The Captain's Dirty Little Secret

Chapter 184: Chapter 184 - The Call

”Am I talking to Roxxane Jones?”

Roxie tightened her grip on the phone. ”Yes.”

”This is Officer Mercer with the Briarwick Police Department. Are you somewhere private right now?”

Her eyes moved toward Coach Miller.

He was already leading her away from the gym. He opened the door to his office and stepped aside so she could enter.

”I’m in my coach’s office.”

”Is your coach with you?”

”Yes.”

Coach Miller shut the door behind them.

The room was small. A desk filled most of the space, with two chairs pushed against the wall and cheer schedules pinned beside the filing cabinet. The faculty room was probably better than this cramped little office yet this got more personal belongings.

Roxie stayed near the door.

Officer Mercer took a breath on the other end. ”Roxxane, I need you to sit down.”

”Why?”

”Please sit down.”

”I’m fine.”

Coach Miller pulled one of the chairs away from the wall.

Roxie looked at it.

”Roxie,” he said quietly.

She sat because they both seemed determined to waste time until she did.

The officer spoke again. ”Your mother is Claire Jones, correct?”

”Yes.”

”Do you know where she has been staying recently?”

Roxie stared at Coach Miller’s desk. ”She stays at home.”

The answer came automatically.

Claire had barely been home for weeks, but it was still her house. Her clothes were there. Her cigarettes were there. The blue mug with the chipped handle was probably still beside the kitchen sink.

”Why?” Roxie asked.

”There was an incident this afternoon at the Briar Motor Lodge.”

Her fingers tightened around the phone.

”What incident?”

”A housekeeper found your mother unresponsive inside one of the rooms. Emergency medical personnel were called, but they were unable to revive her.”

Roxie waited.

The officer kept talking.

”I’m sorry, Roxxane. Your mother was pronounced dead at the scene.”

The words reached her clearly.

She understood each one separately.

Her mother.

Pronounced.

Dead.

Together, they made no sense.

”Where is she?”

”She has been transported to the county medical examiner’s office.”

”What happened?”

”We believe she may have suffered an overdose, but the medical examiner will determine the official cause of death.”

”Who found her?”

”A motel employee.”

”Where is she?”

”The county medical examiner’s office.”

Roxie looked at Coach Miller.

He had lowered himself into the chair across from her. His elbows rested on his knees, and his face remained tight.

”Are you sure it’s her?” Roxie asked.

”We found identification in the room, and officers confirmed several identifying details. We still need a family member to complete a visual identification.”

”You could have the wrong person.”

”We will confirm everything with you.”

”When did it happen?”

”She was found shortly after one this afternoon.”

”When?”

”Shortly after one.”

Roxie looked at the clock on Coach Miller’s wall.

It was almost five.

Claire had been dead while Roxie sat in class smiling at messages from Zac.

She had been dead while Roxie laughed with Karen.

She had been dead while Coach Miller made them run laps.

”Okay,” Roxie said.

Officer Mercer went quiet for a second.

Then he continued explaining what she needed to bring, where she needed to go, and which entrance she should use when she arrived.

Roxie listened.

She tried to hold every instruction in her head, but each one disappeared when the next arrived.

”Do I need her identification?” she asked.

”If you have any additional documents, bring them with you. You will also need your own identification.”

”Okay.”

”Is there another adult family member we can contact?”

”No.”

”A father, aunt, uncle, or grandparent?”

”No.”

”Are you currently alone with your coach?”

”Yes.”

Coach Miller leaned closer. ”Tell him I can speak with him.”

Roxie handed over the phone.

She watched Coach Miller stand and move behind his desk.

He introduced himself, listened, and asked several questions Roxie had already asked.

The officer gave him the same answers. Claire had been found in a motel room. They suspected an overdose. Roxie needed to identify her.

She looked down at her hands.

Athletic tape still wrapped around two of her fingers from practice. Her palms were damp, but the rest of her body felt exactly the same as it had five minutes ago.

That seemed wrong.

Something should have changed.

Her skin should have known before the officer said it.

Her chest stayed loose. Her eyes stayed dry. She felt empty.

Coach Miller ended the call and placed the phone on his desk.

”I’m going to drive you,” he said.

Roxie stood.

”Roxie, wait.”

”I need my ID.”

”I’ll take you home first.”

”I can drive.”

”You’re shaking.”

She looked at her hands again.

He was right. The shaking was slight, but it was there.

”I’m cold.”

”You’re staying with me.”

”I need to call someone.”

Coach Miller nodded. ”Call whoever you need.”

Roxie reached into her bag and pulled out her phone.

Who was she supposed to call?

Karen and Angela would answer immediately.

Ethan would probably know what paperwork she needed or what she was supposed to do next.

Her thumb found Zac’s name before she made a decision.

He answered after the first ring.

”Hey.”

Noise filled the background. Boys talking. A locker closing. Coach Hayes shouting something from farther away.

Roxie opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

”Babe?”

”Can you come here?”

The noise behind him stopped mattering.

”Where are you?”

”Coach Miller’s office.”

”What happened?”

Roxie looked at the floor.

The sentence waited in her throat.

She could not call Claire her mother. Saying it that way would make the rest of the sentence belong to Roxie too.

”They said Claire’s dead.”

Zac went silent.

Roxie pressed the phone harder against her ear.

”Zac?”

”I’m coming.”

The call ended.

Coach Miller stood near his desk, watching her carefully.

”He’s coming,” Roxie said.

”Who?”

”Zac.”

Something moved across Coach Miller’s face, but he said nothing about it.

He picked up his keys.

”You still need to get changed.”

Roxie looked down at her practice clothes. Her shirt was damp with sweat, and her legs were still unsteady from conditioning.

”I’m fine.”

