“I think she already fell, which is only fair since she’s his girlfriend,” Britney pointed out.
“Which is probably why the relationship is starting to look real,” Rachel mumbled.
She wasn't quiet enough because Britney's eyebrows shot up. She surged out of her seat and tugged on our arms. “Come on. We need to talk.”
She led us out of the stands and down to the room where families went to meet the players after the game. Since there was still time on the clock, nobody else was there.
“Okay, you two. Spill. This one”—Britney pointed her thumb in my direction—“shows up out of nowhere and says she’s Rowan's girlfriend last week. I didn't question it because he's always been super private and she's more than awesome enough to have snagged his attention. But now you”—she pointed at Rachel—“are making me think there's more to the story.”
I was about to deny everything when Rachel blurted out, “Rowan has a stalker, and Sera is his bodyguard. But I know she's really more than that because I see the way they look at each other.”
“Stalker? Bodyguard?” Britney echoed in shock.
Now that the secret was out, there was no reason for me not to share more details since Britney had already been cleared as a suspect. I laid it all out for her, and when I got to the part about what happened with the letter Thursday, she gasped, “Oh, myGod! The kid said the guy was old enough to be his grandfather, right?”
“Yeah. He wasn't much help beyond that, though,” I confirmed.
“This is going to sound crazy, but I noticed a guy out at the players’ entrance with the diehard fans. He caught my attention because he looked like an older version of Rowan. I remember thinking it was probably what he’d look like in about twenty to thirty years. That would probably put him smack dab in the grandfatherly range for a teenager.”
“He looked like an older version of Rowan?” Rachel echoed, looking as though she’d seen a ghost. Britney nodded, and Rachel cried, “I think I know who Rowan’s number one fan is.”
“Who?” I pulled my phone out of my pocket to update the rest of my team.
“Rowan's father,” she answered. “It would explain the odd part in the letter I got, too. About the stalker blaming me for being a bad mom.”
I sent a quick text to Whit, asking him to come to the family room. “Rowan never talks about his dad. Who is he?”
“That’s because my son has never met his father,” Rachel sighed as she walked over to a chair in the corner and sat down. “He's just the guy who knocked me up when I was eighteen and then ran as far as he could in the opposite direction when I told him I was pregnant. I haven't seen him since then, except for when he signed paperwork to relinquish his parental rights after Rowan was born. That was thirty years ago.”
I gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “What’s his name?”
“Jack Duncan. He was my gym teacher in high school. Nobody ever knew that he was the one who got me pregnant.” She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “He gave me some money, and I kept my mouth shut because I didn't wantmy baby boy to always be known for the scandal that would've surrounded his birth if people found out.”
Shit.Our team should’ve asked about Rowan’s father sooner. I would’ve wanted to track his ass down so I could kick it, and then we would’ve known where he was. After I shot the information over to the rest of the team, things moved quickly. It turned out that the guy had season tickets. I left Rachel in the family room with Britney as Whit, Devon, and I made our way over to his seat just as the clock ticked down the final seconds of the game.
Jack Duncan was easy to spot. I immediately understood why Britney had noticed him. His resemblance to Rowan was striking.
The people around him had left their seats right when the buzzer sounded, but he stayed where he was. His eyes were locked on Rowan, who was talking to one of his teammates on the sideline.
“Stadium security is tight. He shouldn’t have a weapon on him.” Whit’s voice was the barest whisper of sound.
“There are three of us and one of him,” Devon pointed out.
“And there’s no record of violence in his past.”
While they bantered back and forth, I moved closer to our target. Coming up behind him, I waited for Devon and Whit to flank him on either side before I tapped on his shoulder. “Mr. Duncan, I’m going to need you to come with us.”
He jumped out of his seat and twirled around, recognizing me in an instant. “You’re that girl who’s dating my s—Rowan Charles.”
He’d almost slipped up and called Rowan his son. It would not take much for the cops to break him and get him to confess to sending the letters. “I’m not his girlfriend”—Whit and Devon both snorted at that—“I’m part of the bodyguard team he hired to protect him from a stalker.”
“A stalker?” He glanced from Whit to Devon and back at me again. His eyes filled with anger, and his cheeks went red. “He thinks I’m stalking him? That ungrateful son of a bitch! He wouldn’t be anything without my blood running through him. Where does he think he got his talent for football? His mother?” he spat.
“He didn’t get anything from you,” I hissed. “And he sure as fuck doesn’t owe you a damn thing except for the paperwork for a restraining order.”
He reared back and looked ready to explode when Whit yanked his arms behind his back and pushed him down the row and up the steps. Devon patted me on the back as we followed them. “Another mystery solved, and without a drop of blood shed. I’m glad things turned out so well.”
Me, too…but now I needed to figure out what the end of the case meant for Rowan and me.
