Chapter 12

THE MEET TUESDAY afternoon was lackluster. Both teams seemed to be low on energy. Times for running events and distances for field events were slow and low. The places the Bartley team won were made possible only by the slow pace the Trimble team set. Brenda came in second in the hundred-meter sprint at a time one and a half seconds slower than her personal best. Lana barely cleared the bar at 4’9” but she was the only one who did clear it. Corrine and Rita tied up second and third place in the shot put with throws of only twenty-four and twenty-five feet. Trimble had only one athlete in the shot put and she managed thirty-two feet.

Dennis noticed the distraction in the eyes of the coaches as they continually looked around them. He found himself surveying the surroundings and taking note of anything that was out of place. Track wasn’t a big spectator sport, at least at this level. There were only a dozen or so fans cheering from the front of the bleachers and Dennis recognized most of them. He was surprised to see Leanne’s father among them, sitting with two people he didn’t know.

A low rumble of distant thunder brought everyone’s head up to look at the sky. The runners were lined up for the 1500-meter run and the coaches pulled together for a conference. Clouds were rolling in fast and heavy out of the southwest. A few fat drops of rain started falling and the coaches blew their whistles at the same time that the siren on the firehouse went off.

“Grab whatever equipment you can carry and head for the tunnel!” Coach Andy yelled. One thing you learn in Iowa is that when there is a tornado warning, you take cover right away. Back in the heyday of Bartley High School Sports, the new school grounds, funded by the Hugh Bartley estate, were laid out with a football field and track between the gymnasium and the baseball diamond. Getting from the locker rooms to the sports fields was done through a tunnel that exited the school and opened up on the fieldhouse. It was all concrete so it couldn’t be damaged by spikes, but everyone had to take off their spikes before they went through the door at the bottom of the tunnel that led to the locker room doors.

Dennis grabbed his kit and noticed Amy struggling with a pair of hurdles stacked together. He ran to help her and the two were nearly soaked by the sudden downpour that caught the last of the athletes and coaches still outside. Over a hundred athletes, coaches, and fans rushed into the building. The volume of chatter that echoed in the tunnel was deafening.

Dennis and the other Bartley team managers nearly emptied the supply of towels, distributing them for athletes and fans to dry themselves.

“That’s the end of the meet,” one of the Trimble coaches called to his team. “We’re canceling the last three events. Trimble athletes, get dried off and dressed for travel. As soon as we hear the all-clear, we’ll load up and get home. Thank you to the Bartley team and coaches for giving us shelter from the storm.”

The locker room hall was a designated storm shelter, so everyone hunkered down there. Trimble High School was nearly an hour northwest of Bartley and the drivers who had sheltered were impatient to get moving. One or the other would continually be going up to check on the weather. Half an hour after they ran in for shelter, one driver came into the hall.

“We’re clear,” he said. “Gather your gear and let’s get going. Hank and I will pull the buses up close so you don’t get too wet running to them.” They might have heard an all-clear signal, but the rain was still pelting down as the athletes ran from the gym door to their waiting buses.

Coach Andy, Coach Byers, and Coach Graves were all huddled together at the end of the hall as the rest of the team headed into the locker rooms and showers.

“I didn’t hear the all-clear,” Jim said. “That doesn’t mean it didn’t sound, but I sure wouldn’t be so all-fired anxious to get out of here.”

“I don’t think we should let the teams go as long as the rain is coming down at the current rate,” Ardith said.

“I agree,” Andy said. They went to the locker rooms to announce that they weren’t releasing their athletes yet. People grumbled a little, but no one really had anything planned for Tuesday evening. Natalie poked her head out of the locker room door and spotted Dennis alone in the hall.

“Psst. Hey, Team Manager. We’re having a team meeting. Come on in.”

“Is it safe?” he asked. He stuck his head in the door and called, “Everybody decent?”

“Yeah! Come on in.”

Dennis went into the room found them all sitting on benches. He found his stool and sat down.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Um ... We never really elected team captains for track,” Natalie said. “We thought you could organize a vote. As a neutral third party.”

“Sure, I guess. Do we need some paper for writing choices on?” he asked.

“Just take nominations and call for a vote,” Laura said. “We don’t need a secret ballot, do we?” There was general agreement. Dennis stood up and was about to call for nominations when there was a squeak from the shower room.

“Ack! Give me a towel! Quick!”

He looked up and saw Corrine standing naked and wet in the doorway of the shower. Dennis snapped around so his back was turned.

“You were supposed to tell me when it was all clear,” he griped to those nearest.

“I thought we were all out,” Natalie protested. “We didn’t plan a display or anything. You okay, Corrine?”

“Yeah, fine,” she grumped. “Better check on the Team Manager. He’s probably scarred for life from seeing my acres of flab.” There were several protests and Dennis joined them. “You can turn around now, Dennis. Thanks for trying to preserve my modesty.”

Dennis turned back to the room. Corrine had sweats on and was drying her hair. “I’m sorry, Corrine. That was completely unintentional. I hope no one here planned that.” He looked around the room and didn’t see any guilty expressions, so he went on with the selection of a team captain. “Okay. Nominees for team captain.” He picked up a marker from the Dry-erase board and waited.

“I nominate Tori,” Daniella said. “She anchors our first event and has been encouraging and leading us all.” Dennis wrote Tori’s name on the board.

“I nominate Brenda,” Rita said. “She’s like the fastest of us. And the prettiest.” There was some snickering from the group and catcalls. Dennis turned to write Brenda’s name on the board.

“No,” Brenda said. “I withdraw my name. I was a co-captain of the basketball team and we should spread the job around.”

“Aw, come on, Brenda,” one of the girls cajoled her.

“Rule number one,” Brenda shot back at the girl. “No means no. It doesn’t mean convince me.” Dennis erased her name from the board.

“I still think there should be a senior as team captain,” Laura said. “I nominate Leah.”

“I’m not, like good at anything,” Leah protested. “I’m mostly out here just to participate and encourage my teammates.”

“Those are great qualifications for a team captain,” Dennis said. “Do we have any more nominations?” The girls looked at each other but were quiet. “Great. We have Tori and Leah nominated as team captain. Shall we approve the two of them as our co-captains?” The girls all started talking at once, agreeing with Dennis’s statement. “Okay!” he shouted, raising his voice. “All those in favor of Tori and Leah being our co-captains, raise your hands.” The girls all raised their hands and Dennis declared it a finished vote.

“How soon can we get out of here?” one of the girls asked.

“I’ll go check with the coaches about how soon,” Dennis said. “I’m pretty sure the main front has passed by now.” He left the locker room and went to find Coach Graves. He was getting along fine with the other three coaches, but he still considered Ardith to be his coach. When he got to her office, he found two other people there as well.

Trooper Ray Lenin was sitting in his car, waiting out the storm. He’d found a sheltered spot but the storm still rocked his car. He saw the two Trimble buses leave the high school and checked in on the progress of the storm. The rain was intense and he couldn’t believe the drivers were taking off. His responsibility was watching for a car that might hold Tom Perkins.

DEA Agent Brisco was inside the school, first out watching the track meet, and now talking to the coach. After their Monday morning meeting, they’d been spreading their limited resources pretty thin with DEA, FBI, and State Police rotating on the stakeout. State Police presence was obvious in their marked cars. Plus, they’d been handling the local policing duties since the suspension of the sheriff’s department and Sheriff Perkins after the drug bust. As a result, people were used to the state cars in town and they were simply expected to be around. With luck, that kept suspicion away from the unmarked DEA and FBI vehicles that often sat on the street or in a neighbor’s driveway.