A Matter of Trust

Chapter 31





The stadium was packed. Mia turned and waved at where Brooke was sitting with her grandpa about halfway up the bleachers. The powerful lights stole the stars from the sky. It looked like the type of daylight Mia had lately been experiencing in her dreams. Surreal. Metallic. Unforgiving.

Gabe, so bulked up by his uniform and pads that he was identifiable only by his number—79—sat on the end of the bench. This was the third game his team had played, and the coach hadn’t put him in once. And if Gabe wasn’t playing, Mia didn’t care much about what was happening on the field. She recognized one of the boys who had been at her house on Wednesday, plowing his way through a pack of opposing players like a moving mountain. As she waited for Charlie, Mia stared at the orange gravel track that outlined the field without really seeing it. The crisp air smelled of dirt and torn grass.

“The klieg lights remind me of a nighttime crime scene,” Charlie said, coming up behind her. “Now all we need is a body.”

Trust Charlie to paint such a peaceful picture. “Not like the football games of your youth?”

It was a guess, but by the way he flinched it seemed to have struck home.

“I was only on the team for a few games, but then we came to a mutual parting of the ways.”

“I’ve never actually been to a football game before,” Mia admitted.

Charlie did a double take. “What—did you go to an all-girls Catholic school or something?”

“Or something. I knew the only way I could afford to go to college was to work, so I worked every weekend.” She looked across the field. “So have you heard anything over on the other side?” Trying to pass as a parent, Charlie was moving around on the fringes of the crowd, trying to overhear anyone talking about Darin’s death.

Charlie followed her gaze. The kids from the opposing high school were no different from the kids on this side. The girls were bundled up in down jackets, wearing matching hats and scarves. Some of the boys wore just flannel shirts and jeans and pretended they weren’t freezing. Everyone was chanting, clapping, yelling. No different at all, except that one side wore green and yellow and the other orange and black. Yet Mia knew that some of those kids had watched Darin being tormented and done nothing. Maybe some had done much more than that.

A shiver danced across her skin. The air had a bite to it. Winter was coming. Long dark nights with no one to hold her. And if a pipe froze or the heat went out or they had to get someplace over icy roads, it would all be on her shoulders.

Charlie spoke, pulling her back to the here and now, to a crisp fall instead of a bone-chilling winter. “I’ve heard Brandon’s and Reece’s names mentioned several times. And a couple of others—some kid named Conrad, another named Zane or Zen.” Since this was Seattle, either name was possible. “But from what I’m hearing, Brandon and Reece were the ringleaders.” He looked up at the stands. “I think your daughter wants you.” Brooke was beckoning Mia with white-mittened hands.

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow at the funerals. But if you hear anything really juicy before that, let me know.”

She picked her way back up the stadium steps. The crowd was on its feet, clapping in rhythm and calling, “Let’s go, de-fense! Let’s go, de-fense!”

As soon as she found her way back to her daughter’s side, Brooke asked, “Can we go to the snack stand?” She had picked at her pizza and strawberries, but her appetite had returned at the thought of snacks.

Mia realized she could say no. She could lecture. If she were a really good mom, she would now pull a healthy snack from her purse. Instead she said, “Sure.”

Brooke turned around. “Hold our seats, okay, Grampa?”

“Will do, honey.” He smiled and patted the top of Brooke’s hat, which was made of felt and looked like a cat’s face. “And if they have any of those Payday bars, get me one.”

The snack stand was the one place where both sides gathered. The air was redolent with the smell of hamburgers, hot dogs, and brats grilling on a smoky fire, tended by a man in a long dirty apron. But despite the mouthwatering smell, Brooke had no interest in meat. If she had her way, she would live on only white or tan food. Mia was bent over her, discussing the merits of a soft pretzel versus a muffin, when a man spoke behind her.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

Mia straightened up, surprised. “Eli! What are you doing here?”

“My daughter’s a cheerleader. For the opposing school, I take it.” Sometimes Seattle was a small town on a big scale.

