Page 69 of Dirty Filthy Boy
Chapter 20
MacKenna
THURSDAY MORNING, I arrive at the newspaper office eager to work on Ty's story. The day before I'd spent the entire day doing online research on the Nebraska State Student newspaper files, and I'd hit a gold mine of information. I'd started with the first year Ty had attended college. Just as I expected, it had been the standard news of a college rag—the goings on at the college, social and political issues, and, of course, sports. At first Ty's name hardly appeared on the sports pages, but as the football season progressed, he got more and more mentions.
His name popped up again, along with Mad Dog's and Ryan Taylor's, during the fraternity rush. They'd all joined the Kappa Delta Psi fraternity. Once football season ended, he didn't get mentioned again. But his fraternity had when a girl was gang raped at one of their keggers. From that point, hardly a day passed by that the sexual assault wasn't mentioned. At first, the girl's name was unknown, but then she'd revealed her name.
Why would she do such a thing? Maybe someone talked her into giving a face to the victim of such a horrible crime. Sure enough, she'd been hailed a hero for coming forward. But then the nastiness had begun. Her name had been dragged through the mud in the school's social pages. She was called an idiot for accepting a drink from a stranger, blamed for her rape because she'd come to the party alone. With no one to watch out for her, she'd asked for it, hadn't she?
Sick to my stomach, I'd taken a break at that point. But in the afternoon, I forced myself to read on. Her rapists had been identified from DNA rape kits and charged with a multitude of crimes, including aggravated sexual assault. Thankfully, Ty's, Mad Dog's, and Ryan's names were not mentioned in any of the articles written about the heinous crime. None of them had been at the party that night.
That seems odd to me.
They would have known about the party, and since football season had been over by that time, they wouldn't be tied up with game preparations. Mad Dog might have chosen not to attend the kegger. He doesn't seem like a party animal to me. But I can't see Ty and Ryan turning down an opportunity like that.
Wanting to get to the truth of the matter, today I decide to put in a call to the student newspaper and see if I can find someone who was part of the staff that year. A long shot, I know. Most of the college's newspaper staff is comprised of students. But maybe there's some salaried administrative sort that's assigned to the newspaper. Sure enough, I find someone. Stephanie Colton. She hasn't arrived, so when I'm patched to her line, I leave a call back number.
A half hour later, my phone rings. It's her.
"Thank you for calling me back, Ms. Colton. My name is MacKenna Perkins, and I'm a reporter forThe Windy City Chronicle. I'm writing an article about Ty Matthews, as well as Mad Dog Buchinsky and Ryan Taylor, all players with the Chicago Outlaws. I understand they attended Nebraska State."
"Yes, they did." She sounds hesitant, but I press on.
"I have some questions about their time at Nebraska State. I was hoping you would shed some light on something I came across during my research."
"I don't know much about the football side of things."
"This doesn't have anything to do with football, but with a sexual assault that happened eight years ago."
"Emily Suarez." Her voice's a soft whisper.
"You remember?"
"Of course I remember. That was awful. What happened to her."
"Yes, it was." I clear my throat before I proceed. "They all belonged to that fraternity, but they were not present the night of the party. And, well, that struck me as odd."
"You know, I wondered how long it would take somebody to ask that question. I didn't think it would take eight years."
"So they were there? That night?"
"Ty Mathews and Ryan Taylor were. Buchinsky was not. He didn't live in the fraternity house, like Ty and Ryan did. He lived off campus with his girlfriend."
"So why the lie?"
"Hold on a moment. Somebody just came in. Yes, Professor Dawkins." The last seems muted as if she's covering the telephone's mouthpiece. "I'll be there in a minute, sir."
When she comes back on the line, her voice's hushed, as if she's trying not to have her words overheard. "I have to go. But I do want to talk to you. It's something that needs to be brought to light. You need to come here, though."
"Why?"
"There's something you need to see. It's in the archive files. I don't dare remove it. Somebody's bound to notice. But I go down to the newspaper's catacombs all the time. And I can sneak you in. Any chance you could travel here?"
"Ms. Colton. Now." Whoever Professor Dawkins is, he's got his shorts in a twist, that's for sure.
"I'm sorry. I have to go."
"I'll be there." Nebraska State's only an eight hour ride from Chicago. I could travel on Sunday, talk to her Monday morning and return late that day. I wouldn't even need to take a day off from work. I could tell Mr. Bartlett I was away from the office doing research on one of the players, which would be nothing but the truth. "How about Monday of next week?"
