“It wasn’t an accusation,” Max said after introducing himself. “What’s your name?”
The boy kicked a heel into the ground, considering. “Nolan,” he finally said. “You’re a skating coach, aren’t you?”
“Trainer.”
“Used to compete?”
Max sighed. “Yes.”
“I knew it. My dad took me to see the trials.”
“I made the team, but I got hurt,” Max heard himself saying.
Nolan’s face brightened. “Yeah, yeah. You’re Blaze. I watched you tons of times when you skated here.”
Max felt the twin tingles of pain and pleasure that someone, anyone, remembered who he used to be. “They don’t call me Blaze anymore.”
Nolan shrugged. “Must have been pretty great. I mean, while it lasted.”
“It was.” Max sat next to him, eyeing the skates. “You want to learn how to race?”
The kid gave an offhand nod of his shaggy head. “Maybe. Classes here are dumb, though.”
Dumb, Max wondered, looking at the hole in the kid’s pants, or costly?
“Live close?”
“Close enough. My mom is a janitor here. Night shift. I come along sometimes. We’re out on winter break now.”
Max asked what grade Nolan was in.
“Eighth. Hate it. Dumb stuff we’re never gonna need.” He kicked his heel with renewed vigor.
“Must be one subject you like,” Max said.
Nolan laughed. “Lunch. Only thing I’m good at.”
“I’m thinking you’re probably not too bad at gym class, either.”
Nolan looked at the ground, now swinging his legs back and forth.
“Personally, I always excelled at lunch.”
A grudging smile from the kid.
“You want to learn to skate?”
Nolan stopped kicking, just for a minute, giving him a quick glance. “Maybe.”
Max pointed to the battered skates on the ground. “First thing is, you’re gonna want to sharpen those blades.”
“Yeah, I tried, but I don’t know how.”
Max thought quickly. “We’re training on the ice tomorrow afternoon at two. Come early and I’ll sharpen them for you.”
Nolan’s expression was hard to read. Wary? Hopeful? “What’s it gonna cost?”
Somehow Max knew it must not be charity, a handout that would be more distasteful than a fee Nolan could not pay. “Information. I’ve got a question for you.”
“About what?”
“Yesterday. Did you leave when Coach Jackie ordered you out?”
“That tough lady with the lipstick?” He looked away. “Sure.”
“So you probably didn’t stick around to see the race?”
“The one where that girl crashed? Man, I heard the smack all the way from the top of the bleachers. She slammed right into those pads,” he chortled.
“That’s what I thought.” Max hid a smile. “The skater is Laney Thompson, I’m her trainer, and after the race, somebody took her skate.”
“Just one? Why would anybody want do that?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. Did you see who did it?”
“Nah. I wasn’t looking that close.”
“Whoever it was, they tried to get rid of it in the lake later, but that didn’t work. They might have dumped it somewhere else. The woods, maybe?”
“I’ve spent plenty of time messing around in those woods. I can take a look, if you want. You know, in exchange for sharpening my blades.”
“Deal,” Max said, pumping Nolan’s hand solemnly. “See you tomorrow, then.”
“Hey. If I bring you something else, something I found near here, would you be interested enough to let me watch practice?”
Max figured the boy had found some old iPod or cell phone fallen from a jogger’s pocket. “I’ll take a look at what you’ve got and then we’ll talk.”
Something triumphant kindled in the boy’s eyes. “I got something right up your alley.”
“Oh, yeah? Like what?”
Nolan smiled, a cat-who-ate-the-canary grin. “Something that’s gonna get my blades sharpened for life.”
Max leaned forward and offered his hand to Nolan once more. “Okay, then. See you later.”
Nolan didn’t hesitate, shoving his cold fingers into Max’s palm. “Oh, yeah. It’s a deal.”
*
A half hour later, Max was heading for the athletes’ dorms. He wanted to find Laney and smooth over the awkwardness between them.
Coach Stan walked in from the direction of the parking lot.
“Have you seen Laney?” Max asked.
“Just dropped her in town at her dad’s place.”
Max’s eyes widened. He should have known she’d find a way. He headed to the lot, fired up his pickup and pulled it onto the road, fighting the urge to speed. Laney was perfectly fine, visiting with her father, he was positive. On the way, he phoned her and she didn’t answer. Then he tried Dan Thompson, who picked up on the third ring.
“Are you at the shop, Mr. Thompson?”
“No. I was…running some errands.”
The man sure ran more than his share of errands. “Is Laney with you?”
“Why would she be?”
“She got a ride into town to talk to you at the shop. I tried calling her, but she didn’t answer.”
“Max, why do I hear worry in your voice?”
Max wrestled with telling him about his gut feeling that something was wrong. What mattered now was finding Laney.
“No reason. I’m sure she’s fine, waiting for you at the shop. Just weird that she isn’t answering her phone.”
“I’m on my way.”
“I’ll meet you there.” The sun dipped below the mountains, and a dark shadow overtook his truck.
Suddenly, he did not feel quite so positive, after all.
*
Laney entered her father’s shop, smelling the tang of engine oil and stale coffee that she had always found comforting. “Dad?” she called, poking her head into the tiny office cluttered with piles of papers, cardboard boxes and a crooked office chair that her father refused to part with.
