"Hello, Robbie. How are you doing?" René Reboulet walked into the room where the injured man lay. Robbie had both legs in casts and numerous scrapes and bruises.

"Okay René. The pain seems a little better today." Robbie looked past René to the tall Hispanic man behind him.

"Oh, Robbie this is a friend of mine, Carlos Sandoval. He is helping me find out what is going on with the team. Would you mind answering a few questions?"

"I guess. Anything that will help you catch the guy who did this." Anger flashed in Robbie’s eyes. "Are you a cop?"

"No," Carlos said with a smile. "I used to be but now I’m a private detective. Is there anything you can tell me about the accident?"

"Yeah," Robbie said with bitterness in his voice. "It wasn’t one."

"How do you know?" Carlos asked.

"Because I know it was clear when I started across that street. I saw the brown Pontiac Grand Am parked down the way and as soon as I stepped out on the road, there it was. He was after me."

"Were you threatened previously?"

"Yeah, but I ignored it. It was stupid stuff like notes in my locker saying I should leave the team or something would happen. With Frankie, they threatened to hurt his wife and kid."

"Is that why he left?"

"Yeah. He didn’t tell anyone else about the threats and he didn’t take them seriously until what happened to me. Then he packed up his family and moved back to Minnesota."

"How do you know that?" Carlos asked.

"He called me. He apologized for leaving the team but he said after what they did to me he couldn’t take the chance with his family. I don’t blame him."

"Did he or you have any idea who it might have been?"

"No. But it had to be someone who had access to our lockers during practice and was able to move about the arena freely. I hate to say it but someone on the team has to be involved."

"Anyone you suspected?"

"Well," Robbie hesitated.

"Look, Robbie," René said, "If someone is involved we have to know before someone else gets hurt. We still have a chance at the championship and I don’t want anyone else in danger."

"I can’t believe that someone on that team was trying to lose but there were a few I wasn’t sure of." Robbie gave Carlos a list of names.

"Okay, Robbie, thanks for all your help," Carlos said, extending his hand.

"I’ll be back to see you later in the week," René told him as they left the hospital room. As they walked out Carlos asked René about Robbie. "They aren’t sure he’ll ever be able to play again. His legs were pretty smashed. It’s such a shame because he was one hell of a hockey player. You and Trent have to get these guys, Carlos."

"We will, René. We will." From the look on Carlos’ face, René knew he meant it.

**

"Excuse me, can you tell me how to get to the player’s training room?" The security guard turned to find a young woman standing before him.

"I could tell y’all but I won’t," he said, in a heavy southern drawl.

"Excuse me?"

"Look, little lady, I just can’t let y’all go wandering off through the arena looking for any players. If y’all want to meet them just go to the bar after the game."

As he turned back to his desk, she tried to explain. "You don’t understand. The trainer called me and said I should come down here because my boyfriend was injured. My name is Samantha Baker. He told me to go to the trainer’s room."

"I know all the players and I’ve never seen you before. ‘Sides, I’d remember someone who talked as funny as you."

"He just started with the team a couple of days ago." Sam’s frustration was building. "His name is Trent Malloy." Sam sighed heavily. "Look, can’t you just call the trainer? He’ll tell you that he called me."

"What’s the trainer’s name?"

"He didn’t say." The security guard looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"I think you better leave, little lady. Your plan didn’t work and you better get another story next time. I have had so many of you gals trying to get in to see the players I can smell a lie a mile away. Now you better go before I escort you outta here."

"But I am not lying!"

"Can I help?" Sam turned around suddenly at the sound of the voice. Behind her was a tall dark-haired man.

"Hi Mr. Smith. This lady was just leaving."

"I am just trying to get tot the training room. They called and told me my boyfriend had been hurt. This guy won’t let me through or even call the trainer."

"You must be Samantha." The man put out his hand. "I’m Ben Smith. Trent is in the training room, but he’s okay." He turned to the security guard. "It’s okay, Jimmy. She’s legit." Ben took Sam’s arm and escorted her down the hallway. "Don’t mind, Jimmy. He thinks all women are just trying to sneak in."

"Thanks. I appreciate your help," Sam said with a smile.

"No problem." Ben smiled back. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Are you Canadian?"

Sam started to laugh. "Yes. How can you tell?"

"You sound like me. I’m from Alberta."

"Southern Ontario."

"So how did you find yourself a hockey playing Texan?"

"Just lucky. Believe it or not, I didn’t know he played until after we started dating."

"Where does a Texan learn to play hockey, anyway?"

