Behind her, on the bench, Walter Briggs folded his newspaper. He looked at his phone.
He'd been recording since she'd passed the bench.
* * *
She called it in herself.
That same afternoon, Reagan went to the Dean's office and asked for a meeting with Dean Crawford.
The administrative assistant, a woman named Mrs. Pell, who had the specific efficiency of someone who has managed an academic office for a long time, looked at her over her reading glasses.
"Is this urgent?"
"Yes," Reagan said.
"Monday morning?"
"Today, if possible. Or tomorrow."
Mrs. Pell looked at the calendar.
"Tomorrow at 2:00. Fifteen minutes."
"Thank you," Reagan said. "I'll also need Dr. Norma Gale to be there, if she's available. And I'm going to ask Mr. Walter Briggs. He's not a college employee, but he's a relevant witness."
Mrs. Pell looked at her for a moment.
"I'll let Dean Crawford know."
Reagan nodded. "Thank you."
She sent a text to Dr. Gale.
Then she walked to Walter's bench. He was still there, his wife's pottery class having run long. She asked him directly.
He said yes without hesitating.
Then she called Coach Dunbar.
"Dunbar."
"It's Reagan."
"It's Thursday?"
A pause.
"You're calling early."
"Something happened today, and something else is about to happen tomorrow. I wanted you to know the shape of it."
She told him. All of it, this time. The whole sequence. Trent, Walter Briggs, Dr. Gale. What she'd documented over three weeks.
Ray Dunbar listened without interrupting.
When she finished, there was a silence.
"The meeting's tomorrow," he said.
"2:00."
"You want me there?"
She thought about it.
"Not for the meeting," she said. "But I might need you after."
"I'll be there," he said.
No elaboration. Just, I'll be there. The way he'd shown up at every tournament, every qualifier, every morning at 5:00 when the gym opened.
"Thank you," she said.
"Don't thank me yet," he said.
And she heard in his voice something she recognized as the closest Ray Dunbar came to emotion in a phone call.
"Reagan?"
"Yeah?"
"You did this right," he said. "Every step. You did it right."
She looked out her dorm window. The evening coming down on Kentucky. The hills going dark at the edges.
"I learned from you," she said.
"You learned from yourself," he said. "I just gave you a gym."
* * *
The meeting was at 2:00. Reagan arrived at 1:55.
Dr. Gale was already there. She had a document folder, thick, organized with the precision of someone who had been waiting for this particular use of it for a long time.
She had printed and tabbed everything. The board minutes going back five years. Three specific instances where disciplinary decisions had been made in ways that, when set beside the donor ledger, created a pattern that was difficult to read as coincidence.
Walter Briggs arrived at 1:58.