Deep Threat

by Scott Pratt

  When Jarvis resurfaced, if he resurfaced, everyone would surely know about it quickly.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Football is all about crisis management, and Jack Stratton was being forced to learn another hard lesson. The heat was on.

  It was bad enough that the coach had only two winning seasons to show for his four at Tennessee, and some of the program’s most influential donors were ready to rebuild again. Now Stratton had to address all the off-field questions – his best player going missing, drugs, agents, discipline.

  Adding fuel to the fire, just a day before the Alabama game a prominent Journal columnist had wondered whether it was time for Stratton to go. The drumbeat had started. Even a monumental win wasn’t necessarily going to salvage the season, or the coach’s job, especially if Jarvis Thompson wasn’t on the field anymore.

  The fact that a strong Missouri team was coming to town Saturday, and the Vols desperately needed to keep winning, seemed lost on the fan base, which was still lighting up social media and message boards with conspiracy theories about Jarvis. It was probably lost on most of Stratton’s players, too. They were just as preoccupied by the star receiver’s disappearance as everyone else, though they weren’t saying so publicly.

  The coach had put a gag order on them until the weekly media briefing that afternoon, and even then only questions about Saturday’s matchup would be addressed. It was sure to be a circus.

  Most everyone could agree that Jarvis was an unlikely candidate to be embroiled in such controversy at this stage of his career. He had been a model student in his two-plus years at UT, with respectable grades for a guy who didn’t really need a degree, and his community service deeds around Knoxville were exemplary.

  Just a few weeks ago, he showed up out of the blue at the children’s hospital and spent several hours with the young patients, many of them waging gut-wrenching battles with cancer. He brought a bunch of Vols souvenirs, signed autographs and laughed and played with the kids. The media never even knew.

  Whenever the UT coaches needed a high-profile player to get involved in a public-relations project, Jarvis was their man. He was money in the bank with all the university’s constituents. They had been fretting for weeks about how much he would be missed next season – a jump to the NFL was a foregone conclusion – and now they were left to ponder this bizarre turn of events.

  The coach’s place was coming into view, and Billy drove up to the wrought-iron gates and pressed the call button. Stratton was his neighbor, sort of, but at the moment he seemed to be in a world of his own.

  The house stood like a white fortress on the bluff, the river on one side and its high stone walls on the other, keeping everyone at bay. A salary of four million dollars a year could buy some serious privacy in Knoxville, and right now that’s exactly what the man needed.

  Billy was surprised to hear a woman’s cheerful voice come over the intercom. It must have been Stratton’s wife, Vickie.

  “Good morning,” she said. “Can I help you?”

  “Good morning. This is Billy Beckett. I live down the road here and was hoping I could speak with Coach Stratton. Is he in?”

  Vickie seemed less cheerful the second time. “Hold on.”

  Suddenly Stratton’s voice came across, loud and impatient. “Billy, I’m really pressed for time here; I have to be on campus in about an hour. I don’t know if we should be talking anyway.”

  “I won’t take much of your time, coach. I promise. This is just between us.”

  There was a lengthy pause before he heard a couple of clicks, the whir of a motor, and the creaking of the black gates as they slowly began to part. Billy put his Escalade into gear and headed up the long driveway.

  Stratton met him before he could even get out of the car.

  “Let’s go around back,” the coach said.

  The men took a sidewalk that snaked through a well-attended garden and turned the corner to a gazebo, opening up the most expansive view of the river that Billy had ever seen. This was where the king of Knoxville should live, he thought.

  “Beautiful place, coach.”

  “Not so beautiful when the police are looking for our best player along the river banks. That’s what I woke up to this morning. Is there anything new on Jarvis?”

  “I don’t think so,” Billy said. “My brother is conscious but hasn’t been able to tell us anything about what happened yet.”

  Stratton pulled out a couple of chairs from the table and the men sat at his scenic perch. Billy had never been invited to the house, and he certainly wished he weren’t here now.

  “You know we have the weekly news conference this afternoon,” Stratton said. “It won’t be a pretty scene. The national media people will be there, just to stir things up, and I don’t know what to tell them. At this point, I’m almost speechless. Hell, we’re just trying to win football games here.”

  He took a long look at Billy. “The job just got a whole lot tougher, thanks to you.”

  “I’m sorry this has fallen on you and the program,” Billy said. “Everything with Jarvis was good, you guys beat Alabama and now...”

  “And now you show up here on my doorstep. If the reporters knew, I’d never hear the end of it.”

  “I just thought I owed it to you, Jack, to tell you where I’m coming from. I’m a UT guy and I’m trying like crazy to straighten this out so we can all move on. I’m being completely honest when I say that Jarvis and myself had nothing to do with the drugs they found. If my brother is involved, I’ll have to deal with that. But Jarvis has just been minding his business, doing what he should be doing. He’s a smart kid; you know that.”

  “What about the money?” Stratton said. “That looks bad, too, especially for you.”

