Dan Alexander, Pitcher Page 12

  “I didn’t escape. Someone gave me up.”

  Silence.

  “I left to keep from getting killed.”

  No response.

  “So, I’m not welcome at home?” Holly pinched herself, hoping to wake up.

  “It’s not like that,” Marva said.

  “Of course not. We’d be glad to have you back—if things were different. I mean, if you testify and go into witness protection for a few years, then everyone will’ve forgotten. You can come back, and no one’ll remember. That’s the best way,” her father said.

  “That’s your final answer?”

  “It’s just that we had no idea you were even alive,” her mother said.

  “I never read anything about that. I mean, you didn’t share that with the papers.”

  “Of course not. No one wants to hear about our troubles,” Marva said.

  “I’ve got a meeting in half an hour across town, Holly. I’ve got to run. So, are we clear?” Ransom asked.

  “Very.”

  “Good. We’ll be in the courtroom when you clear yourself. We wish you good luck. Stay safe,” her father said and hung up.

  “Yes, yes. Stay safe. Good luck, Holly. Thanks for calling,” her mother added.

  The final click reverberated like a nail being hammered in a coffin. Hysteria gripped the young woman. She was beyond tears and let go a huge sob. Disowned. Finished. No family. No place to go. She certainly couldn’t stay here after she testified. She’d be endangering the whole Magee family.

  A knock drew her attention. As if she was walking under water, Holly made her way to the door and cracked it open.

  “Are you all right? Did something happen?” Nancy asked.

  Tears blurred her vision as she nodded. “I’m fine.”

  “What happened? Was it Dan?”

  Holly shook her head. “Fine,” she said, shutting the door.

  Fear raced through her veins. Should she run again, or give up and testify and take her chances in witness protection? Neither solution looked good. Tired of being alone, isolated, she was bone weary. She buried her face in her pillow and sobbed. She thought she’d suffered the lowest depths of loneliness already, but she had only scratched the surface.

  * * * *

  With the team on the road, there was no work for Holly. She had another week off and decided to travel back to Pine Grove to visit Jory. She hoped that a few conversations with her friend would provide the clarity she was seeking.

  Holly had saved a little money. She dug out a few crumpled bills from her purse to pay for the round trip ticket. Zipping her jacket up against a chilly, late summer day, she boarded the bus. Turning off her cell to avoid a conversation with Dan she wasn’t ready to have, Holly opened a paperback and sat back.

  Unable to focus on the story, she stared out the window and thought about her life. She knew she had to do the two things she dreaded most—tell Dan the truth and turn herself in. The obligation to testify against the man who’d committed the murder and Flash Kincaid crowded out all else in her mind.

  The desire to discuss her options with Jory ate at her. Running, hiding, and avoiding the truth weren’t working. You can’t escape guilt and responsibility—or fear, either. She was falling in love with Dan Alexander. How could she drag him into this? If she loved him, she had to come clean and face testifying. She shuddered as horrible headlines flashed through her brain. Dan was a public figure, beloved by so many. How could she tarnish his reputation? Holly chewed her lip. She’d lose him then, for sure. And what about the danger from Flash’s friends? It was bad enough to face that for herself. She couldn’t put Dan at risk.

  The bus pulled into the Pine Grove station. When she alit, Jory glanced at her then continued to peruse the other passengers. Holly chuckled. Jory had never seen her with short hair.

  “Jory! Jory! It’s me.”

  “Hmm?” Jory Stevens turned. Her eyes widened. “Is that you, Holly?”

  The dark-haired girl nodded. The two women embraced then headed for the SUV. Jory’s husband, Trent, had the motor idling while he waited for them. They climbed in.

  The ride home was consumed with chatter about Holly’s new hair and job. Once she was settled comfortably in their guest room, she joined them for a glass of wine before dinner.

  “They call you the ‘Hot Dog Girl’?” Jory asked, taking the drink offered by her husband.

  “Yep. The players do. Customers too.”

  “What are they like, up close and personal?” Trent asked, sitting next to his wife.

  “The team? I’m only up close and personal with one,” Holly said, feeling color steal into her cheeks.

