Caught Up in the Touch (20 page)

“Scott informs us you witnessed a team rules violation. Is this true?”

“I saw Coach Wilde injecting Scott with something before lifting.” The words rolled too rapidly off Hunter’s tongue as if he’d already rehearsed them. And he probably had.

Logan shuffled a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. He had been royally fucked.

Rick rested a hand on his firearm and shifted in his seat, the leather of his thick belt and holster creaking. The whites of Hunter’s eyes bulged. For once, Logan appreciated Rick’s dickish intimidation move. Rick said, “You understand that Mr. Wilde could be fired or charged with a crime in light of your admission?”

Hunter’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his long, thin neck. His gaze shot back to Scott, but the other boy had left Hunter to navigate the situation alone, silent and with his back turned. Finally, Hunter said, “I saw Coach Wilde injecting Scott with something before lifting.”

Principal Hammond tried to rise, but Dalt raised a hand. “Hold up, Mr. Hammond. Hunter, you’re free to leave, but expect Officer Jackson to visit you soon.” His relief palpable, Hunter fumbled with the door before slipping through. Dalt continued. “Rick, you’ll need to investigate, correct?”

“That’s right. Statements and such. Based on Logan’s shock, I assume it will be his word against theirs.” Rick pulled out a small notebook and a stubby pencil.

“In light of the accusations, I’m putting you on unpaid leave, Logan. Do not talk to the boys and stay away from the games. Is that understood?” Dalt didn’t even turn around to deliver the blow.

Of course, Logan understood, but it stunk like betrayal, nonetheless. “I’ll tender my resignation immediately, if you’d prefer.”

Principal Hammond scooted forward and said, “That would be—”

“Unnecessary,” Dalt clipped out.

Ben Larkin stood, and Scott followed his cue like a dog. Ben said, “I would prefer his resignation, but I suppose unpaid leave will do while charges are pending. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I need to get back to the bank.”

Dalt rose too, giving the impression of two wild pigs squaring off. “Hold up, Ben. I’m not done. Scott, you’re off the team. Go pack up your locker.”

Ben Larkin’s face flushed. “My son is a victim. This is outrageous.”

“Regardless of who gave it to him, your son knew he was getting shot up with a PED. He broke the promise he made to me, to this team, to himself.”

Scott swayed and grabbed the edge of the desk. “But … what about college ball? What about Alabama?” His head came up, his gaze finally meeting Logan’s. The teenager hadn’t learned the art of screening his emotions. Regrets piled up behind his eyes, but also confusion.

Ben bulldozed over his son, his finger in Dalt’s face. “You idiot. Scott is the best linesman you have on the team on both sides of the ball. Your running backs will be getting negative yardage. You won’t make it within spittin’ distance of the playoffs without him.”

Dalt rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Maybe not. But off the PEDs, I doubt Scott’s stellar performance on the field would continue anyway. You understand why you’re off the team, don’t you, Scott?”

The boy looked shell-shocked. “I do.”

Ben Larkin moved onto easier prey and cornered Principal Hammond to argue Scott’s case. The principal’s handkerchief came back out for a wipe, but his answer zinged around the room. “No. I’m sorry, Mr. Larkin, but I’m in complete agreement with Coach Dalton. You are welcome to present your concerns at the next school board meeting, but until then, I’m afraid Scott is off the team.”

“He’ll miss three games before the next meeting, goddammit. Come on, Scott. We’re going straight to the superintendent.” Ben Larkin flung the door open and stalked out. The door bounced off the cement wall, reclosing itself with a bang.

Scott walked slowly to the door. Dalt called out, “Scott, even though you’re off the team, you can come by if you need to talk. I hope you know that.”

Without turning around, Scott nodded and opened the door without the violent energy of his father. Principal Hammond followed him into the hall, closing the door gently.

Dalt pushed back in his chair, propped his feet on his desk, and laced his hands behind his head. “What a totally unexpected clusterfuck.”

Logan sat in the still-warm seat Scott had occupied. “I didn’t give him PEDs. I swear on Ada’s grave.”

Dalt tilted his head, so their eyes met, the blue intense and cutting. “You don’t think I know that? I have the feeling Rick knows that too.”

Rick stood and paced the back of the room. “Yep. Both those boys were lying their faces off. Couldn’t tell about old Ben. His outrage seemed genuine, but maybe he’s the one shooting his son up.”

