Chapter 29: Killed by Death

Saturday April 8
My hound was funny sometimes. Normally, when I came back from my run, I’d let him into the house to get his morning loving from my parents. Duke must have missed me because today he decided he would rather go to my apartment. But then he was a bad dog because when I came out of my shower, I found him spread out on my bed.

“What am I supposed to do with you?” I asked Duke.

His tail thumped against the mattress in response. I got on the bed with him so I could rub his chest and ears.

I heard my mom and Tami come out of the house. Before my run, I’d opened my window because it was supposed to get up to the mid-70s today, and I wanted to air the place out. I decided I would eavesdrop while I gave Duke the attention he craved.

“I saw your mom at the grocery store the other day. She said you have offers from Johns Hopkins, Northwestern, and Stanford. Have you decided where you’re going?” Mom asked.

“The ride to Stanford includes medical school so long as I keep my grades up and pass my MCAT. They also offer shadowing and clinical experience as an undergrad, so I can figure out if being a doctor is what I want,” Tami said.

“I thought that was always your dream.”

“It was.”

“Was?” Mom asked.

“Is,” Tami said, sounding confident. Then not so much when she added, “I don’t know.”

They were quiet for a moment, and then Tami started to explain.

“I’ve spent a lot of time this past year reevaluating everything in my life. It was about this time four years ago that I began to lose David. That was when he went off the rails and was taking drugs and, well ... you know the rest.”

“What really happened with you two? I thought you guys would end up together,” Mom said.

Tami made a strangled sound that was halfway between a laugh and cry.

“I handled it all wrong. When we were growing up, I took over David’s life. We were together all the time, and I started to tell him what he should do. Now, looking back with what I’ve learned, I realize I’d set up a codependent relationship that would’ve never lasted. David has shown he at no time needed me to be his problem solver. I’m ashamed to say, he’s actually much better at it than I ever was,” Tami said.

“Do you regret not becoming his girlfriend after Jeff passed?” Mom asked.

“That would have been the easy way out. I turned him down for me more than him. Over that summer, I began to see how he saw me through his eyes. We had some frank discussions that showed me things about myself that I didn’t really like. They say that if someone accuses you of something, they are probably guilty of it. I kept telling him that he needed to grow up. The simple fact was that I was the one who had to grow up. I still do,” Tami admitted.

“I was always happy you were part of his group of friends because you were the one who kept him from going completely wild. From what I’m seeing, I think his youngest one, Coby, is going to be the same as he was,” Mom said.

I was afraid my mom was right about Coby.

“The look in his eyes when I told him ‘no’ broke my heart. I think I cried myself to sleep for the next month. Then I got the bright idea to horn in on his recruiting trips. But on back-to-back trips, terrible things happened, and I was involved in both. First, Missy was almost raped, and then as much as I didn’t want to believe it, I honestly thought Alan had done the same to me.

“What David walked in on told a story that even I had a hard time denying. The only behavior David won’t tolerate is betrayal. In my heart, I knew I hadn’t betrayed him, but all the evidence pointed to it. By the time we finally discovered that Brandon had orchestrated the whole scene, the damage had already been done. In David’s mind, we were never going to happen,” Tami said.

“When he found out, he was physically ill,” Mom said. “At the time, I didn’t know what Megan had told him, but he threw up in the parking lot. David worked at it until Brandon was arrested. I still can’t believe he didn’t tell me while he was working on getting Brandon behind bars. He took the whole burden on himself to make things right for you. Those are not the actions of someone who doesn’t care.”

“Logically, I agree. But you know David. Emotionally, he still thinks of me as the monster who broke his heart. I spied on him, manipulated him, schemed against him; you name it. What he saw that day will always be in the back of his mind. He found a way to deal with knowing intellectually that I was with other guys, but to see it ... that was when I lost him,” Tami said.

She was right. Seeing Tami naked in bed with Alan had changed how I thought of her. It didn’t matter that I found out later that Brandon had raped her and then staged them together. Deep down, something had broken that day, and I doubted it could ever be fixed. I’d used that image in my head to help get over Tami.
If you’d asked me up to that point if we would end up together, I had no doubt we would. We were soul mates, destined to come together in the end, like an epic romantic story.