He was not there, and neither were his two drivers, who were probably handling airport runs and downtown fares. She reached for her phone to call him and realized she’d left it on silent after she’d phoned her dad. Two missed calls from Max. She’d call him back in a minute.
She checked the even smaller kitchen. A couple of empty soda cans and plastic containers left in the sink indicated their housekeeping skills had not improved. She washed the plastic ware, gathered up the cans and headed to the garage in search of the recycling bin.
The garage was dark, the massive sliding door closed. The only vehicle parked there was an unfamiliar dark blue sports car. Moving closer, she was shocked to discover it was an Aston Martin in pristine condition. She and her father had gone to many car shows in their time, and this vehicle would have fit in with any of them with its sleek lines and immaculate interior. Where had it come from? None of her father’s drivers could afford such a vehicle; neither could their employer. She heard a thump in the darkness.
“Daddy?” she whispered, skin prickling.
“Not Daddy,” a voice replied. A bare overhead bulb flicked on.
Stomach twisted in fear, she watched as a short, bushy-haired man stepped into the pool of light. They stood for a moment, sizing each other up. Fear rose inside Laney’s throat along with a good measure of anger. It was the man she’d seen attacking her father outside the oval.
She swallowed. “I almost didn’t recognize you without your club.”
He cocked his head and then smiled, giving her a full array of very white teeth. “Funny.”
“Who are you?”
“Trevor Ancho,” he said.
The name rippled through her memory. Hugh Peterson had asked if she knew him.
“And I already know you are the talented Laney Thompson, speed
skating star.” Ancho’s tone was derisive. “Prone to accidents, though.”
Accidents. “What did you do to my father?”
Ancho stuck his hands into the pockets of his wool coat. “What makes you think I’ve done anything to him?”
“Maybe because you were trying to beat him to death last time I saw you, and here you are in his place of business.”
“I wasn’t going to beat him to death. Bad for business. Dead people don’t pay up.”
She felt a trickle of dread ice up her spine. “Does he owe you money?”
He drew his hands out again, patting all his pockets and hooking his thumbs in the coat with a sigh. “Trying to give up smoking, but my hands are the enemies. Ever smoke?”
“No.”
“Don’t start.”
She looked past Trevor to the exit, but it seemed so far away. The button to open the big garage door was on the far wall, and the thing opened so slowly she did not think she’d be able to get out before he caught her. Her phone was in her hand. Could she call Max? The police? First she had to know about her father. “What do you want?”
“To talk to your father, but now that you’re here we can take care of both birds.”
“Where’s my dad?” she said louder.
He ignored the question. “I admire your determination and athleticism. I was an athlete myself. High school wrestling.”
She waited, forcing herself to breathe slowly.
“You had that shot at the Games four years ago, but things didn’t work out. Now, what you’re doing here, it’s not going to work out, either.”
“What I’m doing? You mean trying to make the team again?”
He nodded, unwrapping a stick of gum and popping it into his mouth, offering her a stick. “Gum?”
“How do you know it’s not going to work out?”
He chewed for a moment. “Lots of reasons.”
“What reasons?”
“Let us just say, there are people who would like you not to compete.”
Cold seeped up the concrete floor into her body. “Who doesn’t want me to make the team?” she forced herself to ask. “I have a right to know.”
He snapped the gum, eyes gone hard. “No, you don’t have the right. You’re not that important. You’re just a girl trying to be important, and you’re gonna have to find some other way to do that.”
Her fingers found the phone and sought the emergency-dial button. “And you’re going to hurt my father to make me quit?”
“No,” he said. “What’s between your father and me isn’t your business, but if you dial the cops on that phone in your hand right now, then I’m gonna have to think about changing my mind.”
She jerked her finger off the button. “Don’t hurt my father. Please.”
“There, you see? I knew you could be reasonable. Smart girl like you.” His eyes roved her body. “Good legs, pretty face. Plenty of opportunities.”
“Who wants me to quit? If I’m going to give up my dream, I should at least know a name.”
His smile vanished, and he spat the gum onto the floor. “So presumptuous. That’s the problem with certain women. You have no power, no rights, no leverage. You got nothing, so don’t put on airs. Same thing I told your father. No rights, no power, no leverage.” He stabbed a finger in the air for each point.
She flinched, legs trembling. “I want to see my dad.”
“He’s closer than you think.” His smile was sly. “I want to show you something,” he said, tone easy and calm once again. “See the car? Turn around and take a look.”
She turned reluctantly.
“Nice, isn’t it? That right there is a two-hundred-thousand-dollar car. Top-of-the line sound system. Carbon-ceramic brake rotors. Personalized door sills. It separates people, you know? Those who can own something like this from those who never will. You feel it when you’re driving, in the pulse of the engine, the way other people look at you. They get this certain expression on their faces, which shows that they know they’ll never possess a machine like this.”
“It makes you feel big, doesn’t it?” she muttered. “Showing off.”
He was close behind her now; she smelled mint on his breath. “You’re not so different. That’s why you all work so hard for that piece of gold to hang around your neck, so you can show off something the rest of the world will never get a shot at.”
