Booker stood concealed behind a tree, eagerly watching the busy comings and goings of Holbrook College’s students and faculty. He had left Tom sleeping, a note propped next to the lamp on the bedside table explaining his absence and promising to return in a few hours. It was better his friend knew nothing of his mission, all it would do is drag up unwanted memories. He was perfectly capable of going it alone, and if he were successful, then hopefully, Tom would finally begin the long, painful road toward recovery.

A grin passed over his lips when he spotted his target, and checking the coast was clear from unwanted prying eyes, he stepped out from the shadows of the majestic elm. “Hey, Harold.”

Surprise registered on Horshack’s face, …show more content…
“Is someone threatening you?”

“Only every Pi Tau on campus,” Harold replied in a frightened whisper. “I never went back to the frat house after I helped you escape, and they didn’t take it well. Not only did I let you guys go, but I also refused to take part in the final initiation ceremony; something that has never happened since the Pi Tau Fraternity was founded in 1847. I’m a liability because I’m not bound by the honor code, and I know what happened in that basement… I know what they did to Harris.”

“Hanson,” Booker corrected softly, and reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his badge. “Don’t you remember Tom telling you his real name? We’re undercover cops, Harold. Tom’s last name is Hanson, not Harris and mine’s …show more content…
“Not exactly. But if everything goes to plan, hopefully, I can give Tom his life back.”

**

After convincing Horshack to drive with him to a café twenty miles south of the campus where they were sure to be safe from inquisitive eyes, Booker laid out his plan—or as much of it as he thought prudent. “I need the name of the Pi Tau Keymaster. You can get it for me, right?”

Shocked by the request, Harold’s coffee cup shook violently, spilling hot liquid over his fingers. With a yelp, he placed the cup back on the plastic checkered tablecloth and wiped his hand on the leg of his baggy jeans. “Why would you ask me that?” he exclaimed in a dramatic, conspiratorial whisper loud enough to be heard two tables away. “I told you, I’m not a Pi Tau, and even if I were, only an Active, who has paid his dues, knows that information.”

“Or a respected alumnus,” Booker replied with an engaging smile. “And you, Harold, happen to be related to not one, but two.”

As the meaning of Booker’s request became apparent, Horshack’s pale, freckled face turned several shades whiter. “You want me to ask my father?” he gulped, the very idea sending a shiver of foreboding down his spine. “Are you