“I hate to say it, but I think you might be right. David and I have had words about it more than once. He finally convinced me that my dream for the two of you was never going to happen,” Mom said.

“I’m sorry I put you in that position. It’s all on me,” Tami said.

“Do you still love him?” Mom asked.

“I do, but I can’t. I don’t deserve him. He needs someone like Brook was for him, someone who treats him as an equal and complements his attributes. David is one of the few people that I can honestly say is special. I don’t want to be the reason he doesn’t reach his full potential. If I step back, I can see now that the best thing that he ever did for himself was to free himself of my influence,” Tami said.

Someone was having a pity party.

“Tami, I would agree if I didn’t know you like I do. You’re one of the few people who are not afraid to tell him hard truths. When the chips were down, you were always the one he would talk to. Combine that with how you feel about him, and I think you two would make a formidable couple. I know that you’re being too hard on yourself, and I believe David would agree.

“I agree that you have to resist your urge to be in control; that is never going to happen again. David has grown since you two took a step back. I’m secretly rooting for the two of you. I think you have to figure out what you really want and then talk to him. My bet is he’ll be more receptive than you realize,” Mom assured her.

Mom pushing for Tami and me to get together was no surprise. She’d done an excellent job of suppressing those feelings, at least to me, but I knew she never really gave up on us. Even if I had.

“Don’t get your hopes up just yet. The key prerequisite is for me to figure out what I want. I still love David, but until I get my life together, I don’t want to risk potentially hurting him again. For now, the best we can be is friends. We’ve drifted apart over the last year, and I intend to make sure that it doesn’t continue. If we’re ever going to have more, our relationship has to be built on friendship. At the very least, I want that. Someday, if I’m worthy, I can talk to him about possibly more,” Tami said.

On the friendship front, I agreed with her. More? I still had serious doubts. The little voice in the back of my head was pleased she had finally admitted her stalking and the like had been a problem.

I knew that was a big step for us. Not because there was some kind of fantasy ending in the future, but because it was necessary before we could become better friends. Maybe she would begin to talk to me instead of making an end run every time she wanted to know or tell me something. If she could do that, it might pave the way for more.

I’d started to realize that high school was coming to a close, and many friendships would come to an end unless I worked to make sure they didn’t. My time was finite. What I had to do was decide who was worth the effort. Tami was my only childhood friend left standing. Jeff had died, and Alan and I would never be civil again. Tami had been my best friend. That might not be true now, but it didn’t mean I was ready to give up on her.

“Come on, Duke. Let’s go say ‘hi’ to our guest,” I urged him.

He bounced off the bed, ready to face the day. If his tail was any indication of his emotions, I envied how happy he was.

Duke announced my arrival. Mom rubbed his ears as Tami got up and hugged me.

“I see you two decided to enjoy the weather,” I said.

“Your mom and I needed to have a talk. She was afraid your dad would spy on us,” Tami shared conspiratorially.

“Dad would never!” I said in mock horror.

Mom laughed at that. I knew she and Dad were a team as far as my brother and I went. What I had never figured out was how they convinced us to tell them everything while we were growing up, and yet we never discovered that they kept stuff from us.

“Girls just need to have their talks,” Mom deflected.

“I take it Dad’s making breakfast,” I said.

“He’s making a frittata,” Mom said.

“Let me guess: he kicked you out when you offered your opinion on how he should make it,” I said.

“He wasn’t open to our input,” Tami agreed.

“I’ll go check on him and make sure he isn’t burning it,” Mom said and got up.

She thought she was so smooth. I gave my mom this round since I was happy to spend time with Tami.

“Tell me about your spring break...” Tami began.

We spent the time before breakfast catching up.

Time for some baseball. We were playing the farming community of Pontiac today. It was an older hamlet that had been built around a town square, and the high school was on the outskirts. You could see farm fields down the road as we pulled onto the school grounds.

