Lainey’s List Chapter Fifty-Three

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Nick

I toss the investigative file on the table. “This is what Tom was able to come up with in five days.”

Lainey doesn’t touch the stack. Her face is nearly colorless. I have the same sick feeling in my stomach.

“He found all of this in only five days?”

The file is at least two inches thick. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know if I can bring myself to look.”

I place a hand over the top of the brown expandable folder. “Then don’t. If it’s going to make you feel sick or guilty, then don’t.”

She raises stricken eyes to meet mine. “How many were before me? How many after?”

It’s the after ones that will torment her. I had wrestled with what to share with her, knowing that guilt would be the most powerful emotion she’d suffer rather than elation that we have enough to string Chip up by his gonads.

“I didn’t count.” That’s not a lie. I didn’t count because I knew she’d ask. “I’m going to ask you for a favor. You don’t have to grant it, of course, but give it some thought. Looking at this information is going to bring back bad memories, plus, because I know you, I know you’re going to be wracked with guilt. You’re going to torment yourself with what if questions. What if I’d spoken up earlier? What if I’d challenged Chip? What if I hadn’t taken his money to provide for my baby? ”

Lainey’s jaw grows tight. “Yes, but I have those questions anyway.”

Her hand tugs on the file but it doesn’t move. Not with my heavy paw clamped down. “Here’s my favor,” I barrel forward. “I’m asking you not to look. I’m asking you to let me take care of this for you. All the what if questions in the world won’t change what happened in the past. You made the right decision for you and Cassidy based on the information you had at the time.”

A hollow breath rattles in her chest. “All these girls, though, Nick. All of them, and if I’d spoken up, how many of them wouldn’t have been hurt by him.”

“If you had come out and said that Chip drugged you, used you, and wanted you to get an abortion, he’d have had those pictures plastered everywhere. The other guys in that group would have made the same accusations. Everything you feared for Cassidy would’ve come true. You were nobody, and Chip was a pro football player with a lot of money. All the reasons that were right and just and important at the time don’t change today because you suddenly have new information. Don’t let Chip affect your future any more than he already has. Don’t let him win.”

I reach across and grab her cold fingers in mine. “Let me take care of this.”

Her eyes are unreadable for a long, silent moment. I hold my breath. I’d gotten the file last night from Tom Kellogg, a former Naval investigator, who did private work for big corporations and wealthy individuals. He was known as the Excavator, a guy who could dig up secrets buried under concrete.

And apparently, Chip’s secrets weren’t very deep at all, judging by the volumes of material Tom had dredged up in only a few days. Guy’s an idiot, Tom had said.

I knew what he meant after the first document. Tom had found eight girls, all between the ages of fifteen and nineteen, that Chip had violated using the same methods he had used on Lainey. They were vulnerable, impoverished girls from broken homes who were desperate for affection and a better life. He charmed them, plied them with drugs and alcohol, and then passed them around to his coterie of sick friends.

If they got pregnant, as Lainey did, he’d offer to pay for an abortion. Most agreed. Lainey was the only one who didn’t. At least, the only one Tom had found who didn’t.

Want me to keep looking? He’d asked as I stood to leave.

No. I didn’t know how many more of these stories I could take.

“What will you do?” Lainey finally asks.

If you need help burying the body, let me know, Tom said as I was leaving. The world won’t hurt if he’s missing. Can’t imagine anyone would look too hard. Be a service.

I don’t think he was joking.

“I’m going to ruin him.” Killing Chip was too easy of an out. Plus, it puts Lainey and my family in danger. Taking away everything Chip values, however, is a punishment that keeps on giving.

She tugs her fingers free from mine and rubs her hands on her lap, finally coming to a decision. “All right. I’ll let you do this.”

“Thank you.”

Her eyes stay downcast, as if she’s ashamed of the decision she just made. My heart aches for her. I scramble for the right words to say but while I can make poetry on the football field, off of it, I’m not much of an artist.

“It’s the right thing, Lainey.”

“I hope so.”

“It is.” I gather the file under my arm and get to my feet. “I’ve got a team meeting, and after, I’m going to take care of this thing, once and for all.”

We are both missing Cassidy, and until Chip is out of the picture, there’s no way for us to be a family. That’s unacceptable.

