Daddy's Girl (7 page)

N
at’s hair was still damp from her morning shower when she found herself sitting in the reception area outside Vice Dean McConnell’s office, having been summoned by an early-morning voicemail. She was wearing a black-and-white knit suit, striving for that Soon-to-Be-Tenured look, and a pink silk blouse with a neckline high enough to hide her scratches. She’d come in early because she couldn’t sleep anyway, and every time she’d moved last night, she felt a new pain in her ribs. Her head ached from the bump in the back, and she’d put a flesh-toned Band-Aid on her cheek, hoping everybody would think she was hiding a zit. She had to teach today, and answering questions about the prison riot wasn’t her idea of class participation.

She glanced around the room, which she hadn’t been in since her first day on the job. This section of the school had yet to be renovated, so ugly oblong fixtures shaped like flying saucers still marred the ceiling. Oil portraits of past deans hung on a scuffed wall, and the rug was a worn blue. A navy couch sat flush against the wall, flanked by two club chairs in a coordinating navy print, one of which Nat occupied. Two black desks and cubicles were situated against the opposite wall, both of them empty. It was too early for the dean’s or the vice dean’s secretary to be in, and McConnell was keeping Nat cooling her heels while he chatted on the phone. She remembered power games like this from her days at Morgan Lewis, which she’d left because she didn’t like the rough-and-tumble of litigation or big-firm politics.

“Morning, Natalie.” It was Angus’s voice behind her, and when she turned around, her ribs reminded her that twisting was a bad idea.

“Ouch.”

“I hear that.” Angus walked around her chair and plunked down on the couch, catty-corner to Nat. His eyes shone bright blue, even if one was still swollen, and his grin couldn’t be stopped by a few black stitches. “How you feelin’?”

“Terrible.”

“I’m sorry.” His smile vanished. “I really am.”

“Don’t start. How do you feel?”

“Same.” He had on a fresh gauze bandage, and the bruise on his cheekbone had turned a darker red. She wondered how he had gotten his sweater over his head, this one a rough-hewn Ecuadorian knit in heather gray wool, which he wore with jeans and new cowboy boots with a pointier toe. She wondered if he’d gotten blood on his Fryes, but she didn’t ask. He leaned close to her. “McConnell called you, too, huh?”

“He said come ‘immediately.’”

“I got ‘right away.’ Where is that boy?” Angus craned his neck toward the open door to McConnell’s office and spotted him on the phone. “What’s he doin’ in there? Buyin’ staplers?”

“We’re being called to the principal’s office.”

“I know, right? Now that he thinks he’s the Duke of Venice, he’ll be unbearable.” Angus chuckled. “Called you last night but you weren’t in.”

“I didn’t get a message.”

“Didn’t leave one. Didn’t think Mr. Greco would like it.”

Nat smiled again. “You could have. He doesn’t have a jealous bone in his body.”

“Sensible guy.” Angus smoothed a ropy blond strand back into his ponytail. “Didn’t know you were in so early or I would’ve called here this morning. I’m worried about you. You had a helluva day yesterday.”

“I’m okay.”

“Really?” He frowned under his bandage.

“Please, enough.”

“Just so you know, I’ve suspended externships to the prison.” His mouth made a grim line. “None of my students is going out there until I understand exactly what went down, and why Buford and Donnell were in my class. I want to know why they were cleared. It’s strange because—”

“Angus? Nat?” McConnell appeared suddenly at the threshold and motioned to them, so they rose and followed him in, where he gestured them to the two tan leather chairs across from his desk. “Please, sit down.”

“Thanks, Jim.” Angus offered Nat the first chair and took the other after she’d been seated. She glanced around the office and determined that it hadn’t changed since her intake interview four years before, or even since 1795. Foxhunting prints blanketed the walls, and the wing chairs were all old leather with dull brass tacks. A lamp with a black shade had a base like a small brass bugle, and the end tables were of walnut. Case reporters, law reviews, and legal periodicals stuffed the bookshelves, and McConnell’s large walnut desk sat stacked with papers, correspondence, and even a few leather-bound books, which made his black laptop look anachronistic.

