Page 169 of Play Dirty

Another pause.

“Because at that point, I knew it wasn’t just him.”

I stiffened immediately. Grayson and I exchanged glances.

“What do you mean?” asked Grayson.

Trees looked at him for a long second.

“You’re the captain,” he said. “You tell me.”

Grayson didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. I could see it in his face.

He knew.

Or at least… part of him did.

“Sutherland’s good,” Trees went on, “but he’s not that smart. He couldn’t have pulled it off as cleanly as he did. Not over multiple games. Not without getting caught.”

“Which means—”

“He wasn’t alone,” Trees said.

An ugly thought suddenly occurred to me. One that I wanted to immediately destroy.

“Someone else on the team?” I ventured.

Trees shook his head right away. I let out an internal sigh of relief.

“No,” he said. “Bigger than that.”

“Management,” Grayson blurted.

The word came out like a curse. It sat there on the table, like something dirty.

Trees picked up his beer again. He took a long, slow sip, then set it back down.

Then he said it:

“Daniel Rourke.”

The name didn’t ring a bell. Not immediately.

Grayson’s reaction told me it should’ve.

He went utterly still. Like something had clicked into place.

“Director of hockey ops,” Trees added. “Assistant GM. Smiles in meetings. Shakes hands. Talks about ‘long-term vision’, like he’s building something.”

I watched the coach’s lip curl in genuine disgust.

“He’s not building shit.”

My stomach, which didn’t feel good to begin with, took an even harder turn.

“What’s he doing then?” I asked.

Trees looked right at me.