__________

It’s hard to sit in the quarterback meeting, reviewing our plays for Sunday, and not launch myself over the table at Chip. But tipping my hand wouldn’t do any good. All the pieces have to be in place before I can bring this asshole down. If I don’t do it right, he’s going to pop up out of another hole and then I might have to enlist Nate’s help, which I definitely don’t want to do.

I know Lainey wouldn’t appreciate me trading my Mustang’s uniform for an orange jumpsuit. I can probably kiss conjugal visits and being a father to Cassidy goodbye as well.

I pause at the door and grab Coach Kittle, our Offensive Coordinator. “Is Coach around?”

Kittle nods and jerks his head down the hall toward the training rooms. “Meeting with the med staff for an injury round-up.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, you all right?” Kittle asks. “You look tense and pissed off.”

“Just excited about killing my opponent,” I reply. If only. Swiftly, I make for the door. A certain reporter likes to hang around after team meetings, and I want to catch him before he makes the rounds.

I find Garrett Williams hovering by the locker room door. “Williams, what’s up?”

He jerks around in surprise. “Hey, Jackson. How’s it going?”

I don a put upon expression. “I’ve had better days.”

His jaw drops at my unusual response but he’s a pro and recovers quick enough. His eyes light up as he tucks his phone away. His reporter-senses are tingling. “I’ve got some time if you want to grab a drink.”

I make a show of checking my watch. “I don’t know.” I can’t appear too eager.

“Come on. One beer. Off the record, if you like,” he presses, glee and desperation dancing a salsa below the surface.

One puzzle piece shoved into place. I hide my satisfaction behind a frown. “How about three? Over at the pub on El Segundo?”

If Williams wonders why I suggest a place so far from the training facility, he doesn’t show it. His professional mask is now firmly in place. “I’ll see you there.”

William’s speculative gaze follows me down the hall as I make my way to the training rooms to push the second piece into place. Coach Zupp is bent over a table, his head close to Doc Vishwanath as they look over some player’s chart. I clear my throat.

Coach looks up in irritation. “What is it, Jackson?”

“Need a minute.”

He waits for me to tell me what it is. I tip my head toward the doc, indicating I’d like the meeting to be alone.

Coach sighs and straightens. “Let me know if anything changes.”

Dr. V gathers up the files, gives me a warm smile, and leaves.

“So this all right here or do we need to go to my office?”

“We can use Dr. V’s office,” I reply and walk over to hold the door of the office open for Coach.

He ambles over reluctantly and takes a seat. “You unhappy with the set plays for Sunday?”

“Nope. They’re all good for me.” I sit down across from him, slim file in my lap.

Zupp’s shoulders relax. “Then what’d you want to see me about?”

“It’s about Chip Hart.”

Zupp’s eyebrows gather together. “What about him?”

“He needs to go.” I toss the folder into Zupp’s lap. He catches it in surprise. “Go on,” I encourage. “Take a look.”

The investigative report that Tom prepared has no names, merely ages, dates, times, locations, and genders. The pictures included all have the faces pixelated with the exception of Chip’s.

Coach’s face goes from blustery red to chalk white. “What the hell is this?”

“This is the tip of the iceberg that our expensive, state of the art ship is heading toward. We either get rid of the iceberg or suffer a fatal crash,” I say bluntly.

“How’d you get this?”

“I paid an investigator to look into it.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to win.” I don’t specificy what I want to win at. Let Coach draw his own conclusions. “And this is going to keep us from winning. I thought I’d bring it to you before I go to the front office.” In other words, if Coach doesn’t immediately fire Chip, then I’m taking it up the ladder and the front office guys are not going to like it.

“So I fire him? Right before the season starts?” Coach Zupp starts sweating.

“You fire him,” I confirm.

“When?”

“Today.”

“Today?” He balks. “We have our first game in two days. The distraction will be …”

“I’m meeting with Garrett Williams today at 3. If I don’t hear that Chip’s been fired by that time, this entire file,” I tap the folder on his knees. “This entire file will be given to Williams.”

“Our team could suffer. Let’s get with PR to see how we should best handle this,” Coach suggests.

I get to my feet. “You have until 3.”

And then I walk out.

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