“Thank you both for coming.” McConnell sat down behind his desk. “I’ll be handling this matter in Sam’s absence.”

The dean is gone?

“As you may know, he’s on vacation. He left last week.”

I knew that.

Angus said, “There’s not much to handle, Jim. I take complete responsibility for what happened at the prison, and I’ve already suspended the externship program there, pending an investigation. I’m very sorry for the injury to Nat, as well as any adverse publicity to the school.”

McConnell nodded. “Perhaps we should back up a minute. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“Sure,” Angus said, and Nat maintained her professionalism as he recounted a brief version of the attack, the riot, and the aftermath. At the end of the account, McConnell’s lined face had fallen into even deeper lines. He patted his blue-and-green rep tie, then his silvery wave of hair, in thought.

“This is a very serious situation.”

“It was, but it’s over.” Angus gestured to Nat. “She had it the hardest of all, and she’ll need time to recover, physically and emotionally. You should give her a week off.”

Nat interjected, “I don’t need it, thanks.”
I need a month.

McConnell turned to eye her, smiling almost warmly. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal. I assume you won’t be performing Shakespeare anytime soon.”

“No.” Nat managed a smile that telegraphed the Professional-Grade Toughness required of Chevy trucks and tenured professors.

“I must say I love the works of Shakespeare, and you were quite correct to emphasize the elements of law and justice.” McConnell paused. “Of course, you must know that we can’t continue to offer the seminar if it remains at its current low subscription levels.”

My baby!
“But I developed it myself, and I teach it in addition to my other courses.”
Read, for free.

“I understand that. But the school has other needs, if you have extra time.” McConnell peered through his tortoiseshell bifocals to consult some papers on his desk. “Scott is going on sabbatical to finish his textbook, and we could use someone to teach taxation, which would demonstrate your versatility as a scholar and legal educator.”

I’d rather date Kyle Buford.
“I’d love to, in addition to the seminar.”

“That’s not what I had in mind, but we can discuss that later.” McConnell turned to Angus. “Back to the problem at hand. This incident at the prison arose from one of your clinic’s externship programs. Currently, how many externship programs do we have?”

“We’re up to six. We have externs in the civil practice clinic, entrepreneurial, mediation, child advocacy, transactional, and public interest.”

“Civil practice is the most subscribed, is it not?”

Angus nodded proudly. “Yes, our students counsel the indigent in housing, social security and disability, health law, education, child custody and support, and consumer law.”

“Chester County Correctional Institution is the only externship program in which something like this has occurred, is that correct?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I see.” McConnell cleared his throat. “Well, in addition to the harm incurred by you two faculty members, my concern, of course, is the harm to the school. Its reputation and its potential exposure.”

“Exposure?” Angus repeated, but Nat knew what McConnell meant, because she had learned a few things at Morgan Lewis:

Time for even the lawyers to lawyer up.

McConnell said, “Waiting for me this morning were messages from the parents of several of your clinic students, who had been out to the prison in the past. They’re understandably concerned that their sons and daughters have been exposed to danger, or could be in the future. I assured them that, as of this morning, the externship program to the prison has been cancelled.”

Angus looked as if he’d been slapped, his mouth partway open. “I’ve suspended the program. I’m not canceling it.”

“The parents are demanding as much.”

“The parents don’t run my clinic.”

“If you send a student out there and he gets hurt, you expose the school to an array of negligence actions.”

“I’ve already taken the appropriate measures to protect those students, and I care about them, too.” Angus shifted forward in his seat, his face flushing red even under his bruise. “The program is suspended.”

“I’m afraid that’s not your decision.”

“Nor is it yours,” Angus shot back. “I’ll take it up with Sam.”

“He can’t be reached.”

“I have his cell.”