I think someone hated us. We somehow drew the bus that went to the grade school. It had a distinctive funk that would require them to power-wash the inside. I shudder to think what the sticky stuff was on the seats. Let’s just say it was nasty and leave it at that. When I disembarked from the great yellow wannabe garbage truck, Paul, Cassidy, and Tami were waiting for me.

“They aren’t prepared for crowds,” Paul said, falling into security mode.

Moose overheard him.

“What do you mean?”

“They have hardly any bleachers, and I’m worried about getting David from the locker room to the baseball field if it becomes a standing-room-only situation. He’ll have to navigate the crowd to get to the field,” Paul explained.

“Relax. This isn’t a big city. I’m not going to be attacked walking to and from the game,” I said to dismiss his concerns.

“I’m just warning you that the layout isn’t ideal,” Paul said.

I trusted that if we had to, we would just have the team surround me, and we would be able to handle almost anything. Johan, Brock, Bryan, Tim, Don, and Wolf were all big boys. No one was going to mess with them.

We were about an hour and a half early. I got my ankles taped and then went to get dressed. The new gear Range Sports had sold me included socks with the Liquid Armor on the tops of my feet to protect against foul balls, as well as another set of gloves. When I put it all on, it looked like a unitard that dancers wore. I was set if I ever decided I was up for a little B&E action.

When I put my uniform on over my new gear, it looked like I was wearing a long-sleeved shirt with gloves. The gloves had given me pause when I first tried them. When you throw a baseball or football, your sense of touch is critical. I found that although these gloves cost me some feeling, the grip made up for it. Over the week, I’d gotten comfortable wearing them.

When I was dressed, I put my earbuds in and listened to rock music until it was time to go out for warm-ups.

Right before we went out, Paul and Moose had a quick confab. Moose shook his head and glanced at me. He’d never had a player who attracted quite as much attention as I did. I was sure Paul had told him the fans had come out in force.

“Gather around,” Moose called out to get everyone’s attention.

We were ready, so it didn’t take long for everyone to cluster around Moose.

“Pontiac has circled this game on their calendar. They want to take you down today,” Moose said and then sighed when I wrinkled my nose at him.

We’d heard this same speech all year, including during football season. Whenever our coaches started their pregame talk with that, we were facing someone we were expected to win against.

“David has something to say,” Moose said to throw it to me.

“Dick,” I mumbled and then got up. “I’m not going to lie to you. On paper, we should beat Pontiac handily. We all know it, and I’m afraid that’ll be our downfall.”

I looked at each of them and saw they recognized what I was talking about, so I continued.

“The difference between a good team and a great one isn’t that much. A good team would go out there today and take care of business and might end up losing this game. A great team won’t let that happen. Once again, all eyes are on Lincoln High. We are one of only a handful of teams that have a legitimate shot at winning state this year. If I were Pontiac, I’d want to take us down.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Tim said.

I smiled.

“No, it’s not. Let’s go out there and show them we’re a great team. While we’re at it, let’s put the rest of the state on notice that they have to go through the Bulldogs if they want to win state ... and no one is getting past us. Let’s go warm up!” I said.

We gathered our gear to begin the trek to the visitors dugout. Once we got to the back door of the school, we saw the crowd. Paul was right: Pontiac wasn’t prepared for the number of people who’d shown up today.

Looking out, I could see the football field to the right and a softball field to our left. Behind the softball field was where they played baseball. Between us and where we wanted to go was a huge crowd. When they spotted us, a group of teenage girls let out a squeal like they’d just spotted their favorite rock band.

“I need to retire,” Moose said, and then turned to the team. “Okay, I want you to...”

“I got this,” I said and walked out the door, intending to do like I’d done in St. Louis and greet my fans.

The crowd surged forward. Paul grabbed me around the waist and pulled me back into the school. I started to worry someone was going to get hurt.

“There’s no way you’re walking that gauntlet,” Paul said.

“I agree,” I conceded.

“Let me figure this out,” Moose said as he went to find someone from Pontiac for ideas.

