Cody's first pitch blazed over the inside corner of the plate just under the letters. Tanner’s expression was one of shock. He remembered Cody could barely break 80 mph in high school. This pitch was a blur. He never even got the bat off his shoulder. The umpire yelled. “Strieeek one!”
Tanner and Cody both glanced at the radar screen — 92 mph. Cody refused to look back toward the plate, nor would he look at Brandi. He walked toward first base a few steps, removed his cap and wiped his eyes. The crowd was so quiet he could hear Sly’s menacing chuckle.
Pirates first-base coach Willie Moton had fun with it. “Trow dat agin! Trow dat pitch agin! Tanny gonna eat you lunch rookie! He-he! G’bye baseball! U gone be lookin’ downtown, rookie! Downtown!”
Catcher Mike Cannon flashed the sign for another fastball, this time over the outside corner, but this 93 mph pitch cruised in over the heart of the plate. Tanner was ready. His swing was a thing of beauty, grace, and unbridled rage. The ball took off like a moon shot. Cody couldn’t bear to look, but it passed inches outside the left field foul pole — strike two.
“Time out!” Cannon trudged back to the mound, his lip snarled, his mask resting on top of his head, and a dirty, sweaty smudge where the mask had pressed against the sides of his face for eighteen innings.
“Look, Musket, I know this guy is your childhood sweetheart, but you throw another one down the middle to him, and you and me gonna have problems. You think you can snap off the Charlie as good as you did in LA?”
“I can throw it,” Cody assured, summoning all the gusto left in his tank.
Mike held his catcher’s mitt over his mouth and scowled into Cody’s face. “Okay. I need the curve in the dirt. In the dirt! You got that?”
“I got it!” Cody pounded his glove. “As good as done. Take it to the bank!”
Cannon turned to walk back toward the plate. He was grinning when the umpire met him halfway. “What the heck’s so funny?”
The tired, smiling catcher shook his head and muttered. “No tellin’ where this next friggin’ pitch is goin'.”
“You gonna warn Tanny?”
They walked back to the plate. “Watch yourself,” Cannon said as he crouched behind Tanner for the next pitch.
The catcher called for the curve and swiped the dirt with his mitt as a reminder. The strategy was to throw it toward the middle of the plate and make it curve away and down into the dirt. This pitch, if thrown well, could fool a hitter into swinging over the ball.
Things did not go as planned. The ball started toward Tanner’s shoulder. Expecting a fastball, he flinched away. As his knees buckled, the ball curved down over the center of the plate.
“Strieeeke three!”
Sly stood there in disbelief watching Cody high-five with his teammates. Finally, with his lethal bat still resting on his shoulder, he left his swagger at the plate, turned around, and lumbered back toward the Pirates dugout. Just before leaving the field, he splintered the bat over his knee. It took him three tries, but on the third, it snapped like a toothpick.
Busted!
As the game ended, Brandi’s friend, Vic Cantouri of the Gazette, pulled her aside. “Reporters are waiting at the top of the stairs to ask you to confirm that the guy in the video is Cody Musket.”
“What? What video?”
“You haven’t seen it? It’s gone viral just in the last hour.”
“I have been tied up for eighteen innings. What video?”
“Take a look.” Vic pulled out his cell. A witness in the theater on Friday night had recorded the entire event on a smartphone.
“That’s what the buzz was all about? It’s hard to recognize Cody in that video,” she insisted. “I know one thing. I can’t watch it again.”
Vic told her some other bad news, “Detective Dupree’s wife has reported him missing.”
“Missing? Are there any clues? Do they suspect foul play?”
“I don’t know. So far no leads. His car was abandoned, so it doesn’t look good. And by the way, do you know a twenty-two-year-old woman named Sasha Williams?”
“Don’t know her, but I knew her sister, a former teammate at Stanford.”
Vic showed her a brief text — Sasha Williams, African American female, found dead in her apartment. Throat cut. Hands tied. Tortured.
