by Nancy Radke
“No problem,” she said. “Tag would take care of him.”
“You sure?”
Ryan laughed. “I work from home. I’ll be here, too. And I’ll stay armed until this man is caught.”
“Then thanks. That would be great. We can stay three days. We need to do some personal shopping, so it might be best to do it here, where it’s harder to recognize us. Then we have to get back and restart our life.”
Jake nodded his agreement, as did the rest of them.
After the pumpkin pie and cranberry jello dessert, Grandma Miller opted to take a nap on the couch. Alison and Chantal helped Angie with the dishes while the men put the flash drive containing Mark Stone’s spreadsheet into Ryan’s laptop.
They grouped around the dinner table, looking at the information on the spreadsheet.
“I see what you mean,” Ryan said. “Totally random.”
“The only link we could find is that many of them were having an exceptional year.”
“I can sort these into groups, if I knew what to look for,” said Ryan. “But over the years at least one player from every team has been hurt.”
“Not the same positions, not the same teams,” said Jake.
At that moment the women joined them. “May I see,” asked Chantal.
The men stepped aside to let them in.
Chantal stared at the spreadsheet. “Why, three of those men were my players this year. Once they were injured, my team lost all momentum.”
13
“What do you mean, your team?” Ryan asked Chantal. “They play for different teams.”
“My fantasy team. I play fantasy football and I was doing great until my key players started getting hurt.”
Logan and Jake just looked at each other. Of course! They weren’t on the same real team. They were on fantasy teams, playing against fantasy teams, and someone was so caught up in the fantasy league he was willing to injure or kill real players so his team would win.
“So how does anyone know who’s on your team?” Ryan asked.
“People have to register their teams in order to play.”
“Do you play fantasy football?” Ryan asked Logan and Jake.
“Nope,” said Jake.
“No time,” said Logan. “But I know a lot of players who do. They might’ve spotted it if we’d shown this to them, but we just got it ourselves. How does fantasy football work?” he asked Chantal.
She gave a detailed rundown of drafting players, joining a league, and putting out players each week that could hopefully beat the other teams.
“If you have a player who you picked up cheap in the draft, who has a breakout season, it can really help your team.”
“And hurt someone else’s team,” Ryan guessed. “Which could be why players having an exceptional year might get targeted.”
“Unless they were on this guy’s team,” she said.
Ryan nodded. “Whoever this person is, he wouldn’t have had any of these players on his team. Then make a separate list of players who didn’t get hurt, but who had exceptional years. Go back at least three years. One or more of them were probably on his team.”
“Will do.”
“Then we have to find out which fantasy owners have been having winning teams and do some list comparisons. It should give us some names for the FBI to investigate.”
“At least it’s a start,” Jake said.
“Yes. But I’m afraid the lists are going to be big ones.”
Rain poured down in Seattle the second week in December. But the weather in Miami was beautiful, so it was no great hardship to stand in line. Unable to get tickets for the play-off games, Chantal’s dad had come up with two tickets for the game in Miami. A Saturday afternoon game, it fit into their schedules perfectly and the two women had gone, not telling the men they were coming.
They knew that Jake and Logan planned to fly back to Green Bay with the team Sunday and to Seattle Tuesday, so they made reservations to fly from Miami to Green Bay on Sunday.
The seats were excellent, at about the forty-yard line and on the first level. Security was tight and it took awhile to get into the stadium.
Down below, the Skippers were already on the field, warming up. Alison was searching for uniform number two when a roar went up through the crowd announcing the arrival of the home team. She spotted Logan just as everyone stood up and by the time they settled again she had lost him. This time she located Jake and was able to watch him as he did short sprints down the field, then she found Logan once more.
Everything appeared highly organized and very colorful; the cheerleaders beginning their songs and chants and the crowd responding. Having played soccer, she knew what the linesmen were for. The referee signals had been a snap to learn; they were simply an easy type of sign language.
The game began and Alison got her first taste of what Logan had talked about. The Miami fans felt free to boo and comment, often cuttingly, about either team; as critical of their own players as they were of the Skippers. Rarely happy with what was happening on the field, they were full of advice and comments about how it should have been done. They cheered when Logan was sacked and when Jake was tackled; cheering the most when Logan had to be assisted off the field after being knocked flying by a huge left end.
He appeared dazed, not quite certain where he was at, and the coaches who had helped him off the field had to guide him in the right direction. The helmets didn’t protect completely from concussion; it looked like they were offering him smelling salts and someone else was examining his eyes.
Alison watched the bench during the next four plays, her stomach tensed till it hurt, then gave a sigh of relief when Logan jogged back into action. She wondered if he was really better or if he was just playing on adrenalin. Still he ran the next few plays okay and connected with his passes, so he must have been okay.
Chantal kept up a running commentary, as good as any announcer, and received encouraging comments from some of the Miami fans sitting next to them—even though they had swiftly ascertained that Chantal was for the Skippers. Her enthusiasm for Green Bay was apparent in every word.
Knowing two of the players made the game much more interesting, but it still looked and sounded like armed combat out there. At the conclusion of the game, which Green Bay won, Alison felt as worn out as if she had been playing herself.
