The Lakeside Conspiracy (12 page)

CHAPTER 45

It was 11:25 p.m. when Max sat down at the kitchen table. He pulled out his legal pad. What were his game plans accomplishing? His team had just fallen to 1-3. It might have cost him his job. He’d probably be fired on Monday. Maybe Jack had already talked to Bill and was letting Dave know he’d put in a good word for him. As far as Max knew, he might already be out of a job.

His marriage game plan was next. Well, he’d tried. But that wasn’t going anywhere. He’d come up with some ways Michelle would feel loved by him, but she never responded to his texts, so it might just be too little, too late.

And the Lakeside game plan—the one that would give him insight into what was going on with Jack Murphy and Dante’s mother and Dante’s death. Well, despite his best efforts, that had backfired. He was no closer to knowing what had happened to Dante. And by sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, as Jack had put it, Dante’s mother was…what? What was she? Missing? On vacation? Dead?

He wasn’t sure what to do next. He knew a phone call to the police wouldn’t accomplish anything. What could he say that wouldn’t make him look like a paranoid fool? The one thing he knew for sure was that the police were wrong about the accident. There had been rear end damage to Dante’s car. And there had been skid marks. There was no way his brakes had failed. And Max had evidence to prove it.

He put his forehead down on the table. He couldn’t help feeling like he’d given it his best shot, but his best shot wasn’t good enough. He was actually making things worse. Jack had warned him, but he hadn’t listened. He should have learned several years earlier that you just couldn’t fix everything.

He’d tried to fix things when Sarah got sick. He took her to every specialist. He took her to Mayo Clinic. He took her to MD Anderson in Houston. He took her to Sloan-Kettering in New York. He researched alternative treatments and therapies and diets. He’d had a game plan for defeating leukemia, but leukemia had won. It had beaten Sarah. It had beaten him. And it had beaten his marriage.

And now he was wiped out. He’d never thought of himself as a quitter, but this was different. What were you supposed to do when everything you’ve tried has failed? Sometimes it’s just merciful to let the clock run so everyone can go home with at least a little bit of dignity left.

He got up from the table and went to the living room. He flipped the television on to SportsCenter. The top story was Hurricane Paul. It was making a turn to the north. The path was still unclear, but some models had it hitting the New Jersey coast, which would create issues for the Monday Night Football game between the Giants and the Cowboys in three days.

Max reached for his phone to call Michelle. And then he thought better. It was after midnight in New Jersey and he didn’t want to wake her or be further disappointed by talking to her.

CHAPTER 46

“I’m sorry, Max,” was the first thing Willy said after they sat down on the deck.

“Thank you,” Max said, knowing Willy meant the football game, but could just as easily have meant his marriage.

“Tell me, Max, how are you doing,” Willy said. Before he could answer, Willy added, “The truth, Max.”

Max took a deep breath and exhaled. And was surprised by the lump in his throat that prevented him from responding. Willy poured Max some coffee as Rose brought her homemade biscuits and gravy to the table.

It was the last Saturday in September. The morning was cool, but the warm sun made it feel just right. The hot coffee and biscuits and gravy were beyond delicious. Max wouldn’t have thought anything could taste better than the cinnamon rolls, but Rose had outdone herself.

Max wasn’t sure how to answer Willy’s question. He wanted the truth. “Willy, I’m trying. I’m doing all I can do.”

Willy nodded and took a bite of a biscuit dripping with gravy.

“We got whipped last night,” Max said. “It was bad, Willy.” Max finished a bite. “I was embarrassed.” Max sipped some coffee. “I’m hoping I still have a job.”

“Can you come back from 1-3?” Willy asked. “Is there enough time to still make the playoffs?”

“We’ve got six games left,” Max said. “If we go 5-1 the rest of the way, then we’ll make it in for sure. We might get in if we win four more games and finish 5-5. Either way, we’ll be a low seed, but we’ll be in.”

“Can you do it?” Willy asked.

Max thought for a moment. If he’d been asked that question a month ago, it would have been easy to answer. Like everyone else, Max had been thinking they had a good chance at a state championship. But now, sitting at 1-3, he wasn’t so sure. “We’ve got the talent to win all of our remaining games,” Max said.

“But?” Willy said.

Max took a bite of his breakfast, then said, “I feel like every time I turn around there’s something broken, something that needs major attention. On the team and in my own life.”

Willy was just listening now.

“And I know there’s something going on with Jack Murphy,” Max said. “Something bad.”

Rose brought out a carafe of fresh coffee and poured some in their mugs. “I’ll be inside if you need me,” she said and went back in the house.

“I’d let the stuff with Jack go, but I get a bad feeling when he’s around,” Max said. “I wouldn’t want this to go any further than you and me, but one of my players is dead and his mother is missing. And Jack is somehow involved.”