  “Who?” Jory asked, putting down her drink.

  “Dan Alexander.”

  “Get out! No. Really? You’re dating Dan Alexander?”

  Holly nodded. “Yeah. I guess.”

  “What do you mean, you guess?” Trent asked.

  “We’ve gone out a few times.”

  “Are you sleeping with him?” Jory asked, her eyes wide.

  “Jory!” Holly turned to her friend.

  “Well, inquiring minds want to know.”

  Trent laughed. “I’d guess the answer is ‘yes’.”

  “Good guess,” Holly said, pushing to her feet. She refilled her glass. “Anyone else?”

  “I love it. You go right to the top, girl,” Jory said, handing her goblet to her friend.

  While Jory and Trent prepared dinner, Holly channel-surfed until she hit the news. She sat back, until a headline grabbed her attention.

  “Guys! Guys! Get in here!” she yelled.

  Jory and Trent rushed into the room and joined her on the sofa. Holly held her breath, as the newscaster spoke.

  “As the trial of Flash Kincaid approaches, the New York City District Attorney, Al Housman, is sending out a desperate plea.”

  The station cut to a video of the D.A.

  “Our star witness in the Flash Kincaid drug and prostitution case, and the Joseph Malone murder case, is missing. We haven’t heard from her in several months. Our sources indicate she’s alive and on the lam. She’s going under the name of Terri Samuels. If you know her, please tell her to call this number.” A phone number flashed across the screen. “Both cases are coming to trial in three weeks. We need your help. We can keep you safe, Miss Samuels, if you will only show yourself.”

  Holly gulped air. Jory and Trent turned to face her.

  “You know what you have to do,” Jory said.

  Holly nodded. “But first I have to tell Dan.” Fear spiraled through her. It was now or never. She took a deep breath.

  “Be strong. You know you can. You have for so long.” Jory patted her on the shoulder.

  “I know. But Dan complicates things.”

  “If he loves you, he’ll understand.”

  “Will he? I’ve decided to go back into witness protection. I don’t know how long I’ll have to be there. It’s my only choice. How can I ask him to wait for me?”

  “If it’s meant to be, love finds a way.”

  Platitudes and the positive attitudes of her friends did little to comfort Holly. That night, she lay in bed for a long while, thinking about what to say to Dan. Restless, she threw back the covers and padded to the window. Peering out into the darkness, she stared at the moon then allowed her gaze to rove over the backyard. A bat flew by the window, startling her. She watched a pudgy raccoon waddle through the moonlight and climb a tree.

  Her mind kept returning to her lover. The time had come. Three weeks to trial. He’d be back by the end of the week. Then, it would be goodbye. Pain seared her heart. Before, she’d had nothing to lose. Now, she had everything on the line. Climbing back in bed, she tossed for another hour before falling into an exhausted sleep.

  At seven she awoke, tired and defeated. There were five messages from Dan. No way could she tell him on the phone. She’d wait until he returned from the road. Although facing him would be hard, she’d decided that it
was the right thing to do.

  * * * *

  The Nighthawks arrived in Baltimore the day before their three game series with the Badgers was to begin. Cal Crawley liked to give the team a chance to get settled before they played. The Badgers were a tough team, so the ’Hawks needed every advantage they could get.

  Dan hit the bar with Matt and Skip. He wanted to be alone to throw his cell phone at the wall, but the guys always hung together on the road. They ordered soft drinks and munched on pretzels at a small, round table.

  “You’re pissed off already, and you haven’t even faced Butch Johnson yet,” Matt said, sipping his cola.

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Whoa! What the Hell? What did I do?”

  Dan stared into his glass.

  “Must be a chick,” Skip said.

  “Holly?” Matt asked.

  “I’m on the road ten days, and she’s already dumped me. Probably screwing her brains out with another guy.”

  “She didn’t seem like that type,” Matt said.

  “They’re all that type. When you’re not around.” Dan took a swig.

  “Not all,” Skip put in.

  “Yes, all. Fucking unfaithful tramps,” Dan murmured.

  “What’s going on?” Matt asked.

  “I’ve called her five times. No answer. No call back.”

