Love Inspired Suspense January 2014

by Shirlee McCoy

  Laney’s face flushed scarlet as she quietly told them about the incident with Trevor Ancho. Both coaches stared at her when she stumbled to a halt.

  Coach Stan cleared his throat. “So you accused this Ancho of locking you in a trunk of a car that the police say he doesn’t own?”

  Max edged closer. “She didn’t make it up.”

  He blinked. “I didn’t say she did.”

  “She was…confused, perhaps?” Jackie offered.

  “No,” Laney said. “It wasn’t because of the brain injury, so please don’t imply that.”

  “We’re going to get it all straightened out,” Dan said, tucking Laney under his arm. She continued to look at the floor.

  Coach Stan lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “I’m going to strongly advise you three to do nothing of the sort. Let the matter drop and focus on your training. That’s the only choice you’ve got here.”

  Max straightened. “Do I hear a threat coming?”

  Coach Stan met his gaze. “You know how the game is played. If there’s a situation that will impact the sport negatively or embarrass the speed skating committee in any way, they will insist on withdrawal.”

  “You wouldn’t do that, Stan,” Max murmured. “I know you, and you wouldn’t do that.”

  “It’s her last chance to stand on that podium,” Dan said, arm still firmly around his daughter.

  “I’ve been at this coaching thing a long time, so I’m getting to the end of my career. It’s my final shot at possibly coaching a team at the Games, so I understand about last chances.” Stan’s face looked suddenly haggard. “I’ve got to look at what’s fair for all of the kids training, and for some of them it’s their last shot at it, too.” He took Laney’s hand. “Do what you’re here for, Laney, and don’t give me, or the committee, a reason to take action.”

  She nodded without meeting his eye, and he walked away.

  Jackie pursed her lips and blew out a sigh. “You’ve got what it takes to win. If someone else beats you, then that’s the way it goes, but don’t defeat yourself.”

  She headed back to the weights and barked out orders to Beth, who was making a halfhearted effort.

  Max took Laney’s hand, though she tried to snatch it away. “Step outside with me.”

  “I don’t want…”

  “I didn’t ask if you wanted to.” He pulled her out of the weight room into an empty break area with a round table and a vending machine.

  “Why did you stand up for me?” she yelled at him when they’d crossed the threshold. “You don’t believe me.”

  “Yes,” he said after a breath, “I do. I thought about it for a long time last night and if you say Trevor Ancho shoved you into the trunk, then I believe you.”

  She crossed her arms. “Why not before?”

  Why not before? That realization hadn’t sunk in until he stood under the morning shower while the water ran cold. “I didn’t want to think that someone was trying to take away your dream again. It was easier not to believe it.”

  She frowned. “We both still have a lot of hurt about what happened.”

  He huffed out a breath, thinking he would try for something witty, soothing. It didn’t work. “I…I haven’t healed well…inside, I mean.”

  The anger fell away and she stood there with that gentle quirk to her lips and the compassion in her eyes that nearly broke his heart.

  “I know it’s hard,” she said “I figured it must be too much sometimes, being around me and all this. You’re angry still.”

  “Uh-huh, and I didn’t realize how angry until we were there again, you and me, at that exact spot where I lost myself. I didn’t ever want to go back there. Ever.”

  “Max, what are you afraid of?”

  Afraid of. The words circled in his consciousness. He hadn’t thought he was afraid anymore of anything, that he had nothing left to lose that mattered. Because he’d already lost his brother. His racing. And her. “I think that if I have to revisit the past, something might…” He looked away.

  Laney came close and put her hand on his shoulder. “Something might what?” Her voice was soft. “Tell me, Max.”

  He wanted to pull away from her fingers, which had now moved up to his cheek. Instead, he pressed her palm there, reminding himself that she was real, she had survived and thrived, willing the joy and optimism and happiness she experienced to somehow embed itself in him. Then her arms were around his neck, mouth inches from his as she whispered. “You’re afraid it’s all still there, aren’t you? All that anger and hurt and loss, but it’s deeper than losing your racing, isn’t it? What are you afraid to look back and see?”

