The Wanderer (12 page)

He pried open one eye and peered at Jag Morrison, leaning in the doorway to the showers. He was fully dressed in pleated pants, thin-soled brown shoes and a navy sweater. The sleeves were shoved up on his forearms to show off his gold watch. His hands were in his pants pockets, one leg crossed over the other. He was a damn
GQ
ad.

“What?” Landon asked. “Little busy here.” He let the spray hit him, rinsing off much of the dripping soap.

“No one likes a wise guy, Dupre. Don’t think you can come here and just take over. I told you, this is my turf.”

Landon wiped a hand down his face. “Where’s your posse, Morrison? You don’t usually come at me alone. I figure you’re afraid I’ll wipe up the floor with you.”

Jag took a step into the shower room. “In your dreams. I just stopped by to tell you your party is about over here.”

Landon laughed at him. “Is that so? Kind of looks more like your party already ended. Now get out of here, unless you’re only here to view some naked male.” Then he turned, presented his back and leaned into the shower. After a few seconds he looked over his shoulder and sighed in relief. Morrison was gone.

Both palms braced against the wall, Landon let the hot water wash over his head and down his face. He’d never spoken a word to Morrison before the trouble began. A couple of practices before school started had revealed Landon to be the stronger quarterback and that was all it took.
Don’t think you’re going to start the game, Dupre. This is my team.
That first threat had worked out pretty well for Jag—Landon hadn’t started. The coach gave Jag every opportunity and only put Landon in when Jag couldn’t carry or pass the ball. But he couldn’t keep him out all the time, and it wasn’t long before Jag told Landon to trip and drop the ball. When that didn’t work, Jag and his gang of three started delivering their physical threats—a slug, a shove, an attempted trip. That night under the bleachers had been the worst episode. Cooper had saved his ass, but he’d got the message: they’d hold him down to beat him up.

“Dupre.”

He turned suddenly and just as suddenly an elbow or a bat or whatever it was slammed the side of his head into the hard tiles. The shower handle hit him in the ribs. On the way down, as he scrambled for something to grip, the lever hit him in the face.

Then it was lights-out.

* * *

“He’s a damn fine ball player,” Coach Rayborough was telling Downy. “But he’s having a little trouble fitting in.”

“That’ll pass, if he’s a good guy,” Downy said.

“That’s what I think. He works hard, never misses a practice, plays his heart out, supports his teammates...”

“How about grades?”

“Never had a problem with his grades,” Coach said. “Not like some of the seniors on the team, who are hanging on by the hair on their teeth.” He looked through the window into the quiet locker room. Everyone was gone, even the trainers. “Let’s shut ’er down.”

“Good idea,” Downy said. “I’ve gotta go string lights and blow up balloons tonight. If I play my cards right, it could all end in a
date.
”

They were laughing as they exited the office. Before turning off the lights, the coach looked into the locker room. There were a few wet towels strewn over benches. “Someone forgot to close his locker,” he muttered, walking toward the open locker.

The dawning came slowly—the locker was not only open, the player’s clothes were inside, the duffel holding his football uniform and gear sitting on the floor, shoes under the bench, shower running...

“Hey!” he yelled. “Somebody in there?”

No answer. Coach Rayborough walked toward the showers. It wouldn’t be the first time some idiot left the water running. They get a little hyper after a—

“Downy! Call nine-one-one!”

* * *

The coach shut off the shower and knelt beside Landon. The second he lifted the kid’s head, Landon started to groan. His head lolled.

“Jesus, Dupre, what the hell? You pass out?”

“He didn’t pass out,” Downy said from the door. “EMTs are on the way.”

Landon tried to sit up, moaning.

“Stay down, Dupre,” the coach said. “What the hell happened?”

But Landon kept struggling to get up, his arm flailing.

“Coach.” Downy grabbed the towel off the hook by the shower and tossed it at him. “Cover him up. He didn’t pass out. He got jumped in the showers. Who did it, Landon?”

Landon just groaned and reached a wet hand toward his face. His jaw was already starting to swell and his lip was bleeding. He could feel the goose egg rising on his forehead.

Downy crouched. “Tell me before the EMTs and cops get here.”

“Cops?”

“Landon, this asshole is not getting away with this,” Downy said. “Was it Morrison?”

“Morrison?” the coach asked, clearly astonished.

“He’s a prick, Coach,” Downy said. “I’ve been watching him knock kids around since the fourth grade. He gave my little brother some trouble until I stepped in.”

“Morrison?” the coach asked again. “I never saw that in him!”

