The Big Time

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

TROY'S MOM WHIPPED UP macaroni and cheese for him and Gramps, chattering the whole time about the Ritz-Carlton Thanksgiving dinner while Troy and Gramps sat at the table with bottles of Coke, studying their shapes. Troy wasn't all that hungry, but he did his best because his mom was watching. Halfway through the meal, he remembered his football all-star team.

"Will you call Seth and tell him I'm not coming?" Troy asked.

"Maybe you should," his mom said. "No, that's not right. I'll do it. He won't ask questions if I do it."

"It's not like he's even starting me," Troy said.

"Troy," she said, "I spoke with Seth today about that. He said he had to do what he did because you showed up late. If you do what everyone knows you can do, and if you're healthy, you'll start."

"But now I'm missing a practice," Troy said. "Not that I care."

"So let's not think about it," his mom said. "But I will tell him. He's still your coach."

"Seth will understand," Gramps said, "and I bet you get to play in that game anyway."

Gramps held out his bottle to toast. Troy tapped the mouth of his bottle against Gramps's and took a slug of soda before finishing off the macaroni and cheese his mom had spooned onto his plate.

After dinner Troy helped clean up before his mom said, "Okay. So, you ready?"

Troy nodded, accepting the jeans jacket she took out of the coat closet before opening the front door. His mom gave Gramps a worried look and asked, "You sure, Dad?"

"He'll be fine," Gramps said, touching her cheek with the back of his fingers. "I wouldn't let him if I didn't know it. You know that, right?"

"Here," Troy's mom said, ducking back into the kitchen and returning with her cell phone. "Take this, Troy."

"Mom," he said, pointing to the quarter in his pocket, "they can hear everything. I'll be fine."

"Just take it, sweetheart," she said.

The look on her face made him slip the phone into his pocket.

"Well," Troy said, suddenly nervous but forcing a smile, "here I go."

He didn't close the door behind him, and he knew they stood there watching through the screen as he crossed the patch and hoisted the ladder on to his shoulders. He felt their concern as he disappeared into the pinewoods, heading for the railroad tracks and the wall beyond. When he emerged onto the railroad bed, the sky had gone from a pale, dying light to a deep purple bruise. He had to watch carefully where he stepped as he made his way closer to the wall.

It took some effort to get the ladder standing on its end and propped up against the wall, but his sweat dried quickly in the cool, crisp air. The trees crowded in on him with a pitch-black gloom. He put one hand on the cold, ribbed surface of a ladder rung and raised one foot.

The snap of a twig behind him made Troy gasp, jump, and spin around.

A cry got caught in his throat and he choked it back, terrified of making himself known. His fingers searched past his mom's cell phone for the quarter in his pocket. He prayed that the FBI agents were already listening.

"Gramps?" he whispered. "Mom?"

A small breeze sighed in the treetops above. Troy felt the current of panic racing through his veins with hot thoughts about criminal gangsters. His ears strained for more information. Then his body made the decision to run-not home, but up the ladder. He'd get over the wall as quickly as he could.

Troy turned and gripped the rungs, his feet scampering up. He'd nearly reached the top of the wall when he felt a hand rise up from the darkness below and grab his foot.