When Eli had talked about his daughter needing to get away from Portland, Mia had developed a mental image of the girl, but cheerleader certainly hadn’t been part of it. Now she looked at the girls dancing in front of the other team’s crowd:

Patriots got the power,

Patriots got the heat,

Patriots got the spirit,

to knock you off your feet!

“Which one’s yours?” she asked.

“Rachel’s second from the left.”

Mia glimpsed strawberry blond hair, the tip of a snub nose.

“So does your son play?” Eli turned toward the field. “What position?”

“Right now what he’s playing is the bench. So far the coach hasn’t put him in.”

“We’ve still got awhile to go before the game’s over.”

“No, I mean this season,” Mia said. “It’s a sore spot for him.”

Eli winced in sympathy. “And who’s this kitty you have with you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. This is my daughter, Brooke. Brooke, this is Mr. Hall.”

Brooke pressed her face into Mia’s thigh.

“She’s a little tired.”

“She looks like you.” Eli half turned toward the snack stand. “What are you getting?”

“A muffin for Brooke and a Payday bar for my dad, if they have any. Maybe a cup of cocoa for me.”

“I saw you eyeing those bratwurst.”

They did look good—and they smelled even better. “I probably shouldn’t.” She had gobbled a slice of pizza at home. But only one.

“Any calories you eat in a stadium don’t count,” Eli said with a smile. “Hasn’t anyone told you that?”

He ended up buying Mia a bratwurst and a cup of cocoa, Brooke a muffin, and her dad a Snickers, the closest thing the snack bar had to a Payday. Eli also ordered two brats for himself. After Mia thanked him, they went their separate ways. The brat plus the cocoa and the candy bar meant she had both hands full when she really needed one to guide Brooke, who was preoccupied with her muffin. But they finally made it back to their spot. Mia hoped she wasn’t alienating the five people who had to keep standing every time she needed to get by.

“Here you go, Dad,” she said, handing him the Snickers. “Hope that’s acceptable.”

“Sure.” He took it from her but didn’t open the wrapper. “Who was that you were talking to? Another cop?”

“No. Eli is one of the other law professors at UDub. And the rest of the time he’s a public defender.” Mia took a sip of her cocoa. It tasted like what it was, various artificial powders mixed with water. Clumps of powder burst between her teeth. You shouldn’t be able to chew hot cocoa. That made her think of Rainy’s story about Darin bringing her marshmallows.

After Mia finished her bratwurst, the rest of the game dragged. Around her, parents cheered and clapped, but many also chatted or sneaked occasional glances at a smartphone.

Brooke clambered onto Mia’s lap and almost immediately fell asleep. It was technically past her bedtime, but keeping to a regular schedule had gone out the window when Scott died. Mia welcomed her warmth, savoring the contact. Since going back to work, she had had little time to just cuddle.

Her lower back ached. Her rear end was both painful and numb. Some of the other parents were smart; they had brought blankets or cushions.

“Which one’s yours?” asked the mom next to her.

“That one,” Mia said, pointing. “Number 79. The one on the bench.”

Four minutes left, and Gabe’s team was up by twelve. Mia silently begged, Please, Coach, let him play. Let him show what he can do. He kept clapping his hands, yelling encouragement, but she knew he was in agony.

Then the game was over and his team, victorious, stormed off the field, leaping, yelling, and bumping fists.

Stiffly, Gabe followed.

Her dad leaned over. “Tell Gabe I’m sure he’ll get in next time.” He pulled his keys from his pocket. “I’m going to head on home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Mia said. She gently shook Brooke awake, and they slowly made their way down the stairs. Before Mia finished buckling her into the car seat, her daughter was asleep again.

She listened to the radio while she waited for Gabe to finish showering. After about ten minutes she turned to look for him. The parking lot was emptying out. Then she saw something that made her freeze.

A few rows back stood a man with a hoodie pulled over his baseball cap. Did he look like the man who had chased her in the university’s parking lot? Her heart started to beat faster. If it was the same man, then he must be after more than her purse.

He must be after her.

She had to do something. But what? Should she honk the horn, yell at other people for help, drive away even if Gabe wasn’t yet in the car?