We discovered that the middle school was next to the baseball field, so the team loaded onto the bus and drove there. They had a parking lot between the middle school and the ball field that put us at a manageable distance. The team surrounded me, and we pushed our way to the gate to get onto the field.

The delay had eaten into our regular warm-up time. The local umpire crew wasn’t sympathetic to our plight and ordered us to do an abbreviated warm-up, and then we’d play.

After the national anthem, we took the field to a chorus of boos. It felt weird to have fans against us. Even when we were away, we had never before faced such a frosty reception.

As I made my way to center field, I heard comments directed at me personally. I was shocked that people would think those sorts of observations were appropriate at an event like this. It went beyond the catcalls and jeers you might expect.

When the first batter for the Pontiac Indians was announced, the crowd erupted. I could see my teammates all looking around. For the Indians, this was the game of the year. If we had any doubts about their desire to win, they were erased right there.

By the seventh inning, I was worried we were only a good team. Pontiac had a pitcher who had a live arm, and he’d effectively shut our offense down. And it wasn’t just him; their team had made numerous hustling plays that saved him more than once.

We were up in the top of the seventh, and I was leading off. Moose pulled me aside before I went out.

“I’m not usually one to ask for heroics, but we need your leadership to win this. It’s clear we’re not getting there the way we’re going. I want you to figure this kid out and do something to get us a run.”

“I got this, Coach,” I assured him.

So far today, I’d been less than stellar. I’d struck out; hit a sharp grounder that should have been a hit; and had a weak pop-up when I guessed wrong on a curveball that didn’t break as much as it should have. The rest of the team hadn’t fared much better. The game was currently tied 0–0. If it hadn’t been for Justin pitching an almost flawless game, we would have been losing for sure.

I stepped up to the plate, and the crowd came alive again. Pontiac’s pitcher looked me in the eye to challenge me. I hid the little smile that wanted to touch my lips because he looked ridiculous, posturing like that. Did he seriously think he could intimidate me?

I settled into the batter’s box and followed my usual routine. The umpire indicated he was ready, and the pitcher dug his toe into the dirt in front of the pitching rubber. He got the sign from his catcher and threw a fastball down and away for a ball. It was a smart pitch to throw because this was a big moment, and most batters would be looking to swing. That was the type of ball that hitters might chase.

The Pontiac pitcher gave me a devious smirk. He thought he was setting me up for something. I quickly ran through the pitches I would throw to me in this situation. I predicted the next one would be high and inside to push me off the plate, with the plan to throw the following one over the outside corner for a strike.

If I hadn’t puzzled it out, I might have taken the next pitch on the chin. I made a big production of diving out of the way and acting worried. The umpire warned the pitcher, and both benches, that he wouldn’t tolerate anyone being thrown at.

I tentatively got into the batter’s box. When the pitcher got set, I called time.

“Sorry,” I told the umpire loud enough for the pitcher to hear. “It’s just that a couple of weeks ago, I got clocked in the head.”

I acted terrified, taking a deep breath and visibly steeling myself to finish my at-bat. This sent the crowd into a frenzy as they saw blood in the water. Here was their team’s chance to take down their most significant threat. The little shudder I gave might have been a bit much, but I was an Academy Award winner, and this was a big dramatic moment. You had to build the anticipation, right?

I focused and felt myself drop into the zone. The crowd noise fell away, and it felt like time slowed. At the release of the pitch, I knew I’d guessed right. I bent at the knees to get the bat head at the right height while I focused on not overswinging. From the crack of the bat, I could tell I’d hit the ball solidly.

I didn’t showboat to relish the moment, just took off running hard to first. The ball dipped down and skipped off the ground. I thought it would clear the fence for a ground-rule double. Instead, it caught the top rail of the fence and bounced back into the field of play. The outfielder had charged hard to make the play. When the ball bounced back, it went over his head and began to roll toward the infield.

We had been taught to back each other up. If I’d been playing center, I would have been there to pick the ball up and send it in to the infield, and the base runner would have only gotten a double. Instead, their center fielder was caught flat-footed, watching the play. The outfielder who’d had the ball bounce over his head almost broke his ankles trying to change direction.

