CHAPTER TWENTY

The news of Petey Rossi’s suicide was all over the news that evening. His autopsy would take at least a week, possibly longer, but the news was already reporting the death could have been related to a recent injury, drug use, or even concussions. Every reporter commented that Glenda Pinken was under a microscope.

“Trevon? You okay, baby?” asked Claudette, giving him a big hug.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be okay, Miss Claudette. Petey and I weren’t best buds, but we respected one another. This last year, he was acting weird, but I attributed it to him getting older like we all were. I didn’t know that he and Debra had split up.”

“People always have something to hide, honey. You don’t know why, and you don’t know when, but it happens to folks, and they’re embarrassed to speak about it. I imagine a man like Petey, who was used to success, didn’t like to admit that he’d failed at marriage.”

“No, I guess he didn’t. He and Debra were married while in college. She got pregnant with their first son, and they sort of had to get married. They loved each other, but I think that was a lot for Petey to take on. Debra dropped out of school to take care of the baby. He tried to continue playing ball and getting his degree. Eventually, the Fire came calling and offered him a lot of money.”

“That must have been hard for him to turn away,” said Jake. “A man wants to take care of his family.”

“He was from a very traditional Italian family, and they expected him to do just that. He was tough to get to know sometimes. I should have been more patient with him.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, son,” said Jake. “I think we can pretty much be assured that he wasn’t healthy, both body and mind. He wasn’t in a place that would have worked for either of you to have fireside chats.”

“I guess not. You played, didn’t you, Jake?”

“I did,” he nodded. “A lifetime ago, but I played. I loved every moment of it. Then my mama got sick, and my sisters needed an adult to take care of them. So, I left one future for another. It brought me home, and eventually, it brought me to Claudette, which is where I needed to be.” He kissed her forehead and hugged her close. Claudette smiled up at him, nodding.

“He asked me to stop her,” said Trevon. “I’m not even sure how to do that any longer. What if the other owners are doing the same thing?”

“They’re not,” said Georgie, walking up to them. “Kat and Kari went to visit the teams in Buffalo, Carolina, and Memphis. They were more than willing to show the contracts and open up their medical records. The owner of the Carolina Crabs, he might want to re-think that name, by the way. Anyway, his name is Ted Lister. He said he’s considering selling the team or shutting it down altogether. He wasn’t surprised by what Glenda is doing. Her sister, Gwen sold her shares to get away from her sister, and rumor has it the brother will be next.”

“Mr. Lister was always nice to me when I met him a few years back. Really genuine with a true love of the game,” said Trevon.

“He said the league has been struggling for a while now. They all bought franchises and invested their money for a business investment, tax deduction, nothing but for the love of the game, really. They’re all losing money because they’re just not able to meet the expectations of the NFL and to be enveloped in their fold. We’ve got more than enough evidence to shut her down,” said Georgie.

“No,” he said, shaking his head, “I’m sorry, Miss Georgie, but no. I want to get her for Butch and Petey’s deaths. I just know that she’s responsible for them. I want to make sure we have everything that will put her behind bars.”

“We will,” nodded Nine. “Her sister is gone now. Sold her shares, sold her home, and she and her family moved to Boise, where they had a house. I guess she couldn’t get away fast enough.”

“Maybe we should talk to the brother,” said Trevon. “I didn’t know him very well. His part of the business really didn’t touch the players, but he might talk to me if we reach out.”

“We can try,” nodded Ghost. “Do you have his number?”

“I have it,” said Georgie. “I was going to reach out to him anyway. Is he married?”

“As far as I know, he’s not. In fact, I’ve never seen him with a woman, or man for that matter.”

“Go ahead and call him. See if he’ll meet with us,” said Nine.

Trevon nodded, dialing the number he had for him if players needed to have a conversation about ticket sales. They were only given four tickets a piece for family and friends. If they wanted more, they had to call Glen Pinken and make a special request.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Pinken, this is Trevon Marks. How are you, sir?”

“Trevon,” he said with a calm tone. “How are you?”

“I’m well, sir. In fact, doing better every day.”

“So, you plan to try and return to the league? We could sure use you on the Fire again,” he said unconvincingly.

“Mr. Pinken, you and I both know that your sister would never allow me to return. No offense intended. I’m calling because I’d like to speak with you about Butch and Petey. In private, sir.”

There was a long pause and the sounds of papers shuffling, then a door closing. He could hear the man’s shoes tapping on wood floors and then the squeak of a chair as he sat down.

