Breach of Trust

by DiAnn Mills

  “I want to play my own position,” Chris had said earlier while the team was suiting up. “I’m a receiver, not a quarterback. Makes me feel dirty, like I’ve betrayed Walt.”

  “You can do the job.” Miles gripped Chris’s shoulder. “What do you think Walt wants you to do?”

  Chris blew out an exasperated breath. “To lead the team to a win.”

  “Then do it. And I think the rest of the team needs to hear that too. Gather around, guys.” Miles motioned to his team. “We need to talk.” Once he had their attention, he glanced at his watch. Time was running out, and he felt the same anxiety they did. “When we started practice last August, none of you were assigned positions. When I announced them, many of you were mad that a sophomore was going to play first-string quarterback. Some of you bullied him, messed with his car, blackened his eye, and a few other things I won’t mention. Then Chris and Walt chose to help unite this team into a fighting force that brought us through win after win. Walt can’t be here, and the same guys who once hated him aren’t willing to head onto the field without him. Walt earned your respect each time he ignored the barbs and helped add points to the scoreboard. All of you care about him. I’m proud of how much you’ve grown this season. I’m proud of your accomplishments. But I ask you, what does Walt want you to do tonight?”

  The boys glanced at each other without a word.

  “Win,” a linebacker said.

  When the players agreed, Miles held up his hand. “Then win this game for Walt. Dedicate every play, every pass, every tackle, and every point to our player who can’t be here with us.”

  “I will.” Chris stood from the bench. “And after we win tonight, maybe we could visit him at home.”

  Those were not the sentiments of someone who was involved in Walt’s shooting.

  Miles clapped his hands. “All right. Those are the Bobcats I know. We have ten minutes before we head out onto the field. Ten minutes before we capture our sixth win of the season.”

  Shortly before ten o’clock that night, Miles knocked on the Greywolfs’ door. He’d phoned earlier to see if the family approved of the team’s paying Walt a visit. The boys were excited, more like little boys than near men. Walt was resting on the sofa when the Bobcats arrived.

  “Don’t you go to sleep when you have the whole team here to see you,” Miles said.

  Walt’s eyes snapped open. “My parents won’t tell me a thing about the game. We won, right? I mean, we had to win. Right?”

  The players filled the room and responded to Walt’s question by simply talking among themselves in an attempt to look defeated.

  “Should we tell him?”

  A defensive tackle shook his head.

  “I don’t know,” the kicker said. “He doesn’t look very good, and he is on painkillers. You know—drugs.”

  “We’d better go home and come back when he’s feeling better,” another said.

  “Coach, you’ve got to tell me.” Walt stuck his leg out from under the blanket, then grimaced. “We won? I know we did. What was the score?”

  “Steady. No need to climb out of there.” Miles rubbed his chin. “Do you think Walt here can take the news?” He nodded at Chris.

  “We won tonight! Twelve to six,” Chris said. “If you’d been there, it would’ve been twenty-four or thirty to six.”

  That was probably the closest thing to friendship Chris had ever attempted.

  Walt relaxed against the pillow. He swiped at a tear. “Thanks, guys. I knew you could do it. Wow, we’re headed into the play-offs for sure.”

  “Hey, bro, we did it for you.” Chris reached out to shake Walt’s hand. “We just believed you were there with us.”

  “Thanks, guys. I will be there next week. The doc is letting me go back to school on Monday. Next Friday night, I’m going to be at the game.” He glanced at Miles. “But I’ll be there Sunday afternoon for the football party.”

  Miles stepped back so his players could crowd around Walt. The Chickasaw Wonder had more friends than anyone in school. He deserved it after what he’d been through. But Miles would feel a whole lot better when the shooter sat behind bars.

  * * *

  Paige stood outside Miles’s farmhouse and admired the L-shaped porch and the old church pews on each side of the door. Miss Eleanor had told her that his house looked like a model home, and Paige had wanted to see it for a long time. The outdated double standard for men and women had hovered over them. For some reason, in this community, it was okay for Miles to call on Paige but vastly inappropriate for her to reciprocate.

  She balanced the chocolate fudge half-sheet cake on her knee and knocked on the heavy oak door. Palmer had phoned her earlier with the news that Zuriel had been killed in Angola. No surprise. She’d analyze those details after the football party. Miles opened the door before she completed her two-knock routine. He wore a soft blue sweater and jeans.

  “Hi, Coach. You look like quite the gentleman farmer.” Paige stepped inside. She took in the winding staircase and rich hardwood floors. “This is gorgeous. You told me you’d remodeled a bit here and there, but I hadn’t expected the detail and exquisite work.”

  “Thanks.” Miles inhaled and sent an admiring, hungry-man look at the cake. “Mmm. Chocolate. Want a tour? I think we have a few extra minutes before everyone gets here.”

  “Absolutely. I might steal some ideas on how to spruce up my own house.”

  “Do I get a kiss first?”

  She rolled her eyes and did her best imitation of a teenage girl. “Like, is that the only way I get to, like, check out your house?”

  “Like, yeah.”

  She nodded at the cake while smells of food teased her nostrils. “You’d better set this somewhere first.”

