Double Play (8 page)

He laughed
bitterly. “I wouldn’t worry about coming up with your own material.
They’re going to have plenty of questions.”

“
Roger, come on. You’ve got to help me out here.”

“
It’s
out of my hands, Cat.” He threw his palms in the air as if to
demonstrate how helpless he was. “Hell, I’ve got to meet with them
right before you. I can’t do anything for either of us.”

He placed his
hand on her back and guided her onto the elevator. Her stomach
dropped as it dawned on her. She’d spent the last five minutes
thinking Roger needed her to boost his spirits, or that he was
looking for an explanation, but he hadn’t met her in the parking
lot out of concern. He was out there to make sure she came into the
building. Like a bailiff, he was going to deliver her to the judge,
jury and executioner.

The conference
room was a place she went to every single day, but it was a lot
more inviting when you were sitting in one of the fifty folding
chairs versus the staunch, lonely podium at the front. Roger’s
conference had begun a half hour ago and for the first time since
she started with the team, she was persona non grata. He’d said it
was better this way; it would just make matters worse if she was
present before he’d had a chance to address the issue. Instead,
he’d bring her in when he was done with this meeting. She took a
deep breath and started to walk toward the doorway.

“
Ms. McDaniel.”

She stopped,
grateful for any interruption, until she saw a shiny silver badge
thrust in her face. The giant buffalo emblem made it resemble the
back side of a flattened Indian Head nickel.

“
I’m
Detective Kahn. We met last night?”

He said it as
though it was a question, like somehow she’d forgotten the events
that had occurred only a few hours ago. She nodded and met his hard
stare
, deciding she hated his
unreadable dark eyes
.

“
I
remember.”

“
I’m
sure you’ve heard about Ryan Brokaw’s status.”

“
I
have. Glad he’s okay.”

His tilted his
head to the side, not taking his eyes off of her. “I’m sure you
are.”

“
What
do you mean?”

“
Let
me tell you a story.”

Cat took a step
backward toward the press conference. “I don’t really have
time—”

“
Yeah,
you do. They’re still hammering Roger pretty hard in
there.”

She stole a look
into the conference room. Indeed, the reporters were still firing
off one question after another. At least right now Detective Kahn
was doing most of the talking.

“
Okay.”

“
I
didn’t always work in Buffalo. I was trained NYPD.”

“
I
kinda figured.” She had noted his Brooklyn accent last night. He
might as well walk around with Atlantic Avenue stamped on his
forehead.

“
Bed-Stuy, born and raised,” he replied proudly. “My first year
on the force, there was a brawl at a second-story apartment in
Crown Heights. Woman died after being pushed from the balcony,
smacked the sidewalk and her head cracked open. Brains splashed all
the way into the gutters.”

Cat scrunched her
nose in disgust. “Why are you telling me this?”

“
I’m
only saying …. Last night could’ve been really messy.”

“
It
could’ve
been
,
but it wasn’t.” Cat took a deep
breath.

Detective Kahn
peeked into the conference room and mugged an exaggerated frown.
“Yikes, they look like a bloodthirsty bunch. I can’t imagine the
scene you’d be walking into if your pitcher had ended up like my
Crown Heights vic.”

Cat eyed him
warily. She was beginning to wish she’d listened to Quinn and taken
a more standoffish stance last night. Her cooperation had resulted
in nothing but mind games and hassle. She crossed her arms
defiantly.

“
I
don’t think I see your point.”

“
You
don’t see a lot. You didn’t see who was drinking last night, you
didn’t see who was playing cards, you didn’t see what happened on
your own balcony. For a reporter, you sure walk around with
blinders on.”

“
I was
asleep last night. The only thing I saw was a beach in
Fiji.”

More accurately,
she and Benji
were
honeymooning on a beach in Fiji while it was being ravaged by a
monsoon.

His eyes clouded
in confusion.

“
As
in, I was dreaming?”
she
added.

Nightmaring
was more like it, but she
didn't need Detective Kahn analyzing her wedding
anxiety
.

“
Ah,
that’s right.” He cleared his throat and mimed finger quotes.
“Asleep.”

“
It
was two in the morning. I was asleep because I had to be here, at
work, even before the impromptu media meeting for which I’m
probably late.”

Detective Kahn
craned his neck just enough to peek into the doorway. “It does
sound like they’re wrapping up in there. You might want to head
in.” He pulled a business card out of his pocket. “In case I didn’t
give you one of these last night.”

“
Um …
okay.” She studied the card and for a moment debated throwing it
right into the trash can next to them. Instead, she stuck it in her
pocket.

“
In
case you remember anything you didn’t see
,
”
he
added.

A Soldiers intern
stepped out of the conference room and gave her a nervous smile.
“Cat, they’re ready for you.”

She took a deep
breath and let the detective’s snide remark pass. What she was
about to confront would make his prodding feel like lunch with an
old friend. She clenched her hands together and followed the intern
into the conference room, looking up briefly to give her eager
colleagues a curt smile. She quickly tore her eyes away from their
fervid gawking.

Roger rose and
pulled a chair out for her. His smile was ostensibly reassuring,
but it also contained relief that his own interview was over. He’d
loaded the bases, but she was batting cleanup.

She pulled the
menacing microphone forward, straightened the electrical cord and
cleared her throat. When she could stall no longer, she leaned in.
“Good morning.” Her voice didn’t register in the microphone and she
cringed. The intern hurried over and flipped a switch. Cat blushed
and tried again. “Good morning.”