The crowd filed out, some of the comments still burning Alison and Chantal’s ears as they waited patiently for their turn. Some persistent inquiry was needed before Chantal discovered the gate where autograph hunters assured her the Skippers would come out. They stood with them, crowding in the heat along with some loyal Green Bay fans who had made the trip down, waiting for the team to appear. The fans were clapping each other on the back and talking loudly, excitedly, about the play-offs; who the Skippers might play first and how well they would do. Security guards surrounded the newly fenced area, all armed and watchful.
After a long wait the players slowly emerged, some stopping to give autographs or to talk to someone they knew, laughing and joking happily with one another, although Logan and Jake were not among them. Today’s win put the Skippers into the play-offs, the first time that goal had been reached for several years. There would probably be a huge celebration in Green Bay tonight. The players piled their gear into three charter buses, then gathered back around the gate, in high spirits, evidently elated with their victory. Some walked back in, then out again, laughing; the door being opened and closed often.
A cab pulled up beside the busses and the driver got out and looked around. At that moment Jake came outside but stepped back in again before Chantal could call his name.
And then Logan hurried out amidst the loud cheers and catcalls of his teammates, a large coat thrown over him and a giggling woman he was holding hard up against his side. The autograph seekers surged forward, calling his name, but Logan and the woman ran straight past the crowd and ducked together into the cab. As Alison spun blindly backward into Cha
ntal, faint with shock, the cab moved swiftly away.
The players laughed as if it were all a big joke and climbed into the busses to be driven off. Sick with shame and disgust, Alison turned into Chantal’s arms as Jake joined the others, both women ducking their heads so he wouldn’t spot them. The crowd shifted around them as they pushed backward into it.
No wonder Logan had kept this part of his life from her. Had remained a mystery man while he laid siege to her heart. The woman with him had been dressed in a skimpy, bright red sweater, low necked and revealing, and a black skirt that barely reached her legs. Her make-up had been layered on and her jewelry heavy and cheap. She looked exactly like all the street women Alison had ever seen. And the woman and Logan, who was bare from the waist up, had just jumped into a cab and driven off—together.
“Can you make it?” Chantal asked, concerned.
“Yes. That was a...a shock,” Alison answered, feeling sick. Better now than later, she realized. What if she had married him and then found out this was what he did on road trips? She fought back the desire to throw up and also the desire to scream and cry and pound her fists against the nearby concrete wall. Men! She had thought Logan was different, but she was wrong. He’d probably been laughing at her naiveté all the time.
At least she’d found out in time—her heart ached right now but hadn’t cracked—unless that was yet to come, after the numbing shock wore away.
The crowd of autograph seekers compared the signatures they’d been given, some trading pieces of paper, then they dispersed, going rapidly on their way. The two women were left alone, wordlessly staring at the concrete paving.
“You’ll have to leave,” a security man said. “We’re locking up.” They walked out ahead of him, hearing the stadium gates clang to with a finality.
The end—finished—all over.
And I had such high hopes, Alison thought, that this time I’d found a man who was interested in me, myself, and not my looks. He sure had a smooth line. So sincere.
Disappointment cut deeply. He had really fooled her.
The parking lot was almost deserted by now and they had no trouble finding their rental car. Unable as yet to speak about what had just happened, the two got in, Chantal doing the driving while Alison sat crunched into as small a space as possible, her head in her hands, tremors of shock shaking her body.
They had flown into Miami early Sunday morning, traveling all night, and booked into the same hotel as other Skipper fans. The team had stayed there Saturday night and should be on their way to the airport to fly back to Green Bay. Alison and Chantal had checked out and taken their luggage with them to the game, planning to fly to Green Bay behind them.
Alison spoke, her voice a tortured whisper, yet fiercely determined, as they drove out of the parking lot. “Make sure we catch a flight to Seattle.”
Chantal had been thinking the same thing and they discussed it quickly. Neither one of them wanted to go to Green Bay. But was Seattle a good choice? Logan would call, wanting to talk to Alison. If Alison stayed with Chantal, Logan or Jake would call there.
“I’ll tell you what,” Chantal said, having come to a decision. “Let’s not go back tonight. Let’s stay in Miami and soak up some sun. It will give us both a chance to recover. The sunshine will be more healing than the rain we left behind.”
“I don’t know...”
“It will keep you occupied. We can go around the city or maybe up to Disney World. Anything but sitting in a hotel room, staring at the walls. How does that sound?”
At Alison’s hesitant nod, she added, “I’ll call and change our flight reservations to Wednesday morning. You don’t have any jobs and I’ll simply call my store and tell them I’m on vacation. In fact, we could stay here a week if you want to. I’ll make the reservation; we can always change it.”
She turned around and drove back to their hotel. “We’ll see Miami and then drive up to Orlando. We’ll get a flight to Seattle out of there Thursday.” Alison nodded mutely, her mind numb and uncaring, content to let her friend take charge.
