Silent Country (David Wolf Mystery Thriller Series Book 18) by Carson Jeff

Author:Carson, Jeff [Carson, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cross Atlantic Publishing
Published: 2024-12-09T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Stee-rike!”

“Great pitch!” Rachette yelled.

The kid on the mound’s father never showed up to these games, and with his mother sitting there like a sack of sand, staring at her phone, Rachette felt pride in being little Charlie Wall’s biggest fan while he was pitching.

“Come on now, Chuck! You got this!”

Rachette looked across the diamond toward Patterson, sitting in the other stands. Her husband, Scott, was standing in the dugout with his son’s team. They were on pins and needles, just like he was. Probably even more than their kid.

Their son, Tommy, was at bat for the other team. Bottom of the ninth. Two outs. Runners on first and second. One strike. No balls. It didn’t get bigger than this moment.

Come on.

He looked out at center field, where his own son, TJ, slapped his glove between adjustments of his cup. His eyes wandered to a jet overhead.

“Look alive, TJ!” Rachette screamed.

TJ nodded his head, smacking his glove again.

“Come on! Let’s go, Tommy!” Charlotte cheered next to him.

He shook his head slightly, resisting the urge to tell his wife to shut it and stop rooting for the other team. He got it; she was being nice to Patterson’s kid, but right now, it was like fingernails on his brain.

“Come on, we need this. We need this,” the parent next to him whined.

“We got this,” Rachette said, correcting the guy’s tone.

Tommy Patterson was a year younger than TJ, with a flop of brown hair that came out of the ear holes of his helmet. He stepped up to the edge of the batter’s box with his hand up to the ump, taking his time getting situated, then stepping his toes in.

Just like his mother, the kid was very short but very quick and capable. He was top of the order for a reason: because he usually got a hit. He always got a hit. In fact, he was four for four today. The way he was twirling the bat like a martial arts expert said he was about to get another one.

But he hadn’t faced their ringer closer yet. Chuck had the fastest arm in the league.

Let’s go. Smoke this past him.

The next pitch came in. Tommy swung this time, missing.

“Stee-rike!”

Rachette smacked his hands together. “Good pitch!”

“Honey. Don’t.”

“What?” He turned to Charlotte. “One more pitch, and we win. This is it.”

“Yeah. I know. Thank you.” Her voice was low. Too low for the moment.

“Huh.” He waved a hand and looked back at the action.

The third pitch came, and Tommy Patterson swung. The bat slammed into the ball with a loud ping.

Rachette lunged to his feet. “Oh…” the word spilled out of his mouth. The trajectory was straight up the gut, at an angle that would meet directly with TJ’s center field position.

TJ backed up a few steps like he had been taught, and then, realizing the ball was hit harder than he originally thought, backed up a few more. Then he turned and ran.

“Shit,” Rachette said under his breath. What had TJ been doing playing that shallow? They had to play deeper for top of the order on this team.

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