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  It was getting late and harder to keep his eyes open. And he was tired of thinking. He got into bed and turned out the light. And then in that sliver of time between consciousness and sleep, a thought popped into his head, one he had to write down. He turned the light on, got his legal pad and wrote:

  I need a 4th game plan…to work on me.

  Chapter 27

  Thursday, September 19

  The past week with Chris had been like a Hallmark movie. She felt cared for. She felt special. She felt loved. It had been years since she’d felt any of those things. He made her feel good about herself again. They’d held hands and hugged and he had kissed her on the cheek once, but it hadn’t gone any further. Not that she didn’t want it to.

  She’d lost count of how many times Max had called her in the last week and how many times she’d ignored him. He was trying to reach out, but as far as she was concerned, it was all a little too late. Maybe she owed it to him to listen to what he had to say. Or maybe she didn’t. When had he listened to her? When had he shown any interest in her needs?

  She was meeting Chris for dinner in an hour and wanted nothing more than to enjoy a romantic dinner with a good bottle of wine. She held a tight red dress in front of her to see how it looked in the mirror. She had to admit it looked good. Really good. So she slipped it on and then styled her hair the way Chris liked it.

  Ten minutes later, she applied a red lipstick to match her dress. And then her phone rang. She grabbed it from the bed, hoping it was Chris. But it was Max. Again. She held back a scream. Why couldn’t he leave her alone? She slammed the hairbrush on the counter, sending her engagement and wedding rings clanking to the floor.

  She held the phone in her hand, staring at a picture of Max, as it continued to ring. She’d always felt so strongly about her marriage vows. And still did. Mostly. But a marriage took two people who were both committed to their vows. And ever since Sarah’s illness, she’d been the only one still fighting to make things work.

  Her finger hovered over the picture of Max on her phone while her head and her heart fought for control. She squeezed her eyes tight and shook her head. And then touched the screen.

  Chapter 28

  Max was prepared to leave a voice mail this time. What he wasn’t prepared for was Michelle actually answering the phone. “Oh… hey, I, ah…wow…I wasn’t expecting you to answer.”

  “Yeah, well, I did. So what is it, Max?”

  “I understand I haven’t made it easy, Shelle, I know that. And I’m really sorry.”

  “No, you haven’t.”

  “Well, I guess I was hoping we could talk about us,” he said.

  There was a moment of silence that felt much longer than it actually was. “I’m not sure there is an ‘us’ anymore,” she said.

  “Shelle, look, I understand how you feel. I…”

  “You do, Max? You understand how I feel? You understand what it’s like to lose a daughter and then be rejected by your husband? You understand? Well, that’s just great to hear, Max, so why don’t you tell me what that’s like since you understand so well.” There was silence and then, “I’m waiting.”

  He’d been hoping for a more positive reaction. Obviously, she was hurting more than he realized. And that was the real problem—he hadn’t realized. He hadn’t understood. Not now. Not a week ago. Not two years ago. Not at any time. He’d understood his own pain, but not hers. And hadn’t cared to understand either.

  “Shelle…I don’t know what to say,” Max said.

  “That’s nothing new.” The sadness and hurt he’d become used to hearing in her voice was gone. Now she was angry. As he’d been, ever since Sarah’s death.

  He was wading through an emotional minefield and wasn’t sure where to step next. “Will you at least think about coming home?” he said. There was a longer silence this time. He thought maybe the call had dropped or that she’d hung up. “Shelle?”

  “I’ll think about it,” she said. “I have to go.” And she hung up.

  Chapter 29

  Friday, September 20

  “Michelle, it’s mom. Can I come in? Are you okay in there? Baby, can I come in?”

  Michelle opened her eyes and heard another knock at the door. “Yes, come in, mom,” she said.

  The door opened slowly. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn’t see your car.”

  “What time is it?” Michelle asked.

  Her mother looked at her watch. “Almost ten.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry,” she said. “I got a ride home.”

  Her mother sat down on the edge of the bed. “What time did you get in?”

  “I think around two-thirty. I should have texted you or something.”

  Her mother rubbed Michelle’s shoulders through the covers. “Anything you want to talk about?” she asked.

  For the next half hour, she opened up about the past few years and in particular, the past month. And then, even though she felt ashamed to talk about it, she told her about reconnecting with Chris and how good it felt to have someone actually care about her again.

  When she finished, her mother said, “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I wish I could make things better.”

  “I know, mom. Thank you. You and daddy have been wonderful.”

  Her mother kissed her cheek, then got up to leave. Before she closed the door behind her, she said, “Where does all this leave you and Max?”

  “I don’t know.” She wiped a tear running down her cheek. “I honestly don’t know.”

