Page 16 of Final Inning

“Rather like Dr. Talley. Most intelligent woman I have ever met. Constantly moving, and her brain going six miles a minute.” That was one of the things that truly fascinated him—the woman’s brain. But Knight was going to keep that thought to himself. Terry needed someone to meet him on common ground. To make connections to validate the man’s view of the world—especially of the daughters he loved so much. He needed to know that they would be okay someday. That the world could still be a safe place for the daughters he had left.

Well, Knight couldn’t really make that promise. He so wished he could.

“That’s half my girls. So smart, so willing to go for what they want. A man, a father, worries. From the moment they are born. Wants to…protect.” The man’s expression was just broken. Destroyed. Knight hurt for him. “Jana and Kayley and Faith—they don’t understand this. How can they? How can anyone?”

No one really could understand that. But Knight could at least help by finding out who. “Tell me about Kevin. We’ll start there. Work our way forward.”

Harper’s father pulled in a deep breath. Pulled himself together. Then he nodded. “Kevin. Yes, he was a good man. A really good one.”

“How exactly did he die?”

Surprise was in the man’s green eyes. Like he thought Knight should already know. Well, Knight knew what the deputy had told them. But outside confirmation helped. “Like…my little girl. My Harper. He was found, beaten to death. There at the fields.”

Same method of death, same location—but blunt force trauma wasn’t exactly a rare way for someone to be murdered. That the victims had known each other, however, that was a fact that stuck out. And had apparently known each other well. “How long had he been coaching?”

“Several years. His daughter Ramey was a year younger than Harper. Harper was right in the middle of the team, age-wise. There were a few girls playing up with older girls, too. It wasn’t an intense kind of team. Kevin’s philosophy was that there was plenty of time for the girls to learn. He was really about just teaching the game. He wasn’t a trophy chaser at all.”

“Trophy chaser? I’m not greatly familiar with softball.” But getting this man to talk would help him get to the heart of what Terry knew about Kevin Adams. It was a place to start.

“There are some coaches who only care about winning. They’ll take a team that should be playing A level and register as a C level team. So they can trounce weaker teams—to build up wins. But that just always made Kevin angry. He said he would rather the girls lose, but learn, than go and bully newer, less experienced players. Unfortunately, there are a high number of coaches who do it for their own ego. And girls end up quitting the game they love far too many times to count. Harper quit, stepped away for her mental well-being. It was the best decision for her at the time. After Kevin…the next coach she had, Amanda Riccards. Amanda wasn’t bad; she was just doing it for her own daughter’s sake, rather than the team. That became clear. Amanda wanted as many trophies as she could get. Probably still does; she has a few younger daughters still in the game, I believe. Amanda was extremely competitive—with everyone. Except Kevin. Amanda was close with Kevin, almost a different woman. We were much more careful with Kayley when she started playing a few years later. Asked more questions—watched the teams playing to see how the coaches actually acted. Travel softball…it started off a way for the best of the best to keep playing, to get better. Many had college hopes in mind. But it became so commercialized. People, including coaches, preying on girls’ dreams. It’s disgusting in some ways. Sometimes I wonder if we should have just put her in ballet instead.”

But that still didn’t answer the question Knight had—was the location of Harper’s death significant, and did someone associated with the game have relevance? Or was it just random, like good old Sheriff Johnson had said?

Chapter 10

Miranda stood in the middle of Harper’s apartment and just tried to get a feel for who the young woman had been.

Warm and loving was her first impression.

This tiny apartment reminded her most of her cousin Daisy’s suite at the inn. They were about the same square footage, and the same color pattern. Daisy was an elementary teacher—she liked pinks and purples and sunny yellows. Daisy decorated with flowers and vintage kitten figurines. In fact, there was the same set of 1980s porcelain kittens on the end table that Miranda had given Daisy for her last birthday.

There were photos of her family along the main wall. It was a very small living space. The living area was probably less than eight-by-eight. There was more of a kitchenette than a full kitchen. There were two doors along the back wall. Bedroom and bath. Harper had hung butterfly tea lights over her bathroom door. She’d decorated in more feminine colors. It was obvious she’d cared about her space.

Miranda looked at a photo of four young girls surrounding a new baby. She stared at it for a moment. She was eight years older than Meyra—she remembered when her sister had been born. Remembered holding her almost in that same pose. Meyra and Daisy, both. They’d only been a few months apart in age, those two. And they’d grown side-by-side. Miranda loved them both so much.

Harper had loved her family. And they had loved her.

It hurt to see the pain in Harper’s mother’s eyes right now.

The Wycoffs had lost two daughters now. The trauma of that was something this family would never be able to forget. The loss would hurt them all for the rest of their lives.

“I’ve been keeping it clean. The girls…Faith is at FCU right now, in a dorm there. She’s in law school there. Scholarships the entire way. Sometimes she comes home. Sleeps out here. All of them…have been taking turns with her…stuff. I—don’t really know what to do with her apartment. Her…things…and her father…he’s not ready, I don’t think. It’s hard. When you lose a child…Harper’s twin—she was ill. And we knew…ahead of time that she was…ill. She was never in the best of health, Dr. Talley. But Harper…that day…my two younger girls were the ones here when Sheriff Johnson came. He told them. They are still in high school and he just told them ‘sorry about your sister’ and left. And that was that. Kayley and Jana—they knew before we did.”

Miranda couldn’t imagine what that idiot sheriff had been doing. Death notifications weren’t done with children. They just weren’t. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sheriff Johnson…well…he’s been a fixture in Helery County for a long while. And…he’s not good at what he does, but he is of the right political party there. I am not sorry we left Oklahoma for here. Being more in the city—we were able to give the girls more opportunities overall.” Mary Beth Wycoff had anger in her eyes now. Green, like her daughter’s. Like Miranda’s own. She reminded Miranda of her Aunt Jessica, in a lot of ways. Jessica had had that same kind of utter fire when she was protecting those she loved. “He just kept asking about Harper’s drug use. Pushing the idea that she used drugs. Asking the girls about their sister’s drug habit and where she always bought her drugs. Who at that trailer park sold drugs to her. How often she was there. My girl didn’t use drugs. I know every parent probably says that—but Harper wouldn’t. And if that man had just listened when we said that, maybe they would have caught the man who hurt my little girl by now. But no. Sheriff Johnson decided my baby girl was doing drugs. And then they came in here and tried to go through everything. We let them, even though it was across state lines. They had a man from the TSP with them, but…he was not much better. They didn’t find a damned thing, either. Because my baby was a good girl. She didn’t do drugs, Dr. Talley. She didn’t. She made her twin sister a promise to never do something like that. And Harper kept her word.”

Miranda nodded. She knew how addiction worked, though. And some addicts were very good at hiding their habits. She wasn’t going to form an opinion yet. Not until she had more time to figure out just who Harper Wycoff actually was.

But she wasn’t going to forget that Sheriff Johnson’s name had come up so quickly.

Again.

And not in a good way.

Again.

She had seen incompetence before. She rubbed her arm, where the scars were. Not every cop was good.