  “Follow me.” Miles took the cake and led her into a huge kitchen, where she nearly drooled over the room’s design. Light oak cabinets, an island, and brown and black speckled granite countertops peeked from under finger foods and desserts. And the classic lighting fixtures . . .

  “This looks like a page out of a decorator magazine.”

  “Page?”

  “Photograph.” She made her way to a huge stainless steel stove that must have set him back a chunk of change. “Your stove looks like it debuted on the cooking channel.” She opened the oven door. “Miles Laird, you’ve never used this.”

  “A few times.”

  “If this is where the tour begins, then you should be charging admission.”

  “All I want is a kiss.”

  She laughed—one of the things she did best with him. “I nearly forgot.”

  “No, you didn’t. I can see it in your eyes.”

  Paige wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’ve been reading too many spy novels again.”

  “I’m reading romance.” He pulled her tighter to him and without hesitation claimed his admission for the evening’s tour.

  When at last they parted, she was glad he couldn’t read her thoughts. “I’m selfish, but I wish I didn’t have to share you with other guests tonight.”

  “There’s a party here? I lied. You’re the only one invited.”

  She gestured around the room. “And why all of this food?”

  “Thought we might get hungry.”

  The doorbell rang before she had an opportunity to respond. Miles groaned. “Someone’s early, so the tour will have to be postponed.”

  “I paid for my ticket.”

  “It expires.” He winked before disappearing down the hallway to answer the door.

  This afternoon, Paige refused to think about Keary. She’d been right in trying one more time to prove his lawlessness. She’d taken the actions of an operative, a Christian, and a mother who cared about innocent people. Keary would be found out and charged for his murdering, lowlife tricks. All she had to do was allow God to orchestrate the universe—a difficult course for a control freak. But confidence helped her keep her focus because Keary would spiral down and crash. And Nathan and her pare
nts would be safe.

  Hours later, Paige pulled a pan of little sausages wrapped in pastry from the oven and set them on a cooling rack on the kitchen counter. The guests had eaten a ton of food, and still it continued to vanish. Teenage boys were like vacuum cleaners, and their daddies were right behind them. Midway through scooping the sausages onto a serving tray, her cell phone rang. The number on the caller ID was unfamiliar. She started to ignore it and let the caller leave a message, but her curiosity took over.

  “Check out the six o’clock news,” a male voice said and hung up.

  Her party spirit took a nosedive. Keary must have a new tactic, or he wanted to let her know about Zuriel in his own way. Hesitation left her staring at the phone. Without a doubt, Keary was nervous about the CIA investigation. Then why had he had Zuriel killed, unless he’d been assured that the death could be made to look like an accident?

  Miles walked into the kitchen. “I looked around and saw you were gone.”

  “Food supply ran short.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  She needed to better hide her preoccupation. “I received a call telling me to watch the evening news.”

  “Who from?”

  “One of them, I suppose.” She picked up the tray of food. “Not sure if I want to see it or not.”

  Miles lifted the tray from her arms. “I think we should, or you’ll be worrying about it all evening.”

  The kids had the TV on in the game room, where most of the people had gathered. Had something happened in Washington or overseas? Her mind raced with the possibilities. Miles used the remote to change channels, and she saw the promo for the upcoming evening news. Two minutes to six. Tension settled on her shoulders while impatience ground at her nerves.

  “What’s going on, Coach?” Walt asked.

  “Oh, I just like to get a quick glimpse of the news before Monday morning.”

  A couple of the players moaned. “You mean we have a quiz tomorrow? You can’t expect Walt to go through another traumatic experience.”

  Miles swung them a grin. “Never know.”

  Why was it necessary for her to view the news? Keary had succeeded in winning the people’s support, and he obviously still planned to have her on board in his new regime. Miles knew the truth, but did he actually believe her? The broadcaster interrupted her musings.

  “Tonight’s news features a startling announcement made earlier today by Daniel Keary, who is ahead in the polls as Oklahoma’s next governor. Stay tuned for this breaking news.”

  Again she waited while a gamut of commercials spun their enticement. The world’s best truck. The world’s best orange juice. The world’s best cell phone deal. Then a news anchor gave the TV camera a sober look.

  “This afternoon, Daniel Keary called a press conference regarding a woman who is stalking him and threatening his family.”

  Who could this be? Has he been cheating on his wife?

  The footage flashed to Keary, who posed behind a podium with his wife. He managed the demeanor of a politician quite nicely. “Eight years ago, during the time I worked for the CIA and was not married, I had a relationship with a woman who was also employed by the CIA. When I ended the relationship, she had a mental breakdown. As a result the CIA dismissed her from her duties.”

  Paige’s heart threatened to burst from her chest. She stiffened. Had Keary won the battle and the war?

  Keary had not finished his announcement. “During the past several months, this woman has attempted to force herself back into my life. When I refused, she began to pursue me and frighten my family, making our lives miserable. She also stated her intentions of bringing our past affair to the attention of the media. My pledge to the citizens of Oklahoma is honesty. I will not have my campaign tainted with lies and secrets.”

  Paige’s rage bubbled. What else, Lord? How can this be for the cause of good?