By now, I had rounded second. Coach Haskins was at third, and when I saw him windmill his arm, I bore down and timed my turn at third so my right foot touched the corner of the bag as I headed home. The catcher was set up to block the basepath.

Almost every time, the runner goes behind the catcher to tag home. The problem with that was the catcher’s natural movement was to catch the ball and let its momentum turn him in to tag the base runner. If I were to go in front, he would have to catch the ball and then lunge forward to tag me.

The main reason runners go behind the throw was because if you blocked the ball with your body, it would be interference, and you’d be called out. You couldn’t change the course of the play from what was expected. That meant that if I went in front, I couldn’t touch the ball or impede the catcher from making the play ... well, I could, but it couldn’t be obvious enough for the umpire to make the call.

“Aaaahhh!” I yelled as I got close to the plate to make the catcher think I might run him over.

That was another ‘no-no’ in high school ball. It was a good way for someone to get hurt. If this had been game seven of the World Series, I wouldn’t have hesitated.

When I was right on the catcher, the ball skipped in from the outfield. The umpire was in the perfect position to make the call. This was going to be one of those plays that no one was happy with because it would be so close.

When I went in front of the catcher for my slide, everyone took a collective gasp. I reached my hand out and slapped the center of the plate at the same instant the catcher smacked my butt with the ball.

“Safe!” the umpire yelled emphatically.

That brought out the boo-birds. I thought I was safe, but I wouldn’t have begrudged the umpire if he called me out. Making a call like that, knowing how hostile the crowd was ... yep, I might have wimped out. He would need security to make it to his car after the game.

“Bullshit!” the catcher yelled.

“Son,” the umpire warned.

I jumped up and grabbed the catcher before he got in the umpire’s face.

“Let your coach handle this. You don’t need to get kicked out,” I warned him.

His coach didn’t disappoint. He had an epic meltdown that had the crowd cheering. He did the whole scream in your face, get ejected, and then kick dirt on home plate routine. The only thing the coach missed was going to second base, pulling the bag out of the ground, and tossing it into center field. If I were their athletic director, their coach would have just earned himself a job for life.

Moose made sure we didn’t celebrate too much when I reached the dugout.

“This game isn’t over,” he predicted. “Focus on the next play. We can celebrate on the bus ride home.”

Our next three batters went down in order. In the bottom half of the inning, Pontiac managed to get a runner to third, and their pitcher came up. In high school ball, the pitcher was usually the best player on the team. So, it wasn’t a surprise when he hit a sharp grounder to Ty at third. The ball all but ate him up, but Ty recovered and fired to first. It should have been the final out of the inning, but the pitcher legged it out and was safe, tying the game at one-all.

At that point, Moose decided that Justin was done and brought in Bert to get the last out. I was happy when, on the first pitch, the batter hit a weak comebacker that Bert fielded cleanly and tossed to Wolf at first to end the inning. This game was going into extra innings.

In our half of the eighth, we advanced a runner to third, only to strand him there. Bert was shaky in the bottom half as he loaded the bases with one out. I held my breath when their last batter made contact but hit into a double play to end the inning.

In the top of the ninth, Johan pinch-hit for Bert. He shocked Pontiac when he bunted to get on base. Up next was Ty. Our leadoff hitter worked the count full and then was walked when he held up on a close ball outside. Bryan Callahan hit a screaming one-hopper right at the second baseman. They doubled up Ty, who thought the ball would get through.

We’d been taught to be aggressive on the base paths, so Ty was congratulated when he came to the dugout. What the play had accomplished was to allow Johan to make it to third. With two outs and a runner at third, Wolf came up to bat. I was up next, so we knew he would get pitched to.

On the first pitch, it got away from the pitcher and clipped Wolf on the forearm. You could tell it stung, but it was apparent it was an accident, so Wolf took his base without making too many comments.

I was now up, and the crowd made their presence known again. I absolutely loved this. The game was in extra innings, there was a hostile crowd calling for us to go down, and we had runners at first and third.

