by Gregg Stutts
“Go to her?” Max said. “To New Jersey? I can’t do that.”
“Why?” Willy said.
“Well, for one thing, it’s the middle of football season.”
“Yeah, good point. I’m sure your marriage can wait until the season is over,” Willy said. “When will that be? November? December?”
Max hadn’t thought that far ahead, but if Michelle wasn’t planning to come home any time soon and if she wasn’t going to respond to phone calls or texts, then waiting to see her in December was the only option. But would he even have a marriage left in December? Or a job?
“Do you have practice today?” Willy said.
“Not until Monday,” Max said. “I’ll watch film today. Tomorrow I’ll work on a game plan for the Fort Smith Northside game.”
“And Monday’s practice—that’s a big one?” Willy asked.
“Well, at this point, they’re all big,” Max said.
“Could your assistant coaches handle it?”
“What are you saying? You think I’m going to New Jersey on Monday?”
“No, not Monday. Today.”
“Today?” Max said, choking on a biscuit.
“There’s a flight direct to Newark,” Willy said. “I’ve taken it before. It departs at 1:15 p.m.”
“Today? You think I’m going to New Jersey today?” Max said. “I’ll bet that would cost at least a thousand dollars. Besides, I...”
Willy interrupted. “I’ll give you my frequent flyer miles to cover it,” Willy said. “I’ve got more than enough. Trust me.”
“So just get on a plane and go see Michelle, right now? Just like that.”
“Just like that,” Willy said, looking pleased with himself.
“Should I let her know I’m coming?”
“What do you think? Does she like surprises?”
Max pondered the question. “Well, she likes good surprises, but I’m afraid I might be a bad one.”
Chapter 47
Max spent the next two hours clearing it with Bill Jackson, informing his assistant coaches they’d be in charge of practice on Monday and packing a bag. His plan was to get back very late Monday night and be at practice Tuesday afternoon.
Bill didn’t put up much of a fight when Max explained the situation and told him he needed to leave town for a couple days. It could mean Bill actually cared about him saving his marriage or that it might help to have Max out of the picture for a few days. Maybe it would give Bill the open door he was looking for to make a coaching change. He thought twice about going, but couldn’t worry about what Bill decided to do.
It was an hour drive to the airport, which left Max enough time to stop by the field house and get a couple folders he’d need to work on the game plan for the Northside game. It was a few minutes after eleven o’clock when he locked the door to the field house. When he turned around, he saw Jack come flying into the parking lot and skid to a stop next to his truck. It was the last person he wanted to deal with right now.
Jack got out of his vehicle as Max was getting into his. “Where ya headed, Max?”
“Not now, Jack, I don’t have time for this. I’ve got somewhere to be.” Jack didn’t need to know it was the airport.
“Max, I’m just here to remind you to not be poking around in things you don’t know anything about. I wouldn’t want to see you…”
“Get hurt?” Max interrupted as he opened the door to his truck. “Is that what you were going to say, Jack? You don’t want to see me get hurt?”
“It’s true,” Jack said. “I don’t.”
“What is this now, the third time now you’ve threatened me?”
Jack’s jaw tightened and his face turned red. He looked behind him and was apparently satisfied they were alone. He pointed his finger at Max, almost hitting him in the chest. “I’m not threatening you. I’m giving you a friendly warning. You really don’t know who you’re messing with.”
Max slammed the door. He had to get away from Jack before it became physical. Jack shook his head, then got in his Escalade. He squealed the tires as he raced toward the exit. Max pulled out right behind him to head to the airport. He would have to deal with Jack, but it would have to wait. He had a plane to catch. And a marriage to save.
Chapter 48
He got to the airport in plenty of time to catch his flight and even had time to grab a sandwich and a cup of coffee. The flight took off on time and even landed six minutes ahead of schedule. How often did that happen? Maybe it was a sign of good things to come.
Now that he was in his rental car and headed south on the New Jersey Turnpike, the idea of surprising Michelle didn’t sound nearly like the good idea it had on Willy’s deck. If she wasn’t interested in talking to him, then she really wouldn’t be interested in seeing him. He thought about turning around. He could go back to the airport and get on the first flight he could find that would take him home to Arkansas.
For the next twenty miles, he debated with himself on what to do. Before he knew it, he was exiting the turnpike onto the Garden State Parkway. With each passing mile, he was closer to seeing Michelle, but was more and more apprehensive. He played out various scenarios in his mind about how it would go when she saw him. None were good. He estimated the chances she would get on a plane and come home with him at about twenty-to-one. You could go broke in a hurry betting on odds like that.
