by Karen Young
Cam pushed up out of his chair. “Nick asked a lot of questions about Jack. That, plus what he’s learned from Rachel and Marta—and from me, I guess—has led him to suspect that Jack might have been ready to blow the whistle. If Tyson suspected the same thing, he would have had to stop Jack. That’s Nick’s theory.”
“Well, we can’t fault his reasoning, can we? Basically, that’s your theory, too, Cam.”
Rachel’s hands were unsteady as she set her coffee aside. “Pete, Nick is now every bit as much a threat as Jack was. What’s to keep Tyson from removing the threat the same way?”
“This may not be much reassurance,” Pete said, “but Tyson has to assume we’re suspicious, which ties his hands somewhat. He knows Nick’s a spunky kid and that his thugs didn’t deliver their threats until Sunday morning, time for Nick to have already told what happened at the party. If I were Tyson, I’d be making plans to get out of town right about now, not trying to figure how to silence a kid who may have told another kid who may have told another.” He waved a hand with a shrug. “My take, for what it’s worth.”
Cam was still pacing. “Why didn’t Nick come to me first? As soon as he told me what went down on the lake, I promised him I’d see to it personally that Tyson was stopped. He knows you’re involved now. He knows something like that can’t happen overnight. Why go to Jimbo and not me?”
“I think I can guess one good reason why,” Rachel said. “The threat was not only to me, Kendy and my mother. It probably included you.”
She stood up suddenly. “I need to visit the ladies’ room,” she said, wiping at her sleeve with a napkin.
“Are you okay?” Cam asked, scanning her face with concern.
“Yes, I splashed a little coffee on this blazer.” She headed to the door. “I’ll just be a minute. Don’t make any decisions without me.”
When the door closed behind her, Pete got up and came around to the front of his desk. “Let’s hope Nick doesn’t come up with some wild-and-crazy plan to handle things on his own.”
“I’ve been worrying about that and I know Rachel has, too.” Cam fought down a sense of déjà vu. He hadn’t been available when Jack needed him, but he’d be damned if he’d let Nick down. And Rachel. “Everything’s on the line for Monk Tyson, Pete. In spite of the fact that we think he won’t do anything stupid, I’m concerned that he might make a move on Nick.” He was at the window now, scowling. “I found his bike this morning while I was searching for Kendy’s cat. He’d stashed it in an old shed behind my garage. It was a total loss. He was lucky to walk away.” He paused, then turned back to face Pete. “I can’t let anything happen to him, Pete. I’m not letting Monk Tyson hurt another boy.”
“I know you feel a special bond with Nick, but I don’t like seeing you take the full burden of responsibility. He has a dad. You think he knows anything about this?”
“Doubtful. Nick called Ted for help Friday night but couldn’t reach him. There’s a disconnect between Ted and his kids since he and Rachel filed for divorce and Nick’s aware of it. He’s bitter about it. He thinks Ted cares more about Francine than his own kids. He thinks Ted just isn’t there for him.” Cam shook his head sadly. “Jesus, I don’t have any room to talk about absentee fathers. When Jack needed me, I damn sure wasn’t connected. He might be here today if I had been.”
“That’s a heavy load to carry around, buddy.”
“Tell me. But I’m not on deadline now or too busy. Nick has wandered into the same mean territory that got Jack killed. He’s a boy and he doesn’t realize just how mean things can get. Jack apparently underestimated the danger and there was no one to caution him or to keep an eye on him. It’ll be different for Nick. I’m not letting another boy be sacrificed for Tyson’s sick obsession. I’ll do for Nick what I didn’t do for Jack.”
He glanced up and found Pete giving him a knowing look. “What?”
“Searching for Kendy’s cat, looking out for Rachel’s mom, rescuing Nick…” Pete was back behind his desk now, getting ready to feed the names into his computer. “This sounds serious, my man.”
“It is.”
Twenty-Six
Rachel stood at the fridge, distracted from preparing Kendy’s dinner by worry over Nick. She’d talked to Marta a few minutes ago and been assured that Nick was safe in her car and they were on the way home. She was thinking of calling again when suddenly he stormed in from the garage and slammed his books on the counter. He was red in the face and breathing hard. Kendy sat at the table with Dinah, her homework spread out before her. She jumped up. “Did you find Graham?” she asked eagerly.
