by Karen Young
“No, I don’t think you get it, asshole,” Big Guy said, as if talking to a nitwit. “You couldn’t play baseball or football or even qualify for the swim team because of a terrible accident where you broke all your fingers and toes.”
Nick gulped hard. “I—okay.”
“Let’s hear some enthusiasm in that answer, boy.”
“I understand. I g-get the picture.”
“Because if you don’t get it,” Harley said, continuing in a softly menacing tone, “there’s no telling what might happen.”
As the pickup turned on to Gran’s street, Nick licked his lips and tasted blood from a cut inside the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to say any more,” he said. “I understand.”
“Could be,” Harley continued as if Nick hadn’t spoken, “that your little sister—what’s her name? Kendall, yeah, that’s it, Kendall. Could be Kendall might have an accident, too. Sort of like you did tonight.”
Nick’s heart was banging and he needed to pee. He had a brief flash of Kendy, bloody and broken in the road…all because of him. “I promise. I don’t know what else to tell you to convince you,” he told Harley earnestly. “I understand. Don’t hurt Kendy. I had a great time at that party and I don’t remember anybody who was there. If I’m asked, I—I…I have amnesia.”
“You especially will not talk to your friend, Mr. Ford.”
Oh, shit. “Okay.”
“See, the health of everybody you care about rests on your shoulders, boy.”
Big Guy turned and caught his face in his hand and squeezed it hard. “That includes your mom and your grandmother, but you guessed that already, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.” It was hard to talk with his jaw in a vise grip.
“Smart. Very smart, Nicky.” Harley stopped the pickup two houses up from Gran’s house.
“I think he’s got it,” Harley told his pal. “Let him out.”
“You better pay attention, kid,” Big Guy said, reluctantly turning him loose. “Bad things can happen. You don’t want to wind up like Jack Ford.”
“Let…him…out!” Harley shouted, shooting a killing look at Big Guy.
And Nick was abruptly hauled across the seat by the tail of his shirt and shoved out of the pickup. He stood, unsteady on his feet, scared to believe they were truly done with him, but unable to make a run for it. Cussing, Big Guy lifted the bike out of the truck bed and tossed it at Nick’s feet. Then he climbed back inside and Harley made a quick three-point turnaround, gunned the pickup and left Nick standing in the dust, squinting to read the license plate.
Rachel passed a basket of muffins and bagels across the table to Cam and Pete. “Our strawberries and cantaloupe are courtesy of Cam. Nick was supposed to pick them up but,” she said dryly, “apparently he rode his bike to Dallas and not the local Kroger store.”
Cam frowned. “Has he called?”
“No, but that doesn’t surprise me, either. He’s bored. He did his best to talk me into letting him out of the house this morning and frankly I was almost relieved to find a legitimate reason to send him to Kroger’s.”
“Couldn’t resist making a little side trip, huh?” Pete rooted through the basket before looking at Marta. “Where are those sausage biscuits we brought?”
“Here.” Rolling her eyes, Marta shoved a covered casserole dish over. “Your cholesterol is probably off the stick, Pete. Don’t you know that white carbohydrates make you lethargic?”
He bit into a sausage biscuit and said, “Have I seemed lethargic to you?”
Everyone laughed as Marta actually blushed. But she recovered quickly. “Make me even happier by eating an orange, too.” She took one out of the fruit bowl.
“Making you happy is my life, darlin’,” he said, winking at her.
“Did Nick take his cell phone?” Cam asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee.
“He never leaves home without it,” Rachel said. “I called him a few minutes ago and got his voice mail. He probably detoured to see Ward and find out how the date with Kristin went. I’ll check again in a few minutes.”
Cam patted the chair beside him. “Come and sit down. Pete’s done some digging into Tyson’s background. Now that we know what the coach is about, you won’t be surprised at what he found.”
Pete reached for another sausage biscuit. “The first job he had out of college was at an exclusive school for boys in Virginia. He resigned abruptly just before the end of the second semester two years later. There was nothing negative in the file as to why he would have cut out a month short of year’s end, so I called the school. Spoke to the headmaster, who’s still concerned for the reputation of the school. According to him, Tyson was a damn good coach. Had those boys winning everything in their division, but after due consideration, they decided not to renew his contract.”