  “You’re jumping to a big conclusion here,” Matt said.

  “He’s right. You don’t know. She could be sick,” Skip said.

  “Yeah, or dead.”

  Dan’s eyes widened. “What? That’s horrible.”

  “I doubt she is. But there are lots of explanations besides her fucking all of Manhattan. That’s all I’m sayin’.” Matt drained his glass and signaled for another round.

  “It always happens to me. They always play around. Christ, women have the loyalty of a flea. I mean, come on. A guy’s out of town a couple of days. A week, maybe. And she doesn’t return his calls.”

  “You gotta shake this, Dan. You’re pitching tomorrow,” Skip said.

  “Yeah, I know. I’ll be okay.”

  “Better be,” Matt muttered.

  “What are you gonna do about it?” Dan asked, curling his fingers into a fist.

  “Nothing. Relax, man. Come on,” Matt put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t let her get to you.”

  “I thought she was just the ‘Hot Dog Girl’?” Skip asked.

  Matt signaled him to be quiet, but the shortstop missed the cue.

  “So did I, until I got to know her. She’s not like any other girl I’ve dated. She’s real special. A cut above. Classy, you know. At least I thought she was. And I thought she was into me too.”

  “Did the mighty seducer fall in love?” Skip asked, his lips curving into a smile.

  “No, no. It’s not like that.” Dan shook his head.

  “Yeah, I think it is. You’ve never cared before. Crap, you walked away from Valerie, smokin’ hot Val, in a heartbeat when you caught her with another guy.”

  “Valerie isn’t even on the same planet as Holly,” Dan murmured.

  “Definitely love.” Matt nodded.

  “Give the girl a break, Dan. Don’t jump the gun.”

  “Maybe,” Dan said, finishing his beverage and pushing to his feet. “Past my bedtime. I’m up tomorrow. Gotta go.”

  He walked slowly toward the elevator. He had a beautiful room at the classy Baltimore Savoy. His first thought was how amazing it would be to share it with Holly. Now, he didn’t know if he’d ever see her again. What the hell had happened? Things had been going so well.

  He shook his head. History pointed to Holly being just another star fucker. But his heart disagreed. Couldn’t he pick them out by now? Hell, yes. He could spot ’em a mile away. If Holly wasn’t a star fucker, what was she? And why didn’t she answer her phone or return his calls?

  He undressed and slipped into bed. He wanted her there with him. Making love to her about a thousand times before he had to pitch tomorrow would relax him, make him sharper, better. He switched out the light and closed his eyes.

  Visions of her in his arms returned. He’d have to settle for dreams of her for now. When he got back to New York, he’d straighten it all out. Dan said a prayer that the boys were right and there was a reasonable explanation for her silence. He wanted it to be true, but his experience told him never in a million years.

  Sluggish in the morning, Dan moaned when he got his wake-up call. A long, hot shower revived him. The infielders were already at breakfast when he hauled his butt down to the private dining room. After greeting the team, he loaded a plate at the buffet and sat down to eat. From the head of the table, Cal Crawley stared at him.

  “You’re late. Everything okay, Alexander?” The coach narrowed his eyes.

  “Yep,” Dan said, between bites of bacon.

  “The Badgers are having a strong season. They’re headed for the playoffs. This series is important. No errors, no mistakes. Got it?”

  The team murmured their assent. Against his will, Dan thought about Holly on the bus ride to the stadium. They’d be warming up for a couple of hours before game time. There was more tension than usual in the locker room. The Baltimore Badgers had been big rivals of the Nighthawks for years. A couple of their players, most notably Basil Carter, the ‘Hawks former centerfielder, had jumped ship when they’d become free agents, leaving the New York team and signing with Baltimore.

  The Nighthawks held a grudge against those players. Though they knew you had to go where the money was while you were healthy enough to play, still, they resented them turning down the offer to stay. A special bull’s eye was pinned to Basil’s back. He’d been one of Dan’s inner circle, a close friend. Hell, he’d held the highest score in the hot chick spotting contests week after week.