He turned the radio on to get his mind on something else and landed on 101.5 FM, a station that was “not New York, not Philadelphia, but proud to be New Jersey.” After a few commercials, the dee-jay interviewed someone with the state office of emergency management. Hurricane Paul, which Max had completely forgotten about, was now two hundred miles off the coast of Virginia and moving slowly to the north. Its current track would cause some high winds and rain on the Jersey coast, but no major damage.
As he passed the exit for Asbury Park, he relaxed his death-grip on the steering wheel and formulated a plan for what he was going to do when he got to Seaside Park. He couldn’t just show up at the house. Even if he did, he couldn’t expect to sleep there. He needed a place to stay and the right words to say to Michelle. At the moment, he had neither.
Two and a half hours after landing in Newark, he crossed the Route 37 Bridge into Seaside Park and turned south toward Island Avenue where Michelle’s parents lived. Two blocks later, he came to the Windjammer Motor Inn, a nice looking three-story motel a couple blocks from the beach. The parking lot was mostly empty, which wasn’t surprising at this time of year.
He parked near the office and was greeted by a gusty, howling wind when he got out of his car. He went inside and asked for a room on the third floor, paid for two nights and asked the clerk for the closest florist. She shrugged her shoulders and went back to staring at her phone. He went to his room and stared out the eastward facing window. He couldn’t tell where the ocean ended and the sky began. Both were dark and forboding.
He picked up his phone to call the florist and saw three missed calls and a voice mail from Bill Jackson, then two more missed calls and a voice mail from a number he didn’t recognize. They would have to wait. His first priority was Michelle.
It had been four years since he’d been to the Seaside Park beach. The last time was when Sarah was eleven. She was six the time before that. After she was diagnosed, they made plans to come back again, but she was too weak to make the trip. Now he wished they’d come every year while they still had her. The only reason they hadn’t was so he could spend more time preparing for upcoming football seasons. He wiped his eyes as he walked up the ramp to the boardwalk and took his shoes and socks off before walking onto the beach. The sand was cool on his feet. Sarah always loved the feel of the cool sand in the evening or early morning. He wiped his eyes again and turned south in the direction of the approaching storm.
He was alone. There was no one in sight in either direction. The only sounds were the wind, the waves crashing on the beach and the squawking seagulls. He zipped his jac
ket tight and put his head down against the wind. Tears continued to flow.
I don’t know what to do, God.
He walked for half an hour then turned back to the north. It was seven o’clock and almost dark when he was half a block from his motel and saw a man standing next to his rental car. The man peered inside and shook his head. Another man was on the third floor with his hand on the door handle to Max’s room. Before either of them saw him, he stopped and hurried around the side of the building across the street where he was out of sight.
The man at his door banged several times then gave up and went downstairs where he talked with the other man standing next to his car. They got into a car with heavily tinted windows parked right next to his. He wouldn’t have even known they were in there had he not seen them get in. Thirty minutes later, they were still there. Waiting for him.
Only three people knew he was in New Jersey—Willy, Rose and Bill Jackson. So who were the guys staking him out who didn’t look like law enforcement? Who would be following him? And why? He wasn’t guilty of anything.
Going to his room was too risky though. Max slowly backed away from the motel and felt inside his pockets. At least he had his wallet and phone with him. Since lunch in the airport felt like yesterday, he walked a couple blocks to a sandwich shop and ordered a roast beef sub and a bottle of water. He paid cash, just in case the men looking for him were somehow able to track him through his credit card. He felt a little paranoid, but it couldn’t hurt to play it safe.
He was about to take a bite of his sub when his phone buzzed. It was Bill Jackson again. He quickly chewed the bite and swallowed, then tapped the screen.
“Have you listened to my voice mail?” Bill said with frustration in his voice.
“Not yet,” Max said. “What’s so urgent, Bill? I told you I’d be back on Monday.”
“Jack Murphy is dead.”
Chapter 49
“Bill, what are you talking about?” Max said.
“Max, listen to me. Jack’s body was found in a wooded area a few miles from the school. From what I understand, his car had a flat tire, he stopped to change it and the police think someone else stopped too. It looks like there was an altercation. And now Jack is dead.”
“Wow, I can’t believe it. I’m so sorry.” It was a lie.
“The police asked me for your number. Haven’t they called you?”
“Why would the police want to talk to me?” he asked.
“Look, they’ve already looked at the footage from the security camera at the field house. You were there this morning with Jack.”
“So what?” Max said.
“You might have been the last person to be seen with him and you followed him out of the parking lot,” Bill said. “Not long after that...he was found dead.”
“They think I had something to do with it? That’s crazy, Bill. I mean, I didn’t like the guy, but I would never kill him.” He was getting a strange look from the guy who made his sandwich. He lowered his voice and said, “You don’t think I would hurt Jack, do you?”
“I’m going to ask you a question. I want the truth. Did you threaten Jack after the Rogers game?”