Marta, peeling the orange, looked up. “Why? What was on his termination papers?”
“Budget constraints.”
“Uh-huh.” She broke the orange in half and put it on Pete’s plate.
“He had no arrest record,” Pete said, “and his career is a carbon copy of other sexual predators. Every job he took was rich with juveniles and opportunities to abuse them.”
“When was this?” Rachel asked.
“Twelve years ago.” Pete reached for a third biscuit, but Marta slapped his hand and he settled back to enjoy his coffee. “He went from there to a parochial school in St. Louis. Stayed only a year, then moved to the East Coast, where he coached briefly. That’s been his MO—one, maybe two years in a smallish school, then move on. Never stayed anywhere longer than two years.”
“Until he got to Rose Hill.”
“That’s right.” Pete flicked at a crumb on his shirt. “The only thing I can figure is that after that first abrupt termination in Virginia, he decided to minimize the risk of exposure by moving on before being outed by the boys he was abusing. At least, that’s the only reason I see that he escaped detection for twelve years.”
Cam laid his arm across the back of Rachel’s chair. “You’re thinking that his management style—strict discipline, swift punishment—kept kids from ratting him out?”
Pete shrugged. “It’s possible. But he’s been here in Rose Hill awhile. There’s bound to be a couple of boys he couldn’t hush up.” He hitched his chin toward Rachel. “How about doing a quick search of school records? Look for athletes who left abruptly.”
“I’m already doing that,” Rachel said. “It’s time-consuming and I haven’t found anything yet that appears suspicious.”
“If what we suspect is true,” Marta said, “Monk settled in at Rose Hill after perfecting his technique and began a cold-blooded, systematic pattern of sexual abuse.”
“Yeah. And he kept it within his own organization where he had complete control,” Pete said.
“Only athletes need apply,” Cam said.
Rachel pushed her coffee aside in disgust. “He kept them cooperative by showing them special treatment. A boy got star status in the school when he was singled out by Coach Monk. That’s very seductive among peers. Then, if an athlete had enough talent, there was always the promise of an athletic scholarship.”
“And if they acted reluctant about cooperating,” Marta said, “his power alone made it easy to intimidate them.”
“Or shame them,” Rachel said. “That’s another effective weapon in a sexual predator’s arsenal. I know it sounds incredible that he could get away with this for so long, but Texas has a strong sports tradition. Teachers learn quickly what the philosophy is at Rose Hill—it’s not how you play the game, but winning it. Monk happened to land in a town that was tailor-made for him.”
She gazed into her coffee cup, thinking of the young athletes Monk had undoubtedly placed on a road to fame and fortune, but it didn’t begin to excuse his fiendish behavior for the ones he abused. It was difficult to come up with a sentence severe enough for the pain and suffering he’d caused.
“What can we do to stop
him?” Marta asked.
“Now that I’ve been told he used some of his bigger boys to enforce discipline,” Pete said, “I’ll be nosing around to find out who they are. See if I can get anything out of them. We’d be home free if a boy he’s abused would step forward.”
“Two thugs Tyson used to strong-arm kids still live in Rose Hill,” Cam said. He’d promised Jimbo he wouldn’t use his name, but there was nothing to keep him from passing on Jimbo’s information.
Pete nodded, but looked skeptical. “I wouldn’t count too much on them ratting out the coach if it implicates them.”
Rachel got up and walked to the door of the kitchen. “I need to call Nick’s cell again,” she said. “He really should be back by now.”
Inside, she picked up the phone and punched the programmed number for Nick’s cell. As she stood holding the cordless, she realized she was actually hearing the in-coming call jingle on Nick’s phone and the sound was coming from somewhere down the hall. Still holding her own receiver, she followed the sound.
The cordless was lying on Nick’s bed. She disconnected and saw his sneakers lying on the floor. Looking puzzled, she left his room, and when she heard the shower running, paused by the closed bathroom door.
