“Phoebe? Where are you? Jesus, are you all right?”

“No, I—” She cried out with pain as Hardesty dug his fingers into her hair and yanked hard.

On the sidelines, Dan went rigid. “Phoebe! What’s happened? Are you there? Talk to me!”

His heart was banging against his ribs, and a cold sweat had broken out on his forehead. Phoebe was being terrorized, and there was nothing he could do about it. With blinding clarity, the strength of his fear peeled away all his self-protective layers, and he knew how deeply he loved her. If anything happened to her, he didn’t want to go on living. He cried out her name, trying to convey everything he felt for her but had never been able to say.

A gravelly male voice traveled through his headset. “I’ve got her Calebow. If you don’t want her hurt, you’ll listen real hard to what I’m saying.”

“Who is this?”

“The Stars lose today. Got me? Your fucking team loses or the lady dies.”

Dan heard the wheeze in the man’s voice and was gripped by a horrible suspicion. “Hardesty? It’s you, isn’t it, you crazy son of a bitch!”

“Your team isn’t going to win the championship without my boy.”

The fact that Hardesty made no attempt to deny his identity magnified Dan’s fear as nothing else could have. Only a man who didn’t care if he lived or died would be so careless.

He knew he didn’t have much time, and he spoke quickly, his voice commanding. “Listen to me. Ray wouldn’t want you to do this.”

“You were jealous of him. That’s why you cut him.”

“This is between you and me. Phoebe doesn’t have anything to do with it. Let her go.”

“Don’t call the police.” Hardesty coughed, a dry rattling sound. “I’m watching on TV, and if I see anything unusual going on, you’ll be sorry.”

“Think, Hardesty! You’ve got an innocent woman—”

“Any more points go on the scoreboard for the Stars, I’m gonna hurt your girlfriend.”

“Hardesty!”

The line went dead.

Dan stood there, stunned. He heard the cheers of the crowd and everything inside him went numb as he remembered the series of plays he had just called. He spun toward the field. Standing in mute horror, he watched as the ball arced through the air and sailed directly between the uprights for a Stars’ field goal.

The scoreboard flashed, and Dan Calebow felt a cold hand grip his heart.

In the subbasement of the dome, Ray cursed and slammed his foot into Phoebe’s chair. She let out a cry as it flew across the slippery floor and crashed into the end wall. Her shoulder caught the impact and shards of pain shot through her body. She tasted blood in her mouth where she bit her tongue.