by Karen Young
Cam smiled. “Like St. Louis?”
Jimbo grinned. “Ward’s got a big mouth.”
“He’s proud of his big brother.”
“Ward’s got what it takes, too. And so does Nick. I’ve watched them both and they’re good. By the time they’re seniors, Coach Tyson will probably have them whipped into shape and lined up for scholarships.” He shook his head. “That guy’s phenomenal.”
With a glance at Jimbo’s duffel, Cam asked, “You headed anywhere in particular right now?”
“Not especially.” Jimbo flicked a glance in Rachel’s direction. “You have something in mind?”
“Food, you name the place. Maybe somewhere on Sixth Street? Best I recall, they have some interesting places to eat.” With his keys out now, Cam looked about, checking for a girlfriend, but saw no one. “Practicing the way you do must work up an appetite.”
“Yeah, I could eat. And Sixth Street’s cool. Thanks.” He reached for the cell phone riding at his waist. “Just let me make a quick call and we’ll head out.” Another glance at Rachel. “Ms. Forrester’s coming, too?”
“If it’s okay by you.”
“Sure, like I said…”
Cam smiled and they said it together. “She’s a nice lady.”
Jimbo suggested a small bar and grill on Sixth where he promised the food was good and the noise level wouldn’t quite drown out conversation. “My girlfriend and I like it here,” he told them after their food arrived at their table near the back. “A lot of places where students hang out have really loud music and stuff, but sometimes…” He shrugged. “Sometimes you want to just talk and be able to hear yourself, you know? Gail’s kinda quiet, anyway. She doesn’t like a lot of noise.”
“That wouldn’t be Gail Maddox, would it?” Rachel asked with surprise.
He looked up, a French fry suspended midway to his mouth. “Yeah, it would.”
Rachel smiled broadly. “You and Gail were dating in the tenth grade. My word, Jimbo, not many teen romances survive that long.”
“Ours didn’t, either,” he told her. “Two months here at UT and we broke up. All those girls…” He was shaking his head, grinning.
“And all those guys…” Rachel said, still smiling.
“Uh-huh. So, for the next three years, we both dated other people. And then about six months ago I was at this party, and suddenly there she was.”
“And there you were,” Rachel said, her voice going soft and her smile gentling. “Ah, that’s really nice.”
He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “I guess you could say we rediscovered each other. I gave her a ring at Christmas, although I don’t know when for sure we’re getting married. It’ll have to be after I graduate or…whatever.”
Cam sat with a beer between his palms. “It’s a tough decision, whether to stay in school or go with the majors.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I’m happy for you, Jimbo,” he said softly, and lifted the beer in a salute.
“Yeah, thanks.” Jimbo toyed with a French fry, drenching it in ketchup. “But sometimes when I’m lying in bed and thinking about the…just the wonderfulness of it, then I want to tell somebody how lucky I feel. Gail…she’s really happy about it, but she’s pretty…girly, if you know what I mean. She knows from nothing about baseball. Or sports, either, to tell the truth.” He chewed the fry, swallowed and added, “Don’t get me wrong. She turns me on, so I wouldn’t want to change her, but like I said, I wish I could tell somebody who’d really get it.” He looked up from his plate into Cam’s eyes. “Somebody like Jack.”
Cam nodded, barely. “Yeah.”
“He was somebody special, Mr. F—Cam. The best friend I’ve ever had.”
“That’s good to hear,” Cam said, managing a smile. “Like most dads, I like hearing good things about my son. Jack thought a lot of you, too.”
“It took me forever to believe he was gone. I mean, it was so wrong, so crazy.” He looked up quickly, apologetically. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, ’cause Jack was the least crazy person I knew. But it was so…not like him to suddenly up and…do that.” He shoved his plate aside. “If he was so close to meltdown as that, why wouldn’t he say something? We were close. He could have told me anything…anything. I mean it.”
Cam studied his face for a minute. “Could he, Jimbo? Could he tell you anything?”
Jimbo frowned, picking up on something in Cam’s question he didn’t quite get. “Yeah, he could.” He looked at Rachel, whose eyes were on a paper napkin, folding and refolding it. He shifted back to Cam. “Why? What’s this about?”