  Her mom nodded then quietly shut the door. Michelle stayed in bed for another thirty minutes staring at the ceiling as she tried to sort out her feelings, feelings that had become a lot more complicated after being with Chris the night before.

  Chapter 30

  Max woke up at 2:11 a.m. and stared at the clock for an hour before finally falling back to sleep. At 4:17 a.m., he was again wide awake. His mind kept flipping through his legal pad and the four game plans:

  Springdale

  Lakeside

  Marriage

  Me

  At ten minutes after five, he finally got up and made a pot of coffee and sat down with his notes. First, he turned to the Springdale plan. He still felt good about their chances to beat them. They were coming in at 1-1. They’d lost to Fayetteville in week two in the “Battle of the Bulldogs”, so named because the two neighboring towns had the same mascot.

  Max was confident they could score against Springdale. And he knew he had a talented defensive unit. But he didn’t trust Dave Turner, which led to the next page.

  Lakeside

  Dave Turner

  Jack Murphy

  Ms. Jones (Dante’s mother)

  Me

  He was more certain now that Dave and Jack were out to get him fired. Bill Jackson had told him Jack Murphy wanted Dave to have the head coaching job. Maybe they’d come up with a plan to sabotage the season, so Dave could take over. But what did Jack have at stake? Why would he care so much about Dave getting the job?

  He studied the only other names on the list, his own and Dante’s mother. She was still grieving the loss of her child, but why had she been so afraid the day he’d run into outside Feltner Brothers? Just seeing him had triggered her. If he could meet her privately, maybe she’d feel more freedom to talk. It was too early to call. He’d wait until he was driving to school.

  He turned the page to the marriage game plan. Other than the words Marriage Game Plan written across the top, the page was still blank. He replayed the conversation he had with Michelle. It wasn’t much, but she at least she hadn’t shut the door on their marriage. Or maybe she had. Maybe he wasn’t very good at reading the signs. He had, afterall, missed the fact that she was unhappy enough to leave him.

  Whatever fire might still be left for him in Michelle’s heart was now just the smallest ember. He hoped there was still time to fan it into a flame again. He knew that wouldn’t be any easier than using wet kindling w
ood to start a fire.

  He made a note to ask Willy at breakfast on Saturday for any ideas that might give him a chance to win back Michelle. Until then, he’d have to put the marriage plan on hold. That only left the plan to work on himself, and despite having more questions than answers, he at least felt like he was making progress. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. And then he realized he started feeling different after asking God to help him.

  He also had an overwhelming sense he was about to need a lot more help.

  Chapter 31

  On his way to school, he called Ms. Jones’ cell number. He had little hope she’d answer, but much to his surprise, she answered on the second ring. But she also made it clear she was not at all happy to hear from him. Her voice was trembling either because she was angry, afraid or both.

  She refused his request to come see her. When he asked why she was so reluctant, she said it didn’t matter and asked, actually demanded, that he never call her again. Before he could say anything else, she hung up.

  At the field house, he dropped his briefcase in his office and headed straight for the meeting room to start a fresh pot of coffee. While waiting for it to brew, he flipped through the newspaper. On page three, one of the headlines caught his attention:

  Accident Due to Brake Failure

  He read the headline three times, staring at the words in disbelief. The official investigation into Dante’s accident concluded his brakes had failed, which caused him to leave the road and strike the tree head-on.

  It was the same thing the police chief, Terry Cook, had told him. He just couldn’t shake the feeling they’d somehow missed a key piece of evidence. Or ignored it. The former was incompetence. The latter was corruption or conspiracy or both.

  Unless Dante’s car had sustained rear end damage between the time practice ended and the time of the accident late that night, then it must have happened during the accident. But how does a car sustain rear end damage in a collision with a tree?

  He read the article again then pulled his phone out and found the picture he’d taken at the scene. It clearly showed damage to the back of Dante’s car. And skid marks on the street. He couldn’t let it go.

  He found the phone number for the Lakeside Police Department and asked to speak to the police chief. A moment later, he heard, “This is Terry Cook.”

  “Hi chief, this is Max Henry.”

  “What can I do for you, coach?” Terry said.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but I really didn’t know who else to call,” he said. “I was just reading the article about the official cause of Dante Jones’ accident.”

  “Coach, like it says in the paper, that case is closed. His accident was due to brake failure,” Terry said.

  “Yeah, I know that, but I just had a question. I drove by there after the accident and noticed skid marks on the street that led right up to where Dante’s car left the road. Is it normal for a car to leave skid marks if the brakes fail?”

