The Setup and the Substitute by Jiffy Kate

Chapter 32

Owen

Throwingmy jersey on the floor in front of my locker, I slump down on the bench.

If the Revelers manage to pull out a win tonight, it will be no thanks to me. I pitched like shit. Loaded the bases and allowed two runners to score before I could close the inning.

“Fuck.”

Leaning forward, I grasp my head in my hands and try to breathe through the frustration. These last couple weeks have been nothing but one hit after another. First, Lisa shows back up. Then, she basically moves into my house.

And there’s Sophie, who’s been a champ through this whole thing, but it feels like I’m losing her. Most of our conversations lately have been about Lisa, and I get it, she’s looking out for my kids’ best interests, but fuck if it doesn’t put me in a bad place.

Because I don’t know what the fuck to do right now.

I’m doing my best to hold it all together, but I feel myself crumbling from the inside out. And if I don’t get a grip soon, I’ll be out of a pitching position on top of everything else.

When I hear a phone ringing, I glance up and stare at my locker.

Most people don’t call me during games, and usually my phone is on silent, but I must’ve forgotten to switch it over. Reaching in, I pull it out of my bag and glance at the screen, expecting it to be Sophie.

But it’s not.

“Hello?” I say, placing the phone up to my ear and checking behind me to make sure I’m still alone.

“Thatcher?” The familiar voice of Hank, the private investigator, asks from the other end of the line. “Hey, I was expecting this to go to voicemail, sorry.”

“It’s okay. What’s up?”

A chill flows through my veins, all the way to my fingertips, giving me a sense of unease.

The last time we talked, all he was able to tell me was that Lisa had indeed been admitted to a rehab facility and completed the mandatory hundred and eighty days. But he didn’t have much more information about where she’d been the rest of the time she was gone.

“Something came up today and I thought you should know,” he starts. “A detective friend of mine who works for the LAPD, gave me a call back today, letting me know that there’s a Lisa Winslow who is part of an investigation involving a drug trafficking ring. Some firearms, but mostly narcotics. I’m working to identify if there are any other Lisa Winslows in the area, but I feel like this is your girl.”

My girl.

No, she’s definitely not my girl.

But, fuck if she isn’t staying at my house.

“How quickly do you think you’ll be able to make the identification?” I ask, my heart beating in overtime as I think about Lisa being in my house, around my kids and Sophie. If she puts them in harm's way, I’ll never forgive her.

“Might take me a day or two,” he says, sounding frustrated. “I sent a photo of Lisa back to the detective, but they’re in the early part of this investigation. It’s still not clear if this person is just a buyer, or if she’s gone all in and started selling for them.”

Rubbing a hand down my face, I groan. “Well, she’s at my house. So I kind of need to know what the fuck is going on. What should I do?”

“Play it cool for now,” he advises. “Don’t tip her off. It could make her run. Best case scenario is we get a positive ID and hand it over to the local law enforcement. If she was buying and selling in LA, she’s probably doing the same in New Orleans. It’s a good possibility she brought shit with her, which makes this a federal case.”

My mind is running wild with the what-ifs and worst-case scenarios: If Lisa is trafficking drugs and she’s caught at my house, what does that mean? What if she’s stashed them there? What about my kids? Sophie? My career?

“Hank,” I say, my teeth clenching so hard it feels like I’m going to break a molar. “Tell me this isn’t going to blow up in my face.”

There’s a long pause and I feel like I’m getting ready to crawl out of my skin.

“Hank,” I warn, every tendon in my body stretched taut with fury and fear.

“It’s not,” he finally says, sounding resolved and determined. “We’re going to be smart, play our cards right, and this shit will get resolved with only the criminals paying the price. You have my word.”

I trust him, in theory. He’s been upfront and honest with me from the get-go. Hank is a retired detective, so he knows his stuff, but this is my family we’re talking about. The people I’m supposed to protect and everything feels like it’s spinning out of control.

“Call me the second you know anything.”

“I will,” he says.

Just about that time I hear the main door open and the rest of the team files into the locker room. I can tell by the expletives flying the game ended in a loss and I can’t bring myself to look anyone in the eye.

Even though I know it takes the whole team to win or lose, I still feel responsible.

After I end the call, I shove the phone back in my bag and take my sorry ass to the showers, hoping the hot water will help wash away some of the bullshit.