Thread of Hope (The Joe Tyler Series, #1) (39 page)

I stood before she could put up any more of a fight.  “Let’s go then.”

When she stood from the sofa, she seemed smaller, younger than when I’d seen her on the basketball court.  There was no confidence, no command, like it had been ripped out of her.  I didn’t know what all she was hiding, but that didn’t prevent me from feeling sorry for her.

She walked over to the kitchen and grabbed her backpack from the counter.  Megan went to her and put her arm around her.

“It’s alright,” Megan said, squeezing her around the shoulders.  “It’ll be alright.”

“Anything else you need?” I asked.

Meredith shook her head and we headed for the front door, the two of them in front of me, Megan still with her arm around her friend.

Megan looked back at me.  “We’ll go straight to her house, right?”

“Yes.  I promise.”

Megan nodded and smiled at her friend.  “Good.”

I reached around them and opened the door.

And ran right into some familiar faces.

SEVENTY-SEVEN

Kelly Rundles and Robert Stricker were blocking our path.

Kelly reached her hand out.  “Meredith?  Are you alright?”

Meredith shrank from her coach’s reach and backed into me.  I guided her around to my side and she pressed into me, a shy toddler clinging to a parent.

I put an arm around her shoulders.  “She’s fine.”

Megan took several steps back and was now on my other side.  She wasn’t radiating the same fear that Meredith was, but her demeanor had changed and it wasn’t for the better.

Kelly’s eyes were fixed on Meredith.  “Where have you been?  Do your parents know you’re here?”  She glanced at me.  “Do they know?”

I was taken aback by Kelly’s concern because it was genuine.  She seemed shocked to see Meredith and there was no anger, no animosity, no aggressiveness on Kelly’s part.  After our half-time confrontation, I had pegged her as somehow being involved in the downward spiral that had become Meredith’s life.  Now, looking at her face, I was fairly certain I was wrong.
             

“I’m taking Meredith home,” I said, my arm tightening around her shoulders.  “We’re going to her home right now.  Her parents know we’re on the way.”

To the girls’ credit, they didn’t blanch at my bluff.

Kelly hesitated, then stepped out of the way.

Robert Stricker did not move.

We locked eyes.

The situation crystallized for me.

And he produced a gun. 

SEVENTY-EIGHT

Stricker herded us back into the house.

Kelly Rundles’ face was the epitome of confusion.  “What the hell is going on?”

He had the gun firmly aimed in my direction.  By the way Meredith was clinging to me and the way Megan had taken up residence behind me, I had a pretty good idea.

“You follow us here?” I asked.

Stricker nodded.

Kelly looked from him to me.  “He said you wanted us to follow you.”  She looked back to him.  “You said he wanted us to follow him, but that he didn’t want Megan to know.”  She blinked and it seemed to dawn on her how strange that sounded.  “What the hell are you doing with a gun?”

“You saw Megan and me in the hall,” I said.  “Before the game.”

Stricker held the gun steady and nodded again.

“And when I wasn’t on the bench in the second half, you knew something was up,” I said.

The corner of his mouth flared up into something that on anyone else would’ve resembled the beginning of a smile.  It was nothing more than an admission on him.

“What the
fuck
is going on?” Kelly asked, completely exasperated.

I nodded at Stricker.  “Meet Meredith’s pimp.”

Kelly stared at me for a long moment then rotated her head toward Stricker.  “What?”

“Vegas,” I said, as I processed the connection that I’d missed from the beginning.  “You went to UNLV.”

The corner of his mouth flared again.

“You knew Olivia,” I said.  “Before Jordan did, right?”

He didn’t say anything.

“You were the one who told Meredith about her mother,” I said.

Meredith’s hands clenched tighter to my midsection.  I took that as confirmation that I was right.

“And I’m guessing you knew what Derek was running,” I continued.  “Maybe you heard whispers in the hall, maybe Derek shot off his mouth, I don’t know.  But you already knew she was in the game.”

Kelly was staring solely at Stricker now.

“She was pissed off at Derek and you pounced,” I said.  “Offered her more money, made it sound better.  Then when she wanted out you beat the crap out of her.  And you told her to blame it on Chuck.”

There was no flare now on his mouth.  Just a blank expression.

“There are details I can’t fill in but I don’t need ‘em,” I said.  I shook my head.  “I don’t need ‘em.  Because I’m right, aren’t I?”

Stricker didn’t say anything.

