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  “I could hear the ambulance coming, but I knew she wasn’t going to make it. I told her I loved her and how happy she made me. I leaned down and kissed her lips. In barely a whisper, she said, ‘I love you so much.’ And then she stopped breathing.” Michelle took Chris’s hand in hers and squeezed.

  At that very moment, a thousand miles away, Siloam Springs was returning a kick-off to beat Lakeside.

  Chapter 23

  Saturday, September 14

  On a normal September Saturday morning, Max would have made a pot of coffee and started breaking down game film. Not today though. He needed time away. From the field house. From football. From devastating losses.

  He loaded his fishing gear, got in his truck and headed to his favorite fishing spot. It wasn’t far from his house, but it was secluded and not once had he ever run into anyone else there.

  Just after eight o’clock, he was standing on the shore, hidden from the world, with his first cast already in the water. He sipped on a hot cup of coffee he’d picked on the way from a country store that was known mostly for bait, not coffee. He sat down on the bank and watched his bobber float on the still water. He slowly reeled his line in, saw his bait was still good and cast again.

  “Nice one,” a voice said from behind him.

  Max felt his heart skip a beat and turned around to find an old man carrying a fishing pole, a tackle box and a thermos. So much for a quiet morning of fishing. He reeled in his line, faster this time, so he could leave before the old guy engaged him in conversation. He especially didn’t want to talk about the Siloam Springs game, which in a small town like Lakeside would inevitably come up.

  The old man must have sensed Max was getting ready to leave. “You’re not quitting already, are ya?” he said. “Don’t give up.”

  Don’t give up?

  “Here, have some more coffee.” He handed the thermos to Max. “My name’s William, but everyone calls me Willy.”

  “I’m Max.”

  “I know,” Willy said. “Tough one last night.” Willy took a sip of coffee. “But we’re not here to talk about that, are we?”

  “No, I’d rather not talk about football.” Max still wanted to leave.

  Willy baited his hook and cast it about twenty yards from shore, then turned to Max. “What should we talk about then?” he asked.

  Max cast his line about fifteen feet to the left of Willy’s and sat down again. Willy sat down too. “We could just fish,” Max said. “Nobody said we have to talk.”

  Willy’s bobber disappeared under the water. He gave a quick yank on the line and started slowly reeling it in. “Or we could do both,” he said. He pulled a nice-sized fish from the water, carefully removed the hook and released it back into the lake.

  Well, if the old guy wanted to talk, then Max would just lay it all out there for him. He’d give him more than he bargained for. Maybe the naked truth would send him on his way. “Okay Willy, my wife just informed me she’s leaving me. And I may have lost my job last night.” Max paused. “Oh, and I think the Lakeside Police might be corrupt.” He took a sip of coffee. “Other than that, I’m good.”

  Willy cast his line again, a little further this time. He removed the lid to the thermos and poured himself more coffee. “Well, that’s certainly more interesting than the weather or how the Cowboys are doing,” Willy said. He blew on his coffee and took a sip. “What’s the last thing you prayed for, Max?”

  He looked at Willy and wondered if the old man was serious. “The last thing I prayed for?” Max said. “What kind of a question is that? What does that have to do with anything?” He shook his head and turned back to his bobber, which floated undisturbed on the still water. “ Besides, I’m not really into praying.” Now he regretted not leaving when Willy first arrived. Getting into a discussion about prayer or God or anything else for that matter was the last thing he was looking for.

  But then he remembered. He had prayed. It wasn’t much of a prayer, but he had prayed yesterday morning. It was his first real prayer in years. “Actually, I prayed for help,” Max said quietly.

  The two men sat together in silence for several minutes, then Willy said, “Time for me to go.”

  “Wait a minute,” Max said. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it,” Willy said. “I have to get home. I promised Rose I’d help her in the yard this morning.”

  “Hold on,” Max said. “Why did you ask me about prayer?”

  Willy studied Max for a moment, then smiled. “How about you join Rose and me for dinner on Monday? At seven? I’ll see if Rose will make her pot roast and mashed potatoes for us.”

  Willy scribbled his address on a piece of cardboard he pulled from his tackle box. He shook Max’s hand and then headed up the trail. Max slipped the cardboard piece into his pocket and watched the old man disappear up the trail. He fished for another hour without catching anything but had a feeling he’d gotten what he’d come for.

  Chapter 24

  Max spent the rest of the day watching game film, missing Michelle, and replaying his conversation with Willy. When he finally looked at the clock, it was six-thirty and his stomach was rumbling. The refrigerator was empty. The freezer contained the ice cream cones Michelle had gotten him along with a frozen pizza. He popped the pizza in the oven and ate two ice cream cones while the pizza cooked.

