by Laura Scott
He’d always thought her freak-outs over him were ridiculous. It had caused a few fights, especially about him playing football or going out with the guys. Hindsight was twenty-twenty. How was a seventeen-year-old boy supposed to know his girlfriend wasn’t being unreasonable and uptight but dealing with some serious problems? “I’m really sorry for being so jerky about stuff.” No wonder she dumped him. He’d been insensitive and told her she was always overreacting and to lighten up. He’d have cut himself loose, too.
“You didn’t know. And back then I didn’t, either. But now I do, and I know my triggers so I can avoid things that set it off for the most part—some things I have to fight through, like driving a car and going out in the world to shop or do my job, and I have daily medication that helps me.”
“Good. That’s good, Georgia.”
He wasn’t sure what her triggers were, but he’d try not to set one off. Though a killer coming after her would be anyone’s trigger, and he wasn’t sure how to stop that other than finding Jared’s killer as quickly as possible.
“Well, even with a panic attack out there, you did real good, Georgia. You were brave and handled the situation as well as anyone could.” He laid a hand on her shoulder to offer physical support. How else could he comfort her and make her feel sound?
The dogs barked and bolted for the front door. A delivery truck approached, and Colt cautiously moved to the door. Anyone was a suspect in his book. The young guy bounded out with two large boxes and dropped them on the porch and waved. He returned to his truck and left.
“Are deliveries normal?” he asked.
“Definitely. I order most everything online.” Her cheeks flushed. “Convenience and all.”
And it helped her avoid a trigger of being vulnerable out in the world, where she couldn’t control the environment. He didn’t bother calling her on it. It clearly embarrassed her enough.
“And it helps me. But my therapist—Celeste—says I need to keep going out. If it becomes too easy to stay inside, I could quickly slip into agoraphobia. So I get out. And I ask a few questions that help me control my thoughts. That’s really where the fight is. My mind.”
“Questions like?”
“Like ‘What evidence do you have to support this thought?’ and ‘What is the worst that can happen?’ when I’m afraid or panicky about a situation. Then after I come up with all the things that could happen, I ask, ‘Can I live with that?’ and about ninety-nine percent of the time, I can.”
“Sounds easy enough. I ask the same question working a case. ‘What evidence do I have to support this idea or theory?’”
Georgia laughed humorlessly. “It’s not easy enough. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I fail often. I don’t experience life like a lot of other people. And that can lead to severe melancholy and even jealousy and discontentment. It’s a big fat snowball, but it’s not crisp and clean. No, it’s more like a hot and heavy ball of tar gathering up all the emotions and sticking them to me until I suffocate.” She blinked and gave an apologetic and embarrassed smile. “Sorry. Sometimes it’s so frustrating.”
“Don’t be sorry. I didn’t mean to be flippant about it.” Georgia seemed fine on the outside. He’d have never known what was rolling around suffocating her on the inside, and he couldn’t imagine what it felt like.
Scared to offer any comforting words, since he’d fumbled so many of the others like a pigskin on the way to the end zone with ten seconds on the clock for the win, he remained quiet, letting the room fill with awkward silence.
Saved by the sound of tires on gravel—the team arrived from the station with the case files. Spreading out at the station would have been more convenient, but right now it wasn’t about their convenience. Though being surrounded by an entire facility of officers would have made him feel protected, Georgia wanted to be here. Now. So that’s what they’d do.
Georgia offered everyone beverages and made them welcome.
Rhett thanked her and poured a cup of coffee. “What do we know about the grump with the gun on the porch?”
“Sunny Wilkerson?” Colt asked.
“He’s a die-hard Ole Magnolia fan and one of the boosters.” Georgia added cream to her tea.
“I know I’m from Mississippi and all,” Mae said, “and I had a brother who played football, but I avoided it at all costs so...define booster for me.”
Poppy spoke up. “I don’t know how you managed to grow up in the South and avoid football. Boosters are representatives of the institution’s athletic interests. They support teams and athletics departments through donating time and financial resources, which help student athletes on and off the playing field. In professional terms.”
“And in nonprofessional terms?” Mae asked.
“They’re fanatics! And the sort of people to bribe families, high school coaches and student athletes to play ball for their institution. Especially if they themselves are sinking heavy donations into the athletic department. They feel it’s their duty to get the best team players.” Poppy blew her bangs from her eyes and pointed to Mae. “But some just buy season tickets and tailgate at games with beer and crawfish, so I may have walked the plank with the fanatic thing.”
Rhett snorted. “May have? And it’s ‘gone overboard.’”
Poppy ignored him.
Mae frowned. “So, they’re informal recruiters for the college athletic department or even for the high school athletic department?”
“No.” Colt jumped in before Poppy went melodramatic again. “Only institutional staff members can recruit for colleges. The NCAA prohibits anyone other than paid staff writing, calling or directly meeting with a person to recruit for colleges. But it happens. Quietly. High school athletic teams are determined by school district zones in Mississippi. There is no recruiting. However, there are some exceptions, such as teachers can send their children to any school district of their choosing as a perk, and then you can request going to another school, but there have to be mitigating circumstances such as heavy involvement in sports or activities—usually for upperclassmen who have already contributed to the school.”