“Nick?” she called after knocking. “Are you in there?”
Muffled sound of something dropped in the shower stall. “Yeah, Mom. I’m taking a shower.”
She stared in surprise at the closed door. “When did you get back? Did you bring the fruit?” When all she got was a mumble, she stepped closer. “Where are the things you were supposed to get at the store?”
“I forgot.”
“Nick.” She pressed fingers to her forehead. “You forgot?”
“Sorry, Mom. Actually, I didn’t forget. I had a little accident and the stuff didn’t survive.”
She frowned. “What kind of accident?”
“Took a tumble on my bike.”
She heard the water being shut off. “Are you hurt?”
“Just scratched up a little. I’m gonna crash for a while, okay?”
She rattled the door. “Nick, let me see where you’re hurt.”
He opened the door and stuck his arm through the crack, giving her a brief look at his elbow. “I’m gonna put stuff on it, don’t worry.”
“There’s antibiotic cream in the medicine cabinet above the sink,” she told him, after looking at the nasty scrape. “Was there anything—” But she was talking to the closed door, a frank signal that he no longer needed his mom to kiss his boo-boos and make them well.
When she returned to the patio, Marta had the table cleared and was sitting beside Pete in the swing. Cam saw her face and asked, “Were you able to reach Nick?”
“He was in the shower, if you can believe that.” She settled in the chair next to him, still puzzled. “Apparently, he crashed his bike somewhere between Kroger’s and here. I got a very brief glance at his skinned elbow and now he’s holed up in his room, probably with his headphones going full blast. The cantaloupe and strawberries were casualties of his accident, he claims.”
Cam again laid his arm across the back of her chair. “I’m glad he’s back, and frankly, it’s probably a good thing he’s grounded. I don’t like the idea of him being out just now. Stop and think about it. From Tyson’s point of view, Nick is a loose cannon. Tyson’s public image is vital to holding his position as a coach. If Nick says anything to screw that up, it would mean dire consequences to Tyson.”
“I think you’re right,” Pete said. “And I don’t know how far Tyson might go to do damage control.” He pushed the swing into gentle motion and said to Rachel, “To be on the safe side, I’d keep Nick’s activity restricted, just for a couple of days until I can get my ducks lined up. When we go public with this, it’ll go a long way to safeguarding Nick and other boys.”
She looked worried. “Do you think it’s okay for him to go to school?”
“Yeah, I think he’s safe enough there. Tyson will probably be nervous, but Nick should be cautioned not to do anything to spook him. I don’t want to show my hand until I have more evidence.”
“Be sure you don’t pull any punches when you tell Nick,” Cam cautioned Rachel. “Like Pete says, we don’t know what Tyson might do if he feels cornered.” He paused a moment, then withdrew his hand and said to the group, “So, if we’ve got that settled, I’d like to throw something else out. I have been told that my son despised the way Tyson abused his power. In Jack’s opinion, it was nothing short of rape. The same person who told me that said Jack was very frank in criticizing Monk Tyson.”
“I can believe that,” Marta murmured. “Jack had very strong convictions and he knew how to express them. He was a gutsy kid.”
“Exactly,” Cam said. “And that’s the reason I could never believe in my heart that he committed suicide.” He looked from one adult to the other.
Pete was nodding. “I bet I know where you’re going, Cam, but I’ll let you say it.”
“I think Tyson knew Jack was going to blow the whistle and so he had to silence him. The only way to do that was to kill him.”
Twenty-Four
“Mom, Graham’s missing!” Kendall burst through the back door, panting and out of breath. “I’ve looked everywhere. I looked in Gran’s greenhouse and behind all the bushes and I even went to Cam’s yard and looked there. He’s gone, Mom,” she wailed.
It was Monday morning and Rachel had a thousand things on her mind. Glancing over at Kendall while buttering toast for breakfast, she gave an irritated click of her tongue. “Kendall, your sneakers are filthy. You know better than to go outside to play before school, especially when it’s wet. Now you’ll have to change. And hurry or you won’t have time for breakfast.”