  “Look, coach, I know you care about your players and are just trying to help, but I can assure you this was a thorough investigation,” Terry said.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Max said. “Forget I said anything.” He almost said goodbye, but added, “So I guess the rear end damage on Dante’s car wasn’t significant either.”

  It sounded like Terry put his hand over the phone and was talking to someone else. Then he said, “I’m not really sure what you’re getting at, but there was no rear end damage.”

  Max was about to tell him he had a picture that told a different story, but didn’t. “Well, my mistake then. Sorry to bother you.”

  He poured a cup of coffee and replayed the two phone conversations he’d had that morning. Neither person was happy to hear from him. The mother of a dead young man sounded terrified and the chief of police was just plain wrong or worse, was lying. He didn’t know what it all meant. Or if it meant anything at all.

  By the time he finished his coffee, he was no closer to figuring anything out, but had given himself a headache. He shut his eyes and rubbed his temples, feeling frustrated that he’d already wasted too much time on things that weren’t his responsibility. What was his responsibility, at least for now, was coaching the Lakeside football program. If he didn’t start winning, football wouldn’t be his responsibility either.

  He poured another cup of coffee and told himself it was time to let it go and get back to coaching football. It was a resolution that lasted the ten seconds it took to walk back to his office, where he found Jack Murphy sitting at his desk.

  Chapter 32

  “Well, good morning, Max,” Jack said. “I came in and couldn’t find you, so I thought I’d just make myself comfortable and wait for you.” After a moment, he added, “I really thought you’d be at your desk working on tonight’s game.”

  Max walked to his desk, set his mug down and stood over Jack. “Excuse me,” he said.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me give you back your chair.” Jack got up, took a seat on the other side of the desk and propped his feet on the desk.

  “Is there something I can help you with, Jack?” Every instinct he had wanted to knock Jack’s feet off his desk. “Like you said, we’ve got a game tonight and I’ve got a lot to do.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you do, Max. I’m sure you do…as busy as you’ve been.”

  The two men stared across the desk at one another. Neither blinked.

  “If you’ve got something on your mind, then just say it, Jack.” Max got to his feet.

  “Just came by to wish you luck tonight, coach,” Jack said with a forced smile. “That’s all.”

  Max felt his muscles twitching and his hand curling into a fist. He wanted to knock Jack’s smile right off his face.

  Fortunately, Jack dropped his feet to the floor and headed for the door. As he was leaving, he stopped and turned back. “Just one other thing, Max. For your own good, keep your nose out of places it don’t belong.”

  Chapter 33

  Either Jack showing up was a coincidence or he’d come in response to one of two things—the phone call with Dante’s mother or the phone call to Terry Cook. Or both. But it wasn’t a coincidence. He’d given Max a warning. There was no doubt about that.

  It was like the kids’ game where someone is blindfold and the others yell, “Warmer!” or “Colder!” depending on how close you got to the object in question. He knew Jack’s visit meant only one thing, someone was yelling, “Warmer! Warmer! Hot!”

  He just had no idea what he was getting closer to. Why would Jack care if he talked to Dante’s mother? Or the police? And how would he have even known about the calls? Would Ms. Jones have said something to Jack? Why would she?

  Or was it the call to the police? Max was sure Terry Cook was conferring with someone else during their conversation. But how could Jack have known about it so fast? Why would the Lakeside police tell Jack about a conversation with Max? It made no sense.

  The more he thought about it, the more he realized how paranoid it all sounded. And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Really wrong.

  You don’t singlehandedly raise $23 million in a small town without wielding some power. Power meant connections. Influence. Cashing in favors. Pulling strings. Max made a few notes on his legal pad and slipped it back into his briefcase.

  He was about to put his phone away when he thought again about the picture of Dante’s accident scene. The official version said there was no damage to the back of Dante’s car and no skid marks on the road, but the image right in front of him said otherwise.

  He wasn’t the most tech savvy person around, but he knew a phone could crash just like a computer. And he was looking at the only copy of a picture that directly contradicted the official police version of the accident.

  He typed out a text message. I can’t explain now. Just keep this picture.

  He attached the picture to the message and looked again at what he’d typed. It wouldn’t make
sense and would just raise questions, but he didn’t have time to explain it all. Satisfied with the message, he tapped the screen.

  A moment later, over a thousand miles away, Michelle’s phone buzzed.

  Chapter 34

  Saturday, September 21

  It was almost nine o’clock when Max pulled his truck into Willy’s driveway. He had offered to buy breakfast out somewhere, but Willy said Rose made the best homemade cinnamon rolls you’d find anywhere. Of course, he was always bragging about everything she cooked. Fortunately, he wasn’t ever exaggerating. As soon as Willy opened the door, the aroma of whatever was cooking told him this would beat any restaurant in town.