“First, I need to ask you to keep what we talk about here in confidence. Are you okay with that?”
“Yeah,” Jimbo said, but only after a serious study of Cam’s face. “I didn’t think you drove all the way to Austin just to watch me throw a few balls at practice. This is about Jack, isn’t it?”
“It has to do with Jack, yes.”
“So, what’s the question?”
“I have your word?”
“Yeah. Damn right, if it’ll shed some light on why he did what he did.”
Cam, who hadn’t ordered anything to eat, pushed his beer aside. “You’re not the only one who found Jack’s death hard to understand,” he began, and tried to stifle the sudden rush of emotion that rose in him. Finding it difficult to sit still, he wanted to get up and walk it off, but he could hardly do that now that he was finally beginning to get somewhere. He took in a deep breath. “I wanted to think it couldn’t be true. My son wouldn’t do that. Like you said, he could have talked to me, told me what was on his mind. No matter what it was, I would have understood, been there for him, prevented it.”
Rachel put her hand over his and he found he needed that touch to say the rest. He gave a bitter smile and forced himself to look at Jimbo. “Jack did call. He did talk to me. Briefly. He said something bad was going on in Monk Tyson’s organization. But I was too busy with a deadline to get details then, so I put him off. I told him we’d talk about it in a week or two, when I was done. He didn’t wait a week or two. Instead, he killed himself that night.”
Jimbo’s eyes went bright with tears. “That must have been tough,” he managed finally.
“Yeah,” Cam said, then cleared his throat. “I only bring it up now to ask this, Jimbo. Do you know what Jack meant? Was there anything going on in the sports program that you thought was not right?”
“Nothing that I think had anything to do with Jack doing what he did,” he said, choosing his words carefully, almost as if picking his way through a minefield.
“Okay, but that sounds like you thought something wasn’t right. So, even if you don’t think it relates to Jack’s death, I wish you’d tell me what it is.”
Now Jimbo seemed to be the one who wanted to get up. His plate sat half finished, the burger and fries gone cold. “It was only rumors,” he said finally.
“Rumors about what? About somebody?”
Jimbo moved back in his chair. “Man, I don’t know if I should be talking about this. It’s just rumors and if it got out, it’d be—well, it could do majorly big damage.”
How to get him to say the words without putting them in his mouth? Cam wondered. “Damage to the school? Or to an individual?”
“Both. Look, I wouldn’t be where I am today but for the breaks I got at Rose Hill High. I’d feel like shit—” He gave Rachel an apologetic look. “Sorry, Ms. Forrester. But I’d feel rotten stirring up stuff that turned out to be total crap.”
Cam realized he was going to have to prime the pump. “Is it Coach Tyson whose reputation is at stake here?”
Jimbo’s gaze locked with Cam’s. “I guess,” he said carefully.
“I can’t say the words for you, Jimbo. Just say it straight out. If it’s what I suspect, I’ll take it from there and your name will never—and I repeat—never come up.”
Jimbo’s hands were on his thighs, rubbing hard and fast, the same as hi
s thoughts were racing, Cam guessed. And then he seemed to come to a decision. “Look, it’s not my name coming up that worries me. I’m thinking of Ward. If Tyson gets wind of it, he’ll retaliate by benching Ward and putting an end to his ambition before it ever gets off the ground, man. He’s ruthless. I’ve kept quiet about him for one reason only and that’s Ward.”
“Before we deal with Ward’s situation,” Cam said, “I need to know what you’re taking such pains to avoid saying.”
Jimbo blew out a breath. “Rumor was he liked boys.”
Bingo. But Cam simply nodded.
Rachel made a sound of distress.
“I never actually saw anything,” Jimbo said, “but there were a couple of guys who were…special to him. I guess that’s the word. We all knew there was something…you know, weird, but we were careful what we said. Coach ran a tight ship, I mean, a really tight ship, man. Best way to find yourself blacklisted from the whole sports program at Rose Hill was to get on his mean side.”
“But surely there were boys who did that,” Rachel said, “boys who made a misstep, even if it was unintentional. What happened to them?”