“But I can’t find Graham. He’s always waiting for me, but not today. We have to find him.” She dashed into the den where the cat spent a large part of his day curled up on a chair. “He’s not anywhere!”
“Kendy, you want to hand me that OJ?” Nick sat hunched over a bowl of cereal, eyes glued to the TV screen.
“Please,” Rachel prompted.
“Please,” Nick said.
“Somebody, listen to me!” Kendall cried. In her hand, she held the cat’s collar, a strip of red nylon with a tiny bell attached. “See, here’s his collar and he’s gone!”
Nick looked at her, finally noticing her distress. “How’d that happen?”
“Maybe you took his collar off and forgot to put it back on,” Rachel said, setting a pot of honey on the table. “I’m sure he’ll turn up, Kendy.”
“I would never take his collar off and forget to put it back on,” Kendall said, her brown eyes filling. “That way, if he got lost nobody would know where to call to bring him home.”
“Ah, honey, he’s not lost.” Rachel slipped an arm around her. “He’s a male cat. They sometimes wander quite a ways from home, but they always come back.”
Kendall turned worried eyes up to Rachel. “Did you remember to feed him yesterday? Did you even see him yesterday?”
Rachel frowned. “Let me think. I definitely remember feeding him Sunday morning. He was on the patio with Marta and me, but as for Sunday night—” She glanced at Nick. “Nick, do you remember seeing him last night after you got home?”
“I don’t think so, but I wasn’t really looking, either.” Nick got up and went to the back door. He’d had stuff a lot more important than Kendy’s cat on his mind last night.
“I’m going over to ask Cam if he saw him,” Kendall said.
“I’ll go,” Nick volunteered. “You go change shoes like Mom said.”
“No, he’s my cat and I’ll do it.”
“Nobody should do it,” Rachel said firmly. “Cam might not even be up at this hour. You can’t go knocking on his door at—”
“He’s up. I see him all the time sitting on his porch real early having his coffee,” Kendall said. “He makes me a fruit smoothie. And Graham’s always with us.” Kendall darted
past Nick and out the door before Rachel could stop her.
“Nick, put a couple of those breakfast bars in a plastic bag,” Rachel instructed. “She can eat them in the car on the way to school.” She went toward her room to get her purse and a stack of files. “If she’s not back in five minutes, you’ll have to walk over and bring her back.”
“Right.” Nick did as told and left the breakfast bars on the table, then he pushed the door open and stepped out onto the patio. He guessed Graham could have wandered off, but the fact that the collar was left behind bothered him. He made his way around the property, alert for…he didn’t know what. But in the back of his mind now was his family’s safety. He’d spent the day and half the night worrying over what had happened yesterday and what to do about it. But so far, he was totally at a dead end. Which meant he could be spooked by almost anything this morning, even a missing cat.
Glancing at his watch, he saw that Kendy’s five minutes was up. When she was with Cam, she never knew when to leave. Room to talk, Forrester, he told himself as he headed over to get her. He spent a lot of time with Cam, too. Gran did, too. And now, his mom. That was really interesting. First, they did the road trip together Saturday and then yesterday with Pete and Marta, and last night when he managed to drag himself up to go to the bathroom, he found both of them in the den sitting on the couch pretty close together eating popcorn. He wondered what his dad would think if he knew that.
The kitchen door at Cam’s house was open and he went inside. Cam and Kendy were sitting in the window seat. Cam had his arm around her and her face was turned into his chest. She was crying. “Jeez, Kendy,” he said, going over to them. “Graham’s okay. Like Mom said, he’ll turn up, don’t worry.”
“No, he w-won’t. He—he’s gone forever,” she said, hiccuping. “I know it. He w-wouldn’t have lost his collar if he was okay.”
“Mom sent me to get her,” he told Cam. “She has to go to school.”
“C’mon, sweetheart.” Cam turned her face up and wiped it with a paper towel. “Let’s get you back to your mom so she can fix you all up. And while you’re gone, I’ll look for Graham. Hopefully, by the time you’re home, he’ll be back, safe and sound.”