The Deep End

by Traci Hunter Abramson

  CJ looked out the window, grateful that she would only have to spend a week here. Two garbage dumpsters lined the alley below, both overflowing with construction materials from the building that filled her view. What would become a sleek, new high-rise currently looked more like an oversized erector set. In the early evening, the sounds of construction had finally ceased, and now darkness was falling over the neighborhood.

  As Matt came up to bat, CJ turned to look at the radio. Sitting down on the couch, she clasped her hands together, visualizing her husband as he stepped up to the plate. After two balls and a strike, Matt’s bat connected with the ball, sending it down the third base line for a single. The teammate that followed him at bat hit a home run on the second pitch to bring them both home.

  CJ stood again to pace. She knew Matt was still uncertain about what his future held, especially since his playing time had varied wildly this season. Some games he played all nine innings, others he didn’t play at all. With each game, Matt’s frustration grew. Rumors that he might get traded kept him from complaining—and kept him hoping that they would be able to remain together.

  CJ wondered what would happen with Matt’s career now that he no longer had any family ties in Philadelphia. Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought of the emptiness the next two months would hold for her. She had anticipated the difficulty of having her husband on the road half of the time as she trained for the Olympics. Never had she dreamed that she would lose her coach, her identity, and her home in less than a week.

  Even if the FBI did allow her to compete again, the thought of training without the support of either her husband or a coach was incomprehensible. Though Tara had made sure she could practice twice each day, CJ knew that she was doing little more than holding steady. She needed help if she was going to make it to the Olympics.

  That morning her prayers had been full of questions, but she still felt unsettled as she pondered her future. She had tried to break down her obstacles, thinking that maybe she could tackle them one at a time. The first steps in those plans were to qualify for the Olympic trials and to finally testify against Rush. Then, ultimately, she hoped that she and Matt could begin a normal life together.

  She could feel the tears threaten when she thought of how much Matt had integrated himself into her Olympic dreams. For so many years, she had practiced and worked and improved so that she might one day swim in the Olympics. Those dreams had been part of her for as long as she could remember—ever since her father told her bedtime stories and convinced her that anything was possible.

  Only recently had CJ begun to recognize the sacrifices her father had made to help her pursue her love of swimming. He had never missed a meet before he died, and he had never complained about the hours and sometimes days he had to take off work to be there for her.

  Her father had taught her how to work hard, how to run a household, and how to love and be loved unconditionally. When he died, CJ’s dreams for Olympic glory had intensified. She wanted to compete less for herself than she did for the memory of her father and his sacrifices for her.

  Somehow Matt understood how her dreams were tied to her future as well as her past. Like her, Matt came from a family who understood how to balance generosity, love, and sacrifice. And like her father, Matt loved and supported her unconditionally.

  She knew that if she were to speak to him, Matt would encourage her to follow her dreams. In the next breath would be his concern for her safety. Seldom did he express fear for his own safety, but CJ felt it weighing heavily on her now.

  If Malloy remained free, how could she be certain that she and Matt would be safe? The fear she felt for her own safety paled in comparison to the panic she experienced when considering that Matt could be in danger because of her.

  The door opened and Tara walked through, a gallon of milk in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other. A soft-sided briefcase hung from her shoulder along with her purse.

  “I got the stuff for eggs Benedict for breakfast tomorrow,” Tara turned with a grin. “I figured you owed me after I picked this up for you.”

  “What is it?” Curiosity had CJ moving toward the kitchen.

  “A laptop. I thought you might want to get online and check out when the next swim meet is.”

  CJ’s eyes lit up. “Are you serious?” She took the computer bag that Tara handed her. “Do you think Doug will let me try again?”

  “He’ll figure something out.” Tara motioned to the desk situated in the living room. “By the way, I’m sorry I let Malloy get away.”

  Surprise evident in her eyes, CJ stared at Tara. “Tara, you killed a man to protect me.”

  “I should have killed two.” Tara shrugged and pulled a package of English muffins from the bag. “Go ahead and start looking while I put the groceries away.”

  CJ hesitated a moment, not sure what to say. “Hey, Tara,” she finally said, waiting for Tara to look up at her. “I assume Lacey wants eggs Benedict for breakfast too.”

  “Oh, yeah. He said he loves anything that isn’t cold cereal.”

  “In that case, I’ll start cooking as soon as I get home from practice in the morning,” chuckled CJ.

  Chapter 9

  Matt poured himself a glass of milk, wondering where CJ could possibly be. Doug’s note said everyone was okay, but working his way through twelve long innings that night had been pure agony when all he wanted to do was find out what was going on with his wife.

  He hurried to the door when the doorbell finally rang, opening it to find Keith Toblin standing in the hall alone.

  “Where’s Doug?” Matt asked, stepping aside to let Keith inside the condo.

  Keith waited for him to close the door before he answered, “He’s on his way to see CJ.”

  “Where might that be?” Matt asked, his body tensing.

