failed out of her classes.
Pouring herself a glass of wine—something she allowed herself about once a week—she sat at the kitchen table with her laptop, leaving the desk in the living room for the next occupant of the duplex to use. The desk faced a wall and it was too far from the kitchen window and the sliding glass door—she couldn’t hear the fountain.
She opened the secure server, typed in her user name and password, and opened the faculty files. She was still in the first half of the alphabet. The Ps weren’t far off. Where she would find Will’s personnel file. His hiring information. Any formal complaints. Performance reviews.
She prayed to God she wouldn’t find anything suspect among them. Prayed she could protect the man whose family had taken her in such a long time ago. She wasn’t