Homestands (Chicago Wind #1) by Sally Bradley

Author:Sally Bradley [Bradley, Sally]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Salena House Publishers
Published: 2016-09-05T04:00:00+00:00

The night dragged on.

Somewhere before dawn, Mike managed to doze with his head propped on the couch’s armrest, but when he woke to sunlight streaming in the windows, his neck stung and his arm throbbed.

He stumbled into the kitchen, expecting to find Meg and Terrell, but a quick walk through the downstairs found no one there but himself.

He returned to the kitchen. The microwave clock greeted him.

Not even six-thirty.

“When was the last time I was up this early?” he asked the refrigerator’s contents.

After five more silent minutes, Mike left Meg a note saying he’d gone home. He needed a shower and clean clothes and ibuprofen. He couldn’t find hers.

Not until he’d showered and dressed and felt the Advil kicking in did the previous evening’s thought return to him, the one that had made him drive Meg to Ben’s place. There’d been something about the guy’s name—hadn’t it been different in the article covering his first Triple-A game?

Holding his arm close to his chest, he jogged downstairs where the scrapbook lay open on the coffee table. He flipped through it until he found the article and ran his finger down the yellowing page. There it was—Ben Raines.

Was it a typo? What was his real name? Raines or Reynolds?

He stared out the French doors at the lawn sloping down to the pond. Would Dana know if Ben had ever gone by a different name?

Maybe someone who’d played with Ben.

The thought barely entered his mind before Adam Destin’s face flashed before him. Adam’s time in the minors corresponded to Mike’s years there. And if he remembered right, Adam and Reynolds—Raines, whatever—had played for the same organization.

Had Adam ever crossed paths with Ben?

Mike called Adam, who answered on the fifth ring, his hello groggy and irritated. “Do you know what time it is?” Adam asked.

“You mean your kids aren’t bouncing on your bed? Like they did to me when I was there?”

“They know better. Why are you up?”

“Long story.”

“Then I don’t want to hear it. Too tired.”

“Then give me information, and I’ll let you go back to bed.”

“Fine.” Mike heard him flop against his pillows. “Hurry up.”

“Did you ever play ball with a Ben Reynolds, probably in the minors?”

Adam repeated the name, then yawned loudly. “Don’t think so. I played with a couple of Bens, but not—”

“Who?”

“It’s too early for this.” Adam blew out a sigh. “I played with Benji Humbrecht before he retired.”

Mike remembered Humbrecht enough to eliminate him. “Not him.”

“The only other one I can remember was that head case Ben Raines.”

Despite that name being in the article, Mike hadn’t expected to hear it from Adam. “Who?”

“Ben Raines. He was a pitcher when I was in Triple-A.”

“What’d he look like?”

“I don’t know—six foot, dark skin, curly hair.”

“What color hair?”

“Dark. Black, I think.”

“Do you remember his age?”

“Sheesh, Connor. Hold on while I look that up in my diary.”

Mike grinned. “I always suspected you of that.”

“Yeah, right. Why are you asking this stuff?”

“I thought you didn’t have time for it.”

“We got in from a road trip last night.

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