“What makes you so sure?” Willy asked.

“He’s threatened me at least twice,” Max said.

“Max, I’m afraid I’m not going to be much help when it comes to that stuff,” Willy said. “But let me encourage you to be careful.”

“I will be,” Max said. “I just feel like if I let it drop, then he’s going to get away with something that he shouldn’t.” Max took another bite and sipped some coffee. “Enough of that for now.”

Willy took a sip of coffee. “Changing the subject, how did you do on your list of ten ways Michelle feels loved by you?”

Max pulled the list from his pocket and started to hand it to Willy. “I don’t need to see it,” Willy said. “That’s for you and your wife to talk through.”

“That’s easier said than done right now,” Max said. “I asked her for feedback, but she never responded. And I get the feeling it’s a long shot for her to even come home.”

Willy was quiet for a moment while he looked out over the lake. Then he turned to Max and said, “Then go to her.”

“Go to her?” Max said. “To New Jersey? I can’t do that.”

“Why?” Willy said.

“Well, for one thing, it’s the middle of football season and we’re 1-3.”

“So you think it can wait until football season is over?” Willy said. “When will that be? November? December?”

Max hadn’t really thought that far ahead, but if Michelle wasn’t planning to come home any time soon and if she wasn’t going to respond to phone calls or texts, then waiting to see her in December was the only option. But would he even have a marriage left in December? Or a job?

“Do you have practice today?” Willy said.

“Not until Monday,” Max said. “I’ll watch film today. Tomorrow I’ll work on a game plan for the Ft. Smith Northside game.”

“And Monday’s practice—that’s a big one?” Willy asked.

“Well, at this point, they’re all big,” Max said.

“Could your assistant coaches handle it?”

“What are you saying? You think I’m going to New Jersey on Monday?”

“No, not Monday. Today.”

“Today?” Max said almost choking on a biscuit.

“There’s a flight direct to Newark,” Willy said. “I’ve taken it. It departs at 1:15 p.m.”

“Today? You think I should go today?” Max said. “I’ll bet that would cost over a thousand dollars.”

“I’ll give you my frequent flyer miles to cover it,” Willy said. “I’ve got enough.”

“So just get on a plane and go see Michelle, right now? Just like that.”

“Just like that,” Willy said.

“Should I let her know I’m coming?”

“What do you think? Does she like surprises?”

Max thought for a moment. “Well, she likes good surprises,” Max said. “I’m afraid I might be a bad one though.”

CHAPTER 47

Willy said he’d book the ticket. Max thanked him and then spent the next two hours clearing it with Bill Jackson and informing his assistants they’d be in charge of practice on Monday. Max would get back very late Monday night and be back at practice on Tuesday.

Bill didn’t put up much of a fight when Max told him about leaving town. He wasn’t sure if that meant Bill cared about his marriage or if he thought it couldn’t hurt to have Max out of the picture for a few days. Maybe Bill saw an open door to make a coaching change. Max couldn’t worry about that now though.

It was about an hour drive to the airport, which left Max enough time to pack and then stop by the field house to get a couple folders he’d need to work on the game plan for the Northside game.

At 11:10 a.m., he was locking the door to the field house when he saw Jack Murphy pull into the parking lot and park right next to his truck. The last person he wanted to deal with right now was Jack.

Jack got out of his vehicle as Max was about to get into his. “Where ya headed, Max?” he said.

“Look, Jack, I don’t have time right now,” Max said. “I’ve got somewhere I have to be.”

“Max, I’m just here to remind you to not be poking around in things you don’t have any business in,” Jack said. “I wouldn’t want to see you…”

“Get hurt?” Max said. “Is that what you were going to say, Jack? You don’t want to see me get hurt?”

“It’s true,” Jack said. “I don’t.”

“What’s this like the third time now you’ve threatened me, Jack?”

Max could see Jack’s jaw tighten and his face turn red. Jack looked around and apparently satisfied they were alone, pointed his finger at Max and said, “I’m not threatening you, Max. I’m giving you a friendly warning. You really don’t know who you’re messing with.”

Jack got in his Escalade and left. Max pulled out right behind him to head to the airport. He was going to have to do something about Jack Murphy, but it would have to wait. He had a plane to catch.

CHAPTER 48

He’d gotten to the airport in plenty of time to catch his flight. He even had time to grab a sandwich and a cup of coffee. His flight took off on time and even landed six minutes ahead of schedule. How often did that happen? Maybe it was a sign of good things to come.

Now that he was in his rental car headed south on the New Jersey Turnpike, the idea of surprising Michelle didn’t sound like such a good idea. If she wasn’t interested in talking to him, then she really wouldn’t be interested in seeing him. He thought about turning around and just going back to the airport. If he couldn’t get on a flight, then he could spend the night in a hotel near the airport and get home on Sunday.

