Pulling my jeep off the main freeway, I wound through the quieter roads and then began the climb up to the San Bernardino National Forest.
We hadn’t said much as we drove along—my mind too filled with worry. By the tight strain of Caity’s lips, I guessed hers was too. She looked tired, pale...like she hadn’t slept well in days.
I couldn’t help feeling partly responsible.
“I’m sorry.”
“What do you mean?” She turned to look at me.
“For being such a jerk. I didn’t mean to get angry with you over this whole thing. I just...”
A hurt frown scuttled over her face before she looked away from me. She began fidgeting with her small, hoop earrings and mumbled, “I know being with me must be hard. I can never look at people without seeing their secrets. I wouldn’t want to be my boyfriend, either.”
“That’s not it.” I reached across the gear stick and rested my hand on her thigh. “I love being your boyfriend.”
She shot me a quick look which was hard to decipher with her shades on, but I was pretty sure cynical would have summed it up.
“Okay, okay.” I gave her smooth leg a little squeeze. “Sometimes it’s hard, but not because you’re you.” I frowned at my terrible wording, stumbling over myself to try and explain. “I just wish people could be who they are no matter where they are. Why can’t everyone just be honest?”
Her expression softened and her lips quirked with a little smile, before she licked her bottom lip. “You’re annoyed about the professor, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, well, I thought he was a really good guy and then I see him screwing some chick in the resource room and promising her an A plus.”
“You know he’s behind the Piper thing. Did Scott tell you about that?”
I gripped the wheel, anger firing through me. “He told me Piper got into trouble, but didn’t go into details.”
“He’s blackmailing her.” She eyed me carefully; I could feel her blue gaze boring through her dark lenses.
“Why?” I spat.
“Because he wants to screw her too, and when she declined, he...” Her lips wobbled. “Well, he...”
“Look it doesn’t even matter. The guy’s an asshole.” I slammed my teeth together, clenching my jaw until it hurt.
Caity’s fingers ran lightly over my hand, which rested on her thigh. “It does matter, because he was someone you looked up to.”
“Don’t read me. Please,” I begged.
“I’m not.” She bit her lip. “But I did. Yesterday. I had to. You’ve been so on edge lately and I thought it was me. I was afraid you were going to dump me, and I had to have a look.”
I sighed, once again hating myself for putting her through that. “What did you see?”
She shook her head. “You know...”
“Tell me.” I let go of her leg, placing two hands back on the wheel to negotiate the tighter turns.
She threaded her fingers together and bounced her hands on her lap. “I saw someone who struggles to trust, because people keep letting him down.”
“It’s not you. You don’t let me down.” I threw a glance at her. “Although I do kinda wish you’d let me in on this sooner.”
“Hey, I tried! You—”
“I know.” I raised my hand and smiled. “I just hate the idea that you were keeping stuff from me.”
She sighed and slumped back in her seat. “You didn’t exactly make it easy for me to tell you.” She rubbed her temples. “I know you live with old wounds, Eric, but I don’t like it when you take that out on me...especially when I don’t even know what they are. I’m not the only one keeping secrets here.”
I swallowed. My throat felt thick and gummy. I licked my bottom lip and finally sputtered, “I’m sorry, okay, but you’re the closest person to me and isn’t there some quote about how we unwittingly hurt the ones we love?”
She shrugged.
“I wish I hadn’t.” I grimaced. “I don’t really have a good excuse for yelling at you yesterday. I guess I was scared that you were gonna get yourself in trouble again and then I’d have to save your ass.”
She snickered. “I thought you liked being my hero.”
“I do.” I grinned. “I just hate you getting in trouble.”
Her smile was soft as she reached out and ran her fingers up my neck, playing with my tendrils of hair. I loved it when she did that.
“It’s not just that, though, is it?” she asked.
My body tensed.
