Hart, Catherine

by Impulsive

  She'd ticked off four digits and went on to count three more. "Now we have Sir Loin and Rick Tanner, and those dubious test results. Plus, I have to wonder if Brice's DWI doesn't fall in there somewhere. Perhaps something to do with his allergy medication?"

  "Doc Johnson," Corey deduced immediately, her eyes narrowing in righteous wrath. "He could have rigged those drug tests, and he probably prescribed Brice's medication. Moreover, he was the one who diagnosed Gabe's problem as the flu and kept tuning us out when we tried to tell him otherwise."

  "Did he prescribe anything for Gabe?" Jess asked excitedly.

  "No, he just advised us to do the usual—pump fluids, rest, take aspirin for the aches and pains." Corey's shoulders slumped, and suddenly straightened again. "Wait! He did give Gabe some special stuff a while back to treat athlete's foot. He claimed it was ten times better than anything Gabe could buy over the counter, but Gabe isn't convinced it was working all that well. Actually, his feet have gotten worse since he's been using it."

  "For how long?" Jess inquired. "How long since Gabe began using it?"

  Corey fluttered her hands, anxiously trying to recall the time frame. "I don't know, precisely. About six weeks or so."

  Ty leapt to his feet. "Where is this stuff? Did the police confiscate it, or could it still be here?"

  "It wasn't here at all, I don't think," Corey informed him. "There's only one bottle, and Gabe kept it in his gym bag, so he'd have it both at home and at practice. On weekends, he'd bring the bag home, but through the week he left it in his locker. Since he expected to be back at practice on Saturday morning, I imagine it's still there."

  "Can you look, just to be sure?" Ty asked eagerly.

  "Yes, but this medication is applied topically, not taken internally," she stressed, "so I can't see how..."

  "The doctor said it could be something that Gabe is absorbing through his skin," Ty reminded her. "It doesn't have to be in something he's drinking or eating."

  Corey trotted off to the bedroom, with Jess and Ty close behind. "It's not here," Corey said moments later. "He always puts his bag on the closet shelf. Of course, with the police throwing everything hither and yon, it could still be here someplace, I suppose. That, or they might have taken it with the other things."

  "I didn't see any sign of a duffel bag when I straightened the house," Jess put in.

  "Then either the police have it or it's still in Gabe's locker." Ty headed toward the hall. "I'm going to the stadium, and if the bag's there, I'll bring it back."

  Jess ran after him. "Wait! Shouldn't we call the police and have them look? Or phone Corey's attorney? You don't want to get arrested for tampering with evidence, or—God forbid— have them think you planted the stuff there."

  Ty considered this. "I suppose you could call and have them meet me there. But I'm leaving now, before that bottle mysteriously turns up missing, if it hasn't already. Besides, we're working solely on our own theory here, and the police might not put much stock in it. Chances are, they'll think we're sending them on a wild goose chase, just to throw them off Corey's trail."

  "It's a clear bottle, filled with some god-awful smelly green liquid," Corey clarified. "It looks just about like that name-brand liniment Gabe used to buy for sore muscles, only it's not labeled."

  Jess hesitated, then dashed out the door on Ty's heels. "I'm going with you. Corey, call the cops and your lawyer. That way, maybe I won't be Ty's only witness, and a biased one at that."

  Jess flat-out refused to stay in the car while Ty went into the locker room. "I'm too antsy to sit out here and wait. Besides, it's spooky out here in the dark."

  It was no less spooky inside. First, the night watchman was nowhere to be found, and the entry gate, which was supposed to be locked, wasn't. "Fred must be making his rounds on the outer perimeter," Ty presumed. "He'll lock up again on his way back through. This sure made it easy to get in, though."

  "Yeah, but just as easy for anyone else to do the same, with no one the wiser," Jess pointed out.

  Then, Ty couldn't find the switch for the hall lights. "I have no idea where the main panel is. They probably put it in some oblique location, so John Q. Public doesn't have ready access to it," he submitted, "which is smart in one aspect, but not terribly convenient at the moment. Good thing I always carry a flashlight in the glove compartment."

  "So you can play cat burglar?" she mocked.

  "No, in case of emergency. You never know when it'll come in handy."

