Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
When Jean said nothing, the third asked, “Is he even following any of this?”
“He understood Hannah just fine,” the first said. “Hello, Moreau, we are talking to you.”
“It’s too early for heavy conversations,” Jeremy said, showing them his watch. “Perhaps you can ask Coach Rhemann to set something up at a more reasonable time and location.”
“Just a few more questions,” the third said, flipping through his pages again. “Need him to weigh in on a couple rumors for us. Not the usual ones,” he said, and found the spot he was looking for. “See, I think it’s interesting that we’ve somehow got so many criminals at play here. This spring we got a heads-up about Neil Josten’s relationship with both the Wesninski and Hatford families, and now here come the Moreaus from left field. It’s a little hard to believe, don’t you agree?”
When Jean gave no sign he’d heard, the reporter lengthened his stride to get ahead of the pair. Jean sidestepped him, but the reporter grabbed the strap of his bag to drag him to a stop. “At least listen to the working theories before you refuse me.”
“That is enough, thank you,” Jeremy said, catching hold of the same strap. Jean felt the weight of his hand and slipped free of his bag, letting Jeremy step forward to fill the space between them. Jeremy held the reporter’s challenging stare and said, “I would like to remind you that no one here is at liberty to speak about the ongoing investigation.”
“The people have a right to know who USC has on their roster.”
“Sure,” Jeremy agreed. “This is Jean Moreau, a transfer from Edgar Allan who’ll be wearing the number twenty-nine this fall. He is a valuable addition to our defense line, and we are all excited to have him on board.”
“And you’re not worried about him?” was the skeptical accusation.
“I have no reason to be,” Jeremy said. “He is my friend.”
The second man nudged the first and muttered, “Like Dexter was.”
Jeremy gave the man his undivided attention and his most pleasant smile. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
“I think you did,” the man said, even as his companion said, “Don’t swing at a Wilshire, man. It isn’t worth it.”
“On your left!” came Cat’s cheery cry, and she dinged her bell nonstop as she rolled up on them. She kept her collision course, forcing the reporters to give ground to her, and pulled up alongside Jeremy so close their sleeves brushed. Laila came up on Jean’s other side with her phone at her ear. Both girls had to dismount, as this pace was too slow to stay balanced, and Cat gave one of the reporters an enthusiastic clap on the shoulder. “Nice! Up and at ‘em at dark o’clock! Good to see you’re as excited for the season as we are. You’ve seen the schedule, right?”
And off she went, chattering about the Trojans’ first game at a speed and volume they couldn’t compete with. It was an unfortunate topic, considering it was the Bobcats’ former star the reporter meant with his dig, but Jeremy would take anything at this point. Every attempt to interrupt her was simply talked over, as if Cat was too excited to notice their words. Jeremy quietly passed Jean his bag back, and Jean fell in alongside him as they continued toward campus at last.
“Jeremy,” Laila said, and he followed her stare. A few security guards were at the corner of Vermont and Exposition. Laila held up her phone to get their attention before hanging up and tucking it into her pocket. The guards came out into the crosswalk to meet them as soon as the pedestrian light turned on.
“Okay, next time then!” Cat said, waving farewell as the reporters were practically bodied back across the street. Once they were out of earshot, she grimaced over at Jeremy and Jean. “I thought mosquitos were diurnal. Where’d they even come from?”
“Caught up with us at the end of your street,” Jeremy said.
“Address has definitely been compromised, then,” Laila said, and looked from Jeremy to Jean. “Are you okay?”
Jean waved her off with a sharp jerk of his hand, and Laila let it drop. The turnoff to take them to Lyon wasn’t much further, and the girls chained their bikes up out front before following Jean and Jeremy inside. Angie was working with Xavier when they reached the Trojans’ weight room, watching the way he twisted and turned. She added a couple notes to his file before sending him on his way with her blessing.
“Jean Moreau,” she said when Jeremy led Jean over to her. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Good here?” Jeremy asked. “I’m going to catch up with Coach.”
“I’ve got him,” Angie promised, so Jeremy left Jean in her care.
Lisinski was going through a folder, trusting Angie to get the Trojans started, but she set her work aside when Jeremy stopped in front of her. “Someone’s figured out where Jean lives,” he said as he tugged the artwork out of his backpack. “Found this on Laila’s front door this morning, and we had a couple opinionated reporters escort us to campus.”