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When Nolan returned to the motel, Katherine was waiting for him at the walkway railing.
Again.
Her brows were drawn together, her expression cool, and the tip of her nose was red from the night air.
Something was wrong. Katherine usually smiled when he came back. Nothing serious had happened at school.
For one ridiculous second, Nolan could almost see a red warning sign floating above her head.
"Your late meal is ready," Katherine said. "Then tutoring. Then throwing drills."
She turned and walked into the room.
This time, the food did not look as carefully prepared as usual.
"Try it," she said.
Nolan took a bite of cold steak.
Too salty. Too much black pepper. Practically hostile.
"Good?" Katherine asked, smiling without warmth.
Nolan swallowed.
"Katherine, I need to tell you good news. Someone is interested in Mom’s script."
Her eyes narrowed.
"For my college profile, I joined Highlights. Since finals are coming, the school asked us to interview football players’ families. I was assigned to Rice’s mother."
He kept his tone clean and helpful.
"Guess what? She’s a Hollywood agent. I mentioned Mom’s screenplay during the interview, and she was interested, so we talked longer than expected."
"It is past midnight."
"Right. I just left her house. She gave me a lot of notes on the script. We exchanged ideas thoroughly."
Katherine gave him a flat look.
"Ideas may not be the only thing you two exchanged."
"Oh, and this."
Nolan pretended not to understand and took the three thousand dollars from his pocket.
"A first-look option fee. When Mom finishes the screenplay, I’ll show it to Lisa first."
He put the money on the table.
In Hollywood, producers often paid small option fees when they wanted the right to consider a script before anyone else. If the project never happened, the writer kept the money. It was a reservation, not a guarantee.
Katherine looked at the cash.
Then she looked at Nolan’s innocent face.
She had sat close enough to Rice’s mother after the game to hear the woman introduce herself. Lisa had looked wealthy. Her identity was not the problem.
And the money was real.
Katherine still did not fully believe him.
She stood, picked up the motel phone, and redialed the last number in front of him.
The phone rang for a long time.
No answer.
The woman on the other end had hung up the moment Katherine spoke. Katherine had heard enough in that bright, intimate tone to know something was off.
"No answer?" Nolan said. "Maybe she’s asleep."
Katherine silently put the phone down and took the plate away.
A few minutes later, she returned with the food fixed properly. This time, it tasted like her cooking again.
"Next time," Katherine said, "I go with you."
She was convinced Lisa wanted something from Nolan.
Nolan nodded as if he intended to obey every word.
For tonight, at least, the crisis passed.
...
The next day, Nolan called Lisa from a public phone on campus. Her house line had been forwarded to her office.
"Who was that?" Lisa asked. "Are you all right? I ignored the call on purpose."
"That was Katherine."
Nolan explained their relationship.
"I thought she was your girlfriend," Lisa said, audibly relieved. "I heard the voice and hung up."
"Understandable."
"Also..." Lisa paused. "I’m free the afternoon after tomorrow. If you don’t have training, come see me."
She volunteered the invitation before Nolan had to ask.
Some doors opened themselves after the first push.
"That should work," Nolan said. "It’s the team’s last day off."
"Then I’ll see you."
Nolan hung up and dialed another number.
"Who is this?" a young woman’s voice asked.
Nolan took a moment. The woman on the other end would become far more famous later.
"Angelina Voight? This is Nolan. Katherine should have called you last night."
"Yeah. You want to know which guy went to jail?"
Which guy.
Apparently there was more than one.
Nolan mentioned Rice.
"I remember him," Angelina said. "The acne-faced jerk. Saw him at a couple parties. He was selling too, through the guy who got locked up."
That confirmed it.
Nolan asked for details: rough dates, places, names. Angelina gave him a time window and a few pieces of context, but claimed not to remember the exact location.
She probably did remember. She also probably did not want her own name attached.
After thanking her, Nolan hung up.
Angelina Voight had not yet dropped her father’s surname from her name. The world would later know her as Angelina Jolie. BHHS sat in Beverly Hills; of course the alumni web ran through Hollywood. Nicolas Cage had also gone there, though Nolan had seen him on an old hallway photo credited as Nicolas Coppola.
He made a mental note to warn Katherine to keep her distance from Angelina’s messier circles.
Then he went to the senior building.
It did not take long to find Adam.
Adam Newman was on crutches. When he saw Nolan, he moved faster than he should have.
"What are you doing here?"
"How’s the ankle?"
"Not great. Three months, probably. The good news is I should recover fully." Adam’s face tightened. "The doctor said if I’d stayed in that game, I might never have played again."
He looked Nolan in the eye.
"Thank you. I was out of my mind. You saved my career."
"You helped me plenty."
"Not the same," Adam said. "Other people could have taught you what I taught you. Only you did what you did."
Nolan accepted the debt.
"Actually, I came to ask a favor. I’m trying to find someone in your grade. She’s been out of school recently for health reasons."
Adam was connected among the seniors. If anyone could ask without attracting too much attention, it was him.
"Done," Adam said. "Anything else you need, just tell me."
For Adam, this was easy.
...
"You’re successful," Nolan said into the recorder. "And you’re beautiful."
"You’re not bad yourself," Lisa replied. "Talented athlete. Strong presence. Number 88. I remember very clearly."
Rachel Burt clicked off the recorder, annoyed.
This was not an interview.
This was flirting with a transcript.
Unacceptable. Completely unacceptable.
She looked at Nolan from across the table, wondering whether she should force him to do the interview again. Before she could decide, a student editor walked over and handed her an envelope.
"Someone dropped this in the office mailbox. No signature. Just your name."
Rachel opened it.
The handwriting was crooked, clearly written with the wrong hand.
The anonymous tip claimed to come from someone in Rice’s grade, someone Rice had bullied repeatedly. The letter listed several ugly pieces of gossip and three specific incidents.
The last one pointed directly at Rice’s father and the school’s outside money.
I believe the editor of Highlights is a responsible journalist, the letter declared. Journalism is a tool for justice. The crimes of bad people must be exposed, and justice must be served.
Rachel finished reading and snorted.
She did not believe in justice.
She did believe readers would be very interested.
This was the school’s quarterback.
"What are you reading?" Nolan asked, resting his chin on one hand. "A love letter?"
"I don’t participate in childish nonsense like that." Rachel looked up. "Nolan, you really are lucky."
"What does that mean?"
Rachel did not answer directly. She stood.
"I need to investigate something. Your recording is..." She glanced at the tape recorder. "Barely acceptable. Your interview assignment is complete."
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