CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Hannah approached the Omega Sigma fraternity house with trepidation.

It was 9:15, late enough for some people to be out partying on a Thursday night but not so deep into the evening that things had started to get raucous. The last—and only—time she'd been to this place, there had been a huge, raging party going on, with a line of people waiting to get in. But tonight she was able to simply walk up to the pleasantly modern if antiseptic three-story structure and ring the doorbell.

As she waited, she could hear the sounds of The Steve Miller Band"s "Take the Money and Run" playing inside. It wasn"t blasting too loud, but she found it hard to imagine anyone inside could concentrate. She also noted with some amusement that this wasn"t the same kind of music they"d played at that party two weeks ago. That night, it had been Dua Lipa and Olivia Rodrigo. But with no coeds to entertain, these guys had apparently retreated to the comfortable world of 1970s classic rock.

For a moment, she considered bailing. This place made her uncomfortable, and she had no obligation to this Reggie Calderone person. But she knew she wouldn"t do it. If this guy had really been wronged in some way, she knew she had a better chance of helping than most folks.

And she had to admit, there was something exciting about possibly taking on an investigation, even if it just involved college kids. It scratched the itch that was constantly irritating her, making her look for thrills in otherwise less altruistic ways.

The door opened and she was face to face with a scruffy, curly-haired guy with a weeks' worth of unkempt stubble, wearing a plaid work shirt. "Who are you here for?" he asked chipperly.

"I'm supposed to meet Finn Anderton," she said, far more reserved than her greeter.

"Okay, come on in. I think he's in the kitchen," he said, opening the door before turning and screaming, "Hey Finn, visitor!"

"Thanks," she said, stepping inside.

"Sure," he said. "He should be up in a minute."

Instead of waiting with her, the guy headed over to one of the three ratty living room couches spread out in a "U" formation around the giant screen TV showing an NBA game. He plopped down next to another guy and immediately started complaining about how the Nuggets were totally going to choke.

"Hey, Hannah," someone called out, pulling her attention away from the living room scene. It was Finn coming up the stairs from what she assumed was the kitchen. He was wearing faded jeans and a gray school sweatshirt. Unlike this morning, his blond hair was brushed, though it still looked casually mussed, as if he couldn"t be bothered to spend the time on it. In his hand was a bag of cookies.

"Hi," she said when he got to her.

"Sorry for not being up here to greet you but I was looking for a snack to offer you," he explained. "Unfortunately, this is all I could scrounge up. You like chocolate chip?"

"Sure," she said, taking one from the bag.

"I don't want to be a cliché, but can I offer you a drink too, beer maybe? Or water?"

"I'm good, thanks," she assured him. There was no way she was accepting any beverage provided to her here. "Do we want to do this?"

Finn smiled at her.

"I can tell you're really uncomfortable being here and I appreciate that you came anyway, so I'll skip the pleasantries. Shall we go up to Reggie's room?"

Suddenly, Hannah was overcome with second thoughts. Had she really agreed to come to this fraternity house and, more than that, up to the bedroom of some guy she didn"t know with another guy she barely knew? She was now kicking herself for not telling her roommate, Lizzie, where she was going.

"I guess," she said hesitantly, "but you should know that if I feel sketched out at any point, I reserve the right to kick both your asses. And since you know about my history, you know I can do it."

"I have no doubt," he said, his grin getting even bigger, "but I can assure you, no violence will be necessary."

As they walked up the stairs, Hannah could hear enthusiastic hollering from somewhere up above, as if several guys were engaged in some kind of competition and others were cheering them on. Their voices echoed off the stairwell walls, creating a teeth-rattling echo. When they reached the second floor, Finn indicated that they should head down the long hallway. The fluorescent lights that ran along the ceiling flickered slightly.

"We should probably get those replaced," Finn said, noting her glance up.

"That might be good," she agreed as she walked along the sticky linoleum floor. "It could give the place less of an ‘abandoned mental hospital' vibe. You guys might also consider mopping the floors occasionally, maybe using something with a fresh, sanitized scent to cover the smell of beer and whatever got burned recently."

"I think it might have been grilled cheese," Finn admitted sheepishly. "I wasn't here but apparently it set off the fire detectors this afternoon."

They were halfway down the hallway and what had been flickering overhead lights now turned to semi-darkness as the majority of them the rest of the way were burned out.

"How much farther is the room?" she asked, turning to Finn. "I feel like I'm in a Saw movie or something."

"Sorry," he replied sheepishly. "I guess we don't really notice this kind of stuff until a guest points it out. Reggie's room is the last one on the left."

When they finally arrived, Hannah noticed that the light seeping out from under the door was red, which didn't inspire confidence.

"Why don't you do the honors?" she requested of her host, trying to keep the discomfort out of her voice.

Finn nodded and banged on the door. "Hey Reggie, it's Finn. I'm here with the guest I told you about. Can we come in?"

"It's unlocked," Reggie called out from behind the door.

Finn opened it and dramatically gestured for Hannah to enter. She did, surveying the room. It was immediately clear where the red came from. The overhead lights were off, but Reggie had a large lava lamp on a desk, which illuminated the room just enough for her to get a sense of it.

To her surprise, it was much tidier than the rest of the house. There were no clothes on the floor, all the shelves were neatly arranged with his books, and the bed that Reggie was lying on was made. He sat up as she entered.

Reggie had dark skin, a tightly shorn scalp, and anxious brown eyes. He was wearing jeans and a gray Omega Sigma hoodie. He offered a shy smile as he stood up to shake her hand.

"Thanks for coming," he said quietly. "I'm Reggie."

Hannah was startled and mildly embarrassed that she hadn"t picked up on one of Reggie"s primary features until he was standing. The guy was enormous. Hannah was five foot nine, and she estimated that he was probably close to a foot taller than her.

