In Confidence

by Karen Young

  “I’m with Nick on that one,” Cam said. After pouring himself more coffee, he carried the pot over and refilled her mug. “I had a few uneasy moments myself. That area’s pretty deserted and especially for a lone woman.” His fingers brushed hers as he passed the sugar bowl to her. “I’m betting you wouldn’t have even thought about calling me to go with you.”

  “No, of course not. He’s my son and he’s my responsibility.”

  “Yeah. And neither one of you can depend on Ted, as Nick discovered last night.”

  “Don’t worry, I plan to clue him in on what he missed,” she said dryly. “But for now, what do you think of all this, Cam?”

  “You did the right thing in telling Nick to play it cool, keep his mouth shut about what happened and tell us if he gets wind of anything else.” Cam didn’t sit back down but settled against the counter, nursing his coffee. “You know him better than I do, but can we trust him to do that?”

  “I’m not sure. He’s shaken over the whole mess. At any rate, I don’t want to wait around and see what Monk intends to do. I’m not sure why he risked letting Nick see what’s really going on.”

  “Unless Tyson never intended for Nick to see it. Could be that Joseph making a move on him was an unscripted moment, so to speak. But now that the cat’s out of the bag, Tyson will have to do something.”

  “I want to go to Pete with this,” Rachel said. “I think he should know what’s going on. My concern now is for Nick, but I can’t help wondering about other athletes.”

  “I can’t help wondering why some other kid hasn’t blown the whistle on Tyson before now,” Cam said, folding his arms. “There’s never been any talk about Tyson at school?”

  “About that? No, not a word.”

  “Without breaching confidentiality, can I ask if Jason gave you any hint of his involvement with Tyson when you spoke with him in your office? He’s clearly a favorite of Tyson’s, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy ‘enjoying’ Tyson’s attentions.”

  “He’s definitely conflicted about his sexuality. I see other boys who are dealing with sexual identity and Jason didn’t seem such a textbook case.” She gave a quick shake of her head. “Oh, but now that I know what Nick saw, I can better understand Jason’s dilemma. No wonder that boy is in agony. Monk Tyson is a…a monster! How dare he? How dare he! He’s entrusted with those boys’ welfare by their parents and the school board. He’s paid to coach them in sports, not…not…”

  Cam squeezed her shoulder gently. “I know it’s upsetting, but I don’t think you should let your outrage over Monk push you into jumping the gun before Pete has a chance to work things from a law-enforcement angle.”

  “I won’t. It’s just so…distressing.” She toyed with a spoon, turning it over and over. “When you came to my office Friday afternoon, I was scanning the records searching for students—athletes—who may have transferred out of Rose Hill High but who didn’t move out of this school district. It’s a time-consuming task, but I’m getting back to it first thing Monday morning. There has to be a paper trail if nothing else.”

  “Yeah.” He turned and poured the dregs of his coffee down the sink. “But for today, what do you say to taking a drive with me to Austin? We’ll give Pete a heads-up on what happened and let him do his thing on his end. And now that we’ve got something concrete to go on, I’d like to try to fit it into what happened to Jack.”

  “Why Austin?” she asked, trying not to be seduced by the idea of a whole day in Cam’s company. After last night, there was little else that she’d like more even if it was an invitation to heartbreak. “I assume it’s not a tour of the state capital you have in mind?”

  “No, I’ve done that and so have you,” he said, clearing the table. “I was thinking of a visit to the UT campus.”

  “Jimbo Rivers is a student at UT,” she guessed, watching him put their mugs in the dishwasher.

  “Uh-huh. While you were seeing Kendy off, I called his dad and was told Jimbo has practice today, so he’ll be on campus.”

  “I’m sure you know most kids don’t hang around, especially on a Saturday.”

  “Let’s give it a shot, anyway. We could be there by noon if we leave in an hour or so.” Done with the cleanup, he slid his palms in the back pockets of his jeans. “But if I don’t see him today, I’ll keep trying until I do.”

  “You could call him directly. Wouldn’t that be more logical than driving all the way to Austin on the off chance of finding him?”

