CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“How did he take it?” asked Nine as they sat down for dinner.

“I think he had an idea it was coming,” said Ian. “That’s a solid young man, and he’s not stupid. Too bad Lara will figure that out too late. We haven’t been able to get access to the training rooms, but according to Trevon, there aren’t any cameras. A few years ago, the guys bitched about it because they felt like Glenda was watching them. Naked.”

“That woman has got to go,” said Gaspar, shaking his head.

“We’re sending Angel and Trak to the stadium tonight to do a little digging and see if they can find anything in the tub or one of the lockers,” said Nine.

“Who will be on the outside?” asked Ian.

“Pork and Kegger. There’s no night security at the stadium, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“The more we’re learning about this, the more I can’t help but feel this is just some janky low-budget league that someone is playing with,” said Ghost. “What else has Georgie found?”

“Nothing else yet, but she’s like a dog with a bone once she gets started. She knows that there’s something strange happening, and she’ll find it.”

Trevon walked into the cafeteria with Zeke and Noelle, smiling with a wave at the table of seniors.

“Hey, I got an e-mail from Carigan,” said Trevon. “I guess her mother told her that I wouldn’t be coming around any longer, and she just wanted to tell me that she’d miss me.”

“I’m sorry, man,” said Nine.

“Me too. I think she’s angry about Butch not being there more often, but she’s a good kid. She’ll figure it all out. Anyway, she sent me the last few e-mails from her father. I gave them to Miss Georgie, but I think they sound like someone saying goodbye.”

Ian took the sheets that he handed to him and set them on the table so everyone could read them.

“I know it’s been hard not having me there all the time, Carigan. But I hope you know that I love you more than anyone or anything else in the world. I want to retire and be a bigger part of your life, but I have to do this with some finesse. Not exactly something I’m known for. I know you won’t understand this, but the timing has to be perfect for me.”

“Rather cryptic, don’t you think?” frowned Ian.

“I guess. But the second one is more so,” said Trevon.

“I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be here, honey. Know that you have been my greatest accomplishment, my greatest achievement, and you always will be. No matter what is said about me in the beginning, don’t believe them. Believe what you know. Believe what Trevon and your mother tell you. Believe in what teammates tell you. Nothing else matters to me.

“I’ve made a lot of money in my career, and I’ve made sure that it’s been invested wisely so that you can do whatever you want in this life. Don’t judge me, Carigan. Please don’t judge me, but things have to happen this way. One day, I hope you’ll understand.”

“Jesus, what the fuck?” muttered Nine.

“I can’t figure it out,” said Trevon. “It felt like he was saying goodbye to her long before he was actually leaving.”

“I think he was, son. We just have to figure out if he was willingly saying goodbye or if someone was after him.”

“How do we do that?” he asked.

“You let us figure that out. Is there anyone we should try to speak with on the team?”

“Everyone that I told you about,” he said, shaking his head. “You’ll have a hard time getting to them right now because of the playoffs, but I know they’ll talk to you when you’re ready.”

“Then I guess we wait until the playoffs are done,” said Nine.

Trevon nodded, then excused himself, taking a seat with a few of the younger men. He was fast becoming one of the team whether he recognized it or not. The big man always had a smile on his face and a skip in his step. No matter what. No matter how he was feeling inside, he was always cheerful.

Angel, Trak, Kegger, and Pork parked their vehicle down the street from the Fire’s facility. Just as Trevon had said, there were no guards, no cameras, and no security whatsoever. Either the Pinken family were the cheapest business owners known to man, or they didn’t give a shit about their property. Either way, they were about to have a rude surprise.

“We’ll tap comms if we see anything, but it doesn’t look like you guys will be interrupted,” said Pork. Trak just nodded, walking toward the facility. He touched the door and then searched around it, looking for anything that could be hidden.

“Nothing,” he said to Angel. “It’s only the lock on the door.”

“Well, this should be fast.”

Trak knelt in front of the door, and in less than sixty seconds, he had picked the lock, and the door opened. They entered the building, locking it behind them just in case. Slowly, they made their way down the halls, looking for any hidden cameras or security devices.

“This is crazy,” said Angel. “There is nothing protecting this place. Nothing.”

“Lockers,” said Trak, nodding at the next door. Pushing the door open, they both scrunched their noses at the stench.

“Jesus, does no one clean this place or disinfect? That’s some serious man-funk. I’ve been in close quarters with guys my entire career, and if things started stinking like this, we’d force someone to clean that shit. It’s like body sweat, ball sweat, and feet.”

“I might be sick,” frowned Trak. “I’m never sick.”

“Here,” said Angel, handing him a mask. “Put this on.”

“What made you bring these?” Angel shrugged, securing his own mask on his face.

“I don’t know. I think my thought was there could be blood or something that we would want to protect ourselves from. I never thought about body funk.”

The locks on the lockers could have been picked by a middle-schooler. They were simple combination locks that required one tool to open them all. Some, they wish they hadn’t opened.

“God, does this guy ever wash his shit? I thought they had someone doing laundry for them?”

“Apparently not,” frowned Trak. “This guy has a serious obsession with porn. Look. Magazines, videos, posters, all of it. I’m not touching those socks.”

“I think we were right. This is just a pretend league, and some of these younger guys don’t even know it yet,” said Angel.

“Look,” said Trak. “These two lockers both have bottles of pills for migraines.”

“Damn. Well, that’s not suspicious at all, is it?” Angel shuffled some papers on one of the locker shelves and stopped. “Hey. Look. A copy of a contract proposal for Petey Rossi. Wasn’t he on Trevon’s list?”

“Yep.”

“Hey, guys – we heard some noise and realized it was inside the stadium. We climbed the fire ladders on the outside and can see that someone is on the field digging a hole. It looks like a woman.”

“We’ll head that way once they’re gone. Keep an eye out,” said Angel.

After finding a few more interesting items in the lockers, they found the training room and started looking inside the tubs.

“I think this one has mold in it,” frowned Angel.

Trak looked down inside the tub and shook his head in disgust. Moving to the next one, he knew it was where Butch had died. The position of it matched the one that had been shown in the police reports and coroner photos. Shining his flashlight into the tub, he stopped, seeing something stuck in the metal seam along the edge.

“Did you find something?” asked Angel.

“I think I just found our murder weapon.” Using his own knife, he pried the piece of steel from the tub. It was a single razor blade.

“Maybe he pushed it back in there after he sliced his wrists,” said Angel.

“Or, whoever slit his wrists dropped it and didn’t want to dig for it. If Butch had done it, the tub would have been full of his blood, and since it was an ice bath, it would have slowed the blood flow, not increased it. Remember, there was water and ice on the floor when the coach came in and found him. If he had tried to dig for that blade, he could have splashed everywhere. I’m guessing someone else tried, and he fought them.”

“Let’s take it with us and see if we can find any prints.”

“Female just left. We’re headed down to the field. See you there.”

When Trak and Angel stepped out onto the field, they walked toward the two dark figures standing at the 40-yard line. There was a terrible attempt at placing the turf back where it should have been, dirt all over the grass.

Using their own tools, they reopened the hole and weren’t surprised to find two manila folders filled with correspondence, including medical tests. Trak looked at the first sheet of paper and then looked up at his teammates.

“I think we have a problem.”