“The idea of Connor taking drugs freaked you out. I mean, you really didn’t want to know. I didn’t realize you held Connor is such high esteem. You’ve talked about him a little, but he’s no Gramps. Your reaction to this whole thing really confused me, which is why I tried to hide stuff from you. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, I forced you into that position. Let’s just forget about the whole not telling each other stuff and promise not to do it again.”
“Okay.” She smiled. “I promise.”
My stomach spun into a tight coil as I spotted a rest stop off the side of the road and pulled the jeep into it. Clicking off the engine, I turned to her with a heavy sigh, collecting both her hands in mine. “I promise, too...which is why I have to tell you about Harvey.”
And I did. I spilled my guts, going into as much detail as I could remember. It hurt to go into all the crappy facets of that time in my life, but I forced them out, one word after the other. She listened to me, her lips parted, her face cresting with agony. When I finally came to the part about my nightmares and confessing all to Gramps, she threw her arms around me and kissed my neck.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.” She squeezed me tightly and I slid my arms around her waist.
“I can’t let that happen to Connor,” I murmured into her hair. “He’s a good guy. I should have listened to you sooner. I’m sorry.” I pulled away from her, taking her face in my hands. “I should have trusted you from the moment you saw something. Even though I didn’t want to hear it.” I brushed my thumb across her cheekbone. “I love you, Caity, and my loyalty lies with you first.”
A broad smile crested her lips. I pulled off her shades and was met with those blue eyes of hers. They were shining. “I love you too.”
I met her halfway, my lips crushing into hers and restoring my hope in the relationship. She dragged her fingers through my hair, sending spikes of pleasure racing through my body. Each kiss was another breath of forgiveness as I made up for the last few days of jerk-dom and vowed never to put us through it again.
26
Caitlyn
Our make-up session lasted for a good fifteen minutes. If I could have had it my way, it would have lasted the rest of the day...and night, but thoughts of the cabin tugged us apart. Eric asked for more specific directions and I showed him the map I’d printed out. We took off once more and the air filled with rigid silence as we drove the rest of the way. By the time Eric pulled the jeep off-road and found a hidden spot for us to park, my nerves were strung so tightly, I thought they might snap.
Eric unzipped his bag and pulled out a proper GPS.
“Gramps gave it to me,” he answered my silent question as he held out his hand and flicked his fingers.
I found the picture on my phone and passed it over to him. He typed in the coordinates and looked behind him.
“According to this, we’re not far off.” He flicked his head. “Let’s go.”
I hitched the bag onto my shoulders and stepped in behind him, following a narrow track through the bush. It was a steep, rocky climb and I had to use my hands quite often to steady myself. Eric kept stopping and turning back to make sure I was okay. He even hauled me up a few steep parts. By the time we reached the top, I was pouring sweat, but I didn’t have time to think about that, because through the trees, I spotted the corner of a cabin.
“Is that it?”
“Yeah, I think so.” Eric’s breathing was heavy. He sli
d the GPS into the side pocket of his shorts and took my hand.
We crept through the brush and ducked down behind a large tree on the corner of the property.
“Do you think anyone’s there?” I asked.
“I have no idea. We’re just gonna have to go in and see.” He glanced over his shoulder and then back to me. He’d taken off his shades and I could clearly see his hazel eyes. He shone me a smile. “You ready?”
“Sure.” I gave him a shaky nod and followed him around the edge of the cabin.
We crept around the back, deciding it would be safer. The back door was unlocked. We paused in the tiled laundry room and listened for noises, but the house seemed quiet. Creeping through, we winced at every groan and creak the cabin made, waiting for someone to come charging through and catch us. But no one did.
It was a small, log cabin structure. The laundry room led into a small bathroom, which had two doors. One led to a bedroom with a single, neatly made bed in the corner and a bookshelf holding several dusty books. The other door led into a main living area.