“That’s not why we do it,” she whispered.
“No? And there isn’t just the smallest bit of showing off in what you do? And some pride in your dad when he thinks about his baby being a champion? No vanity at all in that? Don’t we all deserve a chance to see our kids do that?”
An electronic chirp indicated he had triggered the trunk release. “Take a look inside,” he breathed.
Terror surged through her now, in a raging tide. She wanted to kick out at him and run for the door. But her father… She had to know.
He put a hand on the small of her back. “Go on. Look.”
The small trunk was dark inside. He pushed her closer until her thighs pressed the back bumper.
Daddy. Daddy.
She prayed as she had never prayed before, entreating her Heavenly Father to not let it be what she imagined in that blackened trunk. Stiffening, she tried to resist moving closer, but now both Trevor’s hands were on her back.
Her skin went ice cold. One of his hands let go for just a moment and then there was a crackling noise, a surge of fire through her limbs, which seized uncontrollably, and she could not stop herself from falling into the trunk, arms and legs twitching. Helplessly she watched as the lid slammed closed above her.
EIGHT
Max made it to the shop a few minutes after Dan, who stood with his hands on his hips in the kitchen.
“She’s not here.” Dan frowned. “Someone opened the garage door. My cabbies know to keep it closed. She called my cell several times but didn’t leave a message.”
Max wanted to ask why Dan hadn’t answered his daughter’s call, but instead he tried her phone again. No answer. “All right. Let’s think it through. Where would she have gone on foot? The café? The smoothie place?” He didn’t think so, but Dan jogged out the door to go check while Max paced the cement floor. His fears would be proved wrong in a moment when Laney returned, orange smoothie in hand and that big grin on her face.
The minutes ticked by. He wandered through the back office, the kitchen, thinking she might have left a note for her father. The garage offered no further clues except a discarded piece of gum and the faint smell of exhaust.
Dan returned with Officer Chen. “Hello, Mr. Blanco. Glad to see you again. I was finishing dinner at the coffee shop when Dan came in. I thought I’d see if you’d located Laney yet. Haven’t come up with anything on that guy who pushed you into the pond.”
Max wasn’t sure if he was relieved or more concerned to have the police involved again. He was about to answer when the officer’s phone rang and he stepped away to take the call. Dan stared off into space and a helpless feeling descended on Max. Only natural to feel that way when your star athlete is AWOL.
But he wasn’t thinking about her racing skills at that moment, her potential athletic worth. He was considering, just then, her smile, her big belly laugh, the way she kept an enormous messy list on a piece of poster paper to track all the people she was praying for at any given time, the fact, he couldn’t help but notice, that his name never disappeared from that list no matter how many insertions and deletions there had been.
A memory from their life before the accident surfaced: Laney, hair flying in all directions, trying to wrangle a dozen seven-and eight-year-olds on the ice, a project for foster kids she’d developed and implemented all by herself in spite of her coach’s discouragement. At the time he’d agreed with them, thought it cost hours she should have been using to train, but she’d explained it to him in no uncertain terms. “Max,” she’d said, thrusting a squirming boy into his hands. “You’ve got the same
minutes in the day that I do. Make them count for something bigger than skating.”
Bigger than skating? The bizarre thought had left him speechless, but after the shock wore off, he’d done his best and joined in the melee. At the end of an exhausting hour came boxes of juice and dozens of slices of pizza. The whole gaggle wound up with smiles on their faces, waving goodbye to two very exhausted elite skaters.
He’d pondered her odd pronouncement for a long while. Minutes? His life had been defined by minutes, seconds, milliseconds, but he’d only cherished those tiny increments of time when they brought him glory. It occurred to him that Laney saw the minutes of her life in an entirely different way. Skating was part of it, but not the whole. He’d never understood it, but he felt warmed nonetheless. “Is it possible she got a lift back to the dorm?” Dan mused.
“I already called Jackie. She’s not there.”
They both turned as Chen disconnected. “Got a call from a concerned citizen. She said she saw Laney walking on the side of the road.” He paused, delicate eyebrows drawn together. “She’s confused.”
“What?” Dan said, gripping his arm. “Is she okay?”
“She’s…unharmed. Caller reports she’s somewhat incoherent.”
Max’s gut clenched. “Head injury? Did she fall? Where is she?”
Chen shook his head. “That’s the odd thing. She’s on Mountain Loop, just past the grove.”
It was as if Max’s body iced over from the inside out.
“But that’s…” Dan started.
“The place where we got hit four years ago,” Max finished.
“I’ll take you,” Chen said, heading for the door.
They traveled in silence, the officer driving with caution since the snow had deposited a thin cotton layer on the roadway. Max kept pressing the imaginary gas pedal under his own foot. Faster, he wanted to yell or wrestle Chen out of the driver’s seat and take the wheel himself.
Incoherent? Laney was at the location of the horrific accident that both of them had tried so hard to put behind them?
Her room keys.
I found them in the refrigerator.
Nightmares he didn’t know about.
Training drills she lost track of.
Love Inspired Suspense January 2014 Page 48