“I need to talk to you, Mom.”
Rachel frowned. “What’s wrong? Where’s Marta? I just—”
“She’s fine. She dropped me off and went to meet Pete for dinner. Mom, can we go somewhere private?”
“You didn’t, did you?” Kendy said angrily, hands on her hips.
Rachel put a bag of salad greens on the counter and said to Kendy, “Nick hasn’t had time to look for your cat, sweetie. Now, finish your math and Gran will check it for you.” She looked at her mother, who nodded.
Kendy threw her pencil across the table, glaring at Nick. “You didn’t even look for him, I bet. He promised, Mom.”
Irritated, Nick said, “Didn’t you hear Mom? I haven’t had time to look for your damn cat, Kendall!”
“Nick! No swearing.”
Nick visibly tried to calm himself. “Mom, it’s getting late and we need to leave for the ball field soon, but first, we need to talk. Please?”
Rachel nudged him out of the kitchen and down the hall to his bedroom. She and Cam had decided not to question him before the game about his call to Jimbo. But from his agitated state, he might be ready to talk to her, anyway. Closing the door, she faced him. “What’s wrong?”
“Why did you call the varsity athletes into your office today, Mom?”
“I can’t discuss what happens in my office, Nick. You know that.”
“Mom! Just answer me. It’s important.”
She moved toward him slowly. “Why is it important? Why do you want to know?”
“Don’t start that question-with-a-question psychology stuff, Mom! This is serious. Did you have a real excuse for bugging them or was it a bogus reason, like you were hoping they’d say stuff about Coach?”
“You know I can’t discuss what I talk to a student about, Nick. Or why.”
“I was nearly creamed in the halls today because of it.”
Rachel stared at him in shock and sank down on the bed. “By whom?”
“Just don’t ask. All I want to know is why were you doing it?”
“Tell me their names, Nick. You know that questionable things are going on. It wouldn’t be ratting out anybody.” She saw by the look on his face that he wasn’t talking.
“Is that what you said to them? It’ll be a service to mankind if you tell me what you think Coach is up to?” He raked a hand over his hair. “Mom, you don’t know what you’re fooling around with. Are you finished? Are you gonna drag other players in and keep on tomorrow?”
“No. I saw it was useless. I didn’t get any more information from the boys I talked to than I’m getting from you now.”
“If you start meddling in Coach Tyson’s business, Mom, bad things can happen. I thought we were gonna let the chief take care of this,” he said, his tone rising.
“We are. What I was doing—” She broke off, startled by a piercing scream. “That’s Kendall!” she cried, looking around wildly. She turned and raced out of the room with Nick on her heels. Dinah and Kendall were both gone from the kitchen, but the door was open. Dashing out onto the patio, she almost crashed into Cam, who must have heard the commotion and come on the run.
“Here,” Dinah called out from the direction of the utility shed near the greenhouse. “Somebody bring a flashlight.” Her outline was barely visible through a thick growth of azalea bushes. She appeared to be bending over Kendall, who was on her
knees on the ground.
“Nick,” Rachel ordered, not taking her eyes from Dinah and the little girl. “There’s a flashlight at my bedside table. Go get it.”
Nick hesitated, but she gave him a shove. “Go, Nick!”
“Rachel, let me.” Cam caught her by the arm, but she was already pushing through the azaleas to get to Kendall, heedless of low branches lashing her face and arms. As she rushed forward, the little girl looked up.
“Mom, Graham’s hurt.” Only then did Rachel realize that Kendall was cradling Graham in her lap. The cat stirred feebly but appeared too weak to move much. Rachel crouched down beside Kendall, more concerned about her daughter than the cat. “Are you okay, Kendy?”
“It’s Graham, not me. Somebody did something terrible to him, Mom.”
Cam was on one knee beside Kendall. “Let me see, sweetheart.”
Nick appeared, breathing hard. “I’ve got the flashlight,” he said. There was shocked silence when he turned the beam on the cat. A large splotch of paint in the shape of a crude bull’s-eye had been sprayed on Graham’s side.