“Good luck trying it. He’s in Kenya with Carolyn and the kids, on a safari. In his absence, I make the decisions.”

“Jim, this is absurd!” Angus shouted, and Nat worried he’d pop a stitch. “There has never been an incident before at Chester County, and our best students have served in the externship program there, counseling inmates for over eight years.”

“That benefits the prison, not us.”

“Wrong. The students have learned more about criminal defense than they can ever get in a classroom. They represent real inmates on real cases. They draft all the pleadings, find all the experts. That’s invaluable experience.”

“They can learn it within these walls, Angus.” McConnell tented his fingers. “I cannot ignore the concerns of these parents. As a result, effective today, I will be running all of the clinic externships programs, and you are relieved of your duties with regard to them.”

“You’re
firing
me?” Angus exploded, jumping to his boots.

“What?” Nat blurted out, astonished.

“Don’t be so emotional, Angus.” McConnell remained calm, his gaze even and unblinking behind his bifocals. “I’m not firing you. You will continue to teach your non-clinic classes, meet with clinic students, and run the in-house clinical programs. I’m merely assuming supervision of our externship programs. I have to make sure they’rerun with due regard for the welfare and safety of our students.”

Nat interjected, “Vice Dean McConnell, Jim.”
Whatever
. “Angus has the clinic under control, and if we overreact as an institution, it will only aggravate the situation.”

Angus nodded. “Jim, you don’t even know what the programs are. How can you begin to run them? This isn’t about programs, this is about people. Real students who work ongoing lawsuits for real people.”

“I know how to run a tight ship, no matter what it is. If you ask me, this happened because it’s been loosey-goosey for far too long under you.”

Angus looked stricken for a moment, as he realized he had lost. Nat felt terrible for him. His long hair, cowboy boots, and his image were coming back to haunt him, and she saw him in a different light. He’d been right when he said he was in his own little world. The students may have loved him, but McConnell had barely tolerated him, and with this, he had just declared war.

“I’ll take it up with Sam, when he gets back,” Angus said, struggling to rein in his anger. “He knows how important those programs are to the school. He’s the one who raised the funds for them and for our renovation.”

“Thank you,” McConnell said, but Angus was already leaving the room, storming through the open door.

Nat watched him go, and her heart went out to him. He’d developed and grown those externship programs himself. The clinic was his passion, and he’d been very good at it. She turned back to McConnell just as the phone on his desk started ringing.

“Thank you for your time, Nat,” the vice dean said, dismissing her with a wave before he picked up the receiver.

Nat got up stiffly and left the office, shaking her head. Only she had been naïve enough to think that academia would be politics-free.

It was all the books they had lying around that fooled her.

N
at sat, allegedly concentrating, in her small modern office. She’d called Angus twice but he didn’t call back. She went to see him after her morning classes but he was gone. McConnell had already sent around an email advising everybody that he was assuming supervision of all externships, which set the faculty and students buzzing. Colleagues who had never spoken to Nat had stopped in to fish for juicy details. She’d begged off, saying she had to research her article, and corroborated her alibi by papering her desk with handwritten notes and placing a takeout Dunkin’ Donuts cup next to her laptop, which had long ago gone into hibernation, code for “you’re not working hard enough, girl.”

She checked her desk clock. 12:05 p.m. She had brought Mrs. Saunders’s phone number to the office but hadn’t gotten up the nerve to call her yet, though she came close at 10:23 a.m. and 10:43 a.m. She’d wanted to talk it over with Hank, but he’d left early again. She couldn’t decide whether to call. She felt as if it were either urgent or too soon, which made no sense.

Her gaze wandered over the wooden chairs in front of her desk, then strayed to the wall-mounted bookshelves of yellowish oak, happily crammed with law books, case reporters, and legal non-fiction. Llewellyn’s
Bramble Bush
, Holmes’s
The Common Law
, Breyer’s
Active Liberty.
The sight of books didn’t comfort her the way it usually did, and she couldn’t stop thinking about Mrs. Saunders, Angus, or yesterday. No reporters had called her, for which she thanked God. Still. She hit a key to wake up her computer and logged onto phillynews.com. She had to look everywhere to find the story:
Disturbance Put Down in Record Time at Chester County Correctional Institution.