"Actually, Trent played in college back east." Sam easily slipped into the story Trent had told her. "He graduated last year so he hasn’t been playing for awhile. René Reboulet asked him to fill in. I guess you probably noticed it took him awhile to get his legs. I’ve only actually saw him play shinny with René and a few guys."

"Well, he’s pretty good. He should be able to help us." As they approached a door Ben stopped and turned to her. "This is the training room. I’ve got to go but Trent is in there. It’s been nice to meet you."

"You too. I’ll probably see you at the game tomorrow."

"Okay. See you then." As Ben walked off, Sam pushed open the door to the training room. Inside, Trent was sitting on an examination table, getting stitches in his head.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Two."

"Any blurry vision?"

"No."

"Loss of consciousness?"

"No, I don’t think so. Just one hell of a headache"

Glancing over at the door as Sam walked in, the trainer said, "I assume this is your ride here. Just take it easy tonight and watch for signs of a concussion like altered consciousness. Come see me tomorrow and we’ll assess whether or not you’ll be fit to play."

As he got down from the table, Sam took Trent’s arm. He was still slightly unsteady but wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. He shook her off and headed out of the arena.

Once in the car Sam asked, "Want to tell me what happened?"

"Someone took a slapshot at my head." Trent couldn’t hide his anger.

"Do you know who?"

"Yes. Reggie Leduc. He has been eyeing me since I got there and I saw him talking to some guy in a suit just before it happened. Take me over to the office and I can let Carlos know."

"You are not going anywhere, T. You have to relax. We’ll go home and I’ll call Carlos." As Sam started the car, Trent turned to protest but the look on Sam’s face and the pain in his head told him she was right. He needed to go home.

**

As he walked down the hospital corridor he smiled to himself. He had come to visit his teammate and ‘friend’ Robbie. If Robbie only knew that it had been him driving the car that ran him down. Instead, Robbie thought he was the only one on the team to be trusted. What a fool! As he entered the room he smiled and said, "How are you feeling Robbie?"

"Hi! Better. It’s great to see you." As they shook hands Robbie asked, "How’s the team?"

"Okay. René brought in a new guy to help out."

"Really? I wonder if he is working with the private investigator?"

"What private investigator?" He tried not to show his anxiousness.

"René was in here. He’s hired a PI to help find out what was going on. He was a tall Hispanic guy. Name is Carlos something. I hope he figures it out before anyone else gets hurt."

"Yeah, well it’s only two more games until the playoffs so I hope they figure it out soon." His mind was racing. A PI. Malloy must be a plant. He would have to take immediate action.

**

It was the third period and the Mustangs were down 2-1. As an opposing player tried to get past him, Ben hauled him down and the whistle sounded. Two minutes for tripping. "Malloy, penalty-killing, now." Trent jumped over the boards and took his spot at the face off circle. The centre, Mitch Jameson won the draw and fired the puck over to Trent. As he took off over the opposing blue line he fired quickly at the top left corner of the net. As the red light came on the crowd erupted. The score was now 2-2. Getting back to the bench most of the team congratulated Trent on the goal. There were a few exceptions. In the stands, Sam, Carlos and Sarah were going wild. The remainder of the penalty was successfully killed off and the teams were soon back at even strength. The action was back and forth, end to end. With less than a minute left to play, Trent’s line was back on the ice. Mitch again won the face off and the puck went to Trent. He skated down the ice, carrying the puck on his stick. As he approached the opposing team’s defenseman he saw Mitch out of the corner of his eye. He pretended to shoot the puck but instead, slipped it over. In one quick move, Mitch fired on the net. The red light came on just as the buzzer ending the period sounded. The Mustangs had won!

In the dressing room there was much cheering and high fives. The coach came in and congratulated them on a great game. "We only have one game left and if we win it, we’ll be in playoffs for the first time ever." Again cheers erupted. Trent sat quietly at his locker.

"Great game, Malloy."

"Thanks Smitty. You weren’t so bad yourself." Reaching up in to his locker, Trent felt an envelope. Pulling it out, he looked at it. There was no writing on the outside and when he turn it over, Trent found that it wasn’t sealed. He opened it and pulled out the piece of paper inside it. Unfolding it, he saw the big block printing. The note said ‘LEAVE THE TEAM NOW, BEFORE SOMEONE GETS HURT’. Trent looked up to see Ben looking at him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just fan mail." Trent said, putting the note back into the envelope. Before he could stop him, Ben grabbed the envelope and opened it.