But Meredith whispered “Yes.”

“He’s an asshole,” Megan said from behind me. 

“Been called worse,” Stricker said, his voice low and unfamiliar as he spoke for the first time.  “Been called a lot worse.”

“I’ll bet,” I said.  I glanced at Kelly and recited the cell number Jon Jordan and I discovered in the phone records.  “That number mean anything to you?”

She looked confused for a moment.  “I think it's my old school phone.”

“School phone?”

“The school gave me a phone and I think that was the number. I lost it a couple months ago.”

I looked at Stricker.  “You didn't lose it, Kelly.”

Stricker's mouth twitched again.

“I don't know what the hell you're talking about and none of this is making sense,” Kelly said.  She moved her attention to Stricker.  “Robert.  Put the gun down.”

She had edged closer to us and further from him.

“Can’t do that, Kelly.  Because we’ve got a problem here.”

“Don’t make the problem worse,” I said.

He chuckled.  “This where you tell me we can all walk away friends?”

“No,” I said.  “But you use that gun and this whole thing goes from bad to horrible.”

“Not sure there’s anywhere else to go,” he said.

“There’s always somewhere else to go,” I said.  “Always.”

“That what you learned lookin’ for your kid?” he asked, smirking.  “Some sort of feel-good bullshit about moving on?  Because that’s what it sounds like.”

“Bet your salary isn't the same at school as it was in the NFL, right?” I said.

He smiled an ugly smile.  “Good guess.”

“So what was all this?  Supplemental income?”

The ugly smile remained. 

“Maybe you just liked being in charge?  Missed that from your playing days?”

He stared at me.

“Or maybe you're just an asshole who likes hurting kids.”

I didn't expect him to answer and it didn't matter.  There was nothing he could say to me that was going to justify his actions.  Maybe he had them straight in his own mind, but it wouldn't make sense to me.

“Stricker, come on,” Kelly said.  “This is insane.”

He pivoted and fired a single shot in her direction.

The noise was deafening in the house, but I heard Meredith scream.  Or maybe it was Megan.  I wasn’t sure.  Kelly fell backward, hitting the ground with a loud thud.  Her hands clutched the giant red circle spreading on her left shoulder.  Her mouth was open but she didn’t say anything.

Stricker quickly moved the gun back to me.  “Is there somewhere else to go now?”

I didn’t say anything.

“Gotta take care of this, Tyler,” he said, a resigned expression on his face.  “As soon as you found out your friend was okay, you should’ve walked.”

“I won’t let you hurt her,” I said.

“I’ve got the gun, Tyler.”

“You’re not gonna hurt her.”

He seemed amused by my defiance.  “Are you blind?”

“No.  But you aren’t gonna hurt her.  You’ve done enough of that.”

The amusement in his expression faded.  “Oh, God.  Please don’t give me some fucking speech, alright?  These girls, they know what they’re doing.  They aren’t innocent.”

“Either are you,” I said.  “And you’re gonna have to kill me if you want her.”

Meredith’s hands were like claws in my stomach.  My arm was still around her shoulders and her face was buried in my shirt, unable to look at Stricker.  I could hear Megan breathing behind me to my right.  I didn’t look at Kelly because I was afraid of what I was going to see.

“Not a problem, Tyler,” Stricker said and he aimed the gun at my throat.

Another explosion roared through the room and I jerked.  Meredith pushed harder into me and we toppled to the ground.  I lay there for a moment, my ears ringing, unsure of what had happened.  Then I sat up.

Stricker was on his back, his face a bloody mess.  The lower half of his face was gone, the area where his mouth had been now one large vacant space.  The gun had fallen from his grip and his body was twitching, as if someone was tickling him.  I popped to my knees, crawled over and grabbed the gun, then looked back at Megan.

She was holding a gun with both hands, her eyes still on Stricker.  The gun was shaking.

I stood and walked over to her, carefully taking the gun from her.  Her eyes were still locked on Stricker.

“Megan?” I said and my voice sounded quiet after the two gunshots.

“It’s my dad’s,” she finally said, her words slurred, heavy.  “I brought it in case...”  She looked at me.  Her eyes were glazed over, staring through me.  “In case you wouldn’t help Meredith.”  Her eyes focused and she finally looked at me.  “In case I had to shoot you.”

SEVENTY-NINE

The small narrow street was now packed with police officers, fire trucks and curious eyes.

“You should’ve called me,” Mike Lorenzo said.