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“I’ll do it,” I say. “But we have to be careful. I’ll tell you everything I know, and what I don’t, I’ll help you find answers. But I have one condition.”

“What is it?” Esme asks.

“I want to be anonymous,” I say. “I don’t want my name, my face, or my voice to be revealed. I don’t want to be the center of attention. I just want to help you get the truth out.”

Esme smiles and offers her hand. “Partners?”

“Partners,” I agree, shaking it.

I don’t know how this will end, but I know it’s the right thing to do. It’s time to stop being scared and start being brave.

And I have to do it for the baby. I don’t want my child to grow up in a world where people like Declan get away with everything. I want them to know that their mother stood up for what was right.

CHAPTER 13 – Alycia

Monday, September 15

It’s been five days since I agreed to help Esme and she already has us chasing down a lead that could break this open.

We’re driving to UCLA to meet with one of Declan’s alleged victims, Kayla Moss, who used to be one of his players but now she’s an assistant coach for the Bruins.

“What do we know about her?” I ask Esme, who’s behind the wheel.

“Not much. She was a prominent player for a high school team in Toronto where Declan worked before he moved to Los Angeles. He joined as an assistant coach, and halfway through her senior year she transferred schools without any explanation. Rumor has it that he was harassing her, but she never confirmed it. It didn’t take long for Declan to move to Los Angeles after that.”

I frown. “Do you think he followed her here?”

Esme shakes her head. “I think it’s a coincidence they’re both in LA. She got a job and went for it. I just want to ask her if she knows anything about his activities, if she’s willing to talk.”

“And if she’s not?”

“Then we’ll have to find someone else,” she says. “Declan’s a manwhore of the worst variety. We’ll get him.”

I nod, but I’m nervous. This is the first time I’m getting involved in the investigation and I don’t want to mess it up. I owe it to my child, and to every woman who’s been wronged by men like him.

We arrive at the campus and park the car. We walk to the athletic building, where Kayla supposedly has an office.

We enter and ask the receptionist for directions. She points us to the second floor and tells us to knock on the door with the nameplate “Moss.”

We climb the stairs and find the door. I hesitate for a moment, then knock. I feel Esme’s reassuring hand on my back.

“Come in.”

We enter and see a young woman sitting behind a desk. She looks up, and her eyes widen for a fraction of a second, but I see it. She knows who I am.

“Can I help you?” she asks, her voice perfectly pleasant.

She’s going to pretend she doesn’t know us. Okay, we can work with that. We came prepared.

“I’m Esme Ryan, from The Long Ball,” Esme says, showing her press badge. “We’d like to ask you a few questions about your work.”

She looks wary, but she nods. “Sure. But I’m afraid I don’t have much time. I have a practice in half an hour.”

“We’ll be quick,” Esme says, taking a seat. I sit next to her and take out my phone to record.

“What do you want to know?” Kayla asks, leaning back in her chair. She’s trying to look casual, but I can see the tension in her jaw, the nervousness in her eyes.

“We’re doing a story on the league, and how it’s changed over the years,” Esme says, her tone friendly. “We’re especially interested in the players’ experiences, the challenges they faced, the opportunities they got. You yourself were a star player in high school, right? How was that?”