CHIP PACED IN front of the entrance to Lana’s apartment building in South Miami. Where the hell was she? When he’d reached her on her cell, she’d indicated she was on her way home from Coconut Grove. She should have been here by now.
Man, had Carlos been pissed that he’d told Lana about their clandestine team meeting. And the dude had gone seriously ballistic when Chip had revealed Lana was a cop. Had he set something in motion that couldn’t be called back? He needed to talk to Lana, find out what she intended to do with the information he’d given her.
He stared toward the bright coral streaks of the setting sun, wishing he were climbing a rock somewhere a thousand miles from the shit that had gone down in high school. Sure, he wanted a murderer to be punished, but did Lana intend to yank every member of their old football team down to the police station for an interview?
Hopefully there was no need for that. He had something important to tell her. The conversation with Carlos had shaken loose whose idea it was to keep silent about the steroid rumors. And there was a lot more that he’d chosen not to tell her.
Now he had a decision to make. How far should he go? How much should he reveal? He’d been protecting Lana as long as he could remember. What he had to say would hurt her.
“Hey, Chip.”
He whirled to find Lana moving toward him, her strides long and graceful. She carried a bag of takeout from Paoletti’s, everyone’s favorite pizza joint during high school. Gino Paoletti always bought an ad to help pay for the team’s yearly publication of their schedule and roster. He also gave Southeast High students a discount.
Chip inhaled the pungent fragrance of garlic and guessed Lana had picked up lasagna for her evening meal. As he watched her approach, he realized he was ravenous. And not just for Italian food. He’d adored Lana Lettino since she was ten years old, and now she’d matured into a beautiful woman.
“You went to Paoletti’s,” he said, unable to come up with a better greeting. Lame. He groaned silently. Really lame.
“Obviously,” she replied, flashing him a smile. “Maybe you should become a detective instead of a lawyer.”
“Hilarious,” he muttered.
“Want to join me for dinner?” she asked, shaking the bag. “I’ve got plenty, and I owe you.”
“Yeah, you do.”
Despite everything, Chip liked the idea of eating Paoletti’s takeout with Lana. He hated this new conflict between them.
“You’re on,” he said, taking the warm bag from her hands. “Thanks.”
Once they were in the elevator, before he could think of a way to bring up the reason he’d called her, Lana said, “Guess where I just was.”
“A drug bust?”
She shot him a look. “I met Cindy Arroyo for a drink at Moe’s and Joe’s.”
The elevator doors opened and they exited on the fifth floor. “Cindy? She can’t be one of your suspects.”
“Well, she wasn’t until she got all twitchy the minute I asked about the fight you and Dan had.”
Chip froze. “The fight? What did she say?”
“Just like you, she wouldn’t tell me a thing. And she said you promised not to.”
Chip met Lana’s gaze and didn’t reply. Yeah, he’d promised. It was Cindy’s story to tell.
“Have you changed your mind about that?” Lana demanded.
“That fight had nothing to do with Dan’s death.”
“Everything is important.”
“Come on, Lana,” he said as she unlocked her front door. “There’s no way Cindy could have overpowered Dan.” Even if she’d had the best motive of anyone on your list.
He placed the bag on Lana’s dining room table and turned to look at her when she remained silent. She’d dropped her purse onto the kitchen counter and was washing her hands at the sink.
“He outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds,” Chip said.
“Yeah, well, there are ways to get around that little problem,” she said over her shoulder.
“Like what?”
She dried her hands on a paper towel and didn’t answer.
And then he got it. She was holding back more information that hadn’t been released to the public. There had to be some reason Cindy could be considered a suspect.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Chip asked.
Lana shook her head and reached high into her cabinet for plates. Chip moved to her side and reached over her head to grab them, brushing her fingers in the process. Their gazes locked when she smiled up at him. For a crazy moment he wanted to crush her against him and kiss her until they were both senseless. Or at least until she forgot all about her murder investigation.
He lowered his arms and handed her two plates.
“Thanks.” She fished silverware out of a drawer and moved into the dining room.
Watching the gentle swing of her hips, Chip mentally kicked himself. Lana was out of his reach. Obsessed with her brother’s death, she was out of anyone’s reach.
“I’ve remembered whose idea it was to keep silent about Dan and steroids,” he said to her back.
Lana whirled to face him.
“Who?” she demanded.
He shook his head at her eagerness. “Gary Shotwell.”
She set the plates on the table hard enough to break them. “The team manager? I didn’t think he ever played in a game.”
“He didn’t, but Gary was an integral part of the team.”
She frowned. “Explain.”
“He attended all games and practices, handled equipment—which was a big job—and kept stats.”
“Why didn’t he play?”
“He didn’t make the cut.”
“So he tried out? Gary wanted to be on the team as a player?”
“Definitely. He begged to play running back, but was too small and would have gotten hurt.” Chip shook his head, remembering the long hours of practice the guy had put in. “Plus he fumbled the ball every time he touched it. Coach Robby took pity on him and let him be manager.”
