Race for the Gold. Dana Mentink
stared, riveted, tracking Max’s progress as he swam laboriously to within several feet of the dock.
Laney dropped to her stomach and stretched out her hands to him, her torso hanging over the wooden slats.
“You’re going to fall in,” Beth said, clutching Laney’s legs.
“And so are you,” Jackie added, grabbing Beth around the waist.
Laney snatched up Max’s wrist. She could see pain rippling across his face along with the determination.
“Don’t, Laney,” he said tightly. “Your shoulder. I’ll get out myself.”
He referred to the shoulder she’d dislocated while weight training six months before. “My shoulder is fine, and if you don’t take my hand I’ll jump in and shove you out.”
The muscles in his jaw worked overtime but he clasped her palm.
Together the three of them managed to haul Max out of the frigid water and up onto the dock where he sat, his knees shivering.
Laney put her hands on his shoulders. “Max?”
“Don’t get wet,” he said. “Either one of you. I don’t want anybody...”
“Catching pneumonia,” Laney finished. “I know, I know.” In spite of his commands, she took hold of his arm. “We’re getting you inside.”
He climbed to his feet and shook off the assistance. He gripped his forearm.
“Can you make it?” Laney asked, the darkness working against her as she tried to look him over.
“Of course,” he growled. She probably should have taken offense at his tone, but she knew she would have answered the same way. The mind overrides the body. Mental toughness. They’d steeped themselves in it. Terrible patients, both of them.
They made it back to the athlete dorms and hustled him inside to the dining room. Laney snapped on the lights and Beth began a violent sneezing fit that earned her a worried look from Jackie. Laney ran to fetch a blanket that she draped around Max’s shoulders.
“What happened?” she demanded. “I turned around and you were off chasing someone to the pond.”
Blue lipped, Max took a corner of the blanket and applied pressure to his arm.
Laney pushed closer. “Bad?”
He shook his head, sending icy droplets flying.
Jackie frowned. “Did the man have a knife?”
“No.” Max turned to Laney. “Do you have your phone? I need to call security.”
She fished it out of her pocket and handed him the phone. “What happened? You have to tell me. Was it the same man from the parking lot?”
“Didn’t see his face.”
“Why...?”
He held up a calming hand the same way he always did when she wanted to be skating hard and fast and he forced her to stop and recuperate. Think it through, Birdie, was his never-ending mantra.
She was thinking it through, and the mental energy was getting her nowhere except to a state of near panic.
He tried to dial the phone, but his fingers shook too much so she took it and punched in the numbers before handing it back to him.
“I need to report a problem,” he said before giving a cursory summary and hanging up. “They’re on the way.”
She was pacing now, short, frantic circles as she texted her father.
“Laney, sit down, please,” he said, moving another chair closer. “With me.”
She forced herself into the chair. “Why did you go after the guy in the first place? He was built like a brick wall.”
He jerked. “How do you know that?”
She sighed. “I tried to tackle him.”
His eyes widened and a tinge of color flooded his pale cheeks. “You...did what?”
Jackie gave him a weary nod. “That’s what I thought, too.”
He took her hand and squeezed it hard. “Dumb, Laney. I don’t even have to say why, do I?” he asked in clipped tones.
“No, so don’t bother. It was just as dumb as you taking on the guy and winding up in the lake.”
“I’m...” Max broke off and blew out a hissing breath.
Laney shrugged. “Anyway, he got away and that’s that. Why were you after him in the first place?”
Max heaved a deep sigh, reining in his temper she surmised.
“I saw someone down by the pond, ready to heave something into the water.”
“And you didn’t think it might be a good idea to let him chuck it in and then figure out what it was later?” Beth said, arms folded.
“I knew what it was and I didn’t want it to get wet or trapped there when the rest of the lake froze over.”
“Why?” Laney nearly shouted. “What was it?”
In the dim light his electric-blue eyes were dark and flat. He leveled a look her way that pricked her nerves.
“I think it was your missing skate.”
For a long, silent moment, they all stared at Max.
“Why,” Laney started slowly, “would anyone want to toss my skate in the lake?”
Beth folded herself in a tight hug. “To hide the fact that they tampered with your blade.”
The sound of approaching feet signaled the security team.
“It all sounds so cloak and dagger,” Jackie said. “Are you sure, Max? Very sure?”
He pulled up the ruined sleeve of his running jacket, exposing the neat slice that bisected his arm. “Look like the mark of a seventeen-inch steel blade to you?”
Something cold and ugly slithered up Laney’s spine. “That’s exactly what it looks like,” she whispered.
FOUR
The security people contacted the police, and Max went over the scenario all over again after he was allowed to pull on dry clothes. He’d refused the hospital trip, of course, knowing the wound did not require stitches, and allowed Jackie to patch him up with the first-aid kit. He’d been cut dozens of times in the course of his short-track career. It came with the territory.
The wound stung, not enough to bother him, but two details would not stop circling in his mind. First, someone had taken Laney’s skate. Though the guy had somehow managed to pick up the bundle and take it with him, there was no question that someone wanted to get rid of the evidence. Dressed in dry clothes, holding a cup of hot tea at Laney’s insistence, he felt cold through and through. Who would do something that might result in a racer getting seriously injured? Who wanted her to lose that much?
The second fact that ate at him was Laney’s reckless move down by the pond. Maybe he’d been cavalier in his actions, too, but she was not allowed to be. He interrupted her pacing and pulled her to the corner of the dining room while an officer by the name of Bill Chen interviewed Beth and Jackie.
He remembered Chen’s face from the dozens of interviews he’d done after he regained consciousness those painful years ago—the fringe of salt-and-pepper hair, the five o’clock shadow on the round chin no matter what time of day Chen showed up. The officer had been polite and patient, teasing out information as best he could in between Max’s surgical procedures and periods of sedation.
It hadn’t made any difference. No matter how many times Max had gone over the details of the accident, he could