  From somewhere deep inside it welled up, a darker fear than he had ever been able to put into words.

  I am afraid I will look back and find there is no one there and I am alone.

  He brushed his lips to her forehead, the warm satiny spot that made his heart pound. He wanted to tell her then, about his grief, and failures that couldn’t be weathered no matter how strong the body, how brave the spirit.

  How indifferent the God.

  Instead, he allowed himself to feel the softness of her frame pressed to his, and let the comfort of her touch push away the shadows.

  ELEVEN

  Laney realized that Coach Stan was right. Max did not race toward something, but away from it. “Max, whatever it is, God can bring you past it.”

  He stiffened and tried to step away. “Let’s not do this.”

  But she gripped the fabric of his jacket. “He’s the only way, and He can give you peace. Nothing in this world and no one else can do that.”

  “Laney, you’re wrong. God left me in this place. His choice. He could have saved Robby.”

  “Robby? Your little brother?” Laney said, not allowing him to look away. “He died young, you said, of leukemia.” The pieces fell together and she let out a breath.

  The little muscles in his jaw twitched. “If God didn’t want to raise His mighty hand to save a kid, then He could have at least let me do it. Would that have upset the balance of the universe?” Bitterness coursed through his words. “I should have saved him. We were a perfect match.”

  “But how could you have…” Her eyes widened. “You gave him your bone marrow?”

  He took her hands and moved her away. “Laney, we are not going to talk about this.”

  She clasped his forearms. “Yes, we are. We need to. You need to.”

  A clearing of the throat startled them both. Beth stood, eyebrow raised, hand on one hip.

  “I suppose this is some training technique to undo the mess you just made of things by bringing the cops here?” Beth demanded.

  “I didn’t bring them here,” Laney said, letting go of Max.

  “Yeah? Well, all the kids are wondering what you did, Laney. Rumors are breaking speed records in there. Are you going to enlighten us?”

  “No,” Max said. “She’s not going to explain anything, and there’s nothing to talk about but the workout that you’re both shirking right now.”

  Beth’s eyes glittered. “Boy, Laney. I wish I had a trainer like yours. So dedicated, no matter what’s stacked against you.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “You know Max, we never see you at the after-hours stuff. Isn’t team bonding important? I’m hosting a dominoes tournament tonight. Come.”

  It sounded like a demand. Laney wanted to tug Max away from Beth’s admiring gaze. She didn’t need to.

  He headed for the door. “I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on, Beth, but thanks anyway.”

  Beth offered up a pout. “Working on a press release so Laney will have something to say about her life of crime?”

  Laney’s mouth fell open.

  “I really should drop by more often,” came a voice from the doorway. “I thought you all just talked about skating and winning gold medals.”

  Beth’s face blanched as she took in the heavyset woman with long silvered hair that fell in unkempt waves around
her face.

  “Mom. What are you doing here?”

  The woman extended a hand to Max. “Diane Morrison. I don’t think we’ve officially met.”

  “A pleasure,” Max said.

  Laney had only seen Beth’s mother in online pictures and newspaper articles, dressed in smart blazers and pant suits. In her current outfit of jeans and a puffy down vest, no one would guess she was a powerful businesswoman.

  Her eyes traveled to Laney. “Hello, Laney. What’s this I hear about you getting locked up in trunks?”

  Laney’s fact went hot. News, especially bizarre news, really did travel fast. “I…”

  Diane waved a hand and laughed. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’m in the public eye enough to know that half the things you hear are more fiction than fact. Anyway, I’m not here to interrogate. I’ve got a meeting that’s going to keep me away from the trials, so I thought I’d do the mommy thing and check in on my daughter while I had the chance.” She offered Beth a smile. “Coach Jackie said you’re behaving. I suspect she, too, may be giving me fiction along with the fact, but I’m happy to see you.”

