The man just didn't give up, did he?
Rachel James jogged through a local playground in her west
Boston neighborhood, keeping her gaze front and center so
as not to make eye contact with the reporter she'd been
secretly meeting with for weeks now. While huffing out a
cloud of oxygen as her breath met the crisp November
afternoon, she concentrated on maintaining her pace,
blocking out her frustrations with a cleansing rush of
adrenaline.
Still...it was inevitable. Every second brought her closer
to Ian Beck, who had his arms draped with arrogant
patience over the back of the bench he sat on. Stretching
his long, jeans-clad legs in front of him, he stuffed his
hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and grinned
at her.
Even though she tried not to look, she did. Immediately, a
zing of โ what was it, more adrenaline? โ shot through
her. Her belly tied itself into electric knots.
Butterflies from a brisk jog?
She really didn't want to admit to anything
more. "Gorgeous day for a run," Beck said as she passed
him. "Or another interview."
Instead of answering, Rachel merely held up a hand in a
civil yet discouraging greeting. Wrong time to dog her
with more questions. She was too nervous about tomorrow,
dreading what might happen to her good friend and mentor,
Professor Gilbert Harrison, at his board hearing.
Besides, she'd given the reporter enough information
already. As it became more and more obvious that the
university was out to fry Gilbert, Rachel had taken
matters into her own hands by talking to Ian Beck in
private, without the knowledge of her friends. Getting
their approval for her "rescue Gilbert" plan had seemed
much too complicated at the time; it would have been
argued and debated to death by committee while Gilbert's
situation grew worse. Rachel had only seen the positives
in quietly feeding Ian Beck good news about her former
teacher. So she'd told him every heartwarming Gilbert
anecdote she could think of. She'd been very vocal about
the college administration's obvious vendetta against
every-one's favorite faculty member, and Ian Beck seemed
to eat it all up.
And why not? This was scandal at its best: a former
English professor and baseball coach fallen from grace,
faced with gossip-worthy charges like "grade changing"
and "suspicious fraternization with students," among other
damning claims. Though the conduct board purported the
need to "discover the truth" about the ultrapopular
professor, Rachel knew what was really going down. The
administration wanted him fired.
No two ways about it.
Loyalty to Gilbert had demanded that Rachel and a group of
ex-students accept his plea to return to Saunders
University, to stand up for him as character witnesses. A
few of them had gone even further, attempting to clear the
professor's name by seeking out evidence of the good works
he'd accomplished.
But that's when Jane Jackson, Rachel's friend and
Gilbert's administrative assistant, had uncovered
surprising information about the older man โ items that
had been locked away in a secret safe. Ledgers featuring
cryptic notations. Stacks of highly personal documents
about the students he'd helped over the years.
Mysteries.
Jane had delivered one of these personal documents to
Rachel without informing Gilbert that it had been taken.
For all they knew, he hadn't peered into that safe in
months, and they were hoping it would stay that way until
they figured out what to do about all the information
they'd uncovered.
As Rachel jogged farther away from the reporter, her pace
faltered, her mind filled by the image of one particular
document that Gilbert had been hiding. A private document
that spun her world upside down and made her wonder if she
could ever trust him again.
Her very own adoption papers.
Not for the first time โ or, she thought, the last โ
Rachel wondered just what her mentor was up to and why it
was his business to have such intimate information about
her.
What was he up to? Was he indeed the kind confidant she'd
depended on all these years? Or, if he wasn't her trusted
friend, then who was he and what did he have up his sleeve?
Measuring her breathing, Rachel expelled another huff and
tried to shove the disturbing questions out of her mind.
But they only swirled around in there, a screaming flock
of discomfort.
Part of the reason she didn't want to talk to Ian Beck
today was because she had no idea what she'd tell him
about Gilbert now that her adoption papers had been found.
Thus, these past few weeks, Rachel had pulled back from
the journalist, refusing his requests for more meetings.
She was too confused, too shaken by her doubts.
In fact, she couldn't even summon the courage to talk to
her once-beloved teacher about any of it.
She rounded a corner, leaping over a pile of dead burnt-
orange leaves that had gathered on the sidewalk. Autumn
surrounded her, painting the sky gray, forcing her into
sweats, long johns, gloves and a knit cap. As the sound of
children playing on a swing set caught her attention,
Rachel slowed her speed, grasping the chance to finally
get her mind off Gilbert. She softly smiled at the way the
mothers hugged their infants, at the way it all seemed so
natural for some families....
But before she knew it, there were footsteps hitting the
pavement behind her. Another jogger or โ
She glanced over her shoulder.
Yes, Beck was persistent.
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