  When it was ready, he cut it, put two slices on a plate and set it at the kitchen table, then grabbed a yellow legal pad from his briefcase and sat down to eat. He took a bite of pizza and stared at a blank page. He finished off two slices of pizza without writing a word. He got two more slices and sat back down.

  He ate his third slice and finished a bottle of water as he thought back over the past couple of weeks. Dante’s accident. The strange conversations with Jack Murphy. Dante’s mother being scared to see him. After fifteen minutes, he wrote down three names:

  Jack Murphy

  Ms. Jones (Dante’s mother)

  Dave Turner

  He wasn’t even sure if Dave was relevant to anything he was dealing with, but felt compelled to include him on his short list. He stared at the list for another twenty minutes while finishing the rest of the pizza. He tried to think of any connections between the three of them but came up with nothing, other than all three were related to the football program. He tried to think of any other names he’d missed. Were there any other people with connections to these three who didn’t feel right to him?

  And then he thought of one other person and added him to the list.

  Me

  Chapter 25

  Monday, September 16

  Max spent most of Sunday watching game film and preparing the game plan. Actually, he’d worked on three game plans. One for the Springdale game, which he felt good about even though they were going into it with no wins and two losses.

  He had another game plan for figuring out the connection, if there even was one, between Jack, Dave, Ms. Jones and himself. He felt less good about that plan. And the third game plan was for getting Michelle back. That plan consisted of a blank page.

  Monday’s practice went well, just like it had the previous two weeks. The season was young, but the pressure to win was mounting. Max tried to not let it overshadow practice. He tried to keep the mood light and even ended a few minutes early. They had eight regular season games left and would most likely need to win six of them to make the playoffs. It was still an attainable goal.

  He showered in the coach’s office at the field house before meeting Willy and Rose for dinner. At six-forty, he locked the door behind him and headed to his truck. Across the parking lot, he saw Jack Murphy talking to Dave Turner and his boss, Bill Jackson. He had no doubt he was the subject of the meeting. Maybe it was time to add Bill to his list.

  He put the address for Willy’s house in his phone and had no trouble finding it. He pulled into the driveway at just a minute after seven. The house sat on a ridge above the fishing spot he’d met Willy two mornings earlier. The f
ront yard looked like a picture from a magazine.

  As Max cam up the sidewalk, Willy swung the door open and said, “Come on in. I hope you’re hungry.” He winked at Max. “We’re having pot roast.”

  He led Max through the living room and into the kitchen where he introduced him to Rose. “Oh, I’m so very glad to meet you, Mr. Henry,” she said.

  “That pot roast really smells good, ma’am. And please call me, Max.”

  “Oh, well all right, but you have to call me, Rose,” she said. “Can I get you a glass of lemonade?”

  “Yes, please,” Max said. “That sounds really good.”

  “Rose makes great lemonade, Max,” Willy said with a grin. “Fresh squeezed.”

  “Why don’t you boys go sit on the deck and talk? I’ll bring the lemonade right out,” she said. “Dinner will be another twenty minutes.”

  Willy led Max outside to the deck. The view to the west looked like another picture, overlooking Beaver Lake and much of Lakeside to the west. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon on the far side of the lake, lighting up the sky in every shade of yellow, orange, purple and red.

  Rose brought two glasses of lemonade. “Thank you, dear,” Willy said. She kissed him on the forehead and went back inside to finish dinner.

  “What a view,” Max said. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen the sky look so beautiful.”

  “I never get tired of it,” Willy said.

  “I can see why,” Max said. “Heaven on earth.”

  “It was supposed to be,” Willy said and took a swallow of the cold lemonade.

  “What was supposed to be?” Max said.

  “Heaven,” Willy said. “On earth.” He took another sip of lemonade. “It was supposed to be.”

  “I’m not sure I’m following you.”

  Willy stood at the railing and looked out over the lake. “I’m talking about the original design, Max. God’s original design.”

  Max sipped his lemonade and waited for Willy to continue.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Willy said. “Wars. Poverty. Sickness. Loneliness. Greed. Death. None of it. Wasn’t supposed to be. But that’s a discussion for another time.” Willy sat back down, looked at Max and said, “So tell me, Max, why are you here?”

  “I guess you mean something more than because you invited me?” Max sipped some lemonade. “Well, I’ll be honest. I’m not sure. Lately, I’m not sure about a lot of things. And I’m talking about things I used to be sure about.”

  Willy turned his back to the sunset. “Do you know I haven’t been to that particular fishing spot in at least five years? But when I woke up Saturday morning, I couldn’t think of anything else. I just had to fish there.”

  Max watched beads of condensation dripping down the outside of his glass. He wasn’t sure what to say to Willy.

  “How often do you fish there?” Willy said.

  “It’s been a really long time,” Max said. “Maybe five years.”

  Willy grinned and clapped his hands together. “Well, then maybe God is up to something.” He sat back down across from Max. “So you were telling me the other morning you were having some marriage trouble, weren’t you? And that thought you might get fired. Was that it?”