"Hi, Reggie," she said, trying not to let her jaw drop. "I hear you"re having some kind of issue that Finn thought I could help with."

"Yeah," he said, pulling out his desk chair for her before returning to his bed. Finn leaned against the dresser along the wall. Hannah took the seat and waited for Reggie to go on. When he stayed silent, she realized she was going to have to prod him.

Before she could, the music downstairs changed from Steve Miller to Ariana Grande and got about twenty percent louder.

"What's that all about?" she asked Finn.

"Oh, that," he said. "We have a party starting at 9:30. I guess the social committee chairman realized that classic rock is like female repellent and decided to go with something that won"t scare all the ladies away."

"Good call," she said. Even though the song was less objectionable, it was still overwhelmingly loud. She tried to block it out and focus on Reggie. "Why don"t you tell me about this issue you"re having?"

"Okay," he replied reluctantly, as he rubbed his scalp. It seemed to be a self-soothing technique. "I got accused of cheating on a test this morning and I don't know what to do."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she told him. "Can you give me some more details? The name of the class? Who accused you? That sort of thing."

"Oh, right," he said, nodding. "The class is Stats—Statistics. It"s my required math course for the semester. It was the final exam for the fall. I don"t know who accused me. A little after the class ended, the T.A. texted me and told me to go to the professor"s office. When I got there, they were both there, and the professor said there had been an accusation that I was copying off another student. He said that while it was being investigated my grade would be put on hold and I"d be temporarily suspended from all school-sponsored activities, including basketball."

"You're on the school basketball team?" Hannah confirmed.

"Yeah," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I have a scholarship. The professor said the investigation would probably take at least a week. But we"ve got two games during that time. One is this Saturday in South Dakota. The other is a huge one against Santa Clara. They"ve only lost twice all year. I can"t miss that game."

"I hear you," Hannah said, choosing her next words delicately. "Please don"t take offense at this question, but we need to be really honest with each other before going any farther. Did you cheat on the exam, Reggie? I"m not judging you, but I need to know if you"re trying to prove your innocence or just hoping to find a way to work the system so that you can play in these games."

Reggie looked at her, and his eyes were watery. "I did not cheat. I"m not an amazing student, but I"m decent at math. I had a "B" going into the final and when I was done, I felt like I might have actually bumped it up a little."

"All right," Hannah said, leaning forward. "So you didn"t cheat, but someone who remains anonymous claimed you did. I know that most of my classes have cameras in the classrooms. Do you know if that one does?"

"Yes, and I told the professor to check it, that he'd see I never looked at anyone else's test," he answered plaintively. "He told me that he would but that he'd never been in a situation like this before and getting access to the footage might take a while. I complained that it wasn't fair to punish me without proof."

"And how did he respond to that?"

"He said that if the accusation didn't hold up, it wouldn't impact my grade," Reggie explained. "But I explained to him that it was about more than that. Once the coach gets the official word about this accusation and I get suspended—even if it's retracted—I have to miss these games. Plus, the coach is old school. If he thinks I can't be trusted, I'm going to fall out of the rotation just when I started getting some quality playing time."

"What does that mean exactly, ‘fall out of the rotation?'" Hannah asked. She had a casual knowledge of basketball, which he'd just exceeded.

"It's like this," he said. "I'm only a sophomore, and Coach doesn't usually like to play younger guys. But I managed to get into some games and play well, so he gave me more playing time. In fact, just last week, I was inserted into the starting lineup, which is a big deal. It means I get to play more minutes, score more points, and make a bigger contribution in general. But if this suspension holds up, even for a few days, I'll be back to sitting on the bench."

"And it's potentially worse than that," Finn added. "The coach might not play him at all because if Reggie is put into games when he's academically ineligible, it could void any wins the team gets. The coach might decide it's not worth the risk. Bigger picture, if Reggie's name isn't completely cleared, his scholarship might even be in jeopardy."

"Okay, I get it now," Hannah said. "So we've got a false accusation of cheating, which will almost certainly not hold up in the end. But in the interim, it could cost you a spot on the team in the short term, and maybe for good. Is that all right?"

"Yes," both guys said at once.

"So," she concluded, "the question we should be asking is: who benefits from you getting suspended?"

Both guys were silent. Hannah decided to prompt them.

"I'm assuming it doesn't matter either way to the professor or the T.A., although we can never be sure of that," she mused. "But I'm wondering, who was getting all that playing time before you started doing well?"

Reggie sat up straighter as he rubbed his head again.

"I took minutes from a few players, but I guess the guy it hurt the most was Marvin Jost," he said. "He was starting until I took his spot. He used to play about thirty minutes a game, but since I"ve been starting, he plays less than half that."

"How did he react to that?" Hannah wondered.

Reggie shrugged.

"He hasn't said anything, but you can tell from his body language that he isn't happy," he said. "I can't blame him."

"Is Marvin Jost in your stats class?" Hannah asked.

"No, it's an intro class, mostly underclassmen," Reggie said. "He's a senior."

"Okay, are there any other teammates in the class, ones who might be friendly with Marvin?"

"Uh-uh. I'm the only basketball player in the class."

Hannah sat quietly for a moment, studying Reggie's floor, then looked up.

"Marvin's a senior and an athlete, so he's probably made a lot of friends in his time at school. They wouldn't have to be on the team to want to help him out. Do you have a class list?"

"Yeah," Reggie said, "the professor made a Google doc so we could create study groups and stuff like that."

"Show it to me," Hannah instructed.

She stood up so Reggie could have his chair. He sat at his desk and pulled up the list on his computer. There were thirty-six names listed.

"All right," Hannah said, "Do you mind if I take over for a minute?"

Reggie shook his head and got up so she could take his place. She sat down, inhaled deeply, and started typing.