  Although they’d never had words with him, they snubbed him when their teams came together. Last year, the Badgers almost beat them out for the playoffs, mostly due to the power of Carter’s bat. As if to rub it in, Basil seemed to hit a homer every time he played New York. The animosity grew.

  Two o’clock rolled around, and the team hit the field for the national anthem. Dan held his cap over his heart and sang along. His father told him he must always sing the lyrics before a game. It would bring him good luck. The fact that he was distracted, hadn’t thrown well in practice, and was still pissed at Basil Carter didn’t bode well for an easy win.

  After the song, Dan hit the dugout with the rest of the team.

  As Nat Owen headed for home plate, Chet Candelaria sat down next to Dan and held out a cap full of bills. “You in?”

  The pitcher shook his head.

  “Afraid of a little competition? My eyesight is just as good as yours.”

  “Yeah, but you wouldn’t know a hot chick if she gave you a blow job.”

  Chet slapped his friend’s shoulder and smiled.

  “Thought I’d give you other guys a chance to catch up to me,” Dan said.

  The outfielder shrugged and moved on to another teammate. The last thing Dan was interested in was looking at other women. He only wanted Holly Merrill. And if she wasn’t there, he could care less who sat in the stands.

  He shook his head. If he was giving up chick watching, shit, he had it bad. When had love snuck up on him? The slippery pitcher had been playing dodgeball with Cupid all his life. Finally, the arrow had met its mark. He chuckled to himself. Matt Jackson had seen it before he did. Maybe that’s what best friends are for?

  Before he had a chance to ponder the point further, Bobby Hernandez struck out, and the Nighthawks had been retired, three up, three down. Dan donned his cap, pushed to his feet, and stretched before heading to the mound.

  After a couple of warm-up pitches, the Badgers’ first man up shouldered his bat and made eye contact with Dan. Matt gave him the signal for the new slider. It hadn’t worked well in practice, but he trusted Matt and fired one in. The pitch missed the zone and was called a ball. Two more p
itches. One strike and another ball. Fourth pitch was a ball, and Dan began to sweat.

  Matt changed signs and called for a fast ball. Dan trained all his energy on throwing one that would just nick the corner of the box. It didn’t work. The ball flew down the middle, and the batter connected. The grounder made it to left field, allowing the batter to get to first base.

  First inning, a man on first, nobody out—that wasn’t his usual start. Matt made a face for a second then changed signs. Dan threw a change up and struck out the second batter. The guy on first kept stretching his lead. Keeping track of the idiot trying to steal while focusing on sending his pitch at top speed but within the box, stretched his concentration. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He wiped them away with his sleeve.

  Out of habit, Dan glanced into the stands. But this wasn’t his stadium, and the person hawking hot dogs was a man. He shook his shoulders and forced Holly out of his brain. She had been his lucky charm, standing in the aisle, smiling and cheering him on. In Baltimore, he’d have to go it alone.

  The next batter flied out to the shortstop. The asshole on first took a bigger lead. Matt signaled Skip and Dan. It was a pitch-out, and the runner was going. Dan ducked, and Matt rifled the ball to Skip, who tagged the player out—a lucky break for Dan. With two down, his confidence increased enough to strike out the next batter.

  The second inning, he wasn’t so lucky. He faced Basil Carter as the lead-off batter. Tamping down his animosity toward the man, Dan took Matt’s sign for a change-up pitch and went into his wind-up. But his control was off, and the pitch ended up sailing right down the middle, Carter’s favorite spot. The slugger put it into the seats. Two walks and another single gave The Badgers a two-to-nothing lead.

  The Hawks couldn’t hit worth spit. Baltimore’s pitcher racked up six strike-outs and only two walks. Inning after inning, the Nighthawks grounded out or popped out. Jake Lawrence had one that was caught on the warning track, but that was as close as they came to scoring.

  And Dan Alexander didn’t fare any better. He struck out. Then, he allowed two more runs. At the end of the fourth, it was four to nothing, Badgers leading. Dan ripped off his cap and threw his glove into the dugout. He downed a bottle of water and sank down. Unless his team started hitting, he wouldn’t get much of a rest. Sure enough—three up and three down.