  “She’s being relocated,” Keith said simply, not knowing an easy way to break the news. “She got away, but Malloy found her at the swim meet.”

  “Jimmy Malloy, as in the man that had her old boyfriend killed?”

  “That’s the one.” Keith nodded. “We’re still not sure how he found her, except that he must have been monitoring any new swimmers making cuts for the Olympic trials. Her time from her first meet must have alerted them as to what name she was using, and they tracked her down when she registered for the second meet.”

  “You’ve got to relocate me with her.”

  “No chance, Matt,” Keith stated firmly. “You are too well known, and if you suddenly quit baseball we would have Malloy looking for you along with every sports reporter in the country.”

  Matt paced the length of the room and then turned back to face Keith. “I can’t stand sitting idly by when my wife needs protection. Whether you like it or not, that’s my job too.”

  “And whether you like it or not, you are not an easy man to hide.” Keith leaned on the edge of the couch. “Your picture has been in and out of newspapers and magazines consistently since you were fifteen years old. And that was before you became a big-time baseball star.”

  Matt changed tactics as the truth pierced through him. “Look, I don’t know if she can handle another separation. It’s bad enough that she’s trying to make the Olympic Games without a coach.”

  “We’re working on the coaching problem,” Keith replied. He moved toward the door. “I’ve got to get going. I just wanted to let you know that she’s safe. She’ll have a new alias, but Doug said he’s going to keep her initials ‘CJ’ to make things easier on her.”

  Matt nodded in understanding, then asked wearily, “Can you at least tell me where she is?”

  “Let’s just say that Doug is going to keep a close eye on her. In fact, I imagine they will be neighbors within a week or two.” He took a business card out of his jacket pocket. “Here’s my phone number. I’m going to be your main point of contact from here on out. Make sure you let me know if an opportunity opens up for you to be traded. I might have some ideas of which team would
suit you well.”

  Matt looked down at the card. It provided Keith’s name and phone number, but no other identifying information. He glanced back at Keith. “I’ll do that.”

  * * *

  Doug circled the block twice before pulling into the apartment complex parking lot. His flight from Philadelphia to Miami had been uneventful and, thankfully, on time. He didn’t have to look at his watch to know that it was nearly midnight, yet he knew he wouldn’t be able to relax until he checked in with CJ and inspected the temporary safehouse. He knew exactly where he wanted her staying for the next several weeks, but some security and minor modifications were under way and wouldn’t be completed until the next day at the earliest.

  He knocked twice before using his key to open the door to the first-floor apartment. Despite the lateness of the hour, he was not surprised to see that everyone was still up. He held a large paper bag in one hand, and the scent of Chinese food quickly permeated the kitchen. Lacey was currently on watch, standing by the window so he could scan the road and parking lot. Tara sat in the living room watching a movie, and CJ was sitting at the kitchen table tapping away on a laptop.

  “I picked up some takeout. I figured it had been a while since you’ve eaten,” Doug told Tara, nodding a greeting to CJ, who had finally looked up from the computer where she was searching the Internet.

  “Thanks.” Tara stood up and crossed to the kitchen table where Doug set down the bag of food.

  “How are you holding up?” Doug asked CJ, moving so that he could see the computer screen over her shoulder.

  “I’m all right.” Worry showed in her eyes when she turned to look at him. “Did you see Matt?”

  “His game ran late, so I had to leave to catch my flight.” Doug put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Keith was going to meet him after the game and let him know what’s going on.”

  “Isn’t there any way I can at least talk to him on the phone?” CJ asked wearily.

  “I’m sorry, CJ. You know we can’t take the chance. It’s common knowledge that Matt lives in Philadelphia. Now that Rush’s men know that you were living there too, we don’t want to risk them connecting the two of you. We already know how good they are at tapping phone lines.” Doug noticed the paper CJ had been writing on, and he moved closer to read her notes. “What have you got here?”

  CJ let out a little sigh and tapped a finger on the notepad in front of her. “I’ve made a list of the meets that I can still use to qualify for the Olympic trials.”

  “Let’s take a look.” Resignation tinted his voice as Doug took the paper from her, scanning down the list. “Several of these are on the same weekend.”

  “I know.” CJ pushed back from the table and stood so that she could see the list. “I actually had an idea I wanted to run past you.”

  Doug nodded to the food. “Let’s eat. You can tell me about it over dinner.”

  Twenty minutes later, Doug pulled his computer out of the case and sat down to work. CJ’s idea was risky, but he thought he might be able to make it work. The next major swim meet was only a week away in Los Angeles. CJ proposed that she register late and only swim the 100-meter breaststroke.

  If she failed to make her qualifying time, she would have another chance a few weeks later at the end of May. Three major swim meets were scheduled on the same weekend: one in Texas and two in California. CJ suggested that she register for each of the meets. If anything suspicious surfaced, she could move from one meet to another, giving her the opportunity to swim both the 100-meter breaststroke and the 200-meter individual medley in different meets if necessary. She even promised to scratch out of the semifinals and finals of the events once she made her qualifying times.