The catcher took one look at me and trotted out to have a word with his pitcher. That drew their assistant coach, who’d replaced the head coach, to the mound as well.

“Think they’re deciding whether to walk me?” I asked the umpire.

“That’s what I’d do,” he admitted.

He finally went out to break up their strategy session.

I was shocked when they decided to pitch to me. So much so that I missed the first pitch, which was a perfect fastball to hit. I was pissed at myself.

“Focus,” I hissed.

Both the umpire and catcher chuckled, which was the wrong thing to do. I stepped out of the box and let my anger fuel me. Taking a deep breath, I got back in the box, determined to win this game. What followed were thirteen pitches that I fouled off. I had to give the pitcher credit for fooling me several times, but with my quick hands, I was able to get a piece of the ball to keep myself alive each time.

The next three pitches were obvious balls, so I let them go to fill the count. It was do-or-die time. As soon as the pitcher threw the ball, I could tell he’d made a mistake. Either that, or he thought he would fool me.

It was a waist-high fastball right down the center of the plate. I jerked my bat through the zone and made solid contact. The ball rocketed to dead center field. I was impressed when it cleared the scoreboard. That would have been a home run in any stadium.

I felt bad for the pitcher because he’d played a hell of a game. His feeling of devastation was evident on his face as I rounded the bases. Johan and Wolf greeted me at home. They both looked relieved that we’d taken a commanding 4–1 lead.

Brock was up next. Their pitcher showed why he was their leader by striking Brock out.

When Pontiac came up for their at-bat, someone played the Rocky theme. I sure hoped we weren’t about to witness a storybook comeback for the win. I could imagine the pitcher calling out to his girlfriend like Rocky had when he finished the first fight. In the first Rocky, he’d lost.

Moose sent Phil out to pitch in the bottom of the ninth. Phil must have wanted there to be drama because he walked the first two batters. Then Pontiac’s pitcher came up to bat. Phil seemed to get his act together as the first two pitches were called strikes. On the next pitch, Phil tried to throw a third strike by him. When I heard the crack of the bat, I was already backpedaling.

“Fence!” Don Crown called out in warning.

I reached out with my right hand to help give me some warning as I watched the ball rapidly come to me. When I felt the fence, I knew I’d run out of real estate. I timed my leap and used my right leg to push off the fence to get higher. I snagged the ball, robbing their pitcher of his comeback moment.

When I came down, I was throwing to Brock, who’d come out to be my cutoff man. He whirled and cut down the runner who’d tagged up at second and was on his way to third. It was precisely as Coach Haskins had drilled us to do it.

That took the wind out of the crowd. Instead of the game being tied with no outs, we’d gotten a double play, and they were still down by three.

Moose had seen enough of Phil and called me in to finish the game. I smoked three straight fastballs past the poor kid I faced, and we won.

We were lined up to shake hands when I heard Cassidy’s voice cut through the noise.

“David!”

She had her phone held up, and it was flashing red. Someone had hit their panic button.

Cassidy hurried towards the middle school parking lot. I ran to the fence and vaulted over it. Thankfully, the crowd parted like the Red Sea, so I didn’t have to slow down. Paul pulled up in the Ford Hennessey VelociRaptor SUV. Tami was in the front seat, so Cassidy and I got into the back. As soon as the door was closed, Paul took off.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Tracy,” Paul said.

“Bill Rogers showed up at her lake house with two men. She snuck out the back and is hiding in the woods,” Tami said to both terrify and calm me.

At least he didn’t have her. A chill went up my spine at the thought of what he would do to Tracy if he caught her.

“Who’s Bill Rogers?” Paul asked.

“When we were in middle school, he was the class bully and local drug dealer. He and David had a few run-ins before he was sent away to juvie. I thought he wouldn’t get out anytime soon,” Tami said.

“That’s what I understood as well,” I agreed as we rapidly left town.

“Did you call the police?” I asked.

“Fritz is on it. We’re ten minutes away,” Paul said.