“Trevon, this is a very delicate matter,” he whispered.

“Mr. Pinken, you and I both know that your sister is hiding medical records as well as records regarding that building and stadium. I know that Miss Gwen left, and I have a feeling that you’re thinking about it as well. I know that you’re a good man, Mr. Pinken. You’ve always been nice to me, and I know you were good to Butch and Petey. All I’m asking for is a few minutes of your time.”

“She can’t know. If she found out that I was speaking to you about all of this, she’d kill me. No joke, Trevon, she’d kill me.”

“I promise you that we can do this in private. You tell me when you can get away, and I’ll tell you where to meet us. It would be outside of the city, in a little area in the country.”

“Okay,” he said, finally speaking. “Okay. I can get away tomorrow morning early.”

“I’ll send you a text with the address of a diner. No one will recognize you out here. I promise.”

At six a.m., Trevon, Ghost, and Nine were seated in the café at the front of the property. They’d directed Glen to the café, assuring him that no one would see him or recognize him. The moment he left his gated community, the comms boys had him in their sights.

“Do you think he’ll show?” asked Nine.

“I hope so. This is awful early for me,” grinned Trevon. Nine and Ghost laughed, shaking their heads.

“We’ve spent years waking at 0500 or earlier. You learn as SEALs to operate on little to no sleep and be ready to go at any moment. It’s been hard as we became semi-retired to learn to sleep in, but a beautiful wife will help convince you to do that.”

“Y’all definitely have beautiful wives, respectfully, sirs.” Nine and Ghost laughed, nodding again. “I hope to have that one day. And if you don’t mind me saying so, this doesn’t feel like retirement at all. Y’all work every bit as hard as the others here.”

“We appreciate that but don’t tell our wives. We promised to slow down and take less risks. That hasn’t exactly worked out for us,” smirked Ghost.

“I can see why that would be hard. I mean, playing football, playing a game, doesn’t compare to risking your life for others, but I can only imagine what the adrenaline rush must feel like.” In the dark winter morning, headlights shone through the front windows of the café as a car parked outside.

“Nice car,” said Nine.

“Yeah, I think the team actually paid for it,” frowned Trevon. The bell above the door rang as the man walked in wearing a black hoodie and black sweatpants. Trevon smiled, standing to greet him.

“Trevon,” he nodded.

“It’s okay, Mr. Pinken. This isn’t a covert operation,” he smiled.

“Isn’t it?” he asked, looking at Ghost and Nine. “Are they former players? I don’t recognize them.”

“No, sir, they’re not. They’re good friends who I’m working with now. Please, have a seat.” Nine waved over Jackie, the morning manager of the café.

“Coffee?” Pinken nodded, and Jackie poured everyone fresh, hot coffee. “I strongly recommend the cinnamon rolls.”

“Sure. Why not,” said Pinken. “I really do need to make this fast.”

“Alright,” said Ghost. “We know that your sister is hiding the medical histories of these players and, in fact, attempted to bury, literally, the information on several players and their suspected CTE results. Top that with the fact that your facility is loaded with asbestos, and you’re sitting on a massive lawsuit.”

Glen sat back in the seat, staring at his coffee cup. Jackie placed the cinnamon roll in front of him, and he cut a piece, letting it melt in his mouth. The gooiness of the caramel and cinnamon warmed his insides as he took a sip of the coffee.

Nine watched him carefully. This was a man who wanted to run but was unfortunately trapped in the booth with Trevon next to him.

“Did you know?” asked Trevon.

“No. Not all of it. We suspected that some of the players were more injured than was let on, but she never allowed anyone to see the medical reports, and as you know, the league doesn’t require us to publish them.”

“And the stadium and facility?” asked Ghost.

“That I knew about,” he frowned. “Listen, it’s not an excuse, but it is fact. My sister is a viper. A killer of the worst kind. She hides, she stalks, she plays people against one another.”

“What do you mean?” asked Trevon.

“Butch knew that you were seeing Lara.” Trevon’s face fell in shock. He stared at Glen, then at the men across the table.

“How did you know about that?” he frowned.

“I knew because my sister paid Lara to have an affair with you and then told Butch about it. I think Butch knew what she was trying to do, keep him distracted and unable to play at the highest level.”

“Lara played me?” frowned Trevon.

“I’m sorry.” The big man moved so fast that Ghost and Nine couldn’t reach him. He gripped the throat of Glen Pinken, dragging him like a rag doll from the booth.

“Not as sorry as you’re going to be.”