  Their footsteps echoed eerily in the long, empty concrete corridors. Jess shivered. "This is downright creepy at night. Especially with only a dim beam to guide the way. You really ought to check your batteries more often, James."

  "Sort of like touring the haunted house at Halloween, isn't it?" he said, shining the light in his face as he aped a wicked expression. "Or a mausoleum at the stroke of midnight."

  She smacked his arm. "Knock it off, Ty. You're not funny. Oh, shoot!"

  "What?"

  "I have to pee. When I get nervous, my bladder kicks in."

  Ty laughed, a sinister sound as it reverberated back, magnified in volume. "You mean when you're scared spitless."

  "Then, too," she admitted. "Ty, I really do have to visit the ladies' room."

  "Surely you can hang on until we reach the locker room?"

  She wrinkled her nose at him. "I'm not exactly equipped to use a urinal, Ty."

  "No joke," he rebutted. "We have regular toilets, too, you know, in addition to those."

  "Okay, but I hope the janitor has cleaned in there recently."

  He took her by the hand and quickened the pace. Jess was glad to reach the locker room, where the light switch was handy. She scurried off to the rest room area, flipping that light on as well. "Don't start without me. I'm supposed to be your witness, remember?"

  "So hurry already, will you? I don't need wet car seats."

  Jess was out of the stall, still tucking her shirttail into her jeans, when the lights outside the rest room went off. "All right, Ty," she called out irritably. "Enough with the trick or treat routine."

  The only response was a muffled thump, followed by a dull thud and a metallic clang. Jess hastened to the doorway and peered cautiously around the corner. "Ty? Ty, if this is some sort of prank..."

  Her voice trailed off uncertainly, leaving a silence so deep that she could hear her own heartbeat—no, not her heart... but footsteps, as someone ran from the locker area into the outer hall and beyond.

  "Ty?" she called again, almost ill with dread as instinct told her that something was drastically wrong. "Please answer me. Are you all right?"

  When he failed to reply, Jess glanced quickly around in search of anything she could use to defend herself if need be. The only thing immediately at hand was a dusty old toilet plunger that looked as if it might have come over on Noah's Ark, but it was better than nothing. Hoisting it before her like a spear, she advanced into the dark room, inching her way toward the hall entry and the light switch—all the while, wondering if Ty had gone running out, perhaps chasing someone, or if those footsteps she'd heard had belonged to another party entirely.

  She was still several feet from the door, her path only slightly illuminated by the faint light from the rest room behind her, when she caught the sound of more footsteps, these rapidly approaching from the corridor. There was no way to know if they belonged to friend or foe. Galvanized into action by pure fear and adrenaline, Jess, in one huge bound, leapt behind a row of lockers. She hunkered down in the shadows, hardly daring to breathe as she clung shakily to her puny weapon.

  Seconds later, the lights came on, the contrast nearly blinding her. "Anyone here?" a male voice boomed. When no one answered, the man said, "You sure you heard something, Mr. Nelson?"

  "I could have sworn I did, Fred," her godfather replied.

  Jess heaved a relieved sigh, which promptly turned into a panicked shriek as she turned her head and saw Ty lying facedown on the floor a mere yard from where
she was crouched. His long, limp form was sprawled awkwardly in the space between the bench and the stand of metal lockers, his eyes closed. But what alarmed Jess most was the stream of blood trickling across the cement from beneath him.

  Her scream was still reverberating through the room as Tom and the guard, his gun drawn, rounded the corner into the aisle. "Jessie?" Tom queried anxiously. Then he spotted Ty's unconscious body. "Oh, my God! What has happened?"

  "I don't know! I don't know!" Jess wailed. On hands and knees, she crawled toward Ty. "Oh, please don't be dead! Please! Tommy, help him!"

  "Fred, call 911. Have them send an ambulance," Tom barked, taking charge. "No, Jess. Don't move him. We have no way of knowing the extent of his injuries. You could do more harm than good." He scooted the bench out of the way and knelt down to feel behind Ty's ear for a pulse. "Calm down, Jess. He's alive. Help will be here soon."

  Ignoring Tom's advice, Jess carefully wedged her knee beneath Ty's head, cushioning it as she stroked his hair away from his pale face with trembling fingers. "Th-the police should be on their way anyway," she stammered. "Corey called them before we left her house and told them to meet us here."

