Page 38 of The Game Is Afoot

I try to copy her and nearly face-plant. Is this still a warm-up?

Just when I think I’ve got the hang of it, Mackenzie starts swinging her arms widely around. “Breathe, you got this! Cole’s spirit is here with us! We got this!” She drops forward, slamming the grass with her palms. “And now, turn to touch! Turnto touch!” She alternates each hand reaching up. “Reach for Cole! Can you feel his spirit?! I can feel it! Woo!”

This is so ridiculous, and normally I wouldn’t be able to hold in my laughter. But laughing is impossible because my lungs are on fire and there are sharp pains in my sides and my knees and my butt and other places I can’t even identify because they’ve just transitioned to numb. Also, I’m pretty sure I’ve sweated out all of the water I’ve consumed from that stupid, giant water bottle in the past month.

“Okay! Woo! Now let’s rest for five seconds and then we’re going to get started!”

I let out a cry for help. But Christine must mistake it as overwhelming excitement for exercising or an outpouring of grief because she pulls me into a hopping hug and tries to hold my hand while we do the first round of jumping jacks for joy that we even knew Cole.

—

My plan is to stayuntil the end of the memorial exercise boot camp and make small talk with the women to see what I can find out about Cole and Bethany’s relationship. But that plan goes out the window after I learn what a burpee is and briefly lose consciousness during my fifth attempt at one.

Bethany was right. I am not on this level.

So, after checking to make sure Dom is long gone, I make my escape, mumbling some excuse that involves the oven and Polly and maybe the dentist? I’m not really sure…I haven’t fully regained sentience or feeling in my extremities.

As I’m hobbling home, though—sweaty and sore and desperately wishing that I had my giant water bottle in this rare moment when I actuallyneeda giant water bottle—I realize there’s someone I should talk to. Right now.

I pull my phone out of my belt bag (which I guessisvery convenient when my shoulder feels like it’s still in danger of falling off) and call the Beachwood Police Department. After I’m put through to a few different people, he finally gets on the line.

“Off—” He clears his throat. “DetectiveDe La Rosa.”

“Hi! Detective De La Rosa! I have something important to tell you!”

“Who is this? And do you need…medical attention?”

Okay, rude. I’m not breathingthatheavily. But anyway—“It’s Mavis Miller! And yes, I just worked out for the first time in, well, I think my whole life, but listen! I learned something about Coach Cole. Or should I say—ColeDabrowski!”

There’s no immediate gasp like I expect, which is disappointing. Maybe he just needs a beat to catch up.

“Dabrowski!” I repeat, helpfully.

I wait for excitement, profuse thanks, maybe even an offer to make me an honorary member of the department, seeing as I’ve helped them outtwicenow.

Instead, he sighs.

“Yes, Ms. Miller. We learned that when we reached out to Cole’s ex-wife on Sunday. She was his emergency contact.”

Why didn’t they mention that when they showed up at our house?

“Oh you mean,Irene?” He doesn’t audibly marvel at the fact that I know this, but I’m pretty sure I can feel it. “They have…well,hada pretty contentious relationship. A history of public intoxication, domestic disputes—”

He cuts me off. “Yes, she told us.”

Okay, he doesn’t want to waste time. And I agree. Let’s get down to our next steps.

“So do you think she had something to do with it? Have you brought her in for formal questioning?”

I hear an intake of breath, like he’s about to say something, but then there’s rustling and the sound of footsteps. A door closes.

“Listen, Ms. Miller, I appreciate you trying to help us. Really, I do.” His voice sounds softer, kinder. And there’s something else there…“I know what happened last fall must have been very traumatic.” My body cringes at the word. Pity—that’s what else is there. “Maybethat’swhy you feel called to interfere in this investigation. But I am not at liberty to discuss this case, especially with your ex-husband’s involvement.”

“You can’t think—Corey hadnothingto do with this!”

“I don’t think he did, either, but…” He grunts in frustration. “I can’t talk to you any more about this, Ms. Miller. Please trust us to do our jobs here. I am confident we will find out what happened to Cole.”

“What about Bethany Bowman? Have you looked into her at all?” I’m talking too fast, but I need to give him this information. I know there’s something strange going on with her. “That’s whose exercise class I just left, and she knew Colereallywell, but she didn’t even say hi to him that day. She just disappeared. And I know that sounds like she’s not involved, but—”

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