Just as Mia’s panic was reaching a peak, the man in the hoodie turned and got into a small black car and started it. She realized she had been holding her breath and let it out in a whoosh of air. She was getting paranoid. Seeing killers in every passerby.

Her heart was still beating fast when Gabe climbed in the car. “Why me?” he yelled. “I’m the only one who never goes in.” He slapped the dash.

She tried not to flinch. “Do you want me to talk to the coach?”

“No! Then I’ll be the kid who plays because his mom complains.”

“But we need to know what the coach is thinking.”

“I know what he’s thinking,” Gabe said shortly. “He doesn’t like me.”

“Gabe!” Mia turned the ignition key all the way over. It clicked, but the engine didn’t catch. She tried again. The radio dwindled to nothing. She turned the key a third time.

This time there wasn’t even a click.

“What’s wrong?” Gabe asked.

“I don’t know.” Cars were Scott’s area, not hers.

She pulled the release, got out, and, after some fumbling, managed to prop up the hood.

It was dark underneath. By now Gabe was looking too. Mia got the flashlight from the glove compartment, but when she turned it on, all it made was a fuzzy circle of light so small and soft it was useless.

“Is there a problem, Mia?”

She twisted her head. It was Eli, calling out to her from a small brown Honda.

“My car won’t start.”

He pulled his car over and got out. His daughter followed, hanging back. She wore a cropped jacket over her tiny orange cheer-leading skirt. Mia said, “Gabe, this is another one of the professors, Eli Hall, and his daughter, Rachel. Oh, and, Rachel, I’m Mia. Mia Quinn.” Gabe, who was a half head shorter than Rachel, looked up at her like she was a cross between a goddess and a lioness. Rachel appeared supremely disinterested.

Eli touched a few buttons on his smartphone and turned it into a flashlight. He leaned over the engine compartment.

“Do you mind if I ask your daughter something?” Mia asked Eli.

“Go right ahead.”

The girl was leaning against the Honda while Gabe made halting small talk with her. “Rachel, I was wondering, did you know Darin Dane?”

“That boy who killed himself?” When Mia nodded, Rachel said, “I’m not even sure I ever saw him. When they put his picture up at assembly it didn’t look familiar at all. School hasn’t been going on that long.”

“How about the football team? Have you heard anything about any of the players being involved in bothering Darin?”

“There’re always rumors.” Her eyes slid sideways. “It’s kind of cold out here. I think I’m going to get back in the car.”

Well, it had been worth a try. Mia went back to Eli. They both bent over the engine compartment, which was full of shadows, recesses, protuberances, belts, and miscellaneous parts she didn’t know the names of.

“What are we looking for?” she asked Eli.

He turned his head toward her but was silent for a long moment. Finally he said, “To be honest, I have no idea.”

They both started to laugh. Mia lost her balance a little. For a second, Eli’s lips grazed her cheek, and then she moved her head back.

It had been an accident. Hadn’t it?

Charlie’s voice boomed behind them. “You got a problem, Mia?” They pulled apart and straightened up. Mia’s palms were sweaty. What had just happened?

“Hey, Charlie,” she said, wiping her palms on her coat. “This is Eli Hall, another law professor. He’s trying to help me because my car won’t start.”

The two men shook hands. Charlie was broader and messier-looking than Eli.

“Tell me what happened.” After she did, Charlie said, “Sounds like you ran down your battery listening to the radio.”

In five minutes he had his car nose to nose with hers and the two batteries hooked up. When her car started, both Eli and Charlie left her to her own devices.

On the drive home, Mia took a deep breath. “We’ve been hearing that the kids who were the worst to that Darin Dane were on the football team. Does anything like that happen on your team?”

“No, Mom.” He snorted. “I can’t believe you asked me that.”

“But football is kind of a macho culture, isn’t it? So there’s no horseplay or roughness on the team?”

“Stop it. Stop cross-examining me.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re not accusing me, exactly, but you sound like a prosecutor. Like I’m a bad guy and you’ve got me on the stand. But I’m your kid.” Gabe took a shaky breath and repeated more strongly, “I’m your kid.”