Page 21 of Where Secrets Lie

Chapter 12

Hez took a deep breath and prepared to walk into the Justice Chamber for the first time. The nameplate holder beside the door was still empty, but a sheet of paper withJustice Chamberin forty-point font had been taped to the scarred oak door. He didn’t care that the sign was crooked.

He opened the door and flipped the light switch. A fluorescent light buzzed to life, illuminating a small office containing a much-used table, a tiny desk bearing an old computer, and four unmatched office chairs. Gray light dribbled in through a drafty trefoil window, a flourish added by a long-dead architect who loved Gothic cathedrals. The office’s prior occupant had warned Hez about the window and left an ancient space heater in a corner by the desk.

Hez plopped a box on the desk and pulled out a coffee maker, which he immediately set up on the corner of the desk. He loaded it with a rich dark roast and started it. First things first.

As the aroma of brewing coffee filled the office, he unloaded the rest of the box—notepads, highlighters, sticky notes, pens, accordion folders, coffee mugs, and other necessities. Finally, he took out a plaque that read“But let justice roll on like ariver, righteousness like a never-failing stream!”(Amos 5:24). He looked at it for a long moment, then hung it over the desk.

The plaque was an office-warming gift from Savannah—and really the whole office was her gift. The law school couldn’t find room for Hez’s clinic, so Savannah had flexed some presidential muscle and found them space in Connor Hall. The history department had two vacant offices, thanks to her departure for the administration building and Erik Andersen’s disappearance the prior semester. After a week of quick office moves, the Justice Chamber now occupied the second least desirable office in the building. The least desirable office remained empty next door, so the legal clinic had room to grow.

“Aah, that smells awesome,” a male voice said.

Hez turned to see Eduardo Hernandez filling the doorway with his broad shoulders. Ed was a scholarship swimmer and first-year law student. He’d apparently come straight from practice, and his collar was damp where it touched his black hair. “Grab a mug and a seat. We’ll begin as soon as the other two arrive.”

Ed filled the largest mug. His brown eyes were downcast, and Hez frowned. “Anything wrong, Ed?”

The young man hunched his shoulders. “I think I’m going to have to leave school.” His voice was bleak, and there was a shine to his eyes. “I wanted to be the first lawyer in my family.”

“What’s happened?”

“My scholarship just got eliminated.” His gaze darted to Hez. “My family doesn’t have the money for tuition, so this will be my last semester.”

Hez put his hand on Ed’s shoulder. “I’ll see what I can find out. Maybe the new president will have an idea.”

Ed’s head came up. “You’d do that for me?”

“You bet. Don’t give up hope.” Was there any way he could pay these students for their help at the Justice Chamber?

As Ed replaced the carafe, two women walked in together. One was Toni Casey, a thirtyish blonde with a professional air who looked like exactly what she was: an accountant who had spent a few years in the business world and then decided to go to law school. The other was tall and had long black hair—she must be Dominga Steerforth, a favorite student of Savannah’s. Dominga had expressed interest in law school, so Savannah suggested she volunteer for Hez’s clinic.

Once everyone was caffeinated and seated, Hez got started. “Thanks for coming to the inaugural meeting of the Justice Chamber. Our mission statement is up there on the wall.” He pointed to the plaque. “I thought we’d need to go to the public defender’s office or legal clinics to find clients in need of justice, but our first client found us. In fact, you could say itisus.” He spread his arms. “This university—our university—needs our help in at least two areas. First, you might have heard about a smuggling ring using TGU as a front to traffic pre-Columbian artifacts looted from Central and South America. The DA and the U.S. Attorney’s Office claim they have it all wrapped up, but I’m not so sure. Ed, you worked on a smuggling case last semester. Do you want to take a look at this?”

Ed savored a sip of coffee and smiled. “It would be my pleasure. If we can shut this down, maybe there will be more money for scholarships.”

Dominga, who had been eyeing Ed since she walked in, leaned forward. “I can help. I took Professor Webster’s courseon pre-Columbian history. It’s a really interesting area and I learned a lot.”

Hez suppressed a smile. “Okay, great. I’ll give you my file and the investigative leads I’ve gathered so far.” He turned to Toni. “The second problem may be more up your alley. Are you familiar with the TGU Extension School?”

She frowned. “I’ve heard the name. It’s basically an online program, right?”

Hez nodded. “Right. TGU’s last president, Ellison Abernathy, set it up. He told the board it would be a great way for people who are working full-time or aren’t around here to benefit from TGU’s excellent programs. It wouldn’t cost the university anything because an outside company could administer it for a percentage of the revenue. All the profits would go into TGU’s scholarship fund for low-income students.”

Toni’s eyebrows went up. “I’m not sure why that’s a problem. It sounds like a good business model. Part-time and off-campus students get a good education on flexible terms, and the university gets free money for a good cause. That should be a win-win.”

Hez grimaced at the memory of what his preliminary investigation had uncovered. “It should be, but it’s not. The Extension School admits unqualified students and charges them the maximum they can borrow from government loan programs. The courses are low-quality recorded lectures from Abernathy’s friends, who often aren’t even TGU professors. And the scholarship fund hasn’t gotten a penny. The whole thing has actually been a lose-lose.”

Ed sat back and folded his arms. “I’ll bet someone’s winning.”

Toni nodded. “Yeah, all that student loan money has to be going somewhere. Do we have any financial data for the Extension School?”

“We do.” Hez lifted his mug and inhaled the rich scent before taking a sip. “They have to submit quarterly data to the president’s office, but no one looked at it until last week. It’s also not very clear, and... well, let’s just say Excel and I are not friends.”

Toni smiled. “I’m besties with Excel. Send me the spreadsheets and I’ll take a look. I can also do some poking around and see what I find.”

Hez grinned. “I was really hoping you’d say that.” He drained his mug and pushed back from the table. “Okay, let’s go do some justice.”

***

---