Lana nodded and opened the bag of food, releasing even more of that familiar fragrance of garlic, basil and Parmesan cheese into the air. Suddenly Chip was in high school again and gobbling pizza after a hard-fought game.
“Was Gary pissed about not making the team?” she asked.
Chip shrugged. “I don’t know about pissed, but disappointed, sure. He loved the game, and he was a good manager.”
Biting her bottom lip, a sure sign she was deep in thought, Lana pried the top off an aluminum container. Steam flowed into the air as she ladled a huge serving of lasagna, smothered with melted cheese, onto each plate. Next she plopped down several garlic rolls that were dripping with olive oil.
“Eat,” she ordered and sat.
Once seated, Chip picked up a fork and took a bite of the fragrant pasta while Lana only stared into space. She should eat before he revealed what he had to tell her. Although he still couldn’t tell her the whole story.
“Do you have any wine?” Chip asked. Maybe a little alcohol would mellow her out. Might help him, as well. This conversation could have a bad ending.
“I think I’ve got a beer,” she said.
“I could drink a beer,” he said. “Or at least some water.”
She glanced to the table, her eyes widening at the lack of any beverage. “Oh, of course. Sorry.” She hurried into the kitchen and returned with two bottles of Mexican beer and an opener.
“Sometimes I don’t know what is wrong with me,” she muttered as she took her seat again.
“Thanks.” Chip opened both beers, raised his to hers, and they clinked bottles.
“Do you need a glass?” she asked.
“Not necessary,” he said and enjoyed a long, cold swallow.
“Did Gary and Dan ever have any arguments?” she as
ked after her own drink.
“Not arguments exactly,” Chip said.
Lana picked up her fork and speared a bite of lasagna, but she still didn’t eat. “What do you mean by that?”
“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked.
She looked at her plate. “Actually, I’m starved.”
“Then eat,” Chip said.
She dropped her fork. “You’re stalling,” she said. “Why?”
“Because it’s been years since I’ve had the pleasure of eating Paoletti’s fine cuisine, and I’d like to enjoy it.”
Lana glared at him, but picked up her fork again. “You’ve remembered something.”
Chip sighed and took another bite. “Yes, I have, but it can wait.”
“I’ve been waiting a long time, Chip.”
“So you can wait ten more minutes.”
Lana nodded and finally took a taste of the lasagna. She closed her eyes, made an approving sound in the back of her throat and then began to eat with relish.
Chip grinned, silently thanking Gino for his delicious food. Paoletti’s does it every time.
“I’ve created a file on all of my suspects,” Lana said after a few minutes of quiet.
Chip shot her a look.
“Do you have a file on me?” he demanded.
“Of course.” She picked up her beer and grinned at him. “You’re quite the wanderer.”
“I’m home now.”
“And back in school. Gary is a driver for American Delivery Service and has been with them since high school.”
“ADS is known as a good employer,” Chip said. “He didn’t go to college?”
“He got an associate degree from Miami-Dade College but quit after that. Because of the timing—it’s probably because he got married.”
“Anybody we know?”
Lana shook her head. “She went to high school in Ohio, but I didn’t investigate any further. They’re divorced, and he doesn’t have a record. At least not in Florida.”
“How can you remember all these details?”
“I’ve been working on Dan’s murder for a long time.”
Chip nodded and took his last bite of Paoletti’s Italian miracle. He understood what Lana was doing. She was softening him up, getting him talking so he’d spill what he had to tell her. Likely a police-interview technique.
“Were you good friends with Gary?” she asked.
“Not really,” Chip said.
“Dan told me once that he felt sorry for Gary.”
Chip choked on the last swallow of beer. “I doubt that.”
“You sound surprised.”
“That’s not the way I remember the relationship between Dan and Gary.”
She leaned forward. “How do you remember it?”
“Look, Lana, I know you’ve got stars in your eyes when it comes to your brother—something I never understood, to be honest. But not everyone saw him the same way.”
She nodded. “So you’ve said. I’ve been giving that a lot of thought, and I understand he had a lot of self-confidence.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“How would you put it?”
Chip sighed and met her gaze straight on. “Dan was a bully.”
* * *
“A BULLY?” LANA stared at Chip. He lowered his gaze and stared at his empty beer bottle. She ignored the twinge of attraction that did nothing but confuse her.
How could she be attracted to a man who just accused her big brother of being a bully?
She pushed back from the table and walked to the center of her living room, where she whirled to look at Chip again.
“I never saw him bully anyone.”
He met her gaze. “Are you sure about that? Or did you only see what you wanted to see?”
She moved toward him again. “You talk like I was some sort of airhead.”
“I don’t think you were an airhead. I think you were a little girl who worshipped her older brother.”
“What happened between the two of you?” she asked. “Why are you making these accusations?”
