Free The Recruiter (A Thriller) by Dani Amore Page B

the next sentence, trying to figure out how to do it without starting it with the word “but.”
    “I played them like a fiddle, but that last note was a doozy.”
    “How is it? The knee.”
    “About as strong as a wet pasta noodle.”
    “And just as tasty?” Peter says, bending down to kiss her leg. Beth laughs. Peter straightens up suddenly, remembering why he’s here and what he has to do. He realizes, too late, that it isn’t the right time for a warm, fuzzy kind of moment.
    “What’s wrong?” Beth asks.
    Peter thinks of the time when he was a little boy in swim class and he had to practice a back dive. How he stood on the diving board with the instructor urging him on, but he couldn’t do it. The instructor wouldn’t let him off the board until he did it right. He’d felt like a pirate forced to walk the plank. Finally, he’d gotten so upset that he decided to do it. He’d put his hands over his head, sucked in air, and fallen backward. Now, he remembers how that felt, how it was like his stomach just dropped out of his body and where his guts should have been was nothing but an empty cold space, sucking his soul from the rest of his body.
    Slowly, he pulls the letter from the