Booker turned back to Cole. “All right, then. Guess the next time I see you, you’ll be picking your teeth out of my facemask. It’s gonna hurt, you goddamn son of a whore. I can promise you … it’s gonna hurt.”

He moved past Cole and joined his teammates.

Cole waited until they were gone, then crossed back into the other block. He knelt at Curtis’s side, rolled him onto his back, and closed the sheriff’s copper eyes.

“I would never have wished for this, Curtis.” His words echoed off the dank concrete. “Hard as you were on me, I always knew it was for my own good. You certainly gave me more chances than I deserved … and I’ll never forget it.” Drying moisture from his eyes, he stood and started back up the stairs.

He made it halfway up, then stopped, descended the steps again, and removed the handcuffs from Curtis’s utility belt. He dragged the sheriff nearer to the cell, then closed one cuff around Curtis’s wrist and the other around one of the bars. He dropped the key into his sock.

It wasn’t until he made it to the top of the stairs that he heard the cuffs rattle behind him.

CHAPTER 47

HICKHAM’S whistle reverberated off the tile. “All right, men, circle up!”

Cole’s stomach coiled. Ten minutes ago he’d been on his knees, hovering over the toilet, trying unsuccessfully to purge his nerves. Now, fully dressed in helmet and pads and about to take the field, it was all he could do to hold his sickness down.

He moved away from his locker and fell into step with his teammates as they moved toward the exit that led to the field.

The coach waited by the door. He ordered the gathered team to take a knee in front of him. The players complied. Cole and Hickham shared a look, relieved by the show of obedience.

An hour had passed since Cole had rejoined the team in the locker room. His conversation with Hickham upon arrival from the sheriff’s office had been brief. Cole recounted the scene in the cell block. Hickham took the news of the sheriff’s fate with the same mix of shock and regret that Cole had felt upon witnessing it. Both men resolved to put the issue out of mind, at least until after the final whistle.

When Cole asked after Savannah, Hickham had told him he’d insisted she view the game from the press box above the stands. Cole had learned that the order was met with vehement protestation. Savannah had pleaded to be allowed on the sidelines, but the coach had refused, and Cole was glad for it.