  Tom blinked in surprise. "Why? What's going on?"

  "It has to do with Gabe. We needed to get something from his locker."

  "And it couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

  Before she could say more, Ty let out a groan. "I think he's coming to," Jess said unnecessarily. She bent over him, crooning softly in an effort to comfort him. "It's okay, Ty. I'm here. Help is near, darling."

  His lashes fluttered, but his lids remained closed.

  To Tom, Jess whispered frantically, "Shouldn't we at least try to find out where he's bleeding from and stem the flow? He's losing an awful lot of blood."

  "I think it's his head, Jessie. Maybe toward the back. Do you... do you think he could have been shot?"

  "No, thank God. I was in the rest room when the lights in here went out. I heard some noise, but nothing like gunfire."

  "Good, good. Then maybe he's not hurt too badly after all. I have heard that head wounds, even slight ones, bleed more profusely."

  The metallic jingle of keys and handcuffs preceded the arrival of two police officers. "We got a message to meet a Tyler James here, and then a call about an injured party?"

  "That's Tyler," Tom said, inclining his head.

  "What happened to him?"

  "We're not sure, but I'm so glad you're here," Jess answered. "Is the ambulance on the way?"

  "Yes, ma'am. And you are?"

  "Jess Myers."

  Ty moaned again, and started to stir fitfully. Jess tried to calm him. "Stay still, Ty. You've been hurt."

  One of the officers nudged Tom aside and took his place beside Ty. "Move your hand, Miss Myers. Let me see if I can ascertain how badly he's injured."

  "We think it's his head. Can you stop the bleeding?"

  From a packet concealed in his hat, the policeman removed a pair of sanitary rubber gloves. After donning them, he leaned forward and gently ran his fingers across Ty's skull. "Kenny, give me a little more light here, will you?"

  His partner aimed his flashlight beam at the back of Ty's head as the first man continued to probe through Ty's blood-soaked hair. "Whoa! He's got a goose egg and a half back here! I'd guess a nice concussion to go with it, too."

  "No bullet wound?" Ken asked.

  "Nah. I'd say he either hit the concrete floor, or someone bashed him a good one."

  Kenny's gaze roved from Fred to Jess to Tom, then lit on the toilet plunger lying on the floor next to Jess. "Any of you know anything about this?"

  A trio of "no"s resounded. Only Jess added an explanation to the denial. "As I told Tom, I was in the rest room when the lights out here went off and I heard noises. A couple of thumps or thuds, then footsteps running away. When Ty didn't answer me, I didn't know if he'd left, or if something had happened to him. Just to be safe, I grabbed the toilet plunger and came out to investigate. That's when Tom and Fred arrived, flipped on the lights, and we found Ty lying on the floor."

  "We haven't touched anything, or moved Tyler, except for scooting the bench aside and supporting his head," Tom put in quickly.

  "How'd you get in?" the officer inquired of Jess. "Isn't this area usually locked?"

  "It wasn't tonight," Jess informed him. "Neither was the front gate. Ty figured Fred was checking the outer perimeter and would lock it when he was done."

  Ty groaned again, gaining everyone's attention.

  "Is he coming to, Dan?" Kenny questioned.

  "I think so. Hey, buddy, can you hear me?" he asked of Ty.

  Ty replied with a protracted moan, before trying to grab for his throbbing head. "Oh, geez it hurts! What happened?"

  Dan caught his hand in midair and brought it away from the wound. "That's what we'd like to know," he told Ty. "For now, just lie still. Does anything hurt besides your head?"

  Ty opened his eyes to mere slits. "Jess? That you?"

  "The one and only," she replied, trying to hold back her tears.

  "No, babe. Right now there's at least three of you."

  "Concussion," Dan concluded.

  "Answer the officer, Ty. Do you hurt anywhere else?"

  "My cheek, my forehead... my right hand." Ty's voice, still weak, took on a panicky note. "I can't feel my fingers!"

  Moments later, Tom declared disgustedly, "Jess, you klutz! You're kneeling on the man's hand! His throwing hand, at that!"

  Abashed and apologetic, she scooted off his hand, trying not to jar his head in the process.

