Erica
Thirty eight minutes.
That was what we had.
I was already on my laptop before Tyler had finished putting Roland on speaker. The article pulled up fast — Diane's byline, eighteen months ago, six pages, international hockey publication.
*The Man Who Keeps The Game Clean.*
I read the first three paragraphs.
Voss came across as principled. Dedicated. Someone who'd spent thirty years protecting the integrity of the sport from people who wanted to use it for personal gain.
The irony would have been funny if my name wasn't about to go live in forty minutes attached to a piece this woman had written.
"How detailed did you go with her?" I said to Tyler.
"Everything."
"My full name?"
"Yes."
I closed my eyes for one second. Opened them.
"Roland," I said toward the phone. "When did