“Did I threaten him? What are you even talking about?”
“You heard me, Max. Did you threaten Jack after the game Friday night in Rogers?”
Had he? He couldn’t remember what happened after the game. “Bill, I don’t know. You know what it’s like after a game. If I said anything, it was just a heat of the moment thing.”
“You should come home, Max. Let’s get this cleared up. Then we can get you back on the field.”
“What’s that mean, get me ‘back on the field’? Are you suspending me, Bill?”
“Just come home, Max.”
Chapter 50
Max hung up and slid his phone in his pocket. He wasn’t ready to listen to whatever the police had to say. The guy behind the counter who’d made his sandwich was still looking at him funny. What had he heard? And misunderstood? It wasn’t smart to stick around and find out.
He wrapped his sandwich, shoved it into his pocket and walked outside into the cool, late-September evening. What was he doing here? Who was looking for him? Was he actually a murder suspect? How in the world had he gotten himself into this?
He walked two blocks east to the boardwalk and turned north toward Seaside Heights. Six weeks ago, there would have been thousands of people here. Tonight, just a handful. He kept his head on a swivel, being careful to make sure he wasn’t being followed. But would he even know? He was a high school football coach, not an intelligence operative. Maybe his every step was being watched.
He walked a half-mile or so up the boardwalk, sat down on a bench and pulled his sandwich out. He was still hungry. And confused. He needed time to think. Time to plan. He couldn’t go back to his motel though. Not until he knew who was there waiting for him. And why.
He needed a place to sleep. To regroup.
He pulled his phone out, stared at the screen for a moment and then made the call.
And hoped Michelle would answer.
Chapter 51
Michelle didn’t answer and he didn’t leave a message. Anything he’d say at this point would sound crazy. He took a bite of his sandwich and considered his next steps. It was a little after nine o’clock and the south wind was blowing harder now, pushing the hurricane slowly northward. By the time he finished eating, he had a plan. After deciding a man seated on a bench about twenty yards from him was no threat, Max headed in the direction of Island Avenue where Michelle’s parents lived.
Twelve hours ago, he was eating breakfast with Willy overlooking Beaver Lake in northern Arkansas. Now he was two blocks from the Atlantic Ocean and afraid to go back to his motel because two men were staking out his room.
This kind of stuff just doesn’t happen. Not in real life, he thought. At least not to high school football coaches. He was supposed to be at his kitchen table watching film from the Rogers game, as much as he’d like to forget that game.
Showing up unannounced was a gamble. He knew that. It was unlike him to do something so spur of the moment, but he’d listened to Willy, someone he really didn’t even know very well. And yet, here he was in New Jersey, because an old man he hardly knew had cashed in his frequent flyer miles.
Just a block from their house, he slowed his pace since he still had no idea what he was going to say. He didn’t even know if Michelle would be home. If he didn’t see her car, should he leave or knock on the door and wait for her parents to answer? No matter what, it was going to be awkward for everyone.
He tried to remain positive and not let his negative thoughts get out of control. It was far to easy to let that happen. For all he knew, Michelle might be happy to see him. Maybe she’d appreciate the fact that he’d come all this way, especially during football season. He imagined a smile on her face, calling out his name and throwing her arms around him. He knew that wasn’t likely though. It was much more likely she’d be shocked and then angry.
As he neared the house, a car turned onto the street behind him. The headlights lit up the street and cast his shadow ten feet in front of him. His heart was pounding as he realized it could be the two men looking for him. They’d probably given up waiting and were doing a methodical, street-by-street search of the area.
The low rumble of the engine was getting closer as the lights got brighter. He pulled his collar up, put his head down and kept walking. He didn’t dare turn and allow them to see his face. He glanced to his right and considered making a run for it between two houses and onto the next street. He could be a couple streets away before they were able to get around the block. Unless one or both of them got out and chased him. He decided to keep walking.
The car pulled alongside him, but he kept walking with eyes straight ahead. It passed him slowly and kept moving up the street. He slowed his pace in case they stopped and waited for him to catch up. Thirty yards in front of him, the brakelights came on and th
e car came to a full stop behind Michelle’s car.
He stopped. He could see two people in the car. Exhaust was coming from the tailpipe as the car sat idling. Slowly, he took several steps backward and prepared to turn and run. If they were watching him in the mirror, he didn’t want them to see him start running just yet. After several steps, he stopped and waited. The streetlight above him was out, so they might not even see him in the shadows. The moon had been out earlier but was now hidden by thick clouds. The outer edge of Hurricane Paul might have already arrived.
He kept his eyes on the car. And watched. The motor was still running, the lights were on and the occupants were waiting inside. Now would be his best chance to run. He could try and make it the half mile back to the motel and get to his car. There was no way he would get there before them though.
