Breach of Trust

by DiAnn Mills

  He’d have preferred a kiss, but extra sprinkles on the doughnuts and an extra marshmallow in the hot chocolate would have to do. Great. I’ve turned into a woman, using chocolate to pacify my wounded heart.

  “Congratulations.” Once Paige walked closer, the field lights shone like diamond chips in her eyes. “The team looked terrific, thanks to a dedicated coach.” She pointed to the binoculars dangling from her wrist. “I actually saw Chris and Walt talking to each other. Made me cry.”

  “They’ll be all right. Hurt feelings are always hard to deal with, especially when you’re young.” He gazed at his boys. “I feel like I’m a daddy to each one of those boys. Hey, I appreciate the call about the fire.”

  Pain etched her face. “I’m so sorry. I know how much you take pride in your home.”

  She seemed to grieve as much as he did. “What we need is rain to stop the fires. At least no one was hurt. Guess I’d better do the coach thing before one of them gets the bright idea of carrying me around on their shoulders like they did a few weeks ago.”

  “You looked good, even if you don’t like the accolades.”

  “Hey, Coach,” a voice shouted from across the field.

  “Better get over there,” Paige said. “I’ll meet you at Denim’s Kitchen once I’m finished at the field house.”

  Miles sensed his emotions heading into overdrive. He jogged toward his boys, his team, his pride and joy, no matter how clichéd it sounded. A whirring sound caught his attention. Glancing up into a star-studded sky, he caught sight of the Channel 6 helicopter flying low. As it descended, it occurred to him that the game tonight capturing Oklahoma City TV news might slam a big dent in Ty Dalton’s plans to have him fired.

  A few moments later, the helicopter landed on the field. Miles straightened his shoulders and marched toward three men—the sports newscaster for Channel 6, a cameraman, and a third man. Miles startled. It was Daniel Keary. Smart man to mix a high school football victory with his campaign for governor.

  Keary stooped as he exited the copter wearing a smile wide enough to break into a chorus of “Oklahoma.”

  “Welcome to Split Creek football.” Miles reached out to grasp the muscular man’s hand. The camera rolled. Sweet.

  “Congratulations on your win tonight.”

  “Thanks. The boys played a great game.”

  “A dynamic coach is always behind a winning team. Do you mind if I offer my congratulations to the boys?” Keary’s relaxed smile confirmed the candidate’s charisma.

  “I’d be honored. I was just heading their way.”

  “Can’t resist an opportunity to encourage young people. We were flying around reporting on the area games when we heard you’d won. Sure you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all. Welcome it.”

  By this time, the boys were enthralled at the sight of the Channel 6 copter. They crowded around the sports anchor while the cameraman videotaped the celebration. None of the players tossed Keary a second look. On Monday, Miles planned to address his students’ lack of awareness of current state affairs.

  “We have a special guest with us tonight,” the anchor said. “Daniel Keary, who is way ahead in the polls for governor in November’s election, has asked to join us in congratulating a win for the Bobcats of Split Creek High School.” The camera flashed to Keary shaking hands with the football team.

  Keary waved away the cheers. “Please, guys. This is your night. I just want to congratulate you on a job well done. I believe in youth. You are our future, and I want to encourage you in any way I can to see our state and nation grow. You are tonight’s champs and tomorrow’s leaders.” Keary gave another smile, a slow lingering one that evoked humility and sincerity.

  Spoken like a true politician, but a good one.

  “Thanks for the computers,” one of the boys said.

  He just got three points added to his six weeks’ grade.

  “You’re welcome. I’m always ready to help.” Keary stepped away and mingled with fans while Miles complimented the team on working together for a win.

  Walking back to the field house several minutes later, he looked for Paige by the concession stand. Keary hovered over her. He adjusted his jacket and lifted his chin. Whatever had transpired between them must have upset Paige, because she stiffened and made her way toward the parking lot. She’d indicated her dislike for him on more than one occasion, but rudeness wasn’t a part of her character. Did Paige’s aversion go deeper? He wished he knew more about her. Right now the green side of envy had taken over.