“First we’ll have a shower and change clothes, then we’ll buy us some swimsuits,” Chantal announced. “We might not enjoy our Florida vacation, but at least we would have something pleasant to remember of the trip. I’ll deal with Jake later.”
Chantal swung into the parking garage at the hotel and bade Alison wait while she went inside to reserve a room for three more nights. Alison sat, staring blankly at the far wall, unmindful of time. Two tourists, a man and woman wearing brightly patterned shirts came out of the stair door and crossed to a car nearby, arguing about where to eat.
Alison heard them but their bickering did not register, nothing fazed her frozen mind until, just after they drove away, the stair door opened again and Logan and Jake, the street woman and another man came out. She had a large amount of money in her hand and stopped long enough to put it into her purse and take out her keys.
Alison ducked down into the dark car, sickened with nausea. They wouldn’t see her unless they were parked in the next stall. Their voices echoed clearly through the garage; they were laughing as they saw the woman into her car which was parked three stalls down and one row over. She gave them each a long kiss before she departed, calling out that she was always available for men like them. After she drove away with a flourish, the three men stood talking, their voices lowered so that Alison couldn’t hear them.
What if they ran into Chantal?
Then, as if to complete her worst nightmare, the stair door opened and Chantal stepped out.
Prodded into action, Alison shot upright, rolled her window down and waved her hands frantically at her friend to go back; pointing out the three men as she did so. Chantal got the message immediately and backed hastily into the stairwell, closing the door just as the three turned and walked back to go inside.
Alison had dropped down on the floor of the car as they turned, but she was well hidden in the dim garage anyway. It had been Chantal who had had the closest call, standing in the lighted stairway entrance. Fortunately she had been looking directly at Alison’s side window as she came through the door.
Alison took a deep breath. The incident had pumped adrenalin through her; no longer was she in shock. What was she doing on the car floor anyway? She wasn’t the one in the wrong. She gathered her purse and car keys and was already pulling their suitcases out of the trunk when Chantal reappeared.
“That was close,” Chantal exclaimed, hurrying over. “I ran up three flights to stay away from them. I assume you don’t want to see them right now? You look like you could chew through concrete and think it pudding.”
“You’re right. I don’t. I’m afraid of what I’d say. They saw ..that...that woman out to her car...after paying her off. It makes me sick,” she snapped.
“She was here?” Chantal asked, her face turning paler.
“Yes. She was putting her money away.” Alison didn’t mention the exchange of kisses. The less said, the better right now; her stomach couldn’t take any more.
Chantal looked around, angry herself now as she picked up her case. “And they’re still here? I wonder why they didn’t travel back with the team?”
“The answer to that just drove off.”
They stood for a minute in angry silence, each accepting what had just taken place as a disagreeable fact that had to somehow be swallowed, digested and forgotten. Finally Chantal broke the silence with a despairing sigh. “Shall we change hotels?”
Alison had had enough disappointments in the past—although not any that cut as deeply or hurt so much as this one—she was able to rally quicker than if this had been her first. “No. I’m through hiding. Let’s go get our showers. If we run into them, too bad for them. We’re going to enjoy Miami.”
“...even if it kills us,” Chantal added as she slowly followed Alison to the stairs. “You know, Jake was married once. I wonder if this kind of thing had anything to do with his divorce.”
The
y spent money liberally, buying gifts for their families and sightseeing in the afternoons and evenings, and soaking up the sun in the early morning hours on Miami beach. Alison’s fair skin and rosy complexion would not tolerate the more intense rays, and she wisely covered herself as the noon hours approached.
Of the two men they saw no more. An inquiry at the hotel desk revealed that they had checked out on game day and were no longer guests there. This helped relax both women and if their laughter was a bit forced now and then and their minds apt to drift and a sentence get cut off in mid-air, neither called attention to it. They were going to enjoy their trip to Florida and so enjoy it they did.
Sunday they called Alison’s parents and told them they were going to stay through Thursday, giving no reason for the decision. They debated calling Logan to let him know they no longer wanted to see either man, then realized they hadn’t a phone number with them.
“Well,” Alison said, “Logan wanted to stay a man of mystery. Did Jake ever give you his number?”
“Yes. It’s written down next to my phone at home. They wanted their life hidden and now we know why. I guess they’ll just have to worry. I can’t come up with any sympathy right now.”
“You know, Jake might be okay, Chantal. You probably should give him a chance.” Although Jake had been with Logan at the hotel. Along with the other man. What had happened?
Jake appeared to be with the woman as much as Logan, yet Jake might have just driven over with the other man to pick Logan up and take him to the airport. It would be interesting to see what he had to say in his defense. As for Logan, after the public spectacle he had made of himself, Alison never wanted to see him again.
“Maybe later,” Chantal replied. “Not now.”
The worst times were during the nights, when there was nothing to distract them and therefore ease the feelings of loss and hurt and betrayal. During the day, they took comfort from each other, for misery shared is more than halved.
Even the plane trip back wasn’t too bad, with its movie and getting to know the couple sitting next to them. People were beginning their holiday travel and there wasn’t a seat empty. At their stop in Atlanta they had just enough time to look around the airport and stretch their legs before taking off again.