  CJ’s plan would allow her the opportunity to qualify for the Olympic trials, but first Doug had to make sure she could compete safely. He had every intention of registering CJ in the next meet, but he wasn’t going to let her anywhere near the pool. Instead he hoped he could lay a trap in Los Angeles and take care of the men after her.

  Even if Doug wasn’t successful in LA, the possibility of Malloy tracing CJ through race results when Doug did let her compete would be difficult if she only competed in one or two events per meet and used a different alias for each one. Doug was just beginning to think he might be able to pull it off until he saw CJ’s notes at the bottom of the page. His eyebrows lifted as he realized she had timed everything so that she would swim in California at the same time Matt’s team would be there for a series against the Dodgers.

  Doug looked across the table at CJ, who sat staring at her laptop, scrutinizing the online results from her husband’s game. “CJ, you don’t really think that we can let you see Matt in LA, do you?”

  “Come on, Doug. It’s perfect,” CJ stated, leaning back in her chair. “We’re not even sure that Rush’s men know that Matt and I are still together. You can’t really think that they are following him around the country looking for me.”

  “I didn’t think Rush’s men were monitoring hotel reservations or swimming websites to look for you either,” Doug retorted. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but there is just no way.”

  CJ just stared at him for a moment, her jaw set. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I need to see my husband.” She closed the laptop and stood up. “With or without your protection, I’m going to see him in LA.”

  “CJ . . .”

  Before he could finish, CJ started across the room. She refused to even look at Doug as she mumbled, “I’m going to bed.”

  Doug watched CJ close the door, surprised to hear her make such demands. He didn’t think she would really risk her cover to see Matt, but the threat alone revealed her desperation and vulnerability. The only other time she had absolutely insisted on something was when she and Matt decided to get married. Doug knew her well enough to realize that this was her way of taking control of her emotional well-being in a situation where she felt powerless.

  Doug glanced over at the bedroom door and thought of the plans he had already set in motion to help CJ prepare for the Olympics. Now he could only pray that he could keep her safe—and that all of their hard work would be worth it.

  * * *

  Pete Wellman looked over the swimming pool wondering what he had gotten himself into. Thirty-two years ago he had earned his one-and-only gold medal at the Olympic games in the 400-meter individual medley. Now here he was, only three months into retirement, and the U.S. Marshals were begging him to help them out with some charity case.

  His posture and presence still exuded the confidence of a Marine colonel, his graying hair cut military short and his shrewd, dark eyes taking in everything around him. Though a few extra pounds had tried to take permanent residence around his middle, he stubbornly fought them off by running five miles each morning. He thought of his wife at home still asleep in bed and wondered what had possessed him to make this trip.

  He told himself that it was his sense of duty that had caused him to drive the forty-five miles out of Miami at the crack of dawn to take a look at this kid the marshals were protecting. If he let himself think about it, he might admit that he was intrigued by the girl’s story.

  His security clearance was high enough that he had been given the basics when Lacey had contacted him a couple of days before. The girl was the only witness in a high-profile case, and the man she was testifying against had already tried several times to have her killed. Pete had only read a few pages of her file before developing an intense hatred for Chris Rush.

  The girl was supposed to be a good swimmer, but security had kept her from the high-level meets that would have told him just how good.

  Lacey walked into the pool area, extending a hand when he closed the distance between them. “Thanks for making the time to come out today.”

  “I’m here. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  “She’ll be right out,” Lacey said.

  A moment later, a female marshal emerged from the locker room
followed by a slender brunette. She wasn’t more than about five foot six—short for a serious competitor. As she came closer, Pete’s first impression was that she should be looking into an acting career instead of training for the Olympics. She was a very attractive young woman.

  Lacey made the introductions, and when Pete shook CJ’s hand, he was surprised at her firm grip.

  When Pete continued to study her silently, Tara stepped in and took over. “CJ, why don’t you go start your workout? We have a few things we need to go over with Pete.”

  “Okay.” CJ nodded and moved to the side of the pool. She put on her cap, stepped in with a minimal splash, and adjusted her goggles. A moment later, she pushed off and began her warm-up.

  At least she’s not a slacker, Pete thought to himself as CJ proceeded to swim. Her strokes were long and efficient for someone of her size, and her strength and power beneath the surface helped negate her height disadvantage. He glanced at his watch, pleased at the time it took her to complete the first part of her warm-up.

  When she began a series of individual medleys, he watched approvingly. Her butterfly was solid, probably good enough to make a trial cut but not beyond. Her backstroke was generally efficient, though Pete immediately saw a couple of minor adjustments he would make if he were coaching her. When she made her turn into the breaststroke, Pete’s eyes widened. She simply exploded off the wall.

  Without thinking, Pete stepped closer to the side of the pool, studying CJ’s stroke. She had more of a dolphin motion than was allowed back when he had competed, but he couldn’t see anything of significance he would change.

  He watched her swim three IMs before he turned back to Tara and Lacey.