  * * *

  Saturday morning Paige woke at three thirty, wide-eyed and unable to go back to sleep. Her mind refused to unravel. In the darkness with the hum of the ceiling fan and the steady click of the living room mantel clock, thoughts of Keary and how to beat him at his own game pounded in her brain. He’d displayed the audacity of an agitated rattler by approaching her after the game last night—and after the call about Miles’s fire.

  “I could use you in Oklahoma City.” He had leaned into her, forcing her to take a step back.

  “Head back to your kennel, Keary. There’s nothing I can do to challenge your illustrious career. You have this election wrapped up like a Christmas package.”

  “You and I both know you’re on the CIA payroll again. That’s a bit dangerous, don’t you think?”

  “Not at all. You’ll be the first one arrested if anything happens to my parents. The fire today proved you’re out of control.”

  Paige studied his every move, when he breathed and how he emphasized his words. If evil was the absence of good, then Daniel Keary could be the poster child for corruption in politics.

  “It’s all about control. I heard about your trip to Nairobi. Too bad about your friend’s cancer.”

  “The good seem to die young.”

  “Touché. You know, my wife and I are planning another adoption. Possibly another boy. What do you think about that?”

  While fear for Nathan enveloped her, she kept her emotions in check. “Your wife must not know you very well.”

  “I admit you were better.” He smirked.

  “She’ll learn the truth.”

  “Today was a little warning about what will happen if you try anything to jeopardize this election. Don’t underestimate me. When I want something, I get it.”

  “Heard it all before.” Paige shifted her shoulder purse and whirled around to her car, leaving Keary standing in the glory of his own shadow.

  In the darkness, Paige replayed the conversation. It all fit into a vicious puzzle; she simply had to find the right pieces—or rather the right witnesses. And it had to be completed before Keary’s leeches found Nathan. No point in telling herself he didn’t know something about the boy, but how much?

  She was certain now that Ty Dalton was the mole. He’d worked for WorldMarc on the first crew that entered Angola right after the oil deal. According to Palmer, Dalton quit fourteen months later. Odd for a man who’d worked offshore oil for twenty-two years. He could have decided to make a living at home to be near Chris and Ginny, or he could have seen something that sickened him. Would he have told his wife? Could he have been a part of the murders? Paige knew Ginny Dalton well enough that she thought she could dig a little deeper.

  With last night’s confrontation with Keary fresh and biting, questions became prayers and prayers became journeys down a road filled with regrets. As much as Paige hesitated to relive those nightmares, she’d go there again if it led to Keary’s capture. In fact, she’d park on each moment until he was arrested.

  Chapter 30

  In the early hours before dawn, I pace my study, searching for answers to the problems robbing me of sleep. The governorship has been so ingrained in me that the thought of losing has never crept in. I have my aspirations in Washington; that has never changed. My plans are flawless, and I know how to get the job done. What complicates my life now is Ty Dalton, Mikaela Olsson, and Joel Zuriel.

  At the moment, Zuriel
is at the top of the list. I’ve given him power to handle other matters while I’ve been busy launching my career. And now I learn he placed Mikaela in the same town as Ty Dalton. Zuriel’s defense echoes louder with each passing moment.

  “It was a way to keep an eye on both of them,” Zuriel told me.

  “You think? What about the two comparing notes?”

  “Impossible. Dalton’s scared, and he has the personality of a roach.”

  “I’m tired of your botched jobs.”

  Zuriel stood from the chair in my office. “You owe me.” He headed to the door. “I have things to do, and listening to your whining is not one of them.”

  I can’t kill Mikaela or Ty Dalton. The CIA would connect those dots. But earlier today I made arrangements with Stevens to eliminate Zuriel. Two million dollars’ worth of diamonds are missing, and I know where they went. And everything is in motion for him to take the fall for the oil deals.