  “I’m afraid he’ll say no if I call. He was polite five years ago, but I suspect—no, I know—he was withholding information. I didn’t push him then, but I’m ready to push now.”

  She studied his face, knowing what they were discovering about Monk Tyson’s organization was feeding into his fierce belief that Jack had not committed suicide. He was driven to uncover the truth of his son’s death by the same kind of relentless determination that pushed him to analyze past crimes in real life when he wrote a book. She knew it would be a waste of time to tell him he could be setting himself up for more pain. If Jack had been murdered, the loss was just as great and the pain maybe even more so.

  “Are you sure you want someone along when you talk to Jimbo?” she asked. “You might have a better chance of getting him to tell you what he knows if there’s just the two of you.”

  He smiled. “Does this mean you’ll go with me?”

  “Was there ever any doubt?” she asked him.

  “All right. I’ll pick you up in an hour,” he told her, hustling her to the door. Then, just before seeing her out, he bent and gave her a quick kiss on her surprised mouth. “Better pack your toothbrush. Just in case.”

  If there was one thing Monk Tyson despised, it was having to alter his plans because somebody screwed up. And he especially despised having a weekend at Sims’s lake cabin screwed up. Sims offered the use of the cabin whenever he wanted it and was always conveniently elsewhere. He also made it a point to lay in the food Monk preferred with a chef to prepare it—one who was deaf, dumb and blind. The place was big enough for the kind of privacy Monk required and the bar was amply stocked with quality liquor.

  Best of all, Sims didn’t question the guest list. If Monk wanted to spend a weekend with Jack the Ripper, he didn’t think his host would object. Whatever it took to get Robbie into pro sports was Sims’s focus. Apparently, he didn’t suspect Monk’s sexual preferences, but even if he did, to guarantee Robbie an eventual draft by the majors, Sims would probably hand over the kid himself for Monk’s pleasure. Only one problem. Robbie wasn’t to Monk’s taste, never had been even when he was four years younger. Big, thick-necked kid, bulked up with steroids and dull as dirt, he just didn’t ring Monk’s bell.

  Another kid did, which is how the weekend got screwed. How the hell Nick Forrester had managed to disappear in the middle of the night was a point he’d take up with Ferdy and B.J. on Monday, but for today, Monk was forced to do damage control. Twice now Nick had pissed him off. He was a problem that would have to be handled. Later. Otherwise, Nick was to his liking in every way. Dark-eyed, intelligent and lean-limbed, sleek and graceful as an antelope on the ball field. Just thinking about him made Monk’s mouth water. But thanks to that idiot Joseph making a move on him, it might never be possible to get a taste of him now.

  The house party was supposed to dazzle Nick, bring him around so he’d want to belong to the group. Most tenth-graders would have been awed to be invited to join the elite of Monk’s varsity for a weekend. He’d issued orders that Nick wasn’t supposed to see—or suspect—anything that would put him off until Monk had a chance to soften him up. It took real confidence and a badass attitude to walk out of the compound in the middle of the night with no access to a vehicle. Rejecting Monk’s special coaching had taken guts, too. With his folks’ divorce breaking up his home and his prick of a father flaunting his mistress, Monk had figured Nick for an easy mark. It was bullshit that the reason he backed off the special coaching was because of
his mother. Sharp as he was, he’d sensed danger, Monk realized now, even though he hadn’t yet made his move. It would be particularly satisfying to break him.

  What irritated him, too, was that he’d handled the kid as carefully as he’d handled Jack Ford a few years back. That, of course, had proved to be a major miscalculation, one of the very few he’d made while at Rose Hill. He still broke out in a sweat at how close everything had come to meltdown when Jack wound up dead.

  The link, however, between Nick and Cameron Ford was troubling. Monk hoped he’d seen the last of that son of a bitch. He’d been suspicious about his boy’s suicide, but Monk had been extremely careful with damage control then. When Ford visited his office last week, he’d been a different man from the shocked and grieving father who’d begged for information five years ago. It would be a major complication now if Nick had confided his suspicions. Or, maybe Nick had talked to his mother. Which might be even worse. Rachel was one tight-assed bitch who, if she picked up the scent of what Monk had spent years carefully concealing, would take him down, even if it meant sacrificing her own job to do it. She had that kind of zeal as far as those kids she counseled were concerned. With Nick thrown in the mix, she’d be twice as zealous.

