Page 133 of A Whole New Play

Before he can say a word, we’re interrupted. “Carter Jones!”

Coach Palmer and I turn toward the authoritative shout. An LAPD officer jogs in our direction. Two stadium security officers follow.

I frown. “What is it?”

The other players and staff on the sideline watch the scene with interest.

“You need to come with us,” the officer states. “There’s been an incident.”

“Right now?” Coach waves a hand around us. “We’re in the middle of a game.”

“Yes, sir. I know. But this is important. It’s about your daughter.”

Fear overwhelms my confusion. “What? What happened?”

The officer’s features twist in regret. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, sir, but it appears that your daughter is missing.”

42

VALERIE

Rough Riders fans grumble their frustration as one when the whistle signals the end of the first quarter. Arizona scored twice in the twelve-minute period while the Rough Riders remain scoreless.

Everyone’s disappointed by the team’s defensive performance. But while the other fans are angry, I’m concerned. Carter disappeared halfway through the quarter. And I don’t just mean he didn’t play. I mean he literally disappeared from the sideline.

I’d been avoiding looking for him when he wasn’t on the field, but when he didn’t run out when Arizona got the ball, I scoured the sideline for his jersey only to realize he wasn’t there.

“Where the hell is Carter Jones?” One of the coach’s sons asks the million-dollar question. The suite is packed with the coaches’ family members and friends, and nearly everyone mumbles that they have no idea what happened to our star linebacker.

“He better have a broken leg,” a guy wearing a cowboy hat says, leaning back on his boot heels, showcasing his pot belly. “Otherwise, he needs to get his ass back on that field and start blocking some passes!”

The woman next to him slaps his chest for cursing while others shout out their agreement with his sentiment.

Megan glances at me.

I pretend like I don’t hear a thing. “Want something to drink?” There’s a kitchen filled with water and soda, but I think a beer could help silence the thoughts and feelings distracting me from enjoying this Super Bowl experience to the fullest.

“Sure. I’ll come with you.” She starts to rise from the plush stadium seats where we’d been watching the game.

“No, that’s okay. I want to go alone.” I’m pretending not to notice, but it’s obvious people in this room knew who I am. And I’m not talking about being Coach Palmer’s daughter.

Megan settles back in her seat with a wary look. “Okay… text me if you change your mind.”

“I will.” I weave my way through the crowded suite and exhale a sigh of relief when I’m out of the room.

My relationship with Carter was well known. While our breakup hasn’t received the same level of attention, it’s been reported by at least one sports gossip site. More might’ve shared the news too, but I’ve made a point of avoiding social media these past months.

It’s obvious people in the suite are curious about me. Or, more accurately, curious about me and Carter. I’ve done a good job of holding it together, but I needed a break from their scrutiny.

The concourse is not that crowded. In less than a minute, I’m in line to buy an overpriced lager when I get a text.

I’m stunned when I see it’s from Dad.

Shouldn’t he be busy… I don’t know… coaching the biggest game of his career?

Curious about what he sent me, I open the message. What I read makes me drop the phone on the ground.

Carter’s daughter is missing.

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