“Jeez,” Nick breathed.
“Mo-o-om,” Kendall wailed. “Is he gonna die?”
“He’s hurt, honey, but let’s take a look,” she managed in a tone that belied the outrage simmering inside her. Who would do this to a helpless animal? And why?
“We need a vet,” Cam said, his face grim. “Let’s get him back in his carrier.”
Nick bent to examine the crate. “This isn’t ours. It’s too big, for one thing. And it’s black. Ours is gray.”
“Was he inside the carrier when you found him, Kendy?” Cam asked. He sounded calm, but he had a fierce look on his face.
“Uh-huh. I heard him meowing and me and Gran came out to look and this is where he was. Will he die?” she asked in a voice that trembled.
“We hope not, sweetheart. Cats are pretty tough.”
“I didn’t hear a thing,” Dinah said, handing over a towel she’d fetched from the greenhouse. “But Kendy insisted that we go outside and look. I see now he was too weak to make much noise.”
“What’s that all over him?” Kendy asked.
“It looks like paint,” Rachel said, taking her hand. “It’ll have to be removed with some kind of chemical that’s safe for cats, so Cam’s right. The place for him tonight is at the animal hospital.” She didn’t mention that there seemed to be more wrong with him than a mere spray-paint job. She was no expert, but it looked as if Graham had been poisoned.
Cam took the cat from Kendy, who handed him over with an anxious look. “C’mon, we’ll go straight to the clinic. The vet’ll need to check him out and maybe keep an eye on him overnight.”
“How will I get to the game?” Nick asked. “By the time you get home from the vet, it’ll be half over.”
Rachel, following Cam and Kendy, headed to the garage where Graham’s cat carrier was stored. “Maybe you shouldn’t play tonight, Nick. I can call Monk and—”
“Mom, I can’t just dog out! I’m playing first base. C’mon…jeez.”
“I’ll take him, Rachel,” Dinah said. “I had no plans for tonight. I’ll drive him and sit in the stands while he plays, then when you and Cam get back from the vet, the two of you can relieve me at the game and I’ll take Kendy back home.”
“Well…” She studied his face worriedly. “Promise me you won’t even think of getting out of Mother’s sight, Nick.”
“I’ve gotta go in the locker room and get my gear,” he said.
“Except for that.”
He held up his right hand. “Not a problem.”
“He’ll be fine,” Dinah assured her. “What can happen in full sight of the stands?”
Nick was wound pretty tight when he got to the locker room. For a few minutes after the problem with Kendall’s cat, he’d been afraid that his mom would keep him from playing tonight. And if it hadn’t been for Gran, that probably would have happened. He had a plan, of sorts, but to carry it out he had to get to the game. He was cutting it close, thanks to the cat emergency, because almost everybody was already in the dugout and he still had to get his cleats and glove out of his locker before he was ready to roll. With less than ten minutes before play started, he hit the ground running as soon as Gran stopped the car.
He jerked the door of his locker open and was on the point of reaching for his glove when he saw the note. A big sheet of paper with large letters, which he knew at a glance somebody had done at a computer. Snatching it down, he stared at it.
IT WAS EASY TO GET THE CAT.
IT’LL BE EVEN EASIER TO GET YOUR FAMILY.
“What’s going on, Nick? You’ve been in la-la land since the game started.” Ward turned a bottle of water up and drank half of it, then in an undertone, added, “Coach is getting suspicious. He’s already been over and asked me what’s bugging you.”
“What’d you tell him?”
“I’m clueless, what do you think I told him!” He leaned over and put his water bottle beneath the bench. “And guess who else has been asking questions about you?”
“J.Lo?”
Ward snorted. “This is serious, Nick. Jimbo. He called me and chewed me a new one. He said you were getting into some heavy shit and for me to tell you to lie low, that he had taken care of it.”
“How’d he do that?”
“He didn’t say and even if I’d asked, he wouldn’t tell me. He still treats me like I’m six years old,” Ward said bitterly.
Looking straight ahead, Nick was thinking about the note. He knew it came from Coach Monk, but he’d put somebody else up to do his dirty work. Somebody too stupid to do it well. It had to be Ferdy—or B.J., his alter ego. Those two were just foul enough to half kill a helpless animal and then use it to try to spook him. But Nick didn’t intend to be spooked by anybody, including The Man himself.