  So, between Nick, Rachel and Cameron Ford, there could be big trouble brewing. Up to now, he’d relied on discretion, caution and ruthless control to survive, but nothing lasted forever. He’d felt for a while now that it might be time to move on. One thing first, though. He still had a powerful itch for Nick and he wasn’t leaving without scratching it.

  Twenty

  They arrived at the UT campus in time to watch the last hour of practice in the covered stands at UT’s famed Disch-Falk Field. Cam had seen Jimbo play five years ago in Rose Hill when he and Jack were both coached by Monk Tyson. The raw talent Jimbo had displayed on the mound then had been honed to near perfection now. As they watched, he’d thrown one stinging pitch after another, his talent shining as bright as the Texas sun at high noon.

  “Well, even I can see why he’s being courted by the majors,” Rachel said. “He’s beautiful.”

  “He is that.” Cam knew she was no sports expert, but she could still appreciate sheer grace and flawless form in a male athlete. “And if his little brother wants to outshine him one day, he’s got his work cut out.”

  “I just wish they’d stay off his back until he’s finished his education,” she said wistfully.

  She would. She was first and foremost an educator. It was nice that the ballplayer in question might turn out to be the next Roger Clemens, but there were more important things to Rachel’s way of thinking. “I bet you say that about all the promising athletes whose files cross your desk.”

  “Sports doesn’t last, education does,” she said, paraphrasing some anonymous sage.

  “But if he makes a gazillion bucks on the mound, who cares if he can’t read? Ouch!” Chuckling, he rubbed his side where Rachel’s elbow connected sharply. “Just kidding, I swear.”

  “You’re a sports nut. Your kind doesn’t kid about that.”

  He couldn’t deny how much he would have loved seeing Jack where Jimbo was right now, and watching him, Cam felt again the sting of his own loss. It was impossible not to think how Jack might have blossomed as an athlete, had he made it to a university.

  After Jack’s death, Cam had been told that Jack and Jimbo had been the most promising athletes Rose Hill High had produced in a generation. He had to accept that it just wasn’t meant to be. As if she sensed his thoughts were of Jack, Rachel leaned against him and patted his knee, effectively closing his throat and killing the smart-ass retort he’d been ready to make.

  Damn. He wasn’t here in Austin today to brood over losing Jack. “If it’s any comfort,” he said, “Ward tells me Jimbo’s struggling with the decision whether to play his senior year or to sign with St. Louis.”

  “Well, at least he’s giving his education serious thought. That’s something.” Lifting her drink, she sipped cola through a straw before adding dryly, “Which is not the advice he would have gotten from Monk Tyson.”

  They sat for a moment watching the game. Rachel’s gaze stayed on the playing field, but her mind was obviously elsewhere. “Cam, do you think Nick stopped those special coaching sessions because Tyson was coming on to him?”

  “No,” he said firmly. “It’s the first thing I thought, too. Nick talked with me about opting out, and I think if Tyson had made a move, he would have mentioned it. Or hinted at it. What I do think is that Nick sensed the way the wind was blowing, as far as Tyson’s concerned. He didn’t completely connect the dots, but he was getting there. Plus, Nick genuinely wanted to make it on his own, and not have it said that Tyson had given him special treatment to get there. So he quit.”

  Seeing her distress, he wished they weren’t in such a public place. He’d like to give her a hug. “He’s one helluva kid, Rachel. He’s got guts and scruples. He’s smart and he has a good heart. You can trust him to make good decisions.”

  She made a sound of disbelief. “You’ve obviously forgotten that his grades are tanking, he’s surly and uncooperative, he swiped Kendy’s camera when she expressly told him no and he got drunk last night.”

  “He’s temporarily off track, but he’ll be okay, Rachel.” He had her hand now and brought it up to kiss, then added, “As for taking Kendy’s camera, that one may require some drastic response. Kendy’s out for blood, I think.”