"This is just like the notes Robbie was getting." Looking at Trent with concern, he told him, "You be careful, Malloy."

Trent tried to laugh it off. "Don’t worry. What can they do with two games left in the season?" He took the note back and tucked it back into his locker. He would give it to Carlos and maybe they could get some fingerprints off of it. Turning back to Ben he said, "Want to come for a beer?"

"Nope. I got an appointment but you can have one for me."

"You got it."

**

"We did checks on most of the players and the owners. The problem is you can’t tell if they are getting bulk payments from endorsements or because someone is paying them off," Carlos was telling Trent. "A few of the better players have deals for places here in Dallas. Bulk payments have been made to Reggie Leduc, Ben Smith, Mitch Jameson, Frankie Miller and the other goaltender Rick Drosky. Now what we are trying to find out is who actually has endorsement deals."

"Check Reggie Leduc. I’m sure he’s involved somehow. Now what about the big guys behind this?"

"Well, we’ve checked out the owners of the team you are fighting for first. They seem fairly legit and money is not a problem for them. We also have checked into your ownership. We haven’t been able to find out too much about Arthur Chase but we are still digging."

"Great, guys. Anything from the letter?"

"Just your prints and Ben Smith’s. Do you know he was charged domestic violence? It was about a year ago and I guess they ordered him to take anger management classes and that was the end of it."

"Well, he has never mentioned a wife or girlfriend. Maybe they broke up and that was the end of it," Trent suggested.

"Well, that was why his fingerprints were on record."

"Okay Carlos, keep checking. I’ve got practice then I will see you tonight."

**

The practice was uneventful. Afterward in the dressing room, Trent found another note in his locker. This one said, "IF YOU PLAY ON SATURDAY SOMEONE WILL GET HURT." Again Trent did not mention the letter to anyone else. He saw Ben watching him, but he just smiled and continued getting dressed.

On his way home, Trent noticed another car following him. As he watched, the car behind slowly accelerated and slammed into the back of his car. Fighting to keep control, Trent tried to avoid the other car and keep the ‘vette on the road. Again the car slammed into his ‘vette. Trent tried to see into the Grand Am but the windows were all tinted. There was no license plate to help identify the car. The car turned sharply into the back of the ‘vette, sending it spinning. As Trent managed to gain control and stop the car, the Grand Am had sped off. Regaining his composure, Trent thought, I guess that was supposed to be a warning.

**

"Are you okay?" Sam’s voice registered her shock as Trent related the events of that afternoon.

"Yeah, I’m more upset about my car."

"Look, we can fix the ‘vette. Do you really want to continue with this?" Even as she asked the question, Sam knew what the answer would be. Once Trent and Carlos started a case they never backed down.

"You bet I do. I’m going to find this guy and give him what he deserves."

"Please just be careful," Sam said with resignation.

"Yeah, that goes for you, too. Don’t do anything out of the ordinary without talking to me, okay? The guys on the team know you and you might just become a target."

"Don’t worry about me. Just keep your head up."

**

The next day there was a team meeting in the morning. Afterwards, a few of the team decided to go for lunch before coming back for practice. Trent looked in his locker for anything out of the ordinary but there was nothing. As he was leaving he invited Ben along for lunch.

"Thanks, but I’ve got to meet with my agent. I’ll see you back at practice"

**

Again, practice was uneventful. The team worked hard in preparation for the final game of the season and they were exhausted when they came off the ice. Trent was standing at his locker when he noticed another white envelope. He took it down just as the coach called him.

"Hey, Malloy. You got a phone call. Says it’s important."

Bringing the letter with him, Trent headed into the coach’s office. "Hello?" he said, picking up the phone.

"Hey, buddy. It’s Carlos."

"Yeah, what’s up?"

Carlos’ voice was slightly hesitant. "Is Sam there with you?"

"No," Trent said as he turned over the letter in his hand. "Why?’ he asked, as a sinking feeling rose from the pit of his stomach.

"She left her office in Hazel’s car around 12, saying she had to meet you and would be back to teach by two. She still isn’t back and Hazel called me. She’s pretty worried."

Hazel was Sam’s secretary and she knew her almost as well as Trent and Carlos did. If Sam told her she would be back, she intended to be back. Slowly, Trent opened the letter and unfolded it, almost knowing he wouldn’t like what it would say. The block writing was the same. This time it said. ‘DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS? YOU PLAY, SHE DIES!’

"You still there, Trent?"

Fighting to control his anger, Trent replied, "Yeah, I’m here. They’ve got her, Carlos."

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