“What! Tortured?” Brandi looked around nervously. The crowd was pressing on her. “Um, any motive? Any suspects?” She clutched Knoxi to her chest with both hands.
“They have three suspects in custody. That’s all I know.”
Brandi’s stomach was aflutter. Detective Dupree missing? Sasha dead?
“Vic, I gotta find Cody. We must get out of this town.”
“Okay, okay. Just breathe slow. I'll help you. You think the murder of the Williams woman is related to your attack?”
“I dunno. I don’t see how. But I must get my daughter away from here.”
“Come down to field level. I can get you through with my pass, and we can avoid the press.”
She followed and tried to call Cody. Her hands were shaking, so Vic punched the numbers for her.
“Come on, man of steel, please pick up! Come on Cody.” She left voicemail. “Sweetie, we have big trouble. Call me back as soon as you get this, and whatever you do, avoid the pressroom. A video is making waves. We’re busted!”
* * *
Cody already knew about the video. Players were watching it in the clubhouse. He called Brandi. “I think we’re in deep trouble here.”
“I know. I just voice mailed you.”
“I’m expecting a call back from my agent. I wanna see how to handle this.”
“Who’s your agent?”
“Derek Tyler.”
“You’re kidding. The former Justice Department guy?”
“Same guy. Former Marine. Smart negotiator. Look, call Tanner and tell him what’s up. We gotta figure a way out of town without facing the press. Wait, my agent’s calling me back.”
“Cody, Dupree is missing.” Her voice trembled.
“When did you hear that?”
“Just now. Reliable source. Word is that his wife reported it today.” Brandi was now light-headed.
“Slow down, you sound out of breath."
“Cody! You don’t know what I’ve been through during the last five hours since you started playing your silly game. I also found out the sister of a former teammate at Stanford was murdered this morning.”
“Okay, okay. Sorry. I guess we know why Dupree never called back. This is getting too interesting. Listen to me, breathe slower. You’ll hyperventilate. Everything’s gonna be okay. Hear me?"
“Okay." She exhaled slowly, tried to relax. "Talk to your agent.”
Just hearing Cody’s concern calmed her. Vic ushered her into a private room and stayed with her to wait for Cody’s call back.
Fifteen minutes later, her cell rang. “I talked to my agent.”
“Well?”
“He said some lady at the outdoor pub caught my second home run. He was watchin’ on TV. You got any idea who the lady was?”
“Did he give a description?”
“Yeah. He said she was hot.”
“Well, it was pretty warm up there. We were sitting outside.”
“I don’t think that’s what he meant.”
“Cody! What about strategy? Get serious.”
“He saw the video. Thinks we need to get out of town incognito. We can make a statement in Detroit tomorrow after we analyze the situation.”
“So you still want me to go with you?”
“What? Of course. I…I mean, it’s the best way to keep you safe.”
“Okay. Security reasons. I get that. How are we going to sneak out of town without facing the press?”
“Cap’n Sly can think of somethin’.”
“I see what you meant about adventures turning into nightmares.”
Thirty-five minutes later, they drove away clean. The press was not aware of their plan to drive t
o Detroit, and had canvassed the airport instead. The McNairs had brought their three-year-old son Jeremy along.
As soon as Cody got into the Escalade, Tanner had words for him. “You struck me out!”
“Well, since I’m so humble I wasn’t gonna say —”
“You struck me out! Your boyfriend with the mitt told me to watch myself, so I saw it comin’ toward my chin and figured it was the high queso! Ain’t gonna fool me next time!”
Cody scooted forward and leaned his head over the front seat. “Prolly won’t be a next time. Just call it even.”
“Even? Call that even? I hear you have a pink raincoat and pink rubber booties for your little feeties!”
When Cody glanced at Brandi, she hid her face. “You told these people? Do you know what they can do to me? How many other people have you told?”
“Nobody. I swear it. Well, ‘cept Mama and Daddy.” She giggled.
“Your dad? You told Ray?”
