the kids knew.
Poor Daniel.
By halftime the team was down two goals. The sun was low on the horizon and Matthew decided to use the short break in action to run to his car and grab his sunglasses.
To his discomfort, his ex-wife followed him.
Chapter Three
“HAVE YOU HEARD about Coach Keller?” Gillian asked. Her voice was stiff and censorious, as if somehow Matthew was to blame for the situation.
He slipped on his sunglasses. “Yeah, I have. Where’s Violet?”
“With a sitter.” Gillian sounded impatient. “Who told you about Keller?”
He wasn’t about to reveal that Wally Keller was now a client of the firm’s. “Who told you?” he countered.
“The soccer association sent out an e-mail. I didn’t see your address on the distribution list, though.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Maybe you could ask them to add it for me. I would appreciate receiving e-mails about Derrick’s team.”
“Fine.”
He guessed she would have argued if she’d had any basis to do so. But since she claimed to want him more involved with Derrick’s life, how could she?
“Have you heard how Sarah’s doing?” he said. “I noticed Robert wasn’t here.”
“Neither of the Boutin kids was at school today, according to Derrick. I heard they were receiving counseling.”
“That’s good.”
Gillian shook her head. “I still can’t believe this could happen in our neighborhood. We need to screen our coaches more thoroughly from now on. It makes me sick to think that I trusted Wally Keller.”
“Maybe Keller isn’t responsible for what happened to Sarah.”
Gillian rolled her eyes. “Innocent until proven guilty.”
She’d heard him say the phrase so often the words had no meaning to her. Matthew couldn’t blame her. Most people he met felt the same way. Maybe because not that many of them had ever been accused of a crime they hadn’t committed.
“Please don’t tell any of the other parents you think Sarah is lying.”
“I didn’t say I thought Sarah was lying, Gillian.” But…it was possible.
In the course of his career, Matthew had seen it happen often enough. Children who were hurt or scared sometimes lied or made up scenarios for reasons that adults didn’t always understand. While Sarah’s sexual abuse seemed irrefutable, he wouldn’t automatically condemn Wally of the crime.
And he certainly felt sympathy for the Keller family. Leslie and her children didn’t deserve the grief that this was bringing them.
He didn’t like to think that Wally deserved it, either.
AFTER THE GAME, Matt waited on the sidelines for an opportunity to speak to his son. The boys lined up to shake one another’s hands, then each team huddled around their coach for a postgame wrap-up.
Due to his smaller size, Derrick was easy to pick out in the crowd. He appeared despondent after the loss, and left the field with his head low.
“Nice effort.” Matthew clasped Derrick’s sweaty shoulder. He referenced a play late in the second half when Derrick had set up the center for a goal. “That was a beautiful pass.”
For a second his son’s eyes gleamed. Then he shrugged. “We still lost.”
Unfortunately, that one goal hadn’t been enough.
Matt bit back the platitudes. You can’t win them all wasn’t something he wanted to hear after a bad court case. Neither was There’s always the next one or At least you gave it your best.
The truth was losing sucked. “You must be tired. I noticed you were playing shorthanded.”
Derrick nodded. “Some of the guys are thinking of quitting the team.”
Matthew needed a second to figure out why. “Because of Coach Keller?”
Derrick nodded. “Now we have to find a new coach.”
“What about the father who filled in today?”
“He doesn’t know a thing about soccer. He just stepped in at the last minute so we wouldn’t have to forfeit the game.”
“Oh.” Matt slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Derrick shot him a quick look, then grabbed his soccer bag.
Silence stretched between them, and Matt realized that his son was waiting for something. Oh, cripes. Derrick wasn’t hoping Matthew would volunteer for the job, was he?
“I wish I could help, but my work is too unpredictable.” He was making most of the games, but no way could he handle practices, plus all the prep work in between.
“I know that.” Derrick sounded angry. “I didn’t ask you to, did I?” He swung his soccer bag over his shoulder and started toward Gillian’s car. His mother was sitting in the driver’s seat, waiting.
Matthew didn’t want the evening to end this way. “How about we grab a slushy? I’ll drop you off at home later.”
Derrick paused. He seemed tempted. But then he shook his head. “I’ve got an English assignment due tomorrow. I’d better go straight home.”
“Sure.” Matthew swallowed, but the hurt didn’t go anywhere. It stayed lodged in his throat, its favorite hangout.
He was being dissed, but he couldn’t blame Derrick. How many times had his son asked him for a little time, and Matthew had put him off because of work? It was such a cliché, the workaholic father, the needy son. Yet the pattern had been set and he didn’t know how to change it.
All he could do was keep trying. “Okay. Get your schoolwork done and I’ll see you on the weekend.”
“You mean next weekend, right? I’m at home this one.”
“Actually, no. Check the calendar, son. You were with your mom last weekend, so it’s my turn.”
“Fine.” Derrick nodded curtly, then upped his pace to a jog. Matthew watched him go, wishing he’d been able to give his son a hug. But there’d been no opportunity.
Or none that he could find.
“I CAN’T FREAKIN’ BELIEVE this.” Wally Keller had refused a chair, and was pacing the small meeting room. He had a broad face, stocky body and intelligent but now frightened-looking eyes.
An average dad, Matthew thought. In terrifying circumstances.
It was Tuesday afternoon, one o’clock.