Logan swiveled and laid an arm over the back of the chair. “A father shooting his son up with drugs?”

Rick crossed his arms and cocked a foot out. “Dude, you wouldn’t believe the shit I see on a daily basis. Falcon might be small, but its rug can hide more dirt than you can imagine. That Hunter kid”—Rick thumbed to the door—“I’ve been to his house on multiple occasions.”

Logan asked, “For what? Domestic?”

Rick pursed his lips before saying, “You name it. He’s not a bad kid, but that kind of environment is hard to crawl out of.”

A mallet landed on Logan’s temple with every heartbeat. “What happens now? Do you arrest me even though you think I’m innocent?”

Rick adjusted his gun belt. Over the past year, he’d gotten back in shape and nearly lost his gut. “Nah. I’ll gather statements, lean on Scott and Hunter, hope one of them cracks. Then, we’ll reevaluate. I’ll be in touch.”

Rick slipped out, and Logan turned to Dalt. They regarded each other in silence much like they’d done before raids in Afghanistan.

“I had to suspend you.”

“I know.”

“I’ve got your back. We’ll get to the truth.”

“Yep.”

“I can’t come out to the restaurant to help you replace those burners, not until…”

Logan closed his eyes and nodded.

“I’m sorry.” True remorse weighed the trite words.

Hands on knees, Logan pushed out of the chair. His past disappointments scrolled, and he was glad Ada wasn’t alive. Even if he cleared his name, the smudge of suspicion would remain. It always did. “Well, I’d best prepare myself to be the town pariah. Again.”

He walked out of the practice pavilion, not bothering to clean out his desk. An early September chill matched his mood. A nap wouldn’t alleviate the exhaustion settling bone deep.

Instead of heading to the restaurant, he stopped at Ada’s grave. He crunched through a scattering of leaves. Almost three years she’d been gone. Hard to believe the earth hadn’t spun off its axis when her life force left it. He wasn’t a regular churchgoer. His temple was nature—ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

He squatted in front of the black and gray marbled tombstone. Adaline Elizabeth Wilde. He ran his fingers over the lettering, lingering on their shared last name.

“Well, Ada, the shit has hit the proverbial fan, and I’m covered in it. Any advice?”

Sometimes around the house he sensed Ada wrapped around him like a warm hug, the only kind she gave. When he was a teenager, she would squeeze him around the waist, and somehow, even though he was already several inches taller and fifty pounds heavier, a sense of security would wash through him. Whether through her ghost or his memories, he found a small measure of comfort in the deserted graveyard.

He straightened and patted the cold, jagged top of the tombstone. He drove to Adaline’s with his head still throbbing, but the urge to curl up in a ball in a dark room had been dampened. The routine of Adaline’s distracted him from focusing on Scott’s accusations, although he noticed the number of empty tables. He wasn’t naïve. Ben Larkin held sway over the town. Sides would be chosen.

Thank God he hadn’t taken Jessie to bed. That kind of intimacy would have made things infinitely worse. Since meeting him she’d quit her job and become estranged from her family. Asking her to deal with his mess when she was trying get her own life straightened out wasn’t fair. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if she hadn’t washed her hands of Falcon and was halfway to Richmond. There was nothing worth staying for, but, damn, it hurt to think about her leaving. Hurt bad.

As he wiped the same section of the bar for the third time, Darcy barreled through the door, her agitation and worry swirling like the winds before a tornado. She took a stool in front of him. He waited for the storm to erupt.

“It’s bullshit.”

The two closest tables of patrons sent not-so-discreet glances their way. “Keep your voice down and a smile on your face, cuz. You shouldn’t be here. Dalt needs to keep pristine, and his wife fraternizing with a suspected drug pusher—”

The laugh Darcy managed was one a villain might give right before throwing the hero to a pool of sharks. “I might be married to the Falcon football coach, but I have yet to be brainwashed by him. You are the only family I have left, and I’ll be damned to hell if I leave you to face this alone.”

“Seriously, you should go.” He tried to cover the emotional wellspring threatening to overtake him with a nonchalant smile.

Darcy wasn’t fooled and grabbed his hand when he tried to turn away. “How many times did you defend me on the playground?”

He rubbed over his mouth and jaw with his other hand. His voice sounded like it was coming out of a meat grinder. “This isn’t elementary school. I could be arrested, charged. Dalt could be fired if this taints him or the program. After what happened seven years ago, the town will react with vengeance, not forgiveness.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes, but the stubborn jut of her chin and her tone, quiet yet hard, was an exact mimicry of Ada’s librarian-shushing voice. “I will not abandon you.”