  Beth rolled her eyes. “I’m training, that’s all. That’s what I’m supposed to be doing, isn’t it?”

  “Good, that leaves you no extra time for getting into trouble.” Diane’s words were light, but there was a steely tone hidden underneath. “Let’s go have a chat. See you all on the ice later.”

  With Diane’s arm draped around Beth’s stiff shoulders, the two left the room.

  “How did she hear about it all so quickly?” Laney mused.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Max said, steering her to the door. “You’ve got a workout to finish. Ice time at two.”

  She mentally calculated. Ice time went for roughly three hours, counting cooldown and coach’s notes. Then she’d need to find another ride to town to meet Hugh Peterson. Max was staring at her with a raised eyebrow.

  “What are you planning?”

  “Planning?”

  “Yep, you’re thinking about something and it isn’t racing strategy. Don’t bother to make up a story. You’re not a convincing fibber.”

  It would be better to keep him out of it. Max was already in the awkward position of having to defend his athlete from the wildfire spread of rumor. She knew she was risking her spot on the team, and Max’s job, too, by going to see Hugh Peterson. Tell him? Or not? He was her trainer, nothing more, she told herself severely, even as the memory of his lips on her skin tingled every nerve.

  Tell him? But he would neither understand nor approve of anything that wasn’t moving her toward the Winter Games. “I can’t just pretend nothing has happened.”

  “Not pretend, just leave it on the bench. You have a job to do.”

  She tried to edge around him. “Let’s go before they wonder what happened to us.”

  “Laney,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders.

  Her breathing hitched. When God had made those eyes, she thought, he must have mixed in just a little bit of the sky, the windswept, California sky where the ocean met the air. She readied herself for a directive. Instead, he offered a request.

  “Do something for me.” He leaned close. “Please do not leave this training facility for any reason unless I’m with you.”

  She tried to wriggle away but he held her fast. “I’m not a prisoner here, am I?”

  “Not a prisoner, but much too important to risk anything happening.” He put a finger to her lips when she started to respond. “Not because of the skating, Laney.”

  “Why, then?” she whispered.

  “Because…” He blew out a breath. “Just do what I’m asking. Will you?”

  Why did his fingers awaken trails of longing in her soul? How would she lie to him and sneak out to meet Hugh Peterson? His blue gaze seemed to wash away all her pretenses and set her feelings tumbling on capricious waves.

  “I’m not going to lie to you, Max,” she breathed.

  “And I appreciate that.”

  “So I’m not going to answer at all.” Before he could respond, she broke away and sprinted for the weight room.

  *

  Max figured the best way to be both Laney’s trainer and her friend was to watch her like the proverbial hawk, which he did through the remainder of her workout. During lunch, he managed to stay in the dining hall, ears straining to hear the sound of her door opening at the other end of the hallway. He didn’t know what she had planned, but he knew something was brewing in that maddeningly lovely head of hers, some plan to help her father out of whatever situation he’d become ensnared in.

  Beth had not eaten with them, and he figured she was off with her mother. He was uncomfortable with the flirty tone he’d heard in her voice. Jackie sat alone, writing meticulous training notes on a yellow pad.

  “A coach’s work is never done,” he said.

  She started, as if she hadn’t known he was there. “Yes, that’s true.” She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “Where’s Dan?”

  “Didn’t make it here for lunch. Must have had some things to attend to.”

  Jackie drummed her manicured fingers on the tabletop. “You know, if you combined Dan’s zeal for the sport with Diane’s funds you’d have the perfect speed skating parent.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He thought about his own parents, who’d provided everything he’d needed to make his dreams come true, but neither one had ever really had a passion for the sport, not the kind of interest Dan Thompson had for speed skating. “Diane doesn’t get it?”

  “Oh, she’s competitive, but it doesn’t matter if it’s skating, sailing or selling.” She shook her head. “I’m being indiscreet. She tries her best.”

  “It’s not easy parenting, or so I gather.”

  “No.”

  “Does your son skate?”

