“True.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Be good, Buttercup.” He looked over her shoulder. “I’m leaving, Tessa.”
Tessa came around the corner and followed him to the door, locking it and setting her security system before she turned back to Ivy. “Cookies first. Then supper. Then I’ll give you all the dirt I can think of on Gil.”
Excellent.
34
BASEBALL ALWAYS MADE THINGS BETTER.
Tez, a fourth grader who still had a little bit of a Gerber baby face behind his round glasses, had pitched a great game. Carlos had settled in to the catcher’s position like he’d been born to do it. He played first base last season and had lots of practice catching balls coming at him from all directions. Elementary ball players weren’t known for their accuracy.
Gil glanced at Max, the shortstop. His gray pants were filthy on the front from the diving catch he’d made in the third inning, and on the back from sliding into second, then third, and then home in the fourth inning. The kid was a beast at the bat and a vacuum in the infield. Any ball hit near him wound up in his glove.
His gaze flicked to his outfielders, who were bored stiff but trying to stay engaged, then rolled back through the infield. Then out to the families and friends in the stands and seated around the fence. This was a great team. Good kids, good families. No drama in the stands, no one yelling at their kids for dropping balls or striking out.
It had been a perfect night for baseball, but for the first time,possibly ever, Gil couldn’t wait to get off the field. The rain had held off most of the evening, but fat drops were randomly pocking the infield dirt and pinging off the dugout’s tin roof. This was the last at-bat, and unless the opposing team found a miracle in their lineup, the game would end with a victory for his team.
He scanned the stands. Moms, dads, grandparents, and siblings were on their feet scrambling for rain jackets and umbrellas.
He saw a few unfamiliar faces, but that was to be expected. All eight fourth-grade teams in this league were playing at this complex tonight. And they’d only played tonight’s opponent once before. It was impossible to know if the new faces were friends and parents who hadn’t been able to make it last time or if they were there looking for Ivy.
Gil had a firm “no phone in the dugout” rule for himself. He wanted the kids to know they had his complete attention. He wanted to show them it was important to focus fully without the distractions of texts and notifications.
He’d broken that rule tonight. Every inning. Sabrina hadn’t gotten back to him before he left the office, but she’d promised an update as soon as she had one.
Tessa had sent three messages. All of them pictures of food. None of them of Ivy. But at least he knew she was okay and that he had authentic butter chicken and naan waiting for him after the game. And he would need it, because he was in for a long night. Gil had sent a fellow Secret Service agent on what he’d expected to be a wild-goose chase this afternoon, but based on the email sitting in his inbox, he may have hit the jackpot. He’d only scanned the message, but the company Preston had worked for until it shuttered its doors was the same company that designed, produced, and installed the safety mechanism that failed and cost Wade Collins his arm.
Gil hadn’t thought it would be possible, but Preston had leapfrogged over Abott and now held the top spot again as his lead suspect.
A crack of lightning split the air. Followed fast by thunder that rumbled in Gil’s chest.
Ball game.
The sky opened, and the smattering of raindrops turned into a downpour.
Pandemonium.
Parents from all four baseball games opened umbrellas. The players ran off the field to the dugout, got shouted congratulations on a great game, and then dashed to their parents. The walkways were filled as everyone hustled to the parking lot and to the safety of their minivans and SUVs.
Gil helped his fellow coaches gather the water bottles, sweatshirts, and batting gloves left behind and then set out at a slow jog to his car. He stripped off his now-soaked rain jacket and tossed it into the back seat, hopped in the car, cranked the engine, and waited for the parking lot to clear.
On a typical weeknight, the games ended at slightly different times, with each coach taking more or less time after the game to talk to their team. This meant the departure from the ballpark was staggered and congestion was minimal.
Not tonight. The parking lot was gridlocked. No one was moving, and they wouldn’t for a while.
He texted Ivy that he’d get there soon.
He texted Emily to tell her, again, not to come down this weekend. He could barely keep Ivy alive. He didn’t need to add Emily to the list of people he was responsible for.
His phone rang. “Hey, Mom.”
“I’m sorry to be quick, Gil. I want to hear all about Ivy andwhat’s going on with her and you and everything. I want to hear about your game tonight, and I would love to hear about that shooting at the hotel you’re going to try to tell me you had nothing to do with, but I saw the news footage and recognized you from the back, so don’t even try to tell me you weren’t there.”
Gil didn’t try to squeeze in a word. Best to let Mom continue to vent.
“But, lucky for you, unlucky for me, I have a meeting in a few minutes with a young single mom who is studying for her GED, so we don’t have enough time for me to get into all of that. What did you need to know?”
“First, I love you, Mom.”
