Deep Threat Page 7

  “Wow. What’s the problem?” she moaned. “They can’t find Jarvis? He didn’t mention anything about a meeting the last time I saw him.”

  “When was that?”

  “Must have been about two o’clock. I went down to the dock and those guys were still going strong. You know Jarvis isn’t used to hanging with John. It was cold and I didn’t stay long. Hopefully he didn’t pass out in the yard somewhere.”

  “Or fall in the river.”

  Billy looked through the house. The beds in all the guest rooms were still made. Maybe John gave Jarvis a ride somewhere late and didn’t come home. They both should have known better than to be on the roads. Billy checked the driveway. John’s old Range Rover was there.

  Jarvis’s cell phone again cut to voice mail, and Billy tried Brett Sterling. No answer. He called Edwards back and told the coach not to worry, that he’d track Jarvis down.

  It was a sunny but cool day and a gentle breeze was blowing as Billy made his way down the path to the water. He was surprised to hear music pumping from the speakers on the boat, like the party was still in progress.

  Through the cabin windows, Billy could see a few empty beer bottles scattered about and an open pint of tequila on the counter, with lemon slices and salt nearby.

  “Hey, John!” he yelled.

  Almost before the words were out of his mouth, he looked down and froze. There was his brother, sprawled out on the deck, eyes closed and blood trailing from the back of his head.

  What the hell?

  Billy rushed to John’s side in a panic and quickly dialed Rachel’s number. “Rachel!” he cried out. “Hurry down to the dock. John’s in trouble.”

  Billy turned John’s face toward him. It was bruised and swollen. The breaths were shallow and the pulse faint.

  Come on, John! Come on!

  Rachel scrambled down from the house a few minutes later, barefooted, wearing a pair of track shorts and an old t-shirt. She gasped.

  “I already called 911,” Billy said as he covered John with a blanket. “Ambulance is on the way.”

  He got up quickly to look for Jarvis in the back. The staterooms were empty.

  Where could he be?

  The paramedics took about fifteen minutes to arrive; it seemed like an hour. John was alive but in bad shape. Another fifteen minutes passed while the paramedics worked to stabilize him, got him ready for transport, hooked up oxygen and started an IV.

  Billy was frantic by the time his brother was strapped to a board and carried up the hill to the waiting ambulance.

  “Who did this?” he shouted to no one in particular. “Who would have had a reason? Where is Jarvis?”

  PART II

  Chapter twenty

  The authorities descended on the river house with a flourish, and the mystery started to build.

  A veteran Knoxville detective, Matthew Lewis, was on the case. He introduced himself to Billy and tried to shake the agent from his stupor.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Beckett,” he said, “but we need to talk. Tell me what happened here.”

  “I don’t know, detective.” Billy’s voice wavered. “I was asleep with my girlfriend at the house. My brother was down at the dock last night with a friend. That’s the last I saw of him. We didn’t hear a thing. I went down there late this morning and ... there he was, just lying on the boat like that.”

  “Who’s the friend?”

  “His name is Jarvis Thompson.”

  Billy could tell the detective knew that name; most people around Knoxville did. “The football player?” Lewis said. “Any idea where he went?”

  “No, but I know he didn’t do this. He and John were just down there drinking beer and listening to music, having a good time after the game. It was a huge day for Jarvis and the team. Nothing was wrong.”

  “Well, something obviously went bad wrong.”

  “I saw both of them at the dock about two o’clock,” Rachel said. “There was a football game on the houseboat TV and they seemed to be getting along just fine.”

  “Were they drunk?” Lewis said.

  “Maybe. Probably.”

  “What is your relationship to Jarvis Thompson?” the detective asked Billy. “Why was he here?”

  “I’ve known him for years, since he was a kid down in Florida. I’ve kind of looked after him while he’s been going to UT.”

  “What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a sports agent.”

  “So you’re Jarvis Thompson’s agent?”

  “Not officially. Not yet.”

  Billy knew the questions had only begun, and that the news would travel fast. Social media would take the story and stretch it in every direction.

  “I need to get to the hospital,” he said. “First I have to call my father.”

  Franklin Beckett was used to flipping into crisis mode, but Billy knew the veteran cop wasn’t prepared for another family crisis. Franklin’s own health had been in recent decline, and he was still reeling in many ways from losing Anna. He had never remarried, was never even seen out on a serious date that anyone could remember. He was fully invested in his boys, trying to fill the void their mother left.

  Anna had been the rock of the family, the one all her men could depend on. John was her special project. She soothed his high-strung personality, nurtured his special talents, kept him moving forward. John’s troubles began to mount after the crash, slowly but surely. In recent years they had mushroomed.

  Franklin’s phone rang just as he was settling in to watch NFL games at home in Sevierville. Billy took a deep breath. He knew the news would floor his father. John may have been on shaky ground, but this was beyond their imagination.

  “Your football star did this?” Franklin said, choking on the question. “Why?”