The reporters
didn’t care about her embarrassment and began lobbing the high,
hard ones.

“
Ms. McDaniel, were you playing the
poker
game?”

“
Ms. McDaniel, did you see what happened?”

“
Ms. McDaniel, what were Ryan’s words before he
fell?”

“
Ms. McDaniel, do you think alcohol was a
factor?”

For the last ten
months she’d been Cat to these same people every day, but now she
was “Ms. McDaniel”.

She silenced the
questions with an open hand. “I’ll save you guys the trouble and
tell you what happened.” As she collected her thoughts, her eyes
trailed to the conference room door, where Detective Kahn was
slouching against the threshold. He raised an eyebrow in challenge.
Ignoring him, she addressed her colleagues.

“
My
half-brother, who is currently a houseguest at my apartment, had a
few friends over last night, who happened to be Soldiers players.
Apparently, they had decided to have a friendly game of poker and
relax before the playoffs tomorrow. They ended up hanging out on
the balcony and Ryan accidentally fell over the ledge. I was home
but not present.”

“
Were
they drinking?”

“
Did
you talk to Ryan at all during the party?”

“
How
long did it take emergency personnel to arrive?”

“
Were
there any other substances involved?”

Cat ran her hands
through her hair and sighed. She wished Roger would’ve prepped her
for this or at least given her some guidelines.

“
Look,
these are adults. I think they had a couple of beers but there’s no
hard liquor in my house and definitely no
other substances
.”
She glared at the reporter who’d asked the question—a snooty woman
from a local rag that didn’t even have a sports section. She only
showed up for charity events and scandals.

“
I
thought you weren’t present.”

“
I’d
know if there were drugs in my house.”

That wasn’t
exactly true, especially since Quinn’s duffel bag came adorned with
Legalize It
and
Alstublieft Amsterdam
patches, but
this was one time she could count on his stinginess. Quinn wouldn’t
share a bag of jelly beans, let alone a bag of
marijuana.

“
Did
you interact with Ryan during the post-rally celebration at Aiken’s
Steak ’n Taters?”

Cat couldn’t even
tell who was asking the question. The bright lights were causing
her to blink repeatedly. Her heart was threatening to thump its way
out of her chest. She could feel Detective Kahn’s eyes boring into
her. She wiped her palms on her thighs and tried to
focus.

“
I
don’t—”

“
Have
the police searched your apartment?”

“
I—”

“
Do
you think Ryan will be one hundred percent by spring
training?”

“
I’m
not sure—”

A hand clasped
her shoulder and Roger took hold of the microphone. “I think she’s
told you everything she knows. Let’s give her a break now, huh?
I’ll handle the questions about Ryan’s prognosis.”

Cat was still in
too much shock to give him a grateful smile when he excused her
with a nod toward the door. As she headed out, she noticed that
Detective Kahn was gone. Thanking God for small favors, she trudged
back to her cubicle.

“
You’ve ruined the season.”

“
Thanks for nothing, you stupid twat.”

“
You
suck, your writing sucks and I hope a beaver gnaws off your
fingers.”

“
Aiken
should fire your dumb ass.”

“
You’re proof of why gingers are evil.”

“
Go
back to the Chips.”

“
Thanks from Chicago!”

“
Rot
in hell.”

Cat slammed her
laptop shut. That had been the tip of the iceberg. Her email
account was full of thousands of messages from angry Buffalonians
and happy Chicagoans. The situation wasn’t much better outside her
office, where the eyes of every coworker who passed by shot daggers
in her cubicle. She’d eaten breakfast and lunch at her desk, making
do with the contents of her emergency drawer—Benji’s homemade trail
mix and bottled water. Unfortunately, her cubicle didn’t include a
private bathroom, so she could ignore their outrage no
longer.

As she came out
of the ladies room, everyone stopped whispering and pretended to be
busy at work. She sighed and headed straight for Roger’s office.
His assistant was nowhere to be found so she charged right
in.

“
Roger, I just—” she stopped upon seeing his office full of
suits. “Oh. I’m sorry to interrupt.”

Feeling her
cheeks begin to burn, she started to back out through the
doorway.

Roger smiled.
“It’s fine. What do you need, Catriona?”

“
I
just wanted to … well … I feel like I should say that I’m sorry
again for everything that happened at my place last
night.”

“
Ms. McDaniel, come in
,
”
said George
Hudson.
The team owner extended his hand and she reluctantly
stepped inside, afraid to meet anyone’s eyes.

She shook
George
’s
hand. They’d
already met numerous times but she didn’t expect him to remember
her. Of course, now he wouldn’t soon forget her.

“
Mr. Hudson, again, I’m sorry for my involvement. I had no
idea that anything like this would happen.”

“
Of
course you
didn’t
, dear.
It was an unfortunate accident. I’m sure you’re taking quite the
verbal
lashing for
it.”

That was putting
it mildly. She’d prefer an actual lashing
, whip and all
.

“
You
could say that. I’ve heard from quite a few fans today. I might
have to change my email address.”

Roger shook his
head. “You know diehards; as soon as game one comes, they’ll forget
all about it.”

Cat
did
know diehard fans. Hell, three years ago she’d been one of them.
There was a time that she was the one typing threats in her
pajamas, armed with only a laptop and a grudge. This insider’s
knowledge is how she knew that “game one” meant two possible
outcomes for her email account: the Soldiers would win and she’d be
spared changing her email address or they’d lose and she’d have
enough hate mail to crash her computer.

“
Our
more reasonable fans would never blame you,” Roger said.