Chapter 3
Arthur moved between Robert Mercer and me.
"Leave the boy alone."
Robert smiled.
"Why? He's old enough to hear the truth."
I looked from one man to the other.
"What truth?"
Arthur didn't answer.
Robert folded his arms.
"Your father had a promising career until he made some very expensive mistakes."
My stomach tightened.
"What mistakes?"
Arthur snapped, "Robert!"
The man ignored him.
"Daniel was talented. I'll give him that."
He glanced toward the baseball in my hand.
"Apparently, talent runs in the family."
I gripped the ball.
"Then why are you talking about him like that?"
Robert's smile faded.
"Because talent doesn't excuse dishonesty."
I took a step forward.
"My father wasn't dishonest."
Robert raised his eyebrows.
"Is that what your mother told you?"
Anger rose in my chest.
"Don't talk about my mother."
Arthur placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Malik, don't give him what he wants."
Robert laughed.
"Still playing the hero, Arthur?"
The words made the old coach flinch.
Before either man spoke again, I heard a familiar voice.
"Malik!"
I turned.
My mother was running across the field.
She still wore her pale green hospital uniform.
Her hair was tied back.
She looked exhausted.
But her eyes were fierce.
"Mom!"
She reached me and pulled me into her arms.
"Are you okay?"
I nodded.
"I'm fine."
She held my face.
"Did anybody hurt you?"
"No."
Then she looked at Robert.
Her expression changed.
"You."
Robert smiled.
"Hello, Angela."
My mother's arms tightened around me.
"Stay away from my son."
He lifted both hands.
"I'm only having a conversation."
"You have no business speaking to him."
I stared at her.
"Mom, what's happening?"
She looked at Arthur.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Arthur lowered his head.
"I'm sorry, Angela."
My mother laughed bitterly.
"Three years too late."
I felt my stomach twist.
"Mom?"
She turned toward me.
"Let's go home."
"But—"
"Now, Malik."
I looked at Arthur.
His eyes were wet.
Then I looked at Robert.
He was smiling.
I hated that smile.
"Did my dad really do something wrong?" I asked.
My mother stopped.
She turned back.
"What did he tell you?"
I looked at Robert.
"He said Dad was dishonest."
My mother's face went pale.
Then she stepped directly toward him.
"You don't get to speak about my husband."
Robert's smile disappeared.
"Angela, be reasonable."
She shook her head.
"For twelve years, your lies followed him everywhere."
The air seemed to disappear from my lungs.
Twelve years?
My father had died three years earlier.
Whatever happened had begun long before his death.
Robert glanced toward the crowd.
"Lower your voice."
My mother laughed.
"Now you care who's listening?"
Several spectators turned toward us.
Arthur stepped closer.
"Angela, please."
She looked at him.
"You had your chance to tell the truth."
His face crumpled.
"I know."
I felt tears burning my eyes.
"Somebody tell me what happened."
My mother looked at me.
For a moment, she seemed unable to speak.
Then she took my hand.
"Your father was accused of throwing a baseball game."
I stared.
"What?"
Robert folded his arms.
"Not accused. Investigated."
Mom glared at him.
"And never proven guilty."
I looked at Arthur.
"Is that true?"
He nodded slowly.
"Yes."
My chest tightened.
"Dad would never cheat."
My mother squeezed my hand.
"I know, baby."
Robert shook his head.
"Nobody knows what another person might do under pressure."
Arthur finally lost his temper.
"Enough!"
His voice echoed across the field.
Even Robert looked surprised.
Arthur pointed toward the exit.
"You've spent years destroying Daniel's reputation. You're not doing it to his son."
Robert stared at him.
"Careful, old man."
Arthur didn't move.
"Leave."
For several seconds, neither man spoke.
Then Robert adjusted his jacket.
He looked at me.
"You have your father's arm, kid."
I said nothing.
He smiled coldly.
"Let's hope you don't have his judgment."
Then he walked away.
I watched him disappear behind the dugout.
My hands were shaking.
I turned toward Mom.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Her eyes filled.
"Because you were a child."
"I'm fourteen."
"I know."
"You told me Dad stopped playing because of an injury."
"He did."
"But there was more."
She looked away.
I felt something crack inside me.
For years, baseball had been the one thing that made me feel close to Dad.
Now strangers were telling me things about him that I had never heard.
"Was Dad a cheater?" I whispered.
My mother grabbed my shoulders.
"Look at me."
I raised my eyes.
"Your father was an honest man."
Her voice trembled.
"He worked hard. He loved you. And he never stopped trying to do the right thing."
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
"Then why did people say he cheated?"
She swallowed.
"Because someone wanted him gone."
Arthur closed his eyes.
I turned toward him.
"Who?"
He looked at my mother.
She shook her head.
"Not here."
I pulled away.
"Why does everybody keep hiding things from me?"
My voice cracked.
"He's my dad!"
My mother began crying.
"I know, sweetheart."
"No, you don't!"
The words escaped before I could stop them.
Her expression broke my heart.
But I was too upset to take them back.
I looked at Arthur.
"You knew him."
He nodded.
"You coached him."
"Yes."
"Then tell me what happened."
Arthur wiped his face.
"Daniel was preparing for an important game when someone approached him."
I held my breath.
"Who?"
"A man connected to sports betting."
My stomach tightened.
"What did he want?"
"He wanted Daniel to deliberately lose."
I stared.
Arthur continued.
"Your father refused."
My heart pounded.
"Then what?"
Arthur looked toward the empty field.
"A few days later, rumors appeared that Daniel had accepted money."
I shook my head.
"That's not true."
"I know."
"How?"
Arthur's voice broke.
"Because your father came to me and reported the approach."
I stared at him.
"Then why didn't you defend him?"
Arthur looked at the ground.
And his silence answered before his words did.
"I was afraid."
My mother turned away.
Arthur continued.
"I had a family. A job. People were threatening to ruin everything."
My chest tightened.
"So you let them ruin Dad instead?"
He began crying.
"Yes."
I stared at him.
The man who had looked at my pitching motion with tears in his eyes.
The man who claimed to love my father.
The man who had apparently watched him suffer.
And done nothing.
I stepped backward.
"I don't want to talk to you."
Arthur lowered his head.
"I understand."
My mother took my hand.
"Come on, Malik."
We walked toward the parking lot.
I didn't look back.
But before we reached our car, my phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
There was a photograph attached.
I opened it.
My breath caught.
It showed my father standing beside Robert Mercer.
Both men looked younger.
Robert was holding a thick envelope.
My father looked furious.
Underneath the photograph was one sentence.
Your father didn't take the money.
He kept the evidence.
I stopped walking.
My mother turned.
"Malik?"
I stared at the screen.
May you like
Then another message appeared.
If you want to know why Daniel Johnson was destroyed, find the blue notebook.