“Mostly they transferred to other schools. I know of a couple that I suspected left because Monk was…too friendly. But like I said, he ran a tight ship. It was like The Sopranos, you know? He had enforcers, some of the big guys who played tackle or guard for the Mustangs. Big as gorillas, some of them. A word from Ziggy or Jay—worse yet, a visit—and all dissent disappeared.”
“You have any idea where Ziggy and Jay are today?” Cam asked.
“No, but their folks still live in Rose Hill. They’d be easy enough to locate.”
“Enforcers,” Rachel repeated faintly.
“I don’t think they’d kill anybody,” Jimbo said dryly, “but they were definitely effective in keeping the lid on gossip and rumors.”
“And every year he had new recruits to victimize,” Cam said softly.
“Yeah, so if you wanted to play ball for Monk Tyson, you ‘played ball,”’ Jimbo said, using his fingers as quotes.
“Do you think he made a move on Jack?” Cam asked. He spoke quietly because a sick rage simmered inside him, and if he gave into it, he might take somebody’s head off since the object of his rage wasn’t here in Austin.
“No, I honestly don’t,” Jimbo said. “That’s why, when he committed suicide, it was such a shock.”
“You and Jack never talked about Tyson’s…tastes?”
“Sure we did. Jack was big-time disgusted because he said Monk had these guys he particularly liked over a barrel. He didn’t think they were necessarily gay, you know? But he had the power to make or break them as athletes, so play along or be cut from the team. Jack said it was rape, pure and simple.”
Cam’s look was incredulous. “And when he suddenly killed himself, you thought what, Jimbo?” He was amazed that the boy hadn’t made a connection between Jack’s sudden death and his frank criticism of Tyson’s methods and the fallout if Jack blew the whistle.
“I didn’t know what to think, but I knew Jack wouldn’t let Tyson get within a mile of him, so that couldn’t be the reason he wanted to end it all.” He gave Cam a contrite look. “To tell the truth, I thought it was because he missed you and wanted to be with you, Cam. I mean, he said it often enough. He loved his mom, but she was kinda…flighty, you know? And she was all nuts about this new guy and Jack really missed you. He talked all the time about how he wished you were here and not way off in New York, but he knew that would never happen. Your books were suddenly best-sellers and the Big Apple was where the action was, not back in Rose Hill, Texas. Plus, he knew you didn’t have the kind of lifestyle where he’d fit in.” Jimbo leaned back with a shrug of his shoulders. “When it happened, I thought he’d just rather be dead than settle for what he had.”
What Cam felt was so terrible that he had to grip the edge of the table to stay put. He wanted to run. Or give an agonized scream of denial. He wanted to leap up out of his chair and take to his heels to escape the guilt and pain and regret. How had it happened that he’d been so preoccupied, so selfishly focused on himself that he’d been blind to his son’s needs? While he’d been lost in spinning his take on an old crime, Jack had been lost in a real present-day hell.
Rachel’s hand sought his. She laced her fingers through his in a silent gesture of sympathy and understanding. But it was to Jimbo that she spoke.
“How can you be certain, Jimbo, that Ward isn’t Tyson’s newest victim?”
Twenty-One
“I can guess what you’re thinking, Rachel, but I don’t think we should move on what we heard today from Jimbo. Not yet.” Cam pulled into his driveway and stopped, then looking at her with his arm draped over the steering wheel, he added, “Everything he said is hearsay. First thing Pete will ask for is evidence. And we can’t go to Preston Ramsey and demand Tyson be removed as coach on the grounds that he’s a sexual predator. Like Pete said, first thing he’ll want is evidence.”
Rachel opened the door, flooding the interior of the SUV with overhead light. “I see your point, but I just can’t sit back and do nothing while he still is free to—” she shuddered “—do whatever.” She climbed out and found Cam at her elbow as she closed the door. “What I can do is try to talk to Ward. Now that I know he’s at risk, I’m going to figure out an excuse to bring him into my office. Maybe he’ll trust me enough to talk. I’ve known him since he and Nick were in pre-K.”
