“I’m sorry.” She really meant that, too, from the look on her face.

I took a few deep breaths, allowing my anger to simmer. This wasn’t her fault, not even close. She was one of the good ones. Someone who actually cared about what happened to students now and when they left Wilmont.

“She was a sophomore,” I said, looking to Dean. “Do you know her name?”

“Jesse, something,” he said. “I think she’s in Tessa’s art class. Not sure.”

“Red hair, father is on the academic board,” I added, giving Ms. Howard every detail I could.

“Wonderful,” she said, but sounded far from happy. “I know her. I’ll seek her out.” She opened the door for us. “I’m sorry I can’t do more,” she said. “But,” she continued, her voice a whisper, “I promise you both this. If I ever do get solid, irrefutable proof?” She pressed her lips together. “I’d put my own job on the line to make sure it was heard.”

Dean and I nodded, and I gave her an encouraging smile. “Thank you,” I said. “For being there.” I meant it. The woman deserved a freaking gold medal for working with this on her shoulders. Knowing the wrongness of a situation without being able to do anything about it.

Dean walked shoulder to shoulder with me back to the coding room, and we packed up our gear, going through the motions, though both clearly in our own heads.

“Never a dull moment,” he finally said as we headed to the parking lot, but I could tell his heart wasn’t really in the joke.

“Insane.” I shook my head, dropping my gear in my car. “I knew he was a…” I stopped myself from saying dick. “But I never suspected this.”

Dean leaned against his opened driver’s side door. “Kind of makes what we’re doing have even more purpose, huh?”

I grinned. Hell yeah it did. My constant battles over whether the growing blog was too much for me to handle, too risky, too much of a middle finger in Tanner’s face, evaporated. I needed to push the boundaries even more. Push it so much it would hit him over the head enough to rattle his routine. Maybe if he saw it, really saw it, and the good it was doing, the help it was giving…maybe he would have a wake-up call about his methods. Let his personal views take a back seat and allow the good of the many to overcome his own beliefs.

“Exactly,” I said. “Late night coming up?” I asked, wondering if his motivations had been as invigorated as much as mine had.

“Likely. Why?”

“I’ll bring the coffee tomorrow,” I said, and winked at him before sinking behind the wheel.

As I drove home, I was beyond happy that Dean had been with me tonight. That we were in this twisted game together.

DC.