  “I can’t answer that. All I can say is it didn’t come from me. My only concern right now is finding Jarvis and getting some answers. I hope we can get him back on the field. You’re going to need him down the stretch.”

  The coach turned away with a pained expression. Billy could tell he was conflicted.

  “I’m going to make an announcement to start the news conference today,” Stratton said. “Jarvis is suspended indefinitely. It’s hard to see how this whole thing will be resolved before the end of the season, so his time here may be over.”

  “You think he’s guilty? Of what? I’m wondering if he’s even alive.”

  “Listen, the president is calling the shots on this one; I’m a couple of links down the chain. I just hope Jarvis is well and can get his career back on track, whether it’s here or in the NFL. He’s a great player, and I know what he’s been through to get this far. It’s a shame.”

  Stratton stood and motioned his visitor back toward the front of the house. He had a news conference to attend.

  “Billy, I hope this works out,” he said. “For all of us.”

  Chapter Thirty-four

  The Knoxville police still had reached no consensus on the case. Assault? Kidnapping? Drowning? Drug deal gone bad? The only sure thing was that the prime suspect, or victim, was missing.

  Investigators said there was no evidence to suggest anyone other than John and Jarvis had been down at the dock late that night. Some tire tracks on a gravel service road up near the woods on Billy’s property might mean something. Or they could have been left there weeks ago. Police had already searched miles of the riverbanks by boat and found nothing suspicious.

  Nothing.

  Billy knocked lightly on the door of Matthew Lewis’s office and was waved in. The detective, a rumpled man in his early fifties with tired eyes and rapidly graying hair, was on the phone. Billy took a seat beside his cluttered desk.

  Lewis was talking to someone who thought they may have seen Jarvis at a flea market over in Oak Ridge, about twenty-five miles to the west. It was the latest of the long shots. He thanked the caller, hung up
and rolled his eyes.

  “They’re coming out of the woodwork,” he said. “This big pile of paperwork here, it’s all related to the investigation. Most of it isn’t worth a thing. I know because I’ve been sifting through it for a while. Anyway, what do you have for me, Mr. Beckett? I thought we were going to meet at the hospital.”

  “We’re still waiting to see how John is this morning; my father is supposed to call. What I’m wondering is whether you know any more about the cocaine.”

  “What do you mean?” Lewis said.

  “I mean, do you have any idea where it might have originated? You said the other day that it was different than the stuff you normally see around here.”

  “I can’t discuss that with you, Billy. Why would you be interested?”

  “I’ve been talking to some people down in Florida, and they thought maybe it came from there.”

  “Why there? I keep getting the feeling you know something I should know.”

  “No, sir, I just have a sense that this case may involve people from there.”

  “Are you talking about Jarvis’s family?”

  “Maybe. There are others, too.”

  “We’ve already talked to a lot of people. No one seems to know much of anything. Hard to believe this kid just disappeared in the middle of the night.”

  Billy shifted in his seat.

  “You’ve been doing this a long time, detective,” he said. “What does your gut tell you? Doesn’t this feel more like a kidnapping?”

  “To be honest, I don’t know. I’m still looking for motive. Jarvis Thompson is a great football player, but what would holding him accomplish? His family has no money. His value obviously is his future potential in the NFL.”

  Billy tried to ease the tension just a bit. “Have you seen him play?”

  Lewis nodded. “I grew up in Knoxville and my family always had season tickets,” he said. “I still get to two or three home games every year. I’ve never seen a better receiver at UT than Jarvis Thompson. Of course, you’ve seen him from a different angle.”

  “Because I’m an agent?”

  “Because you’re his agent, or will be, and you have a lot riding on this. Since he disappeared from your house, one has to wonder exactly how you’re involved. I think we’ve already covered some of that ground. If I recall, you’re claiming total ignorance.”

  Billy was about to mount another defense when the phone rang. It was his father. The doctors said John might be up to talking within the hour. He had been in and out but seemed to be growing more alert.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Billy said.

  He and the detective stood at once. Lewis put on his jacket and grabbed a worn leather satchel that was sitting on his desk.

  “They said to give it about an hour,” Billy said, “so pick up a sandwich first. Hopefully we’ll hear something that will help solve this. I’ll see you at the hospital.”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Rachel’s silver Mercedes coupe was sitting in the driveway with the passenger door and trunk lid open when Billy pulled in and dashed into the house.

  “Rachel, let’s go,” he shouted. “I think we may get some answers today. Dad said John is coming around.”

  There was no response and Billy went upstairs to the master suite. He heard the shower running. A suitcase was open on the bed, partially filled.

  Rachel was packing to leave.

  Billy knocked on the bathroom door and walked in.

  “Where are you going?” he said.

  Rachel turned off the water, wrapped a big towel around her and slid open the glass door.

  “Back to Charleston,” she said. “I talked to my parents again this morning, and they’re really worried about me. They want me to come home.”

  “For how long?”