Nat almost laughed. What had Angus said?
Let the spinning begin.
She clicked the link and the story came on, barely a paragraph on her laptop screen:

Nat frowned. The article made it sound as if all the deaths had taken place in the RHU, which they hadn’t, and that Saunders was a casualty of the melee, rather than having been murdered in a different place. Did the difference matter? She skimmed the article again and noticed a related article link, and clicked it.
The Very Model of a Corrections Officer
, popped onto the screen. It was a sidebar about Saunders. She sipped cold coffee and read on:

Again, Nat didn’t get it. The sidebar also made it sound as if Saunders had died in the RHU. She shook her head, which started to pound again. Saunders’s wife was named Barbara and he had three kids. Nat couldn’t put it off another minute. She grabbed the notepaper with the number, picked up the phone, and called the Saunders house. Her heart began to hammer, and the call connected with a loud
click
.

“Yes?” answered a woman who sounded older.

“Hi, my name is Nat Greco. I hate to bother you, but is this the home of Ron Saunders, who worked as a corrections officer?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Please accept my condolences. May I ask, is Mrs. Saunders at home?”

“She can’t come to the phone. I’m her mother. You’re not a reporter, are you?”

“No, not at all. I teach at a law school. I was at the prison when the riot broke out.” Nat swallowed hard. “I happened to be with Mr. Saunders, at the time he…when he…”

“You’re the one,”
the woman said, her tone hushed. “We heard that there was someone with him. Were you there, when he died?”

“I tried to save him.” Nat felt shaky all over again. “I’m sorry, so sorry, that I couldn’t.”

“No, no, no, dear, that’s all right.” The older woman’s tone turned soothing. “I didn’t mean it that way. Barbara, my daughter, was so pleased that Ron wasn’t alone when he passed. I feel exactly the same way.”

Nat breathed easier. “I was wondering if I could speak with Mrs. Saunders sometime. I could talk with her over the phone or in person, whenever it’s convenient. Whatever she wishes.”

“I know she’d love to meet you and talk with you. You’re her last connection with Ron. Would you mind coming out to the house? I’m afraid she’s not ready to travel, and the children are here.”

Poor kids
. “Of course, I’ll come there.”

“When can you come? I know she’ll want to see you as soon as possible. We were just talking about it, praying that you existed and that it wasn’t just a rumor.”

“I can come whenever you wish. Anytime this week is fine.”

“How kind of you. How about today?”

Gulp
.

“It would be such a comfort to Barbara, and she needs it. If you could manage it, anytime this afternoon would be wonderful. Though I’m sure you’re very busy.”

“No, I’m not. I’m in the city, and I could leave now and be there in an hour or so. I have your address.”

“See you then. We’re here all day.”

“Thank you,” Nat said, hanging up.
No time like the present.
She logged onto maps.com, got the driving directions, and was printing them when she heard a knock. She looked up. Angus was standing in the threshold of her office in his thick sweater, wearing a sideways grin. If he was upset about the meeting with McConnell, he was covering it well.

“So this is your office, huh?” he said, looking around. “Nice vibe. Pretty. Light. Quiet.” As he scanned the shelves, Nat slid the driving directions discreetly from the tray. Angus gestured at the large window behind her chair, which overlooked Sansom Street, with its trendy shops and restaurants. “You have the hip and cool view. The White Dog is my favorite restaurant. Free-range law professors our specialty.”

“What’s your view like?” It struck Nat that she had no idea where Angus’s office was. She really had to get out more.

“I’m in the basement, but it’s gorgeous. We have our own place, all remodeled. You should see it.”

“Don’t tell me, lemme guess. Posters of Che Guevara. Lenin. Woodstock. Birds on guitars.”