  “I don’t know, Dad. No one has seen Jarvis since last night. He had no reason.”

  “John always thought he was trouble. Why did you even leave them alone together like that? The fact he’s missing says plenty, doesn’t it?”

  “I don’t believe that,” Billy said. “Jarvis has everything going for him. Why would he put himself in jeopardy for no reason?”

  “We’re talking about two guys who didn’t like each other drinking by the river in the middle of the night. Anything could have happened. I see it all the time.”

  “Jarvis was happy,” Billy said. “It was a celebration.”

  “Some celebration. Where the hell is he?”

  “We’ll find him. I’m sure he isn’t far.”

  “I’ll be at the hospital in less than an hour, son. I’ll see you there.”

  Billy rubbed his eyes, looked out toward the river and tried to grasp what was happening. Detective Lewis was coming back up the walkway, and Billy and Rachel met him on the veranda.

  The news was getting worse.

  “Your brother had some drugs on him, a vial of cocaine, it looks like,” Lewis said. “The paramedics said it’s obvious he had been using last night. And it’s not the kind of stuff we normally see around here. Very pure rocks apparently.”

  Billy took another deep breath. He was surprised, but only mildly.

  “John used to have a problem,” he said. “I thought it was behind him. I had no idea he was involved again.”

  He looked over at his girlfriend, who was staring blankly into the distance.

  “Did you know that, Rachel? You’ve spent more time with John lately than I have.”

  “No. No idea.”

  “The UT backpack down on the boat, does that belong to Jarvis?” Lewis said. Billy nodded. “We found some cocaine in it, too. Looks like the same stuff. There was also three hundred dollars tucked into a pocket inside. Three crisp bills, just like the ones in the cabin drawer. Is something else going on here that I should know about?”

 
Billy shook his head. He was stunned.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” he said. “I don’t deal in drugs, detective, and I didn’t realize anybody else here did either.”

  “What about the money? There was another couple of hundreds in the drawer.”

  “I didn’t have any money other than what was in my pocket. And I didn’t give Jarvis anything.”

  “Well, someone did,” Lewis said. “Or else he just found it somewhere. We’re going to take a good look around your property. We’ve issued a BOLO for Jarvis Thompson; hopefully he’ll turn up pretty quick. We’ll be talking to his family and his coaches and whoever else there at the university. And I’ll need you both to come downtown and give a statement.”

  “I’m an attorney,” Billy said, “so I know the drill. I can tell you right now, though, that we’re not guilty of anything here.”

  “Well, this doesn’t look very good for any of you,” Lewis said. “For all I know, you guys were sitting around snorting cocaine and drinking and got into a fight, for whatever reason. And now one of the best college football players in the country is missing.”

  Lewis raised an eyebrow. “You know how that’s going to go over in Knoxville.”

  Rachel had a sick look on her face and said she needed to sit down.

  “Do you have something else you want to tell me, ma’am?” the detective said.

  “No, I’m just shocked by all this. It’s unreal.”

  “We’ll straighten it out,” Billy said, “but I’m going to the hospital first. Once I know my brother is okay, we’ll come straight to the station. You guys just need to find Jarvis.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  John was in intensive care at Baptist Medical Center when Billy and Rachel arrived. He was stable and doctors expected him to survive.

  The question was how soon he’d be able to explain how he ended up there.

  The developing story was perfectly scripted for a public fascinated by sports heroes and scandal. Star receiver missing after agent’s brother found severely beaten at river property. Cocaine and cash discovered at scene.

  ESPN had already come out with a live SportsCenter report. Twitter, which was a fun past-time of Jarvis’s, was exploding with speculation. His followers, more than two hundred thousand of them, were in a frenzy.

  Is Jarvis running scared after leaving John Beckett to die?

  Was he kidnapped?

  Could he have ended up in the river and drowned?

  Was he selling cocaine, or just using?

  What did the UT coaches know?

  What did Billy Beckett know?

  The phone messages for Billy were coming in from all over. He noticed one from Stratton, the head coach, and several from his clients who were concerned. There was another from Clarise Thompson, and he put the phone to his ear. “I knew you couldn’t be trusted. Where’s my son?”

  Billy and Rachel took a seat in the waiting area and within minutes were approached by a man holding a notebook and recorder. Billy knew it was Trey Birchfield, a reporter for the Knoxville Journal who covered the police beat and had flushed out any number of misdeeds involving UT football players. He’d be all over this story.

  Billy had spoken to him a time or two in the past, just casual talk about Jarvis and his future. Birchfield enjoyed sports and liked to talk. This time the conversation wouldn’t be pleasant.

  “Mr. Beckett, what was Jarvis Thompson doing at your house last night?” the reporter asked. “Do you know where he is?”

  “I haven’t seen Jarvis. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m here to check on my brother.”

  Birchfield pressed on. “Does Jarvis spend a lot of time at your house?” he said.

  “Trey, please. We’ll talk later, I promise.”