  “I don’t know. I just don’t like being in the middle of this.”

  “There you go again, putting yourself in the middle,” Billy said. “Why?”

  “That’s just the way it feels. There’s too much going on here, too much attention. This morning I even saw where somebody had posted pictures of me at the hospital on some website. That’s sick.”

  “I just spoke with Dad, and he said John may be ready to talk. We may know what happened to him, what happened to Jarvis. Don’t you want to be there?”

  “I really hope it works out, Billy. I’ll be thinking about you guys.”

  “Thinking about us? Boy, we appreciate that. Sounds like you’re not planning to come back.”

  “It’s been on my mind for a while,” she said, “really since before all of this happened. I just need to go home and clear my head. My father insisted.”

  “Is something else going on?”

  Rachel closed the bathroom door and slipped into a pair of jeans and a frilly white blouse. She hurriedly applied some makeup and brushed her hair. Apparently, she couldn’t get away quick enough.

  The news caught Billy completely off guard, like most everything else recently. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared out at the river while he tried to collect his thoughts.

  “This is your home,” he said. “I thought you were happy here.”

  “I have been happy, most of the time. I don’t know ... I just thought things would be different by now.”

  “Different how?”

  “We don’t see as much of each other anymore,” she said. “You’re always busy, and I seem to be stuck at the office more.”

  “Stuck? I’m trying to build something that we can both enjoy. It takes a while to get there. I thought you wanted to be part of the business; I know that’s what your dad wanted.”

  “Some days I do. And then there are days like the ones recently. It just seems like everything is falling apart in a hurry.”

  Rachel’s eyes didn’t betray any deeper emotions as she kept digging and throwing more clothes into the suitcase. She was in a hurry and still had almost a full closet of her belongings remaining.

  “I’ll get the rest later,” she said, hastily zipping up the case.

  “I can’t believe you’re bailing on me,” Billy said.

  She reached out and stroked his face; there were no reassuring words. The agent who was always in control was being left to take care of himself.

  His famous protégé, the young man who counted on him the most, was missing. His brother was lying in a hospital bed, lucky to be alive. And now Rachel was walking away.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  The secluded cabin was a good place to lay low, but the men were getting stir-crazy. They were out of their element in the rugged mountains of East Tennessee, and the potential for disaster seemed to be growing by the hour.

  “What the hell are we going to do with the kid?” said Tommy, the short man. “Every cop in the country is looking for him.”

  His partner maintained an intense stare, like he was somehow trying to devise a plan. “Mean Gene” was the consummate enforcer, but thinking on his own had never been his strong suit.

  “I told you we never should have taken him,” he said. “It was a stupid mistake. We don’t need extra baggage, especially now.”

  “You know why we took him,” Tommy said.

  “Because the boss’s kid said so? I think he’s lost his mind. This little deal is going to come back to haunt all of us.”

  Even in crisis, Gene was typically a man of few words. It was unusual for him to be flustered and babbling. But he had been that way since they left New Orleans.

  Gene began pacing the floor.

  “I tell you, I’ve seen about enough of these mountains,” he said. “Feels like that movie Deliverance or something.”

  “Deliverance?” Tommy laughed. “You don’t exactly come from the big city, Gene.”

  “I don’t care. I think it’s time to go ho
me.”

  Jarvis Thompson sat passively on the couch, his hands and feet shackled. He had no idea why he was kidnapped, who was behind it, what the end game might be.

  His right eye was swollen shut from the struggle with the men that night. He had tried to intervene when they attacked John but was no match for professional thugs who were armed and used to taking control of any situation.

  There was a reasonable chance he’d be knocked out and thrown in the water. That would have been the end. Instead, Jarvis was led through the woods, beaten, blindfolded and gagged before being shoved in the back of the SUV. The tire iron Tommy was swinging may have broken his right arm. These were old-school criminals.

  “I should have killed you right there on the dock,” Gene said, leering at his captive. “Hell, I should have killed all of you before now. I could have.”

  “Just shut up,” Tommy said.

  “Don’t talk to me like that, little man. You know we’ve got serious problems here. We need to travel, and our baggage is too heavy. More than two hundred pounds too heavy.”

  “Quit talking about baggage.”

  Hearing the men argue in panicky tones only ratcheted up the mystery for Jarvis, and the danger. Why was it happening?

  Tommy pulled up a chair in front of him and looked Jarvis right in the eye.

  “What do you think we should do with you, kid?” he said. “Not that you have a vote.”

  Jarvis didn’t blink. He remained silent.

  “You know, Gene, he reminds me of his father. Charles was a man of few words, too. Did you know that we met your father recently?”

  That was enough to trigger a response. “Is he the reason you came after me?” Jarvis said.

  “That’s part of it. He took something that didn’t belong to him. Your mother also promised some people that you would do business with them, and she got a cash advance. It all just turned into a big problem. You have some really great parents there.”

  Tommy laughed, then moved closer with his gun and those wild eyes fixed on his prisoner.