“I’m telling you the truth,” Chip said. “Ask anyone on the team.”
“I will.” Telling herself to pursue one angle at a time, Lana moved into the kitchen, took two more beers from the refrigerator and placed one in front of Chip. “Why do you say Dan bullied Gary?”
“Dan treated Gary like shit.”
“Be specific.”
Chip opened the beer. “He made fun of how Gary wrote the stats, his hair, his clothing, God, everything. He called him a loser, lorded it over him that he couldn’t make the team.”
“That’s horrible,” Lana whispered.
Her brother did that? If this was true—and she wasn’t sure yet she believed it—why didn’t she ever see any of this behavior?
“Did everyone on the team know about this so-called bullying?”
“So-called?” Chip took a swallow of the beer. “Yes.”
“Did Coach Robby know?”
Chip rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah.”
“And no one said anything to the detectives investigating Dan’s murder?”
“No. The team took a vow of silence.”
“Yeah, the famous vow of silence. Do you realize what you’ve done?”
Chip nodded. “I think I do now.”
“Did Gary ever push back against the bullying?”
Chip raised his gaze to hers again. “What do you mean?”
“Did it ever get physical between Gary and Dan?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“So Gary just took it?”
“It was either that or quit the team, and the team was Gary’s life. Or at least that’s my take on it.” Chip shrugged. “Maybe that’s why Dan told you he felt sorry for Gary. I don’t know.”
Lana paced as she considered this new information and where to go with it. She stared at Chip’s sun-streaked hair, his impressive shoulders. She had no doubt Chip truly believed that Dan was a bully. And all the years she’d known Chip, she’d never caught him in a lie.
But she’d never seen Dan bully anyone, either. Was that the secret Chip had promised not to tell?
How could Chip’s allegations be true? Oh God. Had she not seen her brother for who he really was?
“This is a little hard to absorb,” she murmured as she sat at the table again. “It’s as if I woke up in an alternate reality.”
“I never wanted to tell you any of this,” Chip said. “He was your brother. I know how much this must upset you.”
“But I still want to solve his murder. It’s why I became a cop.”
Chip took a long swallow of beer.
Had all of her high school friends seen Dan as a bully and a jerk? Had she really been so blind? So damn stupid?
She opened her own bottle with a hard jerk. The cap flew across the table.
“Even if Dan Lettino was the world’s biggest jerk, he didn’t deserve to die,” she said.
“Agreed.”
“Well, thank you for that, at least.”
“I suspect most of Dan’s problem stemmed from immaturity and a raging sense of entitlement. I always wondered what would have happened his freshman year at the U. He might have grown up.”
Lana sat back, hearing the words but maybe not dangling in the air.
“Too bad we’ll never know,” she said.
Chip took another long draw on his beer. “Nope.”
Lana sipped hers. She couldn’t abandon the investigation because her leads didn’t go where she’d assumed they would. This was too important to her family.
Oh God, should she tell her mother about Chip’s accusation? No. Mom would never believe it. Or did her mother know? That thought gave Lana serious pause. No, no way.
If Dan bullied people, he never did it in front of his family.
Besides, no matter how badly her brother had behaved in high school, he’d once been the sweet little boy she preferred to remember him as. His murderer was still out there roaming the streets and might kill again.
Maybe already had.
“I started this investigation,” she stated, “and I’m going to finish it.”
“I know you’re not a quitter.” Chip smiled a little sadly. “I’ve always liked that about you.”
“Thanks. But I need your help, Chip.”
He narrowed his eyes. “How so?”
She leaned toward him. “Your information has just moved Gary to the top of my suspect list.”
“Because of the bullying?”
“And because it was his idea to squelch the steroid rumors.”
“So?”
“Maybe there was truth to those rumors.”
“That Dan took steroids?”
“Or other players. Maybe Gary had something to lose if those rumors became public knowledge.”
Chip nodded. “You think Gary knew something about illegal drug use on the team.”
“Maybe. You know him a lot better than I do. We need to think up an excuse for you to go talk to him.”
CHAPTER NINE
AFTER CLASSES THE next evening, Chip braked in front of Gary Shotwell’s address and eyeballed the blue tarp spread over the east end of the modest ranch-style home’s roof. There’d been no hurricane this year, but apparently Gary’s roof had sprung a leak. Although the tarp appeared seriously faded and could have been in place for a while.
Was Gary waiting for insurance money before he made the repairs? Did that mean money was an issue for the guy? Nothing unusual about that. Hell, money is an issue for me these days.
Chip surveyed the neighborhood. Pleasant, middle-class area. The yards were well tended, most with bicycles and other signs of families littering the grass. Not too many for-sale signs.
Chip shook his head. What was he doing here evaluating a neighborhood, wondering about a damn tarp over a roof? How had Lana talked him into becoming her undercover operative—and why had he agreed? He had over a hundred pages to read tonight and no time for this investigative nonsense.
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