There was a tatty, olive-green couch beneath the main window; a light breeze ruffled the threadbare curtains. Sunlight danced through the gaps, giving the room a gloomy light. It was hard to tell if the place was even lived in. The low coffee table was piled high with cloth bags and a stack of empty boxes rested against the edge of the couch. Beside them was a pile of folded-down cardboard boxes. In fact, they looked pretty crisp and new, like the kind of boxes that were made to transport goods.
I turned to check out the rest of the area and sucked in a quick breath.
“Bingo,” Eric muttered.
I stepped up beside him, taking in the sight of the large wooden table. It was covered with plastic bottles.
A bright blue label with orange writing exploding over it was wrapped around each bottle. VITA-LITE - Orange Flavored Water.
“Vita-Lite,” I stepped forward and grabbed one, popping the cap off to sniff it. I didn’t smell anything, so I took a little sip.
“Caity, don’t!”
“It’s just flavored water.” I shrugged.
Eric let out an exasperated huff, but still took the bottle when I handed it to him. “You don’t know that.”
He ran his thumb over the label and frowned. “Vita-Lite,” he whispered, his head tipping to the side in thought.
“What?”
“Connor mentioned drinking this stuff...at the hospital. He said he found spare bottles on the bus.”
My eyebrows rose. “Oh, that so has to be it. This is how they’re getting it into the players.” I slapped my hand lightly on top of the bottles. They jiggled beneath me. “And if Connor had too many, then that’s how he OD’d on it.”
“But it’s flavored water.” Eric’s faced bunched in confusion.
I looked at him and winked. “You don’t know that.”
He raised his eyebrows, silently saying ‘touché’, and continued looking around the table.
Behind the bottles were stacks of little glass vials that contained a clear liquid. I unscrewed the lid of the top one and sniffed it. Again, it was odorless. I poked my pinky into the jar and licked a drop off my finger. It had a slight tang, but nothing too overpowering.
“What do you think it is?” Eric stepped up behind me.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “You know, I rang and spoke to Max...Holly’s fiancé?”
Eric nodded as he turned into the kitchen.
“He said that you can get high by mixing organic, legal substances with energy drinks and alcohol.”
“Yeah, well, I know what mixing alcohol and Adderall can do.”
I shot him a sympathetic look, still rattled by his confession about Harvey. I couldn’t believe he’d had to live through that. The scary thing was... it could have just as easily been Eric lying dead in the sand that night.
I shuddered.
“So, Connor OD’d on caffeine. Energy drinks contain caffeine, among other things.” I placed my hand on the bottle of mineral water, raising my voice so Eric could hear me from the kitchen. “What if they’re boosting these drinks...adding in extra stuff? The orange flavor hides the taste. It’s not an energy drink per se. It’s just flavored water, right? But maybe our Chem-man, Cameron, is concocting some sort of strong potion to boost up the players’ drinks. That’s why they don’t know they’re drugged, and that’s why their blood work comes back clean...because he’s using natural ingredients.”
“I think you’re right.”
Eric poked his head out of the kitchen and indicated for me to come.
I wove around the table and stopped at the kitchen door. There were pots on the oven as well as two separate gas cookers on each free counter. All of them were going. Strung above the pots were different apparatus. The steam from the bubbling pots was being captured by a glass tube, which was then dripping off into beakers. I never took chemistry at school, but I definitely saw those kinds of things set up in the Chem labs.
“What are they extracting?”
“Well, we know caffeine’s a definite.” I picked up the empty packaging spread across the kitchen table, skimming my eyes over the labels.
My fingers froze.
“Adderall.” I lifted up the box as Eric spun to face me.
“What?” He snatched it from my hand. “Shit. But why didn’t that show up in Connor’s blood work?”
“Maybe it did and the doctor was lying.”
“Maybe it’s masked by the caffeine and other substances in the drinks.” Eric swore. “I thought you needed a prescription to get Adderall.”
“They must be stealing it off someone.”
“Or getting false prescriptions.”
My lips parted at Eric’s theory as I remembered a pudgy hand passing a white sheet of paper to Tyson.