  Max nodded his head and swallowed some lemonade. “That’s a lot of it.”

  “What else am I missing?”

  How much did he want to say? Did he really want to accuse the police of misconduct? “That about covers it,” Max said.

  Willy cocked his head slightly and rubbed his chin. “Hmmm...I was sure there was something else.”

  “It’s probably nothing,” Max said, “but one of my players died in a car accident, but...I’m not so sure it was an accident.” Why am I telling him all this?

  “Well, I don’t know much about football or accident investigations, so I don’t think I can help you with that,” Willy said. “Marriage though…maybe that’s something Rose and I can help with. Not that we’re experts or anything, but when you’ve been married as long as we’ve been, well, you learn a few things.”

  Rose called Willy to help her bring the food out. He got up and went inside while Max went back to enjoying the view. Just a sliver of the sun remained above the horizon now. A breeze whistled through the trees and brought with it a drop of several degrees. To Max, the cooler temperature felt like football weather.

  Rose and Willy brought out the meal—pot roast, mashed potatoes, green beans and salad. It certainly looked and smelled a lot better than a frozen pizza. Willy pulled a chair out for Rose and helped her sit down. Then he took her hand and said a blessing before they ate.

  During dinner, Willy and Rose shared about their four children and eleven grandchildren who were spread around the country. The closest was in Atlanta. It was hard being away from them, but they kept in regular touch and tried to all be together at least a couple times a year, although as the grandchildren got older and involved in various activities, getting everyone together was impossible.

  As they ate, Max noticed how often Willy bragged about Rose and how he kept lightly stroking the back of her neck. He guessed they were in their late-seventies but acted more like newlyweds.

  After dinner, Willy cleared the table and made a pot of coffee. He brought a carafe to the table and poured a mug for each of them. They talked more about their children and about the places they’d most enjoyed on their many trips. When Rose said she was starting to feel a chill, Willy went inside and brought her a light sweater, which he helped her put on.

  Max enjoyed hearing their stories but was more fascinated by watching how Willy and Rose interacted with each other. He realized he was studying them like he would watch game film—looking for strengths, weaknesses and tendencies. He didn’t hear one unkind word come from either of them. And they were always touching. He also picked up on several looks and winks that communicated something only they knew. They even had a few code words they used. At one point, he heard Rose call Willy, “A.H.” Max had no idea what it meant, but based on the context he assumed it was a term of endearment.

  When he realized it was after ten o’clock, he apologized for keeping them up so late and thanked them for dinner.

  “Well, Max, you’re very welcome,” Rose said. “We’d love to have you back.”

  “And Willy, I’d still like to talk with you some more about my marriage situation,” Max said.

  “I’ll let you buy me breakfast on Saturday.”

  “Deal,” Max said.

  Rose whispered something to Willy that Max couldn’t hear. “No, I haven’t told him,” Willy said. “Not yet.”

  “Told me what?” Max said.

  Rose looked at Willy who smiled and nodded to her. She looked at Max and grinned. “About the secrets.”

  Chapter 26

  Wednesday, September 18

  By the end of practice, Max was feeling better about his team. Morale was good. Effort was good. And they were cutting down on the mental mistakes. The team felt more ready than it had in the previous two games.

  Jack Murphy had been strangely silent for the past week. Max thought for sure there’d be more fallout after the Siloam Springs loss. He’d expected to be called into a meeting with Bill Jackson, but that didn’t happen. Maybe they were giving him a chance to turn things around.

  When he got home on Wednesday evening, he made himself a sandwich and sat down with his legal pad. He felt good about the Springdale game plan, so he turned to the next page and looked over the names he’d written:

  Jack Murphy

  Ms. Jones (Dante’s mother)

  Dave Turner

  Me

  He stared at the names. There was a connection. He felt sure of it. But it was like knowing the players, but not the game being played. He decided to title the page: “Lakeside Game Plan.” After twenty minutes of trying to make sense of things, he gave up and turned the page to his marriage game plan.

  That page was still blank. He’d tried to call M
ichelle several times, but she wasn’t answering. He tried texting, but she didn’t reply. He had no idea how to make things right if she wouldn’t even talk to him.

  He turned back to the previous page and stared at the names he’d written. He couldn’t shake it. There was something going on. He was certain of it. Somehow, Dave, Jack and Ms. Jones were connected. And he was too.

  He started to add Bill Jackson to the list but didn’t. Not yet anyway. He’d seen him talking to Dave and Jack on Monday, but he trusted Bill. He couldn’t say the same about Dave or Jack. Clearly, Jack had an agenda. He just didn’t know what it was. Dave was another story. He couldn’t prove it, but the way Dave was calling defenses during the first two weeks made him wonder if he was intentionally sabotaging the games.