Downy looked at him. “Of course you didn’t,” Downy said. “Trust me. Was it Morrison?” he asked Landon again.

And Landon nodded weakly. His vision had cleared and he was thinking straight, though he had one hell of a headache. He could pretend that a powerful whack on the head caused him to weaken in front of the coach and Downy, spilling Morrison’s name. But that wasn’t it at all. He’d had enough. So, the guy had been doing this to anyone he perceived weaker since he was a little kid? Big surprise. Time for him to be stopped.

“It was Morrison,” Landon said. “This wasn’t the first time. He had his boys hold me so he could punch me out once. And he ordered me to throw a game so I’d look bad and he could play. Said it was
his
team.
His
school.”

The coach’s eyes grew narrow and steely. News about a less-than-loyal player got to him the worst. Downy stood slowly, went into the locker room and grabbed a stack of towels. He propped one under Landon’s head and used a few more to cover his shivering body. “Stay calm. They’ll be here pretty quick and they have blankets. Who do we call for you?”

“My sister. Sarah. She’s in my phone. My locker.”

“Got it.”

“You’re going to be okay, Dupre,” the coach said. “You seeing double or anything?” Landon shook his head. “That’s a good sign. You have to stay down. In case there’s something wrong with your back.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my back, but I bit the hell out of my tongue. Do I have all my teeth? Because my words don’t sound right.”

“Looks like it. Salsa-free diet for a week or so, though. I’m going to get an ice pack for that lump on your head.”

“Aw, God,” Landon said with a shiver. “Ice.”

“I’ll make this right, Dupre,” the coach said. “You should’ve just told me.”

“What for?” Landon asked. “You still can’t believe it. You only believe it because Downy told you.”

He was quiet for a minute before he said, “All that just changed, son.”

Nine

W
hen the call came that a deputy was needed at the school, Mac was already there—not working, waiting for Lou and his kids. Lou was helping a couple of teachers chaperone the students decorating in the gym, and his two younger kids refused to go home until they saw what Eve and her friends were doing. So there he was, standing around in the gym, talking to a couple of the parents, when he caught the call on his phone.

The deputy on duty was needed to respond to an assault in the men’s locker room.

In the locker room? Assault?

By the time Mac handed the kids over to Lou and walked across the gym floor to the locker room, the EMTs were headed through the locker room’s back door from the parking lot with their bags. Steve Pritkus—the deputy on duty—was right behind them. He met them right outside the showers.

It didn’t take the medical techs long to ensure Landon was stable and get him on a gurney. Even though he’d already moved his spine, they insisted on a backboard, which they promised would go away as soon as X-rays were taken and a doctor had a look. While they trussed him up and covered him, the deputies had a chat with Coach Rayborough and Crawford Downy. Their stories matched up. By the time Landon was ready to transport, Mac and Deputy Pritkus had a chance to ask him a few questions. Then the EMTs took him out through the locker room’s back door, which led to the parking lot. It was through that door that the team ran to the field.

Just as the ambulance was ready to get under way, Sarah Dupre showed up. After the EMTs reassured her that her brother would be all right, she followed the ambulance to the hospital in Bandon. There were no lights or sirens, just a nice, safe transport.

But Mac had a picture of the kid’s swollen, bleeding face on his cell phone. And Landon Dupre’s assurance that he’d be pressing charges.

“I think we start in the gym where a lot of the kids are,” Mac said. “Morrison’s car is still in the lot. Everyone in town knows that white BMW.”

“You got it, boss,” Pritkus said. They’d already asked the coach and Downy not to discuss the situation with parents or students. They went back into the gym through the school. A small crowd had gathered around the door to the locker room, surrounding Downy and the coach. Jag Morrison kept his distance, and appeared to be putting the moves on a girl. She was sitting on the bleachers while he stood in front of her, one long leg lifted up, foot on the bleacher next to her. He had a hand in a pocket while another one was gesturing as he talked, smiled, laughed, apparently not interested in the hubbub around the locker room.

It twisted in Mac’s gut. He’d never warmed to this kid but it always surprised him when he ran into a suspect so confident, so nonchalant. Could he have really just smashed in a guy’s face, left him lying naked on the shower-room floor, and gone about the business of trying to get himself a date?

“Dad? Dad?” Eve said, tugging at his sleeve. “Is Landon okay? Did he get hurt in the game? Did he fall in the shower? Dad?”

He looked down at her, his brow wrinkled. “He’s going to be fine, honey. I have things to do right now.”

“What happened? Where is he? I want to go see him.”