He debated with himself on what to do. Before he knew it, he was exiting the turnpike onto the Garden State Parkway. With each passing mile, he was closer to seeing Michelle, but was feeling more and more apprehensive. He tried playing out various scenarios in his mind about how it would go when she saw him. None of them went well.

He turned the radio on to get his mind on something else. He landed on 101.5 FM, a station that was “not New York, not Philadelphia, but proud to be New Jersey.” After a few commercials, the DJ interviewed someone with the office of emergency management in the state. Hurricane Paul, which Max had completely forgotten about, was now two hundred miles off the coast of Virginia and moving slowly to the north. Its current track would cause some high winds and rain on the Jersey coast, but no major damage.

As he passed the exit for Asbury Park, he started thinking more about what he was going to do when he got to Seaside Park. He couldn’t just show up at the house. Even if he did, he probably shouldn’t expect to sleep there. He needed a plan, a place to say and the right words to say to Michelle. At the moment, he had none of them.

Two hours after landing in Newark, Max was crossing the Route 37 Bridge into Seaside Park. He turned south and passed Island Avenue where Michelle’s parents lived. A couple blocks later, he came to the Windjammer Motor Inn, a nice looking three-story motel just a couple blocks from the beach. The parking lot was mostly empty, which wasn’t surprising at this time of year.

He went inside and asked for a room on the third floor, paid for two nights and asked the clerk for the closest florist. Max took his bag to his room, which overlooked the pool, which was closed for the season. He set his suitcase on one bed and sat down on the other. The clock on the nightstand said 5:45 p.m.

He picked up his phone to call the florist and saw three missed calls and a voice mail from Bill Jackson and two more missed calls and a voice mail from a number he didn’t recognize. He was about to listen to the voice mails, but decided they’d have to wait. He’d come here to talk to Michelle. Work could wait for now.

The florist was closed, but the A&P grocery store he passed would probably have flowers. It wouldn’t be light out for much longer, so he decided to take a walk on the beach before getting the flowers and then…what? Just show up at the door? Call her first? He had no plan, which made him very uncomfortable.

It had been four years since Max had been to the Seaside Park beach. The last time was when Sarah was eleven. She was six the time before that. After she got sick, they’d made plans to come back again, but she just didn’t have the strength to make the trip. Now he wished they’d come every year while they still had her. The only reason they hadn’t was so he could spend more time preparing for upcoming football seasons.

Max walked up the ramp to the boardwalk, and then took his shoes and socks off before walking onto the beach. The sand was cool on his feet. He though about how much Sarah would have liked this.

He could feel the sadness welling up, which he knew was healthy, but he didn’t like feeling this way. Too many times, he’d allowed the sadness to become anger. And when he’d let it go unchecked, it became bitterness. It’s why he was even walking on a beach in Seaside Park, New Jersey instead of watching film of Northside. His bitterness had driven an enormous wedge between him and Michelle. And between him and God.

He walked back to his motel and as he turned a corner, he saw a man standing next to his rental car and another man on the third floor knocking on the door to his room. Neither man had seen him, so he stopped and hid around the side of the building. It was getting dark enough now that he wouldn’t be easily spotted.

He watched as the man at his door gave up knocking and went downstairs. He talked with the other man standing next to Max’s car. He watched them get into a car parked next to his with heavily tinted windows. He wouldn’t have even known they were in there had he not seen them get in. Thirty minutes later, they were still there. Waiting for Max to return.

He had no idea who they were or what they wanted or how they even knew where to find him. He could only think of three people who even knew he was in New Jersey—Willy, Rose and Bill Jackson. Who else would know he was here? Or would want to find him?

At least he’d taken his wallet and phone with him when he’d left the room. And then he wondered if they’d found him because he’d used a credit card to check in. Surely not. Who would have the ability or authority to access his financial transactions? It’s not like he was a fugitive.

These guys didn’t look like law enforcement. And then it occurred to him that maybe he’d been followed. But from where? The Newark airport? The Northwest Arkansas airport? But who would be following him and why?

He couldn’t go to his room or get to his car. And he didn’t know how long they’d wait around, so Max started walking. The sandwich in the airport felt like yesterday, so he walked a couple blocks to a sandwich shop and ordered a roast beef sub and a bottle of water. He paid cash, just in case the men looking for him were in fact able to track him through his credit card.

He was about to take a bite of his sub when his phone starting buzzing. He took it from his pocket and saw it was Bill Jackson calling again. Max quickly chewed the bite and swallowed. He tapped the screen. “Hello.”

“Have you listened to my voice mail?” Bill said with frustration in his voice.

“Not yet,” Max said. “What’s so urgent, Bill? I told you I’d be back on Monday.”

“Jack Murphy is dead,” Bill said.