Page 34 of Ice-Cold Truth

He looks up as I approach, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Can I help you?”

“Mr. Halstrom?” I extend my hand. “I’m Elyse Masterson, Sam’s sister.”

Recognition flashes across his face, and he shakes my hand firmly. “The lawyer’s intern and a hockey player’s sister, huh? Curiosity got me to agree to meet you, so what do you want?”

I slide onto the barstool next to him. “I was hoping you could tell me about your experience with Coach Matthews.”

Vince lets out a bitter laugh. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

“I don’t see the point in wasting time.” I lean forward, lowering my voice. “I need to know what really happened, Vince. The truth, no matter how ugly.”

He studies me for a long moment, as if weighing my sincerity. Finally, he nods, his shoulders sagging. “All right, you want the truth? Matthews is a monster.”

I brace myself as Vince launches into his tale, the words tumbling out in a torrent.

“It started a couple years back. During an intense practice, I took a bad hit…from Sam Masterson.”

I gasp at the revelation, finally understanding why Jack and Sam were so insistent on me not digging into this. “It was an accident, surely?” My brother would never deliberately injure anyone, and certainly not a teammate. I’m convinced of that, but it might seem different to Vince.

He nods. “Don’t misunderstand. I’ve got nothing against Sam, which is why his name isn’t on the lawsuit. We were in a skirmish, and he made a good move. It just wasn’t good for my knee. It messed me up. The team doc said I needed surgery and time off to recover, but Matthews wouldn’t hear of it. Kept insisting I could play through the pain, and I was being soft.”

Vince’s hands clench into fists, his knuckles whitening. “I should’ve listened to the doc, but Matthews…he has a way of getting into your head, you know? Starts questioning your dedication, your loyalty to the team. Next thing I knew, I was back on the ice, pushing through agony with every stride.”

He shakes his head, a haunted look in his eyes. “It only made the injury worse. By the time I finally went under the knife, the damage was too severe. The surgery couldn’t fix it all.”

“So you sued,” I prompt gently.

“Damn right I did,” he says bitterly. “Matthews forced me to play injured, and it cost me my career.” His gaze drops to the space beside his stool, and I gasp at the sight of a cane resting there. “I’ll never even walk without a damned cane again. He deserves to rot for what he did.”

I place a hand on his arm, offering what little comfort I can. “I’m so sorry, Vince. You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

He meets my gaze, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “The worst part is, I’m not the only one. Matthews has been pullingthis shit for years, threatening players and covering up injuries. He’s a cancer, and if he’s not stopped, more lives will be ruined.”

A shiver runs down my spine at the intensity of his words. “Is…is that why you agreed to talk to me? To help expose him?”

Vince nods solemnly. “Someone needs to bring that bastard down, and if you’re the one to do it, so be it. Just be careful, Ms. Masterson. Matthews is a dangerous man, and he won’t go down without a fight.”

As if on cue, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, that eerie feeling of being watched washing over me. I glance around the bar but see no one out of the ordinary.

Vince notices my unease. “You feel that don’t you? That’s Matthews’ reach, always watching, always waiting to strike.”

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. “What should I do?”

“Keep digging.” Vince’s voice is urgent. “Get as much dirt on him as you can. Build an airtight case, and for God’s sake, watch your back.”

Chapter 15: Jack

The roar of the crowd is deafening as I skate out onto the ice, my teammates flanking me. The arena is packed to the rafters with rabid Firebirds fans, and their cheers fuel my determination as I take my position at center ice for the opening faceoff.

The ref drops the puck, and the game is underway. Bodies collide as both teams battle for control. I dig in, fighting through checks and using my size to shield the puck. Spotting an opening, I send a crisp pass to Paulson on the wing. He winds up and rips a slapshot that beats the goalie high blocker side. The red light flashes, and the crowd erupts.

The first period is a physical grind, with both teams trading chances. I take a couple of big hits along the boards but shake them off, focused solely on putting the biscuit in the basket. With time winding down, I win an offensive zone faceoff cleanly back to Jacobsen at the point. His blast gets tipped in front by Sam for another Firebirds tally. We head to the locker room with a two to zero lead.

Coach Reginald is all business during the intermission. “Don’t let up, boys. Keep your feet moving and finish your checks. This series is far from over.”

His words ring true in the second as our opponents storm back, tying the game on a couple of unlucky bounces. The physicality ratchets up even further. I take a high cross-check that goes uncalled, jarring my shoulder. A dull ache settles in, but I grit my teeth and keep skating.

The third period is a war of attrition with both teams leaving everything on the ice. With five minutes remaining, I win yet another faceoff back to the point. Paulson winds up, and I deflect his shot past the screened goalie for the go-ahead goal. The building is pandemonium.

---