  Chapter 31

  Paige limped to the outside book drop to gather up returned items. With school in session, the box was stuffed, mostly with books from homeschool moms. What normally took her five minutes and one trip had stretched to twenty minutes and three trips. She looked across the street, expecting to see Keary or Stevens or Dalton spying on her. A crazy thought. Or was it?

  Miss Eleanor and Mr. Shafer waved from an old church pew sitting in front of Mr. Shafer’s antique store. Those two sure were cozy to be arguing all the time. Paige waved, and Mr. Shafer rose from the bench with Miss Eleanor. As they made their way across the street to her, she thanked God for such good friends. No matter how low she felt—or how lonely—they perked up her day. A twinge of remorse twisted in the pit of her stomach. Oh, to see Mom and Dad one more time. But that might never happen, and she’d find what she needed from the dear seasoned citizens of Split Creek.

  “Good afternoon,” Paige called. “Are you coming to see this crip hobble around the library?”

  “I am. Don’t know about this old man beside me,” Miss Eleanor said. She must have tried a new hair color, because her tight curls were a little pink, or maybe it was the orange lipstick and grass-green eye shadow that gave her a unique look. Voleta must have been experimenting again. “My next appointment is not for another hour.”

  “And I locked the door at the store.” Mr. Shafer rubbed his hands together. “Where do we start?”

  Paige confirmed her love for them. “You two are just the dearest folks in town. I’m nearly caught up, but you could help me bring in the rest of these books.”

  The couple gathered armfuls and brought the last mound of media items inside.

  “I heard that one of our school board members was having an affair.” Miss Eleanor leaned against the open door of the library. “But I didn’t hear who.”

  “An Affair to Remember?” Mr. Shafer asked. “I saw that movie. Pat Boone and Ann Margaret.”

  “Turn up your hearing aid,” Miss Eleanor fairly shouted. “That was Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr.”

  “What car? I’m so tired of those whippersnappers racing up and down the street.”

  Miss Eleanor tossed Paige an exasperated look. She hid her amusement.

  “As soon as I check these in, I’ll be taking off the rest of the afternoon to have my cast removed,” Paige said.

  “You’re not going by yourself, are you?” Miss Eleanor planted her hands on her hips.

  “No. Driving with my left foot is not hard, but Miles is taking me. His assistant is handling practice today.”

  “One of us could have driven you.” Mr. Shafer furrowed his wiry brows, intensifying the lines in his leathered face. “No point in Miles taking off from practice, unless you can talk some sense into his thick head.”

  “Miles? What about?”

  “Why he’s not starting Chris Dalton as quarterback. That boy is a senior, and his daddy’s on the school board.”

  Paige swallowed a harsh retort. “From what I’ve seen, Chris does a fine job as receiver.”

  Mr. Shafer leaned in closer. “But he wants to play first-string quarterback like his daddy did. Chris is more mature than a sophomore kid. He’s built like his daddy and has the same skills. Sweet girl, someone needs to set him straight about Split Creek tradition.”

  “I don’t believe in pleasing daddies.”

  Miss Eleanor gasped.

  “Look, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but I value Miles’s judgment on and off the field.”

  “But he wasn’t born here.” Mr. Shafer lifted his whiskery chin. “You have to know how folks expect things done.”

  Paige sensed the heat rising up her neck. “But you sang his praises when the team had good seasons. They’ve just gotten started and only lost one scrimmage.” She shoved down the other remarks threatening to bubble up her throat. “Help me understand. Is the problem about Chris’s desire to play quarterback or Miles’s standing up to his principles? Of course, the boy playing quarterback is Chickasaw.”

  “Now, Paige, you’ve let this hurt foot of yours get you all riled up,” Miss Eleanor said. “We’ll talk about something else.”

  “Yes, maybe we should. I don’t want to say anything I’d regret to two people I love.”

  “Whew.” Mr. Shafer smiled. “Leave it up to the school board to make those decisions. That’s what those folks are there for.”