  “Rather than be asked by the press about this unfortunate disturbance in my family’s life and how it could affect my role as governor, my wife and I have chosen to publicly refute any accusations of marital infidelity.”

  “What is the woman’s name?” a reporter asked.

  “There is no reason to exploit this woman who obviously still suffers from mental instability.”

  You jerk. You lying son of Satan.

  The footage ended and flashed back to the newscaster, who kept her face rigid. “Since this announcement, sources have learned that the woman, whose name is Mikaela Olsson, is living in Split Creek under the assumed name of Paige Rogers. She is the local librarian, where Keary donated computers for the town’s youth.” A recent photo of Paige filled the upper right-hand corner of the TV screen.

  Paige tasted the acid of devastation. She stared into the TV while uncomfortable silence hovered around her. She refused to look at Miles. His players and friends had heard every word. How embarrassing for him. Anger and the anguish of disappointment rooted in her heart. This had not been one of the scenarios that she and Palmer had discussed.

  Her cell rang again, and she knew the caller without answering. Paige quietly turned and left the room. She grabbed her purse from the kitchen and hurried down the hallway. Her heels clicked on the hardwood floors, keeping pace with her heartbeat. The smells of food sickened her. The only sounds were the TV in the background and her incessant cell phone. It stopped ringing the moment her hands turned the doorknob. A few seconds later, it began ringing again. Miles touched her arm, but she shook her head and gestured him to back off. She stepped outside and closed the door behind her before answering the phone.

  “What did you think of the evening news?”

  Paige reclaimed her true identity—that of an operative on a mission. She knew the script. “Keary, what do you want from me? You’ve killed my friends and threatened those I love.”

  “I’m not finished with you yet.”

  “What do you want from me? I’ve never understood why you thought I’d get in your way. If that was the case, why didn’t I expose you when you announced your candidacy?”

  “Lying doesn’t become you, and playing innocent is not your style. I should have gotten rid of you after that business in Africa, but your demise would have raised doubts about my integrity.”

  “Integrity? You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

  “You are a fine one to question what I do.”

  “I want it to end.” In truth, she wanted him dead. “Let the voters decide the election.”

  “When were you planning to tell me about Nathan?”

  Panic attempted to worm its way through her control. “Who is Nathan?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He chuckled. “Think about this: if I can eliminate Rosa and Gonsalvo and Zuriel in a matter of a few hours, then I can locate my son.”

  Rosa and Gonsalvo? She had no choice. “What do you want me to do?”

  “So, you’ve come around to my way of thinking? Smart move. All I need for you to do is check yourself into a psychiatric hospital until after the election. To corroborate my version of the truth.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “A farmhouse in Wisconsin will get my attention, as well as Split Creek’s football coach. And then there is Nathan. I assure you, you would never see him again.”

  Trapped.

  “And you’ll leave my friends and my parents alone?”

  “As long as you keep your nose clean and leave the state once your little vacation is over, and you follow my directions. For insurance purposes, my men will be watching the coach and dear old Mom and Dad. Nathan is another matter. I have the means to adopt him. Ironic, don’t you think? Thought about it ever since I learned the truth.”

  Her knees weakened. Not my son. You’ll never have him. “Whatever it takes. I give up.”

  “Of course you do. I value family. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

  Paige snapped the phone shut and wrapped her fingers around her keys. She would not go back inside the house. Miles had fa
ced humiliation, and she looked like a pathetic mental case who had deceived them all.

  The door opened behind her.

  “Paige.”

  She heard Miles, but she would not give in to her emotions and turn around. People were probably watching from the windows. Right now they were stunned. They had to believe that Miles had been duped too.

  He whirled her around to face him. “You can’t run from this.”

  “I’m doing what has to be done. For your own sake, go back to your guests.”

  “Can’t you give them an explanation of what happened?” His eyes held the torment of bruised love and unanswered questions.

  “Most of what Keary said was true.” She hated the words flung at Miles, but she had to protect him. “I tried to warn you from the beginning, Miles. Deal with it.”

  “You can’t leave until we talk about this.” His eyes blazed with an anger she’d never seen in him.

  “Watch me.” She pulled his hands from her arms.

  “If you leave, we have nothing.”

  “We never did.”

  Paige opened her car door. She fought the flood of tears burning her throat and searing her heart. Nathan. I have to protect him.

  Chapter 45

  Paige threw a few clothes into a suitcase for the trip to the psychiatric hospital while fighting the fury that made her want to stick a knife into Keary’s black heart and twist it. He’d lit the fuse for this whole nasty thing to explode in her face. She felt so stupid that she hadn’t seen this coming.

  With Keary’s high profile, the news would hit national media, which meant her parents would learn their daughter was still alive. That kind of shock needed to come from Paige, not an impassioned newscaster or reporter. And what about her mother’s heart condition? Thoughts darted about her mind as to what she should say—an explanation that hovered in the proverbial gray area. Would Paige ever be able to recognize untainted truth? Her plan to protect them from Keary had failed, but not in the way she’d ever expected. God had to fit somewhere in all of this. She needed guidance, and she was all prayed out.