And don’t forget to swing by the doctor on the way out. He’s got a little something for ya.
That was what Coach Bleekman had said.
I threw the box onto the table, frustrated by the amount of dirty players involved. “Why? Why are they doing this?”
“Because they want to win.”
“It can’t just be that, otherwise the Grizzlies wouldn’t have been high that night.”
“What?” Eric frowned at me. “What night?”
“Well, you know how we went to that second game and the Bruins were fine? You were so relieved that I didn’t want to tell you. Plus, Professor Hoffman turned up before I could anyway.”
“Well, tell me now.” Eric raised his eyebrows.
“The Grizzlies. They were high. The same way the Bruins were the first game we went to. So, if Coach Bleekman and the team doctor and Professor Hoffman are doing this to win, why would the Grizzlies be high that night? I don’t get it.”
Eric went still, his lips pursing to the side as he thought.
I kept going, working through my own process aloud. “Tyson’s the delivery man. I mean, we have to assume that, right? I’ve seen him talking to Coach and some chick dropped off paperwork to him this morning. Plus, we know he’s due to come up here tomorrow to collect a delivery. It’s gotta be the Vita-Lite drinks. All those conversations I’ve overheard tell us this is linked. I just don’t get why.”
“So, that’s why you were talking to him that day,” Eric murmured.
“Yeah, I thought he might be able to show me something, but I’ve only got more questions. I feel like we’re so close to figuring this out, you know?”
Eric’s brow wrinkled with a frown. He raised his index finger. “So, the team coach and doctor are drugging players.” He raised his next finger. “Tyson is delivering the goods. Cameron is making the drugs and Professor Hoffman is in charge.” He held up five fingers. “But why does Hoffman want to control the games?” He tipped his head to the side as if chasing a memory and then his eyes bulged wide. “No way...the tattoo.”
“What?” My nose wrinkled.
“It was her.” Eric clicked his fingers. “He was bangi
ng her? She had the same tattoo on her shoulder. It’s got to be Tiffany.”
“Who?”
“Tiffany.”
My eyebrow arched. “Who’s Tiffany?”
He gave me a gentle look and reached for my hand. “She works for the college paper, but she runs this little gambling business on the side. I met her at one of Connor’s practices. She offered to let me place a bet.”
“Did you?”
“No, of course not, but...” His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “She must be working for the professor, too.”
“But he must have others in his pocket, unless the Grizzlies coach had no idea his team was pumped on drugs that game.”
“The Vita-Lite thing is a ruse. Tyson’s supplying more than one team with the drinks...and depending on what results Prof. H wants, determines which drinks get delivered to which team.”
“It makes sense. If they play it right, they could be making some decent cash.” I clicked my fingers. “Do you remember how the Bruins won by a three-pointer that night? It felt like a fluke win, right?”
Eric nodded.
“Well, Coach Bleekman and Prof H were really pissed.”
“Yeah, I remember thinking it was weird that you thought he was a Grizzlies fan.”
My eyebrows rose. “His face was like thunder.”
“Probably because he’d just lost some decent cash.”
I nodded. “Well, they have to lose sometimes, don’t they? Or people might get suspicious?”
“It also depends on the stats.” Eric nibbled his lip. “The underdog will have a bigger payout if they win, so the bookie wants to avoid that, but they also want to avoid paying out big on the winner. If they can sway a game, then they can make the cash they want. The Bruins won the game before and the Grizzlies stats aren’t great, so people would have been betting on the Bruins to win. When they did, they had to payout big time.”
My lips parted. “So they tried to set it up so the Bruin’s would lose?”
“Yeah, that’s why Prof H would have been pissed. He lost money.”
“But didn’t they just win their last two away games? Connor must have been high, otherwise he wouldn’t have ended up in the hospital, so they were trying to force that win.” Wrapping my head around the whole gambling thing was kind of confusing.
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