  Paige glanced up at the glittering chandelier as she put Miles’s situation into perspective. No wonder he downed chocolate shakes to ease his ulcer. Paige blinked. Immediately she was transported back to the heat and the blinding sun that sparkled in her eyes. Her body refused to move, and all she could hear was the muffled voice of a man. “Too bad she had to die. She’s much too pretty to waste.”

  * * *

  For the present, Miles could shove aside what he knew about Paige. He could drive her to Pradmore, tease her about having two feet again, and continue this surface-type, superficial relationship. He’d gone over a hundred different scenarios as to why she lived in Split Creek under an assumed name, but none of them made sense. Her perfume wafted around the truck, making him more angry than appreciative of the woman beside him—the woman he loved, the woman with no name.

  “You’re quiet,” she said after several minutes. “Everything okay?”

  Not really. “Just have a few things on my mind.”

  “Do you need to talk about them?”

  Her question nearly brought him to the boiling point. “I’ll talk about mine when you talk about yours.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Problems and secrets. Everybody’s got them.” He was going to alienate her at this rate. “I’m sorry. Two of my players are flunking. Ty Dalton’s becoming a real pain. Chris and Walt aren’t getting along any better, and the fire marshal suspects arson.”

  She looked at him oddly. “Arson? Who would do such a thing?”

  “There’s a suspect.”

  “Is there evidence enough to make an arrest?”

  He studied her face for a moment. Nothing about her revealed deceit. This really wasn’t about Ty Dalton possibly burning his barn. He hated the thought of a man being that upset about high school football to even consider it. Miles pulled off to the side of the road, his emotions spinning like a kid’s top. “Paige, do you have any feelings for me?”

  “Is that the real reason you’re bummed out?” She glanced behind them as a car sped by, full tilt on the horn. “Your hormones nearly got us killed.”

  “Cut the sarcasm and answer my question . . . please.”

  “We’re . . . well, obviously we’re good friends.” She tugged on her gold sweater, then rubbed her palms. “There are things about me that you don’t know. Things that would cause you to despise me. Things that are bad.”

  “Just answer my question; don’t give me a list of all of the reasons we can’t be together.”

  She kept her attention on the stone shoulder of the road.

  “Look at me, please.”

  When she slow
ly lifted her light brown eyes to him, he knew without a doubt that she cared. But he had to hear her say it.

  “If it were were possible, I’d tell you those words for the rest of my life,” she said, barely above a whisper.

  Silence seemed to echo about the cab. “So it’s not the lack of love; it’s the lack of trust. Odd. I thought the two went together.” He put the truck into drive and slowly drove back onto the road. “I would like to protect you for the rest of my life.”

  “And I would like the same—if it were possible.”

  Miles had his answer. Who or what had happened to keep her from him?

  Chapter 32

  On Wednesday morning, with the stress of Friday’s game nipping at his heels, Miles’s ulcer burned like someone had lit a match to his stomach. To make matters worse, he’d developed a fresh case of hives in places he couldn’t scratch. If the Bobcats won this week, they’d have three wins. This year’s team was the best he’d ever coached, and he believed they could tackle the whole state. In the meantime, his insides reacted as though he’d drunk the water in Mexico—laced with jalapeños.

  Ty Dalton hadn’t given up on having Miles removed from his coaching position, but his argument was fast losing credibility. And Miles hadn’t found any answers as to why Paige wasn’t Paige. Asking her about her false identity meant confessing to how he’d obtained her Social Security number. So, who was deceiving whom—or was it who was deceiving who? English had never been his shining apple. He continued to wrestle with what to do about Paige, knowing he had to find out the truth, no matter what the cost.

  And then there was the growing suspicion of the fire marshal and the sheriff that his barn had been deliberately set on fire. Ty Dalton’s name had been mentioned more than once, but Ginny claimed she was with him at the garage that night.

  Chris lagged behind after third-period history. He shifted from one foot to the other, and perspiration formed on his forehead. “Can we talk, Coach?”