All He Has Left(17)

Then it happened. One of the opposing team’s players clearly held one his guys right in front of the same ref and made the way for a go-ahead touchdown. Jake was irate and, truthfully, a little drunk. He let the referee have it with some descriptive words as they jawed at each other up close and personal. Then the referee leaned in and said, “Sober up, coach. Don’t let your dead wife ruin my night, too.” Without realizing what he was doing, Jake had his right hand wrapped around the ref’s neck, squeezing with all his strength, before Drew had pulled him away. He was fired the next day. Jake might’ve been terminated regardless, but that incident had made it much easier for the school to get rid of a head coach who had just tragically lost his wife.

Taking one more glance behind him, checking for police and not finding any around, Jake stepped fully into BBG’s. He weaved through the crowd until he made his way back to Drew and then slid onto a stool next to his friend.

Drew turned, said, “Sorry, pal, this one is taken.”

Jake looked over at him. “Hey, man, it’s me.”

Drew cocked his head. “Dude, what’s with the glasses and ski cap?”

“Long story.”

They shared a quick bro hug.

“It’s really good to see you,” Drew said. “Even if you do look like a weirdo.”

“Same. Listen, I don’t have much time.”

Drew’s forehead bunched. “Everything OK?”

“No. I can’t explain right now. But I need your help.”

“Of course, man. What’s going on?”

“I need to find Judd McGee ASAP.”

This seemed to catch Drew off guard. “Why?”

“Like I said, long story. But it’s important to me. Do you know where he lives? Or have a way of finding his address for me?”

“I can probably pull it up from the school server on my phone.”

“I need you to do that for me.”

“What’s going on, Jake?”

“I don’t have time to explain. I’m sorry. I just need this right now.”

“All right, all right.” Drew typed on his phone screen and a minute later had found an address listed on a player contact list. Jake borrowed a pen from the bartender, wrote it down on a napkin, and stuffed it in his pocket.

“His son is back on the team, you know,” Drew mentioned. “I felt like he deserved another chance.”

“I know. It’s fine. I don’t care.”

“Really? Because I figured that might be why you stopped responding to my calls and texts.”

“No, it’s OK. You did what you had to do. Let me ask you something. Does Judd ever drive a tow truck?”

Drew shrugged. “No idea.”

“He still work at an auto shop?”

“I think so. Seriously, Jake, what is this all about?”

Jake considered whether he should say anything more to Drew. After all, the man was his best friend. Maybe his only friend left. Drew was one of the few guys who had stood by him in the days that followed his firing last year. He actually told Jake that he wouldn’t take over the head coaching job at Austin High if Jake didn’t want him to do it. Of course, Jake insisted he take it.

Jake’s eyes drifted over to a TV on the wall behind the bar to his left—one of the few that didn’t have sports on it. Instead, it was tuned to a local cable news station. Jake cursed, his eyes widening. An up-close photo of him during his coaching days was currently plastered on the TV. Although Jake couldn’t hear anything, the TV had closed captioning, so he could see the words scrolling across the bottom. Jake Slater . . . suspect in death of a twenty-two-year-old woman . . . former disgraced coach of Austin High . . . Police are searching . . . The FBI is also involved.

The TV screen switched to a male reporter at the scene of the crime. Jake immediately recognized Caitlin’s house behind him. Seeing his own face and name appear on TV felt like a body blow that took the breath right out of him. He looked over at his friend. Drew was also staring at the TV. Then his buddy looked back to Jake with his mouth dropped open.

“Jake, what the hell?”

“It’s not true,” Jake insisted. “You have to believe me.”

“Uh, OK. But what . . . ?”

“I’ve got to get out of here.”

“Wait, Jake. What the hell am I supposed to do about this?”

Jake reached down to the floor, grabbed his backpack. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? If it’s not true, then let me help you.”

“All right. If you want to help, I need cash. Whatever you have on you.”

Drew reached into his blue jeans pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. “Take it. Probably two hundred bucks or so. It’s yours.”

“Thanks.” Jake grabbed it, shoved it into his pocket. “I’ll be in touch.”

Spinning around, Jake began to make his way back to the front of the bar near the sidewalk. Then he froze in his tracks. He spotted two men up ahead of him standing in the entrance of BBG’s, both wearing similar dark-blue windbreakers. The men were clearly not barhopping. Both were shoving their phones in front of people. Squinting, Jake thought they were sharing the same photo of him the news had just flashed up on the TV screen. FBI? But how would they know he was inside this bar? How the hell had they found him so fast?