Her calls and texts continued to go unanswered. Derek was either ignoring her or he was at the stadium, warming up. He wouldn’t get her messages until after the game.
She tried not to let fury at the situation overcome her common sense … but she could let it propel her into action, instead of just sitting around being a victim. There was no finding a positive spin this time. Hide out at the hotel, maybe lose herself in the comfort of one of her Jane Austen novels, maybe freak out, or she could try to find the ballplayer, warn him. Throwing the last of her stuff in a suitcase, she decided she had just enough time for a quick stop at the stadium. It should be easy enough to blend in with ten thousand fans. I can be in and out.
Hara shoved her phone into her pocket, made sure she had on a bra under her sweatshirt, and dug out her press pass. Then she headed for the door.
* * *
“Hara, are you all right? You look funny,” asked Eddie.
She was standing next to the Fishers’ tunnel into the arena, pressed to the wall by press row. TV reporters were setting up their cameras and players were warming up; there was a lot of activity to mask her presence.
“You look funny.” She’d bought a Fishers baseball lid on the way in. With her long hair pooled under the hat and her sweatshirt hood drawn high around her neck, she prayed she could get in and out without anyone noticing her.
Eddie had spotted her in a flat second.
She would never make it in the CIA. But this wasn’t good. She didn’t want to put her father in more danger.
“Uh. Okay.” The redheaded reporter frowned at her.
“Sorry. Yes. I’m fine. Just a lot of drama in the last few days.” Maybe Eddie could slip Derek a note?
“I was worried about you in the flood. Did you guys do okay?” He leaned into her. “How crazy is it that you had Darcy driving you around!” He could not mask the pout in his voice. “Are you dating him?”
Clearly, Eddie had the emotional maturity of a fifth grader. No way could she trust him with a message for Derek. Eddie would for sure read it and then he’d be dragged into the mess. Hara continued to scan the floor for Derek, making sure she didn’t miss him as he emerged from the tunnel, while also preparing to bolt if she saw O’Donnell.
Trying not to freak Eddie out, and ignoring the relationship question, she said, “The trip was a little sketchy.”
A little sketchy. She almost laughed. Her friend had almost drowned in an inch of water and Hara was nearly sliced in half by a stop sign.
“The wind was nuts. We saw cars being dragged by the current.” We barely made it to the hospital. “I was grateful to get back to a warm, dry bed.” With Derek Darcy curled up around me. “Yesterday was a lot calmer.” If you’re not bothered by the sight of your friend—the same friend who was knocked unconscious the day before—lying on a bathroom floor, bleeding out. Or if you’re not bothered by the fact that the man you abhorred three days ago has started to take up a hell of a lot of real estate in your heart, yet that same man won’t be involved with a reporter.
“I spent some time at my hotel, writing.” And researching the background of Boston’s favorite basketball player, trying to think of a way to talk about his mother’s bribery scandal without bringing him down, despite the fact that Charles got his young mistress preggo, and, oh yeah, he’s a cheating motherfuck … which I know because my daddy, coughing up blood, told me about it, and how O’Donnell is an even worse, shysty motherfucker, willing to hurt people. And he’s had Charles throwing games. Charles fucking Butler!
She shrugged, trying to shake the hamster in her head free from the spinning wheel of thoughts, and continued, “Eh, I just don’t know, Eddie. Boston is a crazy fucking town. It’s making me crazy. I’m ready to go home. How are you doing? Working on any exciting stories?”
The City Gazette reporter launched into a rant against Boston’s Zamboni drivers and how their strike was going to lead to the downfall of hockey, even though, he claimed, anybody who could drive a lawn mower could do their job. Eddie, yakking away, did not notice when