  The media storm was gathering strength, and Billy needed to prepare for it. Once his father arrived, he and Rachel would go see the detective and try to sort out this mess. He at least needed to exonerate himself, if that were possible.

  Rachel appeared to be in a funk through all the craziness that morning and had trouble even making eye contact with Billy.

  “You gonna be okay?” he said.

  “I don’t know. This is a nightmare and I’m afraid things are only going to get worse. I don’t want to be in the middle of it.”

  “Why would you be in the middle of it? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “I just have a bad feeling. Maybe I need to go home to Charleston for a little while ... I don’t know how to help John.”

  Rachel had what would be best described as an evolving relationship with Billy’s brother. It was prickly in the beginning, full of jealousy and suspicion, each wanting to secure a bigger role in Billy’s affairs. As business picked up, they found themselves spending more time together. The chill was beginning to break.

  For the last year or so, Rachel had been more prominent in meet-and-greets, putting the company’s best face forward for the families of prospective clients. John frequently accompanied her. He was engaging enough when he needed to be, and when it came to talking about the nuances of the games, no one had better insight.

  The two had recently made a swing through the Florida hotbeds, from Miami to Gainesville to Tallahassee, and returned with renewed focus. Billy was pleased to see them working for the common good and learning to trust each other.

  Now he was suddenly trying to keep his team from falling apart.

  “I don’t see any point in going to Charleston,” Billy said. “There’s no need to panic. The best thing you can do for John is to stick around here and help him pull through this. We all need you. We still have a business to run and a lot of other guys that are counting on us. We have to keep going.”

  John was listed in critical condition. He had suffered blunt-force trauma to the head and had a couple of deep gashes at the base of his skull. The doctors said he was lucky he didn’t lose any more blood than he did.

  Hopefully John would remember what happened when he came to. Everyone needed to know.

  “What if those guys got into it and Jarvis ended up in the river?” Rachel said. “He couldn’t swim out of that cold water. Hell, he couldn’t swim at all.”

  “I told the cops this morning and they’ll be looking along the banks in their boats, just in case,” Billy said. “That’s not something I care to think about right now.”

  They walked down the hall to a small coffee shop, ordered two cups and sat down.

  “You look exhausted,” Billy said. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest. I’ll wait here for Dad. He should be along any minute. I’ll let you know when we hear something.”

  “What about the detective? He’s expecting us.”

  “I’ll call him. First things first.”

  “John’s going to be all right, isn’t he?”

  “He’s a tough guy,” Billy said. “I’d just like to know what we’re really dealing with here. Even if everybody is okay, the problems with the cocaine and cash aren’t going away. The publicity from this could ruin me.”

  “You think somebody else is involved?” Rachel said.

  “I have that feeling, but who would have known those guys were down there in the middle of the night? Jarvis doesn’t come by the house that much and rarely stays over. His roommate was the only one who knew.”

  Rachel stood up and walked unsteadily toward the exit.

  “Call me,” she said. “I need to lay down.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  There was a knock at the front door, and Brett Sterling was waiting on the other side. He had ridden out to Billy’s house from campus to try to learn more about what happened to his best friend.

  The concern on his face was palpable as Rachel motioned him into the den. She had been lying on the couch, and the dazed expression hadn’t gone away.

  “I
s Billy here?” Sterling said.

  “No, he’s at the hospital. Come in.”

  “How’s his brother?”

  “They’re not sure yet, but they think he’s going to be okay,” Rachel said. “He’s lucky, I guess.”

  “Getting attacked in the middle of the night doesn’t sound very lucky.”

  The two walked over to the couch and sat, and Sterling surveyed the surroundings. He had been in the house only once, maybe a year earlier. It was a late-night visit with Jarvis and another teammate. They crashed in the downstairs bedrooms and were up and gone early the next morning.

  Sterling had always been leery about agents and the trouble that seemed to follow a lot of them. In his mind, they were best avoided.

  “The police talked to me this morning,” he said. “What happened here?”

  “That’s what we’re all trying to figure out,” Rachel said. “I take it you haven’t heard from Jarvis.”

  “Not a word. We just had a team meeting, several of the older guys, and I can tell you a lot of people are freaking out over this. They’re not happy with Billy for getting Jarvis involved.”

  “Billy didn’t have anything to do with that and —.”

  “If Jarvis had just gone on home with me last night, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. He always trusts Billy. Looks like it may have cost him this time.”

  Sterling shook his head and took a deep breath.

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “I know him and Billy’s brother aren’t good friends, but Jarvis isn’t a violent guy. And he’s not into drugs either. I would know.”

  The players had lived together in an off-campus apartment for the past couple of years. It was a fairly quiet existence, classes and football mostly.

  On the field they were stars, but both tried to keep a low profile away from the limelight, outside of social media. They had a small circle of friends and even distanced themselves from the pretty girls that were constantly coming around. Neither had a steady date. They didn’t want any distractions, any trouble.