Answering tears stung his eyes, and for a desperate moment he thought he might burst into tears like his three-year-old self. Instead, he pushed his cheek into his shoulder for a moment, locating a dim shadow of his easygoing façade. “Poor Dalt.”

“You should feel sorry for him. I tore him a new one as soon as I heard. Suspension?”

He fixed them both glasses of iced tea. “He could have asked for my resignation.”

“He told me Hunter Galloway corroborated Scott’s story. I don’t understand it.”

“Even Rick thinks they’re lying. I can’t figure if this is all Scott or if someone else is telling Scott what to do and say. His father? A college recruiter?”

“Don’t worry. I’m putting my agents on the job immediately.”

“Agents?”

“Three ancient, wise librarians who go by the code names Orange Halo, Candy Cane, and QB.”

Laughter burst out, helping burn away a portion of his stress. “I get Orange Halo for Miss Esmerelda, and Candy Cane for Miss Constance, but why QB for Miss Jane?”

“She’s the mastermind. She pretends to be all innocent and squishy like a movie grandmother, which is exactly why everyone trusts her with secrets. She’ll uncover something.” She drained her glass. “I need something stronger. How about a Long Island tea?”

“I promised Dalt I would never, ever serve you Long Island teas again. You have the tolerance of an ant. Seriously, cuz, go make things right with your husband. I feel a million percent better knowing the librarians of Falcon are set to uncover a drug ring and clear my name.”

Darcy jabbed her finger in his face. “I hear your sarcasm and don’t appreciate it. I hate leaving you here at the mercy of the wolves.” She cast an angry look over her shoulder.

“It’s sparse tonight,” he said.

“I noticed.”

Darcy had always held a more jaded view of Falcon than Logan had, but then again his youthful rebellions had been his doing, and the talk and disdain had been a punishment he accepted. Darcy, on the other hand, had suffered slights from the town through the fault of her mother, not hers. Unlike his cousin, he’d never fought the ties that bound him to Falcon. He’d gone away to college, but his heart ached for home like a tree cut off from its nourishing roots.

“I’ll be all right.” He hoped the words sounded more convincing than they felt.

The front door opened, and Jessica paused inside the entry. She was dressed for business and in his favorite red heels. Obviously, she’d heard. People in town who’d known him since he was three believed the rumors or at least found them worth repeating. She’d known him less than two weeks. He tensed, waiting to be skewered.

Jessica strode over and slammed a file folder on the bar top. “Unbelievable. I was a witness as to what happened in the alley, Logan. I’ll testify.”

She emanated a different sort of strength than his cousin, less visceral but no less potent. No wonder she’d been a success in Richmond. Not a single vulnerability was visible. Had he imagined her shy blushes and the shadows of pain in her eyes?

He let out a gusty breath he hadn’t realized he’d pent up. “I’m hoping it won’t come to that, but you can tell Rick your side. That might help.”

“Anything, Logan. I’ll do anything to help.” Her voice was clipped and confident. Jessica Montgomery was someone you wanted in your corner in a fight, and she’d aligned herself with him, no questions asked. For the first time since the disastrous meeting, he found a true smile, a bit anemic maybe, but true nonetheless.

“Yep, I believe you will be all right, cuz,” Darcy said softly. Her phone beeped an incoming text, and her smile morphed into a grimace. “Yikes. Robbie’s text sounds pissy. I’d best scat. Come by the library before you open for lunch sometime this week, Logan. We’ll reconnoiter.” Darcy tossed her hair and headed for the door.

The knock of a glass on wood came from the opposite end of the bar. One of his regulars needed a refill.

Jessica shimmied on a bar stool and opened the file folder. She waved him away. “You take care of business, I’ll wait for you.”

He grabbed up a pitcher of tea and turned away before she could see the impact of her words. The atmosphere was more somber than usual, full of hushed conversations and furtive glances, but the strain of being under a magnifying glass eased, knowing she believed in him.

Chapter 15

The numbers on the printed-out spreadsheet jumbled. All Jessica could focus on were the gazes directed at her, or maybe more accurately, through her to Logan. The hair on her neck prickled, and heat rushed her body. Not panic, but fury. How did he bear it? If it wouldn’t make things worse, she would turn around and give everyone her best barracuda stare.