Sly was clearly out for revenge. “Someday, I gonna tell your grandkids how great you look in a pink raincoat and boots,” he cackled as he turned onto the freeway. “Ha-ha! I gonna tell ‘em you turned pink when you wore dem boots.”
“Fine. So I’ll tell your grandkids you turned white when I struck you out with my Uncle Charlie.”
“Turn white? Me? I should stop this car right now!”
Cody leaned back in the seat and folded his arms. “Some other time, Sly. I’m too tired to get beat up. Just drive.”
Julia looked back at Brandi with an “I told you so” expression. Brandi felt secure for the first time all day — something about being with Cody and his unhinged friends.
“Julia told me you boys could get quite colorful,” Brandi snickered.
Julia slapped Tanner on the shoulder. “Now if you two adolescents can just stop fighting for a minute, these kids are hungry, and so are us girls. Let’s hit a drive-thru.”
Soon, after a fast meal, the toddlers fell asleep, and the grown-ups engaged in quiet conversation. Julia drove because fatigue had overtaken Tanner, and he could not keep his eyes open.
“Before you go to sleep, Tanner, there is something else Cody and I need to tell you both.” Brandi finally spilled the story about the missing detective.
“Also,” Brandi continued, “I got some other bad news. Sasha Williams, the younger sister of a former teammate at Stanford, was murdered in Pittsburgh this morning.”
Cody widened his eyes and sat straight up. “Sasha? Her name was Sasha? Real pretty, about twenty?”
“She was twenty-two. Vic said she was tortured. You knew her?”
His eyes glassed over, face contorted.
“Cody, what’s wrong?”
“It’s my fault,” he gritted. “She approached me Friday after you left.” His dark eyes stared through the tinted window, his fists clenched, the back of his neck ablaze.
“Cody? What did she say? Was someone after her?”
He turned back toward her. “I may have gotten her killed. They must have seen her talking to me. I was just with her for a minute!” He put his hands over his ears. “Nooo!”
Cody erupted into a blind rage, flexing every muscle in his upper body like the Hulk. He pulled back his right fist as if to drive it through the glass window, but Brandi grabbed his forearm with both hands and held on with all her 130 pounds.
Julia swerved onto the shoulder and slammed the brakes. Cody got out and ran about fifty feet forward of the car and stopped beside the road.
A second later, he was bent over, his hands on his knees, vomiting. Brandi could only watch in shock, but now things started to add up.
“I get the feeling he was ready to do that all weekend, but he held back for my sake.” Brandi was trembling and hoarse.
Tanner got out of the car and followed Cody cautiously. The two women watched as Tanner approached slowly and then put his arm around Cody’s shoulders. In the headlights of the passing cars, they could see Tanner speaking, but had no idea what he was saying.
“I have never seen Cody blow up like that,” Julia said. “But I do know about his nightmares. Counselors haven’t been able to help. The problem is that he’s alone even when he’s with the team — no family, few real friends, little support, and he doesn’t trust anyone.” Julia wiped a tear from her eye.
“Now I understand why he’s afraid,” Brandi said, as she brushed hair out of her face that had been rustled when she had caught Cody’s arm.
“Cody’s afraid?” Julia was focused on her husband escorting Cody back toward the car.
“Something he said last night outside my room,” Brandi answered. “Now I understand.”
Julia looked back. “He’s afraid he’ll hurt you?”
Brandi nodded.
“It was a brave thing you did, grabbing his arm like that. You may have saved his baseball career. What if he had put his hand through that window?”
“I didn’t think about it. I just grabbed his arm.”
“You may not realize it, girl, but he could easily have thrown you through that glass. If you ask me, it wasn’t your strength that stopped him. It was his own.”
“You mean —”
“I mean he stopped himself because you were the one holding on to him.”
The two somber men arrived back at the car and got in. As Julia pulled onto the highway, Cody was apologetic.
“I’m sorry. The people I touch. Bad things happen. She was so . . . so sweet, so pure. She was crying. I wish I had at least hugged her. I started to but —”
Cody turned his head toward the window, held his hand over his eyes, and shed tears he could no longer restrain. It was awkward for him to show emotion, so Brandi nestled next to him, leaned her head on the back of his shoulder and held him.