  “He’s going to have to give her a choice of ten CDs from his collection and never have to return them…ever.”

  He winced. “Ever?”

  “Ever.”

  On the field, the players were beginning to break up. Cam stood and extended his hand and she rose with him. “You’re one tough cookie, Mom,” he said as they started down.

  “Yes, well, in the absence of a father, it appears that I’ve got to wear the pants.”

  “And you look fantastic in them, too.” And grinned when she brushed past him looking pink and flustered.

  “I’ve been thinking about Ward,” she said a few minutes later as they waited for Jimbo across from the entrance to the practice field. “Do you think Jimbo might know what Tyson is and has kept it to himself?”

  “If he thought blowing the whistle might jeopardize his future in the majors, it’s possible. After all, without Tyson’s coaching and his contacts, Jimbo might not be where he is today. So, I do think it’s possible.”

  “But Ward…” Rachel put a hand to her cheek in distress. “If that’s true, wouldn’t he be concerned that his younger brother might be victimized?”

  “I don’t know, but if he hasn’t thought about it, I have. Nick says Ward has his heart set on competing with Jimbo as an athlete. Tyson would pick up on that, you can bet. And if he had a yen for Ward, he’d have leverage to pressure the boy into acts that Ward wouldn’t ordinarily dream of doing.”

  “I can’t believe this!” In her agitation, Rachel paced back and forth, then stopped and looked at Cam. “Actually, I do, but I’m appalled that I didn’t suspect something before now. My God, how many boys—”

  Cam gripped her shoulder. “Listen to me. Tyson is one shrewd operator, and I bet we’ll find he’s been doing this long enough to perfect his technique. We’ve told Pete what Nick saw and the fat’s in the fire. The man’s days are numbered. But you’re not to blame in any way, Rachel. Tyson fooled a lot of people.” Then, instead of turning her loose, he pulled her closer and stood holding her, understanding how a threat to the students she counseled—and to her son—struck at her heart.

  Rachel allowed the embrace, anchoring her hands at his waist. “This is so bizarre, Cam. Just when you think things might begin to make sense in the world, something like this jumps out of the woodwork.”

  “If anything came out of the woodwork, it was Tyson.” He was swaying a little, enjoying the way she fit in his arms, soft and womanly, a little fragile at the moment, but Rachel had a core of steel. He turned his face into
her hair, breathing in the scent of flowers and silk. “I wish we were here for something more enjoyable than trying to dig up Tyson’s secrets.” He pressed his lips to her temple. “After last night, I wanted to be with you today. I’m glad I had an excuse to finagle you into making the trip with me.”

  “It didn’t take much finagling.”

  He smiled and said in her ear, “I promise the next date we have will be dinner and a movie. Or something better.” He didn’t think she was ready to hear the “something better” he had in mind.

  She sighed, her gaze focused beyond him on the gate of the practice field. “Look, isn’t that Jimbo now?”

  Cam released her and, using the bill of his ball cap to shade his eyes, watched Jimbo come through the gate with two other athletes. All appeared to be headed to the parking lot. Cam saw the other two peel off, then he touched Rachel, murmuring, “Stay here, I’ll be back in a minute.” Cutting diagonally across the tarmac, he was almost on top of Jimbo when he was recognized.

  “Mr. Ford, hey.” A grin, quick and pleased. “It’s been a while. How are you?”

  “I’m good. And it’s Cam. How you doin’, Jimbo?”

  “Okay. I’m okay.” He’d stopped now, glancing once curiously over at Rachel, standing beside Cam’s SUV. “Isn’t that Ms. Forrester, the guidance counselor?”

  “Yeah. Rachel. She made the drive with me.”

  “Very nice lady. I heard about the divorce. Ward was really shocked. Me, too.” He was shaking his head. “You never know, I guess.”

  “It looks that way.”

  Jimbo focused on Cam again. “I thought you’d move back to New York, but Ward tells me you’re living in your folks’ old house.”

  “It suits me. And I only get back to New York when I need to deliver a manuscript.”

  “Man, I don’t think I’d want to hang around Rose Hill if I had a chance to go somewhere else, especially some place interesting.”