Page 10 of 40-Yard Line

“Carigan, this is Gabe and Mac. They’re trying to find out what really happened to your father.” She stared at her mother a moment, then back at the two men.

“That’s easy. The team killed him.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“She said the team killed him,” said Mac into the speakerphone.

“Did she say why she thought that?” asked Gaspar.

“All she said was that her father wanted out of football, but he wanted out in his own way. It doesn’t make sense with everything that everyone has been telling us about him. Why would he insist on continuing to play if he wanted out?”

“I don’t know. Are you guys on your way back?”

“Tomorrow,” said Gabe. “Lara and Carigan both suggested we go speak with a woman in Tucson whose father played with Butch. They just said we’d find it interesting.”

“Well, that’s not strange, is it? Alright. Just be careful and let us know if you need anything.” Gaspar ended the call and turned to Ian, Ghost, and Nine, shaking his head. “This is just fucking weird. I think we need to speak with Trevon again.”

“I’m up for a drive. Let’s go.”

“They’re probably at the practice field prepping for the game,” said Ian.

The drive into New Orleans was more crowded than usual with the holiday traffic picking up. Temperatures were cooler, offering soothing breezes. After showing their ID and explaining why they were there, security finally allowed the four men onto the field.

Standing on the sidelines, they watched as the coaching staff barked orders, pulled men aside to give them shit for not performing, and patted their new golden boy quarterback on the head every time he did something right.

“Seems like they’re pleased with their replacement,” said Ghost.

“He definitely seems happy. Look at the faces of the others, though. Look at his offensive line. They’re definitely not happy,” said Nine.

Lined up to run a play, the defense came forward as if to get to the quarterback but, instead, dove toward Trevon.

“Oh, damn,” muttered Gaspar. “That was a fucking cheap shot.”

Trevon jumped off the ground, shoving the defensive lineman.

“What the fuck!” he screamed. “This is practice, asshole, and I’m on your damn team.” The other man just smiled, flipping him the bird. Whistles blew, and the coach threw his hands up.

“Alright! We’re done. That’s it. Hit the showers.”

Trevon looked up and noticed the four men giving a nod. As he walked toward them, others slapped his back, shaking their heads.

“Hey, man. That looked like it hurt,” smirked Nine.

“Fucking asshole is what he is,” said Trevon.

“Wasn’t that part of the play?” Ian asked innocently.

“Fuck no. He’s pissed because I’m digging in on Butch. He thinks I should leave it alone. I can’t, y’all. I just can’t.”

“Hey, Trevon. You okay?” asked a young man.

“Yeah. I’m good. Fellas, this is Kurt Michaels, our new quarterback.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Nine. “We’re investigating Butch’s death. Maybe we could ask you a few questions later.”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he said nervously. “I’ll see you later, Trevon.” He quickly walked off, not looking back as he headed to the locker room.

“That seemed odd,” frowned Ian.

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