“You are with people who love you, Cody. We feel your pain, but it wasn’t your fault.”
A sanguine smile eased across Julia’s lips as she beheld the scene in the rearview mirror. Brandi’s heart was on full display. It was breaking. Breaking in a good way. Julia tried not to watch, but couldn’t help herself. She reached over and took Tanner’s hand.
Cody and Brandi finally leaned against the back cushion. The two children in the utility seat behind them had slept through it all. Cody was exhausted and fell asleep. Brandi never closed her eyes.
Camelot
The travelers arrived at the Great West Casino Hotel in Detroit at 1:00 a.m. The eighteen-inning game had so depleted the guys that they had to be awakened. The two children had never even moved a muscle.
By Monday morning, the media worldwide had identified the “hero” in the video as Cody Musket. Cody received a call from his agent at 8:30 a.m. Derek’s take was that the video might not be a bad thing.
Derek Tyler, brilliant, fast-talking, had been one of the 400 officers serving in the Judge Advocate Division of the US Marine Corps. After his military career, he had become a civilian advisor to the Justice Department. Six years later, he became a sports agent and worked his way to the top of the food chain.
Derek told Cody his strategy. “I spoke to a former associate in the DOJ. He said human traffickers like to operate under the radar, to stay out of the news. Anonymity and public apathy are their two greatest allies.
"Look. What you and Brandi have going now is what traffickers hate. The last thing the bad guys want is to harm you and get grassroots America angry enough to pressure authorities into doing something. So, the more popular you get, the better. How serious are you about this chick, anyway? I mean where are you going with this?”
“You never know. But I mean I really like her.”
“Okay, the media’s gonna love this.” Derek’s words rolled off his tongue at warp speed. “You meet this peach by chance at the movie. She’s being abducted by some creeps in masks. You show up outta nowhere and save her, and then disappear like the humble guy you are! This is Chuck Norris in a baseball cap. This…this is Batman, the Cape, uh, uh, you know, rough justice American style. What m
ovie did you go to see anyway?”
“Superman.”
“Are you kiddin’ me? Superman?” He tuned up the pitch. “This is over the top — like mild-mannered girl reporter meets real man of steel at the Superman movie. Are you feelin’ this? Those traffickers aren’t gonna touch this! I assume this girl is pretty?”
“Like right out of Song of Solomon,” Cody answered. “You remember the lady that caught the ball that —”
“What song?”
“Song of Solomon. It’s from the Bible.”
“What! Are you tellin’ me she’s like a nun?”
“Com’on Derek. You’re brilliant and you’re telling me you never read Song of Solomon? You know the lady that caught my home run ball? That was Brandi. It was all over ESPN last night.”
“No way! This is going stratospheric! Does she already have an agent?”
“Come on, Derek.”
“She must be good for you, hitting for the cycle yesterday and picking up a save to boot. I bet your good buddy Tanner wasn’t happy about striking out. And she caught your home run? I can see this Solomon lady’s gonna be gooood for business!”
As soon as the call ended, Cody checked the time. He didn’t know if Brandi would be awake. He tapped on her door.
She swung it open. “Take a look at this.” The seventy-two-inch flat screen was beaming the story that was spreading across the nation. “We’re cooked.”
“Not necessarily.” Cody gave her his agent’s opinion about traffickers wanting to remain under the radar. “Derek thinks we should schedule a news conference for today. The more publicity we generate with this, the better.”
“Well, those guys that attacked me didn’t mind spitting out who they were, warning everybody in the theater about going against them. That’s not what I call operating in the shadows.”
"Yeah, good point, but —”
“Makes you wonder whether your agent is right.” She turned back to the screen again. “But the news conference can’t hurt," she said. "The public already knows who we are, so we don’t gain anything by remaining silent.”
No Pit So Deep: The Cody Musket Story Page 14