Georgia put a carafe of coffee on the kitchen table. “I think a booster approached Jared with monetary benefits to play football for Ole Magnolia, and because of the fake addresses used by players at Courage High, it’s highly possible that the boosters recruiting high school boys also are involved with Coach Flanigan and possibly the college coach, Joe Jackson.”
Steep allegations, but they held water.
Georgia laid Dandy’s notebook on the table and explained Dandy’s notes and Georgia’s theory. “This is what the attacker wanted besides shutting me up permanently. He came into my house Friday night before I arrived. I thought it felt funny and noticed a foreign smell. But ignored it. Then he went all offensive lineman on me. But he didn’t get the ball.”
Georgia may have hated Colt playing ball, but she’d always had a love for the game. They’d gone to all of the Mississippi State games and even talked about seeing an NFL game for their honeymoon someday. But marriage never came. She’d dumped him with a lame excuse.
I don’t want to get married, and what’s the point of dating if I don’t want a husband?
He’d been confused, shocked. Since when?
Since now. I think it’s best for us both to call it quits.
I don’t get a say? He’d gone from confused to angry and ready to fight for them. But her eyes held steel, and it was a done deal.
Rejected.
Gone.
Like Mom.
Dad had called the play, and it had run out exactly as he’d said. And if he’d been right about that, then he was probably right about all the other things wrong with Colt. But he’d been fighting those words, too. All his life. On some level, he did understand what Georgia fought. His thoughts weren’t anxious, but they were damaging noneth
eless.
He snapped from the past while Georgia continued to explain her thoughts.
“I’m not sure who Dandy interviewed—if anyone. She didn’t note anyone’s statements. I suspect she was gathering evidence quietly then planning to either pass it on to me, as the investigative reporter, or start the interview process herself. She never breathed a word to me prior to her passing.”
“I can’t imagine why.” The Georgia he knew would have been on it like flies on a horse’s rump in summer.
She returned his remark with a flat expression. “She died before she ever had the chance to uncover the full story.”
Mae pushed her empty coffee cup to the side. “That raises a question then. Did she actually die in a legit carjacking gone wrong, or did someone stage it in order to shut her up?”
Colt and Georgia exchanged glances. It had crossed his mind in the news office, but he hadn’t voiced it. One podcast using fake names and speculation sent a killer to Georgia’s doorstep. Dandy’s questions may have done the same. Someone was desperate to keep a secret and a possible murder quiet.
“Where did this carjacking take place?” Poppy asked.
Georgia told them what she knew and pulled up the story on her laptop. Dandy Martin had been stabbed multiple times in a carjacking that appeared to have gone wrong on a Saturday evening at the Wolfchase Mall in Memphis. MPD noted that there had been a string of car thefts in the parking lot and had asked women in particular to be careful. But no other victims had been murdered. Only Dandy. That alone was questionable.
Mae grabbed a pen and scribbled on her notepad. “I’ll get in touch with Memphis PD and get the case information. If there were parking lot cameras, I want to see the footage. I’ll find out the make of the knife used. That could be helpful.”
“If they had decent footage, they’d have a photo of the killer. It would have been plastered on the local news already.” Poppy stirred more creamer into her coffee. “Worth a shot, though.”
“Jared Toledo’s death may not tie to an illegal recruiting ring,” Rhett offered. “All we have is circumstantial evidence. We need something concrete, but since the case is reopened, we should run all angles Georgia mentioned.”
Colt agreed. “Jared didn’t have many conflicts. He was a likable guy, but there is one hater. Chance Leeway.”
“Who’s Chance Leeway?” Mae asked.
“Played for our rival high school—Southern High. Both he and Jared were QBs.” He tossed Mae a grin. “Quarterbacks. And he’d made some threats against Jared after the last game before Jared died.”
Rhett noted that and thumbed through files. “I assume he was interviewed fifteen years ago. If so, it’ll be in the case notes.”
“Let’s narrow down the possible suspects in an illegal recruiting ring Georgia noted in her podcast—the real names,” Colt said.
“Obviously your Cougars coach,” Poppy said. “I’d add the old assistant coach, Harry Benard, too.”
Coach Duncan Flanigan and Harry had been a duo for a long time. Surely, one would know what the other was doing.
Georgia tapped her chin with her pointer finger. “Harry Benard is now the head coach for Southern High School.”
“For real? He left the Cougars for the Tigers?”
“A year ago. There was a big falling-out between him and Coach Flanigan when he accepted the head coaching job. The whole town called Harry a traitor. Knowing all our Cougar plays. According to most folks—like Sunny Wilkerson—Harry was taking our plans of attack right into the enemy lines.”
Sunny Wilkerson was on the top of Colt’s list as far as boosters went. He’d had time to shoot at them and make it back to his cabin before they did. He knew the lay of the land, too.
“Mercy, football is serious business.” Mae whistled softly.