  “My son?” She sighed. “Yes.”

  “With your tutelage, he must be pretty good.”

  “He could have been.” Her eyes wandered to the falling snow outside. “But he felt my passion for the sport was bigger than my passion for him. I guess that’s why I pity Dan. He loves skating and he loves Laney, but that’s not enough.”

  “Why?”

  “Because winning gold takes more than love, Max. And Dan has gotten himself in too deep.”

  The trickle of dread turned into a flood. “Too deep into what, Jackie?”

  She turned tired eyes on him. “Just train her. That’s all you can do.”

  He watched her leave, but the worry stayed lodged inside his gut. Dan Thompson was in trouble, but what action could he take? The giant clock above the sideboard ticked away the moments with ruthless persistence.

  Nearly two o’clock. Ice time.

  He insisted that Laney go with him to the arena, relieved when she did not resist. While she suited up, his eyes roved the echoing space. No sign of Nolan. Maybe his mother was off shift and he couldn’t get a ride. Perhaps he should have given the kid a phone number or something.

  “Hey,” Nolan said, emerging from a seat in the shadows.

  “Thought you weren’t coming.”

  “Deal’s a deal.” Nolan handed the skates to Max, who turned them over and fastened them tightly into a metal jig that secured them in place.

  “It’s going to take me a while,” Max said, applying honing oil to the sharpening stone and gliding it gently over the blade. “You’re going to fly when you try these out.”

  “So that’s how you do it,” Nolan said, crouching next to Max. “I couldn’t figure it out.”

  “Did you have a chance to scope out the woods?”

  Nolan nodded. “Didn’t find a blade, but I brought you that other something I found. I figured I could give it to you in exchange for free sharpening and stuff.” Nolan handed over a nylon bag, which he unzipped. There was a hard case inside, and Nolan opened the catches. “What do you think of this?”

  Max studied the contents, the rough rectangular sharpening stones along wit
h one made of marble and a bottle of oil stowed neatly in their respective spaces. “Where did you get it?”

  Nolan’s smile wavered. “I found it.”

  “Where?”

  “In the backseat of a car parked in a junkyard just outside of town.”

  “Recently?”

  “Close to four years ago.” Nolan folded his arms. “I was still in elementary school. After my dad took off, my mom worked all the time so I could go wherever I wanted in the afternoons. Junkyard was cool and most of the time nobody was there.”

  “And you took it from the backseat of a car?”

  “Hey, I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re thinking. Car was gonna be junked.”

  Max realized his expression must be formidable so he went for a smile. “I know you didn’t steal it. This is a professional sharpening kit. It’s expensive. Can’t imagine what it was doing a junkyard, is all.”

  “Me, neither. And look at this.” Nolan pulled up the foam liner that housed the stones and removed a picture of a group of people in speed skating gear, arms linked, grinning for the camera. “That girl there. She’s the one who crashed into the pads, right?”

  “Yes,” he murmured. “That’s Laney Thompson.” Her smile was luminous, eyes sparkling with mischief, as she hugged her companions close. On one side, Tanya Crowley, on the other, Beth Morrison, Jackie Brewster and a young man he’d raced and beaten regularly in his past life whose name he couldn’t remember. “It was taken just before the last qualifiers.” It hurt to say the words, to see the happiness and promise etched on those young faces as he knew it had been on his own.

  Max’s mind whirled. “You found this in a junkyard car. Anything else there with the kit? Or in the junkyard?”

  “Nah.” Nolan shrugged. “Bunch of old rusted parts and this one nicer car. I wondered why they were going to scrap it. Only dented a little and the front windshield cracked.”

  Front windshield cracked. Max swallowed. “Do you remember what type of car it was?”

  “White. Four doors. That’s all I remember.”

  “Do you suppose,” Max said, forcing his voice to stay in the quiet range, “that the car is still there?”

  “Dunno. Haven’t been there much since. Probably crushed it, so I’m glad I got the kit out before they did that.”