“They took him to Bandon, but he’s fine. His sister went with him. They don’t need a lot of kids swarming the hospital. I’m sure he’ll be checked over and released.”

“Dad, Landon’s my date for the dance. I want to see him! If Aunt Lou takes me, can I go? Please?”

“Tell Lou I’m passing the baton to her. And tell her I need her to keep an eye on Ryan and Dee Dee a bit longer, too. I have some work to do now.”

Her eyes shot down the bleachers to Jag, then up to her father’s face. She gasped. “Oh, God, Jag hurt him, didn’t he. Landon said Jag was always on him, shoving him, slamming him up against the lockers!”

Mac held her attention with his gaze. “Eve, I want you to go back to Lou and the kids. I’m going to take Mr. Morrison for a ride. And I don’t want you to talk about this with anyone yet. There’s a legal process that has to happen.”

She bit her lip, then nodded gravely. “Can I go see Landon?”

“You tell Lou it’s all up to her. I’m going to be tied up for a while.”

* * *

“Jag Morrison,” Mac said. “I’d like you to come with Deputy Pritkus and me, please.”

“What?” he said, pulling his foot off the bleachers and straightening.

“We’re going to walk outside to the patrol car,” Mac said.

He laughed. “I don’t think so,” he said, shaking his head. “What do you want?”

“We’re going to walk outside, where Deputy Pritkus is going to read you your rights and charge you with a crime. You can come along or we can put on the cuffs and escort you that way. If I were you, I’d vote for nice and polite.”

“Crime? What the fuck?
Crime?
”

“Assault,” Pritkus said. He pulled his cuffs off the back of his belt.

“Whoa, whoa,” Morrison said. “Hold on—I wouldn’t assault anyone! You’re crazy! I’m not going anywhere!”

“That’s good, because I kind of like the idea of you in handcuffs,” Mac said. “There’s a young man on his way to the hospital in an ambulance, thanks to you. He lost consciousness for a while, but not his memory.”

“No way,” he said, holding up his palms, backing away. “This is someone just trying to get me into trouble. Are there
witnesses?
”

“Cuffs it is,” Mac said.

With one deputy on each side, they wrestled his arms behind his back and into the cuffs. By the time it was accomplished, he was on his knees. The focus of the students had shifted away from the locker-room door to Jag’s arrest. Mac and Pritkus hoisted him up, dragged him outside. Right before putting him into the back of the deputy’s cruiser, he was read his rights.

“I want my parents! I want my mother!” Morrison yelled as they shoved him in the backseat.

They let him sit there, yelling and rocking the car, while Mac used his cell to call another deputy. He didn’t want to leave the town uncovered while Pritkus drove Morrison over to the jail in Coquille. And Mac wanted to make sure he was processed.

“We could probably get away with taking him to the Thunder Point office,” Mac said. “He’s going to be released to his parents’ custody anyway. But I just watched a kid get put in an ambulance. I want Morrison to at least see the inside of a jail. With any luck, there are some scary sons of bitches in the jail tonight.”

“I vote for Coquille,” Pritkus said. “Try Charlie Adams. He’s probably looking for a little call-out overtime. He never says no.”

“You read my mind, Pritkus. Meanwhile, I’m going to go visit the Morrisons.”

* * *

When Coach Rayborough called Sarah Dupre, she jumped in her car, racing to the high school to find EMTs pulling a gurney toward an ambulance that was parked behind the school. For a search-and-rescue pilot who’d seen more than her fair share of injuries, sometimes the worst kind, her cool was long gone, even before she laid eyes on Landon. This was her little brother, her only family!

She rushed to him, asking the EMTs if he was going to be all right. They said they thought so, but the verdict rested with the doctor. He had briefly lost consciousness. But he was now alert and his pupils were equal.

“Landon, who did this to you?”

“The deputy’s on it, Sarah. I told him. Some punk ball player who’s probably just jealous.”

“Should I ride in the ambulance with you?” She directed her gaze at one of the EMTs.

“If you follow us to Bandon, you’ll have your car to take him home after he’s treated and released,” the young man said.

She drove behind the ambulance, taking small comfort in the fact that they weren’t running lights and siren. Then, once they cleared town, the ambulance lit up. They didn’t drive real fast, but they rolled code. Sarah knew what was happening—they were lit up so other motorists would be aware that they were loaded. She knew Landon hadn’t had a heart attack or brain seizure. All the same, her chest constricted and she gripped her steering wheel with all her might. She followed closer than was allowed by law and she didn’t care. She was just plain scared to death.