Colt watched as his team worked in harmony, making a game plan. Leaving in a few weeks would be bittersweet. “We’ll start calling the people on Dandy’s list. I want to know who owns 4214 Pine Road. Poppy, see if you can come up with the property owner. Should be public record. Also, I would love to know who penned that anonymous letter to Dandy.”
“I can get you a list of people who attended the board meeting that night,” Georgia said. “I imagine the letter came from a parent whose child wasn’t granted permission to change districts. I’ll have to go to the office for it, though. Dandy’s files were backed up before they released her laptop to her mother.”
If there was new evidence, they’d find it.
And Jared’s killer would be found.
They only had to do it while keeping Georgia safe.
THREE
Sunday morning, Georgia woke and settled into her routine. She might not be able to control the case or the killer, but she could make her tea, read her Bible as the sun rose and pray. She needed the stability and security.
The attacks and the knowledge someone wanted her dead were paralyzing, but she’d been coping and she’d talked with her therapist yesterday for a solid hour and God multiple times a day. She wanted it all to go away. At least she had people protecting her. Who was protecting Colt? What if he got hurt? A tiny ball of worry pinched her gut.
Great, the tar ball was about to roll. Fighting it, she let the dogs out but refrained from going with them. It wasn’t safe. “Hurry up, boys,” she whispered.
The pups did their business and rushed inside, as if they knew it wasn’t completely out of danger. Nowhere was. Not even her own home. Georgia didn’t need to ask what proof she had to support that thought. It had been proven. The tar ball grew another quarter, and the pinch turned into a grip.
Replace the thoughts of no control with positive and uplifting truth. God was in control. He knew who was after her, and He alone had the power to save.
Turn the worry into prayer.
Lord, keep me safe. Give me strength. I’m weak. I have no control. But You do. You keep me in perfect peace. You shelter me with Your wings and hide me. You are my rock. My shelter from the storm, and, Lord, if ever I’m in a storm, it’s now. But I have to keep forging ahead. I have to be brave and courageous. I don’t have to be afraid. You’ve said it in Your Word 365 times. Once for every day of the year. I will not fear. And if I do, it doesn’t mean I have no faith.
“Good morning.” A whisper drew her attention, and she opened her eyes. Investigator Mae Vogel stood before her. Not more than five feet tall, fresh faced, blue-eyed. She wore a pale blue athletic suit.
“Morning.”
“I hope I’m not interfering with your routine.” Her smile was apologetic. Georgia didn’t have the heart to tell her she was. Georgia had invited the team to spend the night. The work had gone into the wee hours, and it was the least she could do.
“No. I made coffee, and the kettle is still hot if you prefer tea.”
“Thanks. I love Sunday mornings, coffee and Jesus. I think I even have a mug that says that. Do you have a local church that you recommend? I like to attend when I can, even if we’re traveling. Sometimes we all go together. Colt isn’t awake and I forgot to ask him last night.”
Colt had impressed her with his strong leadership and utmost respect for his team, and it was obvious they respected him. But that came naturally from anyone who spent more than five minutes with him. He was kind and commanding. Fair and friendly.
“He attended church with me, and I go to First Community over on Maple Street. It’s past town square about a mile. But they have an online service. I’m going to watch that this morning.” Her anxiousness would only serve as a distraction to anyone within five rows from her, and she’d end up leaving from being unable to sit calmly.
Mae poured her coffee and sipped it black. “Colt explained you suffer from anxiety with panic disorder.” She laid a gentle, tiny hand on Georgia’s upper arm. “We all understand, and this mess—these attacks—they can’t be doing an
ything but ramping up the fear gauge.”
Georgia appreciated her understanding and support. Another one of God’s graces.
“Hey, good morning.” Rhett Wallace entered the kitchen. Fully dressed and put together. He had warm brown eyes and thick dark hair with a little curl. He was the kind of guy a lost kid would single out for help.
“I’m going to church this morning. Colt said First Community was where he went. You going, Mae?”
“Yep. I have to get ready, though. Poppy is, too.”
“Colt said he was, too.” He eyed Georgia, and her face filled with heat.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine by myself for—”
Rhett shook his head. “We’re not risking it.”
Everyone wanted to go to church, and someone was going to end up on babysitting duty. Humiliation washed over her, and the tar ball grew. Now it was punching her gut.
Why did she have to be this way? “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ll keep away from windows and make sure the dogs go out before y’all leave.”
“Before we leave for where?” Colt asked as he breezed into the room, dressed casually. Jeans and a Mississippi State hoodie.
“Church,” Rhett said.
“Oh. I plan to read my Bible and watch online.” He headed for the coffeepot. “Thanks, Georgia, for the coffee.” As he strode by, she caught his fresh shower scent with a hint of masculine cologne. Couldn’t be aftershave, as he hadn’t shaved and sported a fair amount of stubble. Suited him well. In high school he never could grow a beard, and it continually irked him. But he wasn’t a boy anymore. The awareness of how much of a man he was made its point every time he entered a room.
“Rhett said you were going to church.” Guess he’d drawn the short stick. If only she could muster the moxie to go into the church and not freak out for an hour and a half.