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The fact that Hardesty made no attempt to deny his identity magnified Dan's fear as nothing else could have. Only a man who didn't care if he lived or died would be so careless.
He knew he didn't have much time, and he spoke quickly, his voice commanding. "Listen to me. Ray wouldn't want you to do this."
"You were jealous of him. That's why you cut him."
"This is between you and me. Phoebe doesn't have anything to do with it. Let her go."
"Don't call the police." Hardesty coughed, a dry rattling sound. "I'm watching on TV, and if I see anything unusual going on, you'll be sorry."
"Think, Hardesty! You've got an innocent woman—"
"Any more points go on the Scoreboard for the Stars, I'm gonna hurt your girlfriend."
"Hardesty!"
The line went dead.
Dan stood there, stunned. He heard the cheers of the crowd and everything inside him went numb as he remembered the series of plays he had just called. He spun toward the field. Standing in mute horror, he watched as the ball arced through the air and sailed directly between the uprights for a Stars' field goal.
The Scoreboard flashed, and Dan Calebow felt a cold hand grip his heart.
In the subbasement of the dome, Ray cursed and slammed his foot into Phoebe's chair. She let out a cry as it flew across the slippery floor and crashed into the end wall. Her shoulder caught the impact and shards of pain shot through her body. She tasted blood in her mouth where she bit her tongue.
Afraid of what he would do to her next, she fought against the pain and forced the chair back around so that she was facing him. But he wasn't looking at her. Instead he was staring at the television and muttering to himself.
A close-up of Dan filled the small screen. He looked frantic, and since the score now favored the Stars 17-3, the commentators were making a joke about it. The sight of him made her feel as if she had been ripped open. She might die today. Was she going to be watching his face when it happened? The idea was unbearable and she forced her numb fingers to begin working at the knots that held her to the chair. As she bit back the pain her movements were causing her, she remembered their last conversation and the unshakable conviction in his voice when he had told her he would never throw a game.
I don't do that, Phoebe. Not for anybody. Not even for you.
Chapter 24
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On the sideline Dan called Jim Biederot over. He hoped the quarterback didn't notice the unsteadiness in his voice. "We're making some changes in the next series, Jim."
By the time he'd finished giving his instructions, Biederot's eyes had narrowed into indignant slits above the black smudges that angled across his cheekbones. "Those are goddamn running plays! I'm hitting every receiver I look at."
"Do what you're told or you'll sit!" Dan shot back.
Biederot gave him a glance of pure fury and stalked over to Charlie Cray, one of the assistants. Within seconds, he had grabbed Charlie's headset and was shouting into it.
Dan knew Jim was speaking with Gary Hewitt, his offensive coordinator, who sat with Tully in the coaches' box high in the dome. Before Hewitt could start giving him hell, too, he tried to swallow enough of his fear so he could sort out his thoughts.
Hardesty had said he was watching on television, which meant he'd be able to see any unusual movement on the sideline or in whatever part of the stadium was within camera range. As a consequence, Dan couldn't risk notifying the police. Once they knew that Phoebe truly had been kidnapped, they'd be all over the place, including right here on the sideline asking him questions. Even worse, they might decide to call the game, a circumstance that could very well push Hardesty right over the edge.
He briefly debated using his headset to contact Ron, but he was afraid Hardesty might be listening in. Although Dan didn't understand all the intricacies of the internal communications system, he knew Hardesty could only have accessed it from within the dome. That meant he might, even now, be eavesdropping on conversations between the sideline and the coaches' box. It also mean that Phoebe was tucked away somewhere nearby.
He swiped at his forehead with his sleeve as he tried to figure out what to do about Ron. Since he couldn't explain what had happened over the headset, he grabbed his clipboard and scribbled a quick note, making it cryptic enough so that it would be meaningless to anyone else who read it.
I spoke with the player we were discussing at halftime. Your negative assessment of the situation was correct. It is urgent that you take no further action. I'll explain after the game.
He slipped the note to one of the equipment men to deliver and told himself that Phoebe would come out of this unharmed. Anything else was unthinkable.
For the first time, he let himself consider how his actions would affect her ownership of the Stars after all this was over and she was safe. Although there was no precedent for what was happening, he couldn't imagine the NFL would let this game stand—not unless the Stars won despite his coaching, which he wouldn't let happen. Once the NFL learned that he had deliberately thrown the game, ensuring a Stars' loss, they would schedule a rematch and she would still have a chance to keep the team.
And then an ugly thought struck him. What if the police didn't believe that she had been kidnapped? If Hardesty got away, there wouldn't be any tangible proof other than her own testimony. Dan was the only one who could back up her story, and his personal involvement with her would make his word suspect. She could very well be accused of fabricating the kidnapping simply because the Stars had lost and she wanted another shot at retaining ownership.
There was no way the NFL would let this game be replayed.
