“What the hell is going on?” Brad murmured, echoing exactly Graham’s thoughts.
But he had a good idea exactly what the hell was going on. And his suspicions were confirmed when the remaining MP approached him a minute later.
“Captain Sweeney, can we speak privately for a moment?”
“Uh, let me check with—”
A large hand landed on his shoulder, and he heard Coach Ace’s deep, rumbling voice behind him. “You can use my office, if it’s quick. I need him back to finish up this last workout. We’ve got the games to get ready for. Marine pride and all that.”
The MP smiled briefly. “Understand, sir. Just a few minutes and he’s all yours again.” They followed Coach Ace, who opened the door to his office and closed it behind him when they were situated.
“She did it,” he surmised quietly while the MP pulled out a notebook from his pocket. “She admitted it, I guess?”
“Not at first. We mentioned the partial print we pulled from the brick, and that was enough to get her to say it was an ‘accident.’” He scoffed at that. “You always hope one of them will get a little more creative . . . never happens.”
“I didn’t realize the brick came with prints.”
“It didn’t. Or none that were helpful. You’re in JAG. You know how it goes. We can mislead all we want, long as we don’t coerce. She confessed, said you yelled at her—”
“I did.”
“Which you already told us, so no problems there. Then she said the brick was just sitting there, in a pile, where they’ve got the construction materials for the repair on the back wall. And suddenly it was just in her hand, flying at your car. ‘Couldn’t be helped,’” he added, using quote fingers on the last with a smirk.
Graham groaned and covered his face with his hands. “Couldn’t be helped. Right. So, now what?”
“You know the drill from here. We need to determine if she was behind the rest of the vandalism on the building and the team’s tires. My gut, though, says no. I just need to hear it from her.”
His gut said the same thing. “She might be part of it. A small cog in a large group. Herd mentality or something.”
“Doubtful. I’m still hanging onto the cut teammate theory. But we’ll see. It’s just too damn expensive to put up security cameras. We don’t have that kind of a budget. And your season is almost over. If it’s got to do with the team, and not just boxing in general, then it’s almost over. Come back next year with a fresh team, and hopefully no troubles.”
Graham didn’t point out that with all the trouble they’d run into, the team could be disbanded entirely. No point. He stood, shook the MPs hand and headed back out to rejoin his group, who had moved onto the third circuit.
He reached for a jump rope, realized people were staring at him, and he shrugged. “What?”
“Jesus Christ walking on the moon, it’s a team practice, not the set of a telenovela. Get to work, you assholes!” Coach Ace bellowed.
Ah, there it was. Grinning at Greg across the gym, Graham started to practice on his footwork.
*
KARA sat with Zach, both staring at Graham’s house from her car. Her grip on the wheel tightened.
“Are, uh, we going in?” Zach shook the shoebox he held in his hands. The contents rattled around.
“Just give me a minute.” She breathed in, then out, much as she had before the barbeque two weeks earlier. The only difference this time was . . . oh, hell. There were a thousand differences now. She’d kissed him. Slept with him. Heard him say he loved her. Fallen in love with him in return.
Nothing would ever be like it was before.
“Zach, about Graham . . .”
“I know, don’t get attached.” He rolled his eyes. Though her son had apologized that morning for his outburst the night before, she sensed he was more sorry for how he’d said it, not what he had said. And thought that she was holding back from letting them both get closer to Graham for “some stupid adult reason.”
Wasn’t that the truth . . .
She got out of the car and walked to the front door, which was already open thanks to Zach walking in without knocking. “Zachary!”
“He told me I could, Mom.” Toeing off his shoes, he sprinted to the kitchen where Graham stood by the oven, a large red oven mitt on one hand. “Hey, Graham! I made you this box.”
He took it with the non-mitt hand, smiling a little puzzled. “Looks like Nike made it, bud.”
Zach rolled his eyes at the lame joke. Then watched curiously as Graham pulled her in for a sweet kiss. “Are you guys going to do that all night?”
“How would we eat, then?” Kissing her again, he nudged her toward the fridge. “Grab a drink. Dinner’s almost finished.”
“Can I eat it?”
Kara watched, stepping back a little to let Graham handle this one on his own. She knew what he’d made—he’d called her twice to be positive it was okay—but Zach didn’t.