Long Lost - By Harlan Coben Page 0,6

the other two slabs of beef sat in the back. I took out my mobile phone and hit the speed-dial button one. Win answered on the first ring.

"Articulate," Win said.

That's how he always answers the phone, even when he can clearly see on the caller ID that it's me, and yes, it is annoying.

"You better circle back," I said.

"Oh," Win said, his voice kid-on-Christmas-morning happy, "goodie, goodie."

"How long will it take?"

"I'm just down the street. I suspected something like this might occur."

"Don't shoot anyone," I said.

"Yes, Mother."

My car was parked near the back of the lot. The Expedition followed slowly. The drizzle picked up a bit. I wondered what their plan was-something moronically macho, no doubt-and decided to just play it as it lays.

Win's Jag appeared and waited in the distance. I drive a Ford Taurus, aka The Chick Trawler. Win hates my car. He won't sit in it. I took out my keys and hit the remote. The car made that little ding noise and unlocked. I slipped inside. The Expedition made its big move then. It raced forward and stopped directly behind the Taurus, blocking me in. Coach Bobby jumped out first, petting his goatee. His two buddies followed.

I sighed and watched their approach in my rearview mirror.

"Something I can do for you?" I said.

"Heard your girl chewing you out," he said.

"Eavesdropping is considered rude, Coach Bobby."

"I figured maybe you'd change your mind and wouldn't show. So I thought we could settle this now. Right here."

Coach Bobby leaned his face right into mine.

"Unless you're chicken."

I said, "Did you have tuna for lunch?"

Win's Jaguar pulled up next to the Expedition. Coach Bobby took a step back and narrowed his eyes. Win got out. The four men looked at him and frowned.

"Who the hell is he?"

Win smiled and raised his hand as if he'd just been introduced on a talk show and wanted to acknowledge the applause of the studio audience. "Nice to be here," he said. "Thank you very much."

"He's a friend," I said. "Here to even up the odds."

"Him?" Bobby laughed. His chorus joined in. "Oh yeah, sure."

I got out of the car. Win moved a little closer to the three buddies.

Coach Bobby said, "I'm so gonna kick your ass."

I shrugged. "Take your best shot."

"Too many people around. There's a clearing in the woods right behind that field," he said, pointing the way. "No one will bother us there."

Win asked, "How, pray tell, do you know about this clearing?"

"I went to high school here. Kicked a lot of ass back there." He actually puffed out his chest as he added: "I was also captain of the football team."

"Wow," Win said in a perfect monotone. "Can I wear your varsity jacket to the prom?"

Coach Bobby pointed a beefy finger in Win's direction. "You'll be using it to soak up blood, you don't shut up."

Win tried very hard not to look overly giddy.

I thought about my promise to Ali. "We're two mature adults," I said. Each word felt like I was spitting out broken glass. "We should be above resorting to fisticuffs, don't you think?"

I looked past him toward Win. Win was frowning. "Did you really use the term 'fisticuffs'?"

Coach Bobby moved into my personal space. "You chicken?"

Again with the chicken.

But I was the bigger man-and the bigger man's the one who walks away. Sure, right.

"Yes," I said, "I'm chicken. Happy?"

"You hear that guys? He's chicken."

I winced but stayed strong. Or weak, depending on how you want to look at it. Yep, the bigger man. That was me.

I don't think I have ever seen Win look so crestfallen.

"Do you mind moving your car now so I can go?" I asked.

"Okay," Coach Bobby said, "but I warned you."

"Warned me about what?"

He was back in my personal space. "You don't want to fight, fine. But then it's hunting season on your boy out there."

I felt a rush of blood in my ears.

"What are you talking about?"

"The spastic kid who shot in the wrong basket? The rest of the season he's a target. We have a chance at a cheap shot, we take it. We see an opportunity to get in his head, we go for it."

My mouth may have dropped open, I'm not sure. I looked toward Win to make sure I heard right. Win no longer looked so crestfallen. He rubbed his hands together.

I turned back to Coach Bobby. "Are you serious?"

"Like a heart attack."

I replayed my promise to Ali, looking for a loophole. After my career-ending basketball injury I needed