“How did you know?” Angus laughed, but Nat didn’t want to banter anymore. He had to be hurting inside.

“You okay?”

“You mean since my demotion?”

“You weren’t demoted.”

“Emasculated, then.”

Nat smiled, and Angus laughed, nevertheless.

“I’m fine. I called Sam’s cell, but there was no answer. He has to go to the veldt to get away, where there’s no possibility of fund-raising.”

Nat cocked her head. “I feel bad for you.”

“Don’t worry. Sam gets it. He knows how important those externships are, and I built them. He’ll set it right when he comes back.” Angus shrugged. “Did you see the newspapers?”

“The account is hardly complete, or accurate.”

“I know, right? I get that they don’t want to alarm the community, but it’s ridiculous.”

“If I hear about those stupid stingers one more time, I’ll scream.”

“Hey, you wanna grab lunch?” Angus asked, but Nat hesitated.

“Uh, can’t. I was just going out. I have an errand to run.”

“Okay.” Angus’s face fell somewhere behind his beard. “Rain check, then?”

“Sure.”

“I’m not hitting on you.”

“I know that.”

“I’m over you.”

“Good for you.”

“In fact, I barely liked you, until you stood up for me with that tool McConnell.”

Nat laughed, and Angus’s grin returned.

“You should stop by my office sometime. You’re wrong about the décor. No Che Guevara posters.”

“Jessica Alba?”

“You got me.” Angus laughed. “Walk you out? I’ll grab a falafel from the truck.”

“Okay.” Nat went in her desk for her handbag, feeling guilty for not telling him about Saunders. He was the only one who could really understand what yesterday had been like. Then again, if she told him, she’d be admitting that she’d lied to the police. On impulse, she closed her office door and showed him the seat across from her desk. “Sit down a minute, would you?”

Angus sat down, mystified. “You gonna emasculate me, too?”

“No, but I have to tell you something. The whole truth and nothing but.” Nat went back to her desk, sat down, and told him the story of finding Saunders, alive despite his wounds. As Angus listened, his bright eyes grew somber, and Nat managed not to cry. “The thing I didn’t tell you is that, before he died, Saunders said something to me. His last words. It was a message for his wife. I didn’t want to tell the cops. It’s not their business.”

“I understand.” Angus rubbed his beard. “It’s not mine, either.”

Exactly
. “But I have to tell his wife. That’s where I was going just now. Out to the Saunders house.”

“In the subs?
That’s
the errand?” Angus smiled. “You’re a terrible liar, Natalie. You acted so guilty, I was worried you were having an affair, and I’m not even your boyfriend.”

Nat laughed. It felt good to joke around with him. A shaft of sunlight moved onto his hair, bringing out golden highlights she hadn’t noticed before. Either he had washed it last night or he was a total hunk and probably not a drug addict. She had a new respect for him, after yesterday and this morning.

“I also think that you’re extraordinary, for trying to save him.”

“I could have done more.”

“No. That’s not fair.” Angus shook his head. “You can’t ask so much of yourself. You’ll lose sight of what you did accomplish.”

“Like what?”

“Like simply being there when he died.”

It’s what his mother-in law had said on the phone.

“You know, sometimes it’s enough just to be. Just be. Don’t fix. Don’t perform. Don’t control. Just
be
.” Angus paused “I know, it sounds so Zen.”

“Faculty Steven Seagal.”

“Forgive me, I was a religion major. I almost went to divinity school.”

“Really?”

“I know, right? Anyway, so you’re going out to the house now? I think that’s the right thing to do. You have to do it, and in person. It’s the man’s last words before he left the planet.”

“I agree.”

“You want me to go with you? I know the area better than you do. I’ll give you some privacy when you talk to his widow.”

“Are you free?”

“I have to make some calls, but I can do it on the way. You shouldn’t have to go alone, and I’m the one who got you into this. It’s the least I can do.”

Nat smiled, touched. “Falafel’s on me.”