"Isn't it your job to monitor student activities on campus?"
Dean Dunkirk gave my shoulder a squeeze. "Exactly. Just doing my job. It has nothing to do with the fact that my daughter is in there with a football player."
I chuckled even as the same thought sent a stabbing pain through my chest. "You don't think her last name alone keeps her safe?"
"Clarity can take care of herself. She'll kill me if she knows I'm checking up on her. But, dammit, I'm her father and she's my only daughter and ..."
"You don't have to explain it to me. What's the plan, captain?" I asked.
Dunkirk leaned gratefully on my shoulder. "We're going in. I drop in on the fraternities regularly, so it won't be too weird."
"Unless Clarity sees you."
"That's where you come in," Dean Dunkirk said. "I'll distract the frat boys, you check on Clarity. Once you see that all's well, we leave. Easy, right?"
"Easy," I agreed. "And not weird at all."
It would only be weird if there was something between Clarity and I, like a stolen moment in the treetops that kept playing over and over in my head. I shook off the tempting memory and followed the Dean of Students across the lawn to the frat party.
"D.O.S. in the house!" The student calls from the front yard were friendly, but also a warning to the partiers inside. They neglected to account for the volume of the music, but it was a good try, anyway.
Dean Dunkirk stopped on the front porch to shake some hands and say hello. I plastered a neutral smile on my face and strode up and down the porch, peering in the front windows of the old Victorian. There was a beer keg by the front staircase and another one in the corner of the dining room. Laser lights swept across the dancing crowd in the living room and a small, terrible student band knocked out the coolest guitar riffs they could manage. The house was crowded, but the party was under control.
I couldn't see Clarity anywhere.
The dean caught up to me and chuckled as two students leapt off the porch and disappeared in a puff of suspiciously sweet smoke. "That smell takes me back. Shhh, don't tell the kids," he said with an easy-going grin.
I laughed. "Whatever you say, captain, sir."
"That's right, I always forget you were in the army." He straightened his shoulders. "You've got the look."
I brushed a hand across my wild hair. "Not so much anymore."
The dean shook his head. "Nah, it's there. That toughness. Good thing, too, in case I need an enforcer."
I followed him in the front door and laughed again. Dean Dunkirk didn't need an enforcer. Only a few students here and there slipped away. Most shook his hand or smiled and waved. A few even offered him a beer. He was very, very good at his job.
"We're keeping it under control, sir," the star running back, Carl, informed Dean Dunkirk. "IDs have been checked and we're ready to cut off anyone that can't handle their liquor."
The dean clapped an approving hand on Carl's shoulder. "Know your limits. Always good advice."
"I prefer the motto, 'Stupidity will be punished,'" I said and stepped up to a particularly red-eyed student.
"I've got him, sir," Carl said and helped his stoned friend outside for some fresh air.
"What do we do if we actually see drugs?" I asked.
Dean Dunkirk leaned in so the curious students couldn't hear. "That's not what we're looking for, remember? How about we fan out, cover more ground?"
"Yes, sir," I said. It was impossible not to like Dean Dunkirk.
I was thankful when the dean dove into the dancing crowd in the living room. I turned from the gut churning music and headed through the dining room. A keg stand stopped as soon as my feet crossed the threshold.
"Professor Bauer?" A slim brunette student blinked big eyes up at me. "You party?"
I raised an eyebrow at her and hoped I looked aloof. "I owe the Dean of Students a favor, so here I am on chaperone duty."
"Ropes course, man!" A tall, red-headed football player whacked me on the back. "Prof here killed the ropes course. He's a beast! I thought professors wore tweed to hide their skinny arms, but Prof Bauer's got pythons, man."