  "So, do you remember what happened? Did you trip? Fall? What?" Dan prodded.

  Ty started to shake his head, a move he immediately regretted. Wincing, he rasped, "The last thing I recall is getting Gabe's combination lock undone. I was going to wait for Jess before opening the door, but I thought I'd unlock it, at least."

  "And then?"

  Ty frowned, trying to remember. "The lights went out, I think. Literally and figuratively. The next thing, I woke up with my head about to split wide open."

  "An apt comment, since it actually is split open," Officer Ken noted. "I think we can safely assume someone clobbered you. Did you hear any noises before you got hit?"

  "Just Jess when she flushed the john."

  "And the lights went off before you were hit? You didn't see anyone, catch even a glimpse or a shadow?"

  "I didn't see squat. Why?"

  "Obviously someone hit the light switch, and if it wasn't her or you, it stands to reason there was a third party involved. Presumably, the person who hit you."

  "The bag," Ty said suddenly.

  "Who? What?"

  "The bag," he repeated impatiently. "Gabe's duffel. Is it still in the locker, Jess?"

  "What's all the fuss about a duffel bag?" Fred wanted to know.

  Jess nodded toward Gabe's locker. "Would one of you officers do the honors, please? It's number twenty-two."

  The lock was lying on the floor at the base of the locker, but the door was still shut. However, when Dan pulled the panel open, there was no duffel bag inside. Only Gabe's uniform and protective gear were there.

  "What about his shoes?" Jess thought to mention.

  "Nope."

  Ty let loose a low, careful curse. "Damn! Someone took it."

  "The police?" Jess hazarded hopefully.

  "Why would we have it?" Dan questioned curiously.

  "Your department is investigating Gabe Rome's possible poisoning," she explained. "They searched his house today. We thought perhaps they'd done the same here. You might check with Detective Haggardy, because if his crew doesn't have that duffel, then it's quite possible the person responsible for this whole mess has taken it."

  "I'm still not making the connection," Tom stated confusedly. "Is there something in the gym bag that could point to the perpetrator?"

  "Bingo." This from Ty. "Give the man a Kewpie doll."

  "So the guy Miss Myers heard
leaving after the thumps and the lights going off is the one who bonked Ty and took the bag?" Fred proposed.

  "That's my guess, too," Jess concluded dismally, "and he's probably guilty of a whole lot worse. Including intentional murder."

  "So, why didn't he kill me?" Ty wondered aloud.

  Jess shuddered. "For whatever reason, I'll be eternally grateful he didn't."

  CHAPTER 22

  Amid his protests to the contrary, Ty was transported to the hospital via ambulance. Jess followed in Ty's car, and behind her came the two patrolmen in their police cruiser. Jess was still so unnerved that she stalled the Trans Am twice en route, and was amazed that the officers didn't pull her over and ask to see her driver's license.

  As the emergency staff checked the extent of Ty's injuries, the officers questioned Jess again, trying to elicit more details and to verify others. Just when it seemed they were satisfied at last, Detective Haggardy waltzed through the emergency ward doors and the routine began anew.

  Finally, Jess had had it. "Look, fellas, I'll carve it in stone if you want, but can we give it a rest? All I care about right now is finding out how badly Ty is hurt."

  "One more time," Haggardy urged. "I want to make sure I understand this cockamamie theory you two and the Rome woman cooked up that someone is out to destroy the Knights. Tell me again why you suspect the team doctor, this Johnson."

  "Because he's the one who did the drug testing on the team, and had the best opportunity to alter the results," she reiterated wearily. "Also, he might have prescribed Brice Tackett's antihistamine, perhaps in the wrong dosage. We're not certain about that, but we do know that Doc was treating Gabe when he got sick, and diagnosed him with the flu. He'd also given Gabe a special medication for his athlete's foot, in an unlabeled bottle."

  "Which you, being a hot-shot investigative reporter, consider suspicious," Haggardy commented snidely.

  "Under the circumstances, yes, and so should you," she insisted heatedly. "Gabe was exposed to arsenic in some manner, whether by absorption or ingestion, and every avenue should be thoroughly explored. Why is it you always suspect the spouse first?" she grumbled. "Corey is as true blue as they come."