Until Dark - Mariah Stewart [63]
“Eight years.” He emphasized the eight.
“And then you just stopped?”
“Yep. That was the plan.”
“Would it be too personal if I asked what the plan was?”
“The plan was to retire from football before I got so banged up I wouldn’t be able to pass the FBI physical.”
“But I thought playing professional sports was supposed to be every little boy’s dream.”
“It wasn’t mine.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“You grow up in coal country and you play sports because that’s what you do. Don’t get me wrong, Kendra, I love football. Loved playing it in high school. It was the best.” His voice softened. “And it was my way out. It was my ticket to Penn State. And around here, playing football for Penn State is as close to heaven as a guy can get. Not just for you, but for your entire family. My father got to wear the Penn State jacket, the sweatshirt. Everyone knew that Frank Stark’s son played linebacker for Penn State. It was a huge feather in his cap.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Penn State?” He laughed. “My God, you’d have to be dead to not love playing ball for them. I was grateful for the opportunity to go there, to play there. It had been one of my prime goals, to go there. And from there, to the FBI Academy.”
“But you decided to play professional football instead.”
“That was never really on my agenda.” He shook his head. “But my junior year, the defensive coach took me aside after a game and introduced me to the scout from the Cleveland Browns. Then a few weeks later, from the Patriots. Then the Raiders. The Steelers . . .”
He flicked on his right-turn signal and headed for the exit.
“And then I was drafted by the Steelers and on my way to Pittsburgh.”
“You must have been excited, though.”
“Oh, of course I was. Who wouldn’t be? The thought of being able to play for a few more years—and to get paid a lot of money to do it—well, that was amazing. It had all come as a bit of a surprise to me, that’s all.”
“I guess your dad was proud.”
“My dad was almost hyperventilating when I told him.” Kendra noticed Adam wasn’t smiling. “Any thoughts I might have had about turning down the offer went out the window. There was no way I could have disappointed him like that.”
“But surely he would have understood.”
“No. He would not have.” He slowed down as he started down the exit ramp. “The town I grew up in was—is—very working class. The kind of neighborhood where people still hang their laundry out back and stores will still give kids credit because the owner has known the family for generations. No one from Hopewell had ever played football for Penn State. No one had ever been drafted to play a professional sport. There was no way I could have, or would have, walked away from the opportunity.”
Adam pulled up to the self-serve pump at the first gas station he came to.
“Don’t misunderstand,” he said, opening his door, “I have no regrets. I was damned lucky, and I know it. I made the kind of money I know I’ll never make again. I wouldn’t take those years back for anything. But the whole time I was playing, I felt as if I was looking over my shoulder. I was so afraid I’d get hurt, that something would happen and I wouldn’t qualify for the Academy. I just wanted to get through that, to get to this. This—working for the Bureau—is what I was meant to do. What I dreamed of doing when I was a kid.”
He filled the tank, paid for the gas with a card, and got back into the car, glancing at his watch.
“It’s already two,” he said. “The wedding is supposed to start at three. We’re going to go directly to my grandmother’s. You can change there, if you like.”
“I would appreciate that.” Kendra looked down at her khaki pants and light blue sweater. Comfortable traveling clothes, but not wedding attire. Adam had told her there’d be a place for her to change before joining the rest of the family at his sister’s house for the festivities.
The signpost at the corner of the street Adam turned on to was bent at an odd angle, as if recently struck by a car and not yet repaired. The street itself was narrow, the cars parked on either side allowing easy