Page 4 of 40-Yard Line

“Sometimes, it’s hard to give up all you’ve ever known,” said Ian. Hell, they were all there because they couldn’t give up helping others.

“It is. Butch was being stubborn, but I knew that eventually he would make the right decision. Last Tuesday, we were all on the field finishing practice. Butch was on the sidelines, just riding the stationary bike and doing a few throws and drills with the trainers. We were still going at it, full-on pads, but he went into the training room. He had one of the trainers prepare an ice bath for him.” The men all nodded their heads.

“Coach tried to talk to Butch, but he was being stubborn, so he left him there. A few hours later, he realized the lights were still on in the training room and went back. There was water and ice all over the floor, and Butch was still sitting inside the tub. He was blue from the cold. And from being dead.”

“Damn,” muttered Antoine. “What did the coroner say?”

“Nothing yet. He says there’s a lot involved with this one, and the league and the owner are calling the shots on it. Butch was never married but had a seventeen-year-old daughter in Arizona. They weren’t close, but Butch did everything in his power to make sure she had a good life, and he was trying to get closer to her. I think they’d made some headway in the last few years, but it was rough going for him. The league is pretty sensitive anymore about concussions, and they want to be sure of the cause of death.”

“Sounds like they’re doing everything right,” said Nine.

“They are,” he nodded, “except there was an obvious sign of death. His wrists were slit. No razor or knife found. No sharp objects anywhere. Only his blood was in the ice bath and on the floor.”

“Nothing?” asked Gaspar.

“Nothing. Listen, I knew Butch. He would have been pissed about having to leave football, but he would never have offed himself. That wasn’t him. He loved life, and he loved the game of football more than anything. Plus, he was determined to make sure Carigan, his daughter, had all she needed.”

“We’ve learned to trust our gut, Trevon. What does your gut tell you?” asked Nine.

“There are so many suspects in my mind I can’t even begin,” he said, shaking his head. “Kurt Michaels is the new starting QB. He’s been waiting in the wings for a while with Butch starting, and Butch was actually doing a great job of mentoring him. But Kurt’s a kid still, twenty-six or so. He was getting impatient.”

“That’s one,” frowned Ian.

“Petey Rossi, offensive tackle. Butch has been really giving shit to the offensive line for not protecting him well enough. I knew Butch. I knew he didn’t really mean it, but I can’t say it didn’t hurt. My body takes a beating trying to protect his ass. Comments like that don’t win you friends. Petey was pissed. His contract was up for renewal, and he was hoping to get traded for more money.”

“There’s two,” growled Jean.

“Joe Sheffler was the lineman who hit Butch the last time. The shot was dirty all the way. I have the clip if you want to see,” he said, holding up his phone.

Code took the device and connected it to the screen. He clicked on the video, and they all watched as the massive lineman went headfirst into Butch, then leaned over him and pointed.

“What did he say to him?” asked Tailor.

“’Sorry, old man.’ Joe’s been an asshole for a while now. Taking cheap shots on a lot of people. Usually, as the center, I watch for him and get to him quickly, stopping him. I missed him this time, and I hate myself for it,” he said.

“You can’t be everywhere at once, Trevon,” said Alec.

“It was my job to be everywhere at once. Which brings me to the next person. Me.”

“You?” frowned the entire room.

“I have to include myself in all of this. I mean, I didn’t kill Butch, but I was getting pissed at him. He was making our jobs harder and wouldn’t listen to us. Coach Osterhausen, the owners of the team, the Pinken family, hell, I guess I could keep going.”

“Sounds like he pissed off a lot of people,” said Gaspar. “Is there any indication that he had CTE?”

CTE, or chronic traumatic encephalopathy, is a disease directly related to numerous concussions, most commonly in football or other contact sports. But all of the men on the Gray Wolf team knew men who had experienced the same thing in the service.

“It’s one of the things the coroner is going to look at. I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “Butch was different these last few months. I know that Carigan was being a little bitch to her father. I didn’t really mean that, but she was giving him a lot of shit and just being a teenager, I guess.”

“You said they weren’t close,” said Gabe. “Why?”

“Her mom and Butch were a fling. He met her at the pro-bowl, and they spent a hot four days together. The result was Carigan. She didn’t want to marry him, and he felt the same. But he never abandoned that little girl. That kid has gone to the best schools. He bought them a gorgeous eight-bedroom home outside of Scottsdale. She’s had the best of everything, but damn, that girl was nasty to Butch.”

“Was the mother feeding her shit about her father?” asked Miller.

“Naw. I mean, Lara wasn’t like that. She and Butch made decisions together. She never asked him for more money. Hell, she made a good living as a marketing analyst for a big company out west. I don’t know.”

“Should we put the daughter on the list?” asked Miller.

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