“Which might make it even more difficult to tell you.” Cam reached past her for the purse lying on the seat and handed it to her. “You might have better luck with Jason. At least he broached the subject when he was in your office, whereas we don’t know that Ward’s recent moods have any connection to Tyson.”
“The possibility certainly shook Jimbo up, didn’t it? Did you see his face when I asked if he’d thought about that?”
“Yeah, I think he was under the impression that Tyson wouldn’t fool around with Ward for fear he might say something to Jimbo, who could possibly blow the whistle.”
“The sad thing is,” Rachel said, “if Tyson has made Ward one of his boys, Ward is probably too ashamed to mention it to his brother.”
“Probably. Just as he might be too ashamed for you to know it. Fear and shame are the weapons that predators like Tyson rely on to keep the abuse ongoing.” Cam chirped the remote in his hand and locked his SUV. “Come inside for a while. We can’t do anything about any of this tonight, and frankly I’d like to change the subject.” When she hesitated, he added, “I have wine.”
“I think I guessed that,” she said, but her attention was on Dinah’s house and whether or not Nick was in for the night. She’d given orders that he wasn’t to leave, but lately she couldn’t be sure what he would do. Or not do. “Nick’s confined to quarters, but I’ll just walk over and check on him to be sure.”
“I’ll open the wine so it can breathe,” he told her.
She smiled. “Is there something I can bring? Cheese, fruit? Do you need anything?”
She’d taken a couple of steps, but he closed the gap between them and, without warning, pulled her into his arms. “This is all I need.” His mouth came down on hers, fierce and demanding. Taking her completely by surprise. The kiss exploded through her senses, giving her such a rush that she wanted nothing but to move closer, put her arms around his neck and sink into delicious sensation.
But he had other ideas. Breaking the kiss, he closed his hands on her waist, gently lifting her aside, and said, “Hold that thought.”
She had a little trouble sticking her key into the lock, but after taking a calming breath, she finally was able to get inside. Wow, she was way out of her league with Cameron Ford, she thought, making her way down the hall. But in spite of the danger, she was drawn to him in a way that was nothing short of amazing. She was suddenly struck by a thought. Had Ted’s attraction to Francine started like this? Had it made him feel like this? If so, she could almost understand him
going off the deep end. The difference was, the only person in jeopardy if she and Cam did have an affair would be herself.
She paused at Nick’s door, then opened it, being careful to make no sound although he was notorious for being able to sleep through anything short of a major earthquake. In the pale moon glow, she could see that he was out like a light. Sprawled out and tangled in his sheets, he slept untroubled by the mess he’d landed himself in. Looking at him, she felt her heart swell. She thought about Cam, who would never again have the pleasure of seeing his son home safe after a party, and her heart caught with a terrible ache.
With a sigh, she resisted the urge to straighten the covers and tuck Nick in as she’d once done. Her boy was a child no more, especially after Robbie’s party, but he wasn’t a man yet, either, and she was swept by a fierce determination to guard his innocence. As she backed out and closed his door softly, she prayed he wouldn’t be touched any more than he already had been by the evil pervading Rose Hill High.
She didn’t bother with more lights as she made her way to the kitchen. There, she took two apples from a fruit bowl on the center island and turned to the fridge to get a wedge of Brie. But as she rummaged, she paused, thinking she heard something outside. Moving to the window, she stood for a minute searching the shadows around her mother’s greenhouse and beyond, but the yard now seemed quiet and still. And then she heard a sound she couldn’t mistake. Graham.
Cats liked to prowl at night, she thought, opening the door to let him inside. He instantly wound himself around her ankles, purring and meowing. Missing Kendy. Snapping on a light now, she filled his food dish and set out fresh water. She then scribbled a note to Nick that she was next door with Cam—in the absurdly unlikely event that he would wake up and even notice she wasn’t in the house—jotted down the time she’d be back and left the note on the island. Dropping the two apples and the wedge of Brie in a bag, she snapped off the light.
However, on her way across the lawn, she found herself glancing back over her shoulder at Dinah’s backyard with an eerie feeling that someone was watching. But after a moment, she put it down to the weirdness of the day. She told herself she was imagining things and briskly picked up her pace. She was eager to get back to Cam.