On the field, the pitcher zinged one wide to Will Smythe. As they sat in the dugout, Nick continued their conversation. “Ward, can I ask you something?”
“Way to go Will!” Ward leaped up at Will’s base hit and whistled when he slid safe at first. “About what?” he asked, settling back on the bench.
“If the chief needed you to testify in court, would you?”
Ward waited a little too long, his gaze fixed on the ball field. “I don’t know. It’s…embarrassing.”
“What about the fact that he killed Jack Ford?”
“We don’t know that for sure!” Ward hissed.
“Yeah, but what if he did?”
Ward watched as the next Rose Hill batter up struck out, ending the inning. “You’re hero material, Nick. Not me. And I think you ought to do like Jimbo says and lie low for a while.”
Both of them rose with the rest of the team to go out on the field. “I think it’s too late to lie low, Ward.”
Nick’s chance to get to Ferdy came just before the game ended. He rose to follow the creep to the john, waving casually to his grandmother, hoping she wouldn’t freak out over losing sight of him for two minutes. Nick knew he had to be armed to get Ferdy’s attention, so he grabbed a bat on his way out of the dugout.
This was meant to be, Nick thought, spotting Ferdy with his back to him taking a leak. Karma and all that. What goes around comes around. Using the bat, he poked Ferdy hard in a kidney, midstream.
“Yow!” Ferdy yelled, and looked at Nick in total astonishment. But with the bat swinging in a threatening arc and his hands otherwise occupied, he was caught with his pants down, literally. “What the hell are you doing, you little pissant?”
“I’m answering your note, Ferdy,” Nick said, waving the bat in front of his nose. “I know you wrote it, which means you tried to kill my sister’s cat.”
“What note? What the fuck you talkin’ about?” He looked genuinely baffled. Grabbing the note, he scanned it and shoved it back at Nick. “I never saw that before.”
“It’s about as low-down a stunt as I ever knew, but then you’re so low-down yourself it�
��s the only way your mind can work. Hold it!” He brought the bat up in a threatening stance when Ferdy would have charged him. “This is just to warn you, Ferdy. I’m on to you and to the whole bunch of jocks in cahoots with Coach Monk. You do anything else that touches my family or anybody who’s a friend of mine and I’ll bring this whole stinking mess down. You got that?”
“What whole stinking mess?”
“Sex stuff. Parties with old gay men. Payback in scholarships to keep quiet.”
Ferdy was shaking his head slowly. “You are so diggin’ your own grave, Forrester. You don’t have a clue what you’ve stepped in.”
“I think I do.”
“Okay, but I don’t know nothing about your cat or that note. And look, for your own good, you gotta back off about Coach Monk. You don’t want to fool around like that, dude, I’m not shittin’ you. You could wind up very dead.”
“Dead like Jack Ford?” Nick stood his ground, daring Ferdy to deny it. After a long minute, Ferdy turned away, zipped up and walked out of the john.
Neither of them realized they’d been overheard. After a minute, Jason Pate came out of a stall and stood in the door watching both ball players heading back to the dugout. A base hit by the visiting team brought cheers from the crowd, drowned out by boos from Rose Hill. In the bright lights of the floods, the grass on the ball field was so green it hurt his eyes, and the smell of popcorn and sawdust teased his nose. From the time he was four years old and had first picked up a bat, Jason had dreamed of a future in baseball. He had done whatever it took to make it happen, hating himself sometimes, but doing it, anyway. And now he was close. So close.
Damn Nick and his Dudley Do Right act. From what Jason knew of him, he figured there was a slim-to-none chance he’d heed any warning from Ferdy Jordan, who, without a doubt, would rat to Tyson. And once Tyson knew, he would be forced finally to cut and run. Or to deal with Nick the way he’d dealt with Jack Ford. Jason squeezed his eyes shut, not going there tonight. Doing nothing now meant that his dream might still be possible. Doing otherwise would destroy it. He stood another minute or two, conflicted and miserable, then walked to the dugout and sat down.