Feelings of helplessness weren’t alien to Sarah. Her parents died when she was twenty-three and in helicopter flight school; Landon had been five. Aunt Frances had taken him in and Sarah visited him on the weekends she was able to get away from training. But it was torture; Frances pronounced him bad and undisciplined, while the tales of cruelty Landon reported chilled her to the bone. Then he started running away. He didn’t get far, but still...

She had to ask for a leave from training, hire a lawyer, get custody of her brother, even though she had no idea how she’d take care of him and serve in the Coast Guard. Her commander worked with her, put her in the next training class after she’d had time to figure out how to be a single mother. It could have been compassionate; it could have been the USCG worried about some discrimination complaint. She preferred to go with compassionate.

But damn! Life was crazy in those days. She was trying to get through helicopter training, which was so much harder than fixed wing, grieve her parents, try to get her little brother through his grief and fear—all at the same time. She grew thin and tired. So tired.

But she made it through that obstacle. Then on to Kodiak, Alaska, flying rescues out of the Bering Sea—which turned her into a damn fine pilot, because the challenge was steep. Luckily, her fellow pilots were dedicated to helping her learn and grow professionally. Then Michigan, then Florida—where she fell in love with Derek Stiles.

Suddenly, she thought she had a family again. Derek was so loving and so devoted to Landon. There was someone to share responsibility for a change. For the first time since becoming Landon’s guardian, she dreamed of a softer, better life for them both...even though a little voice inside her warned her to be cautious. They married a year later. Then on to North Bend, Oregon—first Sarah and then Derek.

That’s where the marriage ended. A marriage that should never have begun. He’d been unfaithful from the beginning. And at a place deep inside her, she’d known it.

I’m sorry, Sarah, I really love you. I guess I’m not cut out to be monogamous.

But my friend?

I’m sorry. I had a thing with Susan. It didn’t make sense, but it was there.

She’d known. There had been red flags everywhere, but she’d forced them from her mind because she loved him, depended on him. Landon had become like a stepson to Derek. She relied on Derek to look after him, to go to his games when she couldn’t. And Landon relied on Derek to be the man in his life. But she had to end it, because Derek was never going to belong to her, to them. Just like any mother, she had to try to deal with the fact that Derek had let Landon down, as well. But ironically, it was Landon who said, “You don’t have to stay with him, Sarah. Not for me, that’s for sure.”

Her career and her brother were all she had, and for their sake Sarah pulled herself together. She and Derek decided they could be civilized. They’d try to work separate schedules in North Bend when possible, but if they were thrown together, they’d be grown-ups about it. Sarah refused to let it show on the job that her heart had been ripped out.

But she was helpless and alone again and the pain of it was horrible. So she looked into finding the best community, the friendliest, with the most proactive football coach for Landon, and they moved to Thunder Point.

She thought she’d brought them both to a kinder, safer, more manageable place. But now she felt that helplessness
again.
Here he was, in the ambulance ahead of her. If she understood the coach, he’d been jumped in the shower, left naked and unconscious on the cold, tile floor.

She was intercepted in the E.R. by an admissions nurse. “A physician’s assistant is examining your son—”

“Brother,” she corrected. “But I have custody. Our parents are deceased.” She dug around in her purse. “Here are my insurance cards.”

“I’m going to have you get to work on admission paperwork,” the nurse said. “Since he came in on a backboard, I think he’ll be lined up for X-rays right away so spinal injury can be ruled out. That takes a while. Then you can see him.”

“Sure,” she said. Her hand shook as she accepted the clipboard and pen. She sat down, rather than standing there at the counter, so the nurse wouldn’t see her tremble.

They kept Landon in X-ray a long time. She longed to step outside and call someone, but there
was
no one. In moving to Thunder Point in early August, she’d isolated herself. Oh, there was Gina, but they were just casual friends and she didn’t have her number. There were football and PTA parents, but none of them were people she’d call with tears in her voice. For that matter, she wasn’t sure who Landon’s friends were. She saw his teammates high-five and fist bump him, but there hadn’t been any friends at the house and he didn’t go out much.

Finally she was allowed in the E.R. exam room. There she found Landon sitting up, free of the backboard, talking on the phone while holding the ice pack to the other side of his face. “Yeah, I told the deputy and I said I’d press charges, so that’s done.” Then he laughed and said, “Oh, I don’t know if that’s good or not. It might’ve just bought me more trouble. Hey, my sister’s here to take me home, so I gotta go. Just wanted you to know...it’s all good. I’m fine.”