Maya understood with a cold clarity that facts did not automatically decide which version traveled faster. Tyler moved closer to Susan. My father needs to know about this. Susan's expression tightened. Your father is not part of the disciplinary process.
Tyler gave her a look almost pitying. You sure about that? Maya heard him. So did David. Less than 10 minutes later, a black sedan pulled up outside the glass entrance.
Richard Grant stepped out into the Richmond night wearing a dark overcoat and the expression of a man accustomed to being called only when everyone else had failed to solve the problem. Inside Maya stood beneath the chandeliers with the brass token resting against her chest. Her hands were steady. Her heart was not. She had spent seven years learning how to stop a stronger person without hurting him.
Nobody had ever taught her what to do when the stronger person wasn't Tyler. It was his last name. Richard Grant entered the student center without hurrying. That was the first thing Maya noticed. People who were frightened rushed.
People who believed the room would wait for them did not. At 54, Richard had spent most of his adult life developing luxury apartments, office towers, and shopping centers throughout Virginia. His photograph appeared in business journals and university brochures. The athletic complex across campus carried the grant name in six-foot letters. Tonight, trustees moved toward him before he had even taken off his overcoat.
What happened? Richard didn't ask Maya. He asked Tyler, or held up his wrist. She attacked me. Richard's eyes settled on his son, then shifted toward Maya.
There was nothing openly hostile in the look. That almost made it worse. He studied her white catering shirt, inexpensive shoes, work-study badge, and the brass token resting against her collar. Then he looked toward Dean Susan Miller. I assume campus police have detained her.
Susan's expression hardened. Campus safety is taking statements. Nobody has been detained. Richard glanced around the damaged reception area, an overturned chair, broken glass, Ethan holding his wrist, Linda seated nearby, dozens of witnesses. He seemed to take in all of it in seconds.
Then he chose which facts mattered. My son tells me he was physically attacked by a trained fighter at a university-sponsored event. Maya felt the shape of the room changing. She grabbed me after I reached for her hair, Tyler said. Richard looked sharply at him.
For one second, Maya thought Tyler had accidentally told the truth. Then Tyler corrected himself. I mean, she twisted my arm before I could even do anything. Linda stood. You pulled her hair, Richard turned toward her.
And you are? Linda Hayes. Were you directly involved? You mean before or after your son pushed me? A murmur moved through the room.
Richard's face remained composed. I'd like everyone's statements taken formally rather than having accusations shouted across the room. Linda stared at him. You didn't seem bothered when your son was shouting his. David almost smiled.
Richard did not. He turned back to Susan. I want counsel involved. This is a university disciplinary matter, Susan said. For the moment, there was no threat in his tone.
Only implication. That was how power often sounded when it had been practiced long enough. Richard didn't need to remind Susan that grant development had funded nearly $12 million in university projects over the previous decade. Everyone in the room already knew he didn't need to point toward the enormous donor plaque behind him. His name was visible from where Maya stood.