”You’ll freeze outside.”

”I said I’m fine.”

Coach Miller pulled her jacket from the back of the chair and handed it to her.

She put it on because arguing required more energy than she had.

Zac reached the office several minutes later.

He still wore his football practice clothes beneath his coat. His hair was damp, and his face had lost all the playfulness from Chemistry.

His eyes found Roxie immediately.

”What happened?”

She stared at him.

”I told you.”

”I know.” He stepped closer. ”What did the police say?”

”They found her in a motel.”

Zac’s jaw tightened.

”They think she overdosed,” Roxie continued. ”They need me to identify her.”

He looked at Coach Miller. ”Where?”

Coach Miller gave him the address.

”I’ll drive her,” Zac said.

”I was going to take her.”

”I can take her.”

Coach Miller looked between them.

Roxie expected him to ask why Zac had come so quickly or why he was speaking like the decision belonged to him.

Instead, he looked at her.

”Who do you want to go with?”

”Zac.”

The answer came without hesitation.

Coach Miller nodded. ”I’ll follow you to her house. She needs identification and anything related to her mother.”

”I can handle it,” Zac said.

”I know you believe that.” Coach Miller picked up his coat. ”I’m still following.”

Zac looked ready to argue.

Roxie reached for his sleeve.

He stopped.

The movement was small, but Coach Miller saw it.

His eyes dropped to her hand before returning to Zac’s face.

Again, he said nothing.

The drive to the bungalow took less than fifteen minutes.

Zac kept both hands on the steering wheel. He drove carefully, even when the light turned yellow and he usually would have accelerated through it.

Roxie stared out the passenger window.

His phone vibrated inside the cup holder.

Mom.

Zac pressed the side button and silenced it.

A minute later, it vibrated again.

Dad.

He silenced that call too.

”You can answer,” Roxie said.

”No.”

”They’ll keep calling.”

”They can keep calling.”

She looked through the rear window.

Coach Miller’s car remained behind them.

The bungalow looked the same when they arrived.

The porch light was off. One curtain hung slightly crooked in the living room window. A cigarette butt sat crushed near the front step.

Roxie unlocked the door.

Cold air followed them inside.

Claire’s blue mug sat beside the sink. Roxie had never forced herself to move it because some part of her kept expecting Claire to come home and use it.

Her cigarette pack lay beside it with the top bent open. The gray sweater Claire had left behind hung over one of the dining chairs.

Roxie stopped in the middle of the room.

Claire could walk through the door.

She could complain that someone had moved her cigarettes. She could accuse Roxie of touching her things. She could ask for money and act like the park had never happened.

Roxie wished Claire had come home to bother her for money.

She never had.

Nothing inside the house looked like Claire was dead.

Zac closed the door behind them.

Coach Miller remained near the entrance.

”Where do you keep important documents?” he asked.

Roxie looked at him.

”What?”

”Birth certificates, IDs, medical papers.”

”In her room.”

She walked toward Claire’s bedroom.

The bed was unmade. Clothes covered the chair and part of the floor. An open drawer held old receipts, makeup, and several prescription bottles.

Roxie began searching.

She found Claire’s birth certificate beneath a stack of unpaid bills. Her social security card was inside an envelope from the county assistance office.

Her driver’s license was missing.

”They probably have it,” Zac said from the doorway.

Roxie placed the documents inside her bag.

She saw the red blouse Claire had worn at the park hanging from the side of the laundry basket.

The memory returned immediately.

Claire’s face.

Her voice.

Every cruel word she had thrown at Roxie.

Roxie telling her to leave.

Claire walking away.

Roxie pleading with her to come back.

She could have gone back to the park.

She could have forced Claire to come home with her.

She could have called on Christmas.

Claire could have called too.

Roxie pressed both hands against the edge of the dresser.

”I should have called her.”

Zac stepped into the room. ”You didn’t know.”

”She was my mother.”

”I know.”

”She could have come home.”

”I know.”

Roxie turned toward him. ”Stop saying that.”

His mouth closed.

”She always comes back,” Roxie said. ”She disappears, and then she comes back when she needs something.”

Zac watched her carefully.

”She could still come back,” Roxie said.

The room went quiet.

Roxie heard what she had said.

She turned away before she could see his reaction.

Coach Miller appeared at the door. ”We should go.”

Roxie picked up her bag.

The county medical examiner’s office occupied the back section of a low concrete building beside the hospital.

Officer Mercer met them inside.

He was older than Roxie expected, with tired eyes and gray beginning near his temples. He introduced himself, then looked at Zac and Coach Miller.

”Family?”

”Her coach,” Coach Miller said.

Zac stayed silent.

Roxie answered for him. ”He’s with me.”

Officer Mercer nodded.

He led them into a private room and explained the identification process.

Roxie had to sign two forms.

She read the first one three times and retained none of it.

Zac sat beside her.

His knee stayed against hers beneath the table.

His phone vibrated again.

Mom.

He turned it facedown without answering.

Officer Mercer gathered the forms. ”Are you ready?”

”Yes.”

Coach Miller stood. ”I’ll wait here.”

Zac rose beside her.

Officer Mercer looked at Roxie. ”He can come with you if that’s what you want.”

Roxie nodded.

Officer Mercer opened the door.

Cold air reached her from the hallway.

Zac stood close enough that his arm brushed hers. Roxie wrapped her fingers around his sleeve before following the officer out of the room.

A woman in dark scrubs waited at the far end of the hallway beside another closed door.

Roxie stared at it.

The phone call had told her Claire was dead.

Behind that door, Roxie would have to look at her.

The woman rested one hand on the handle. ”Are you ready?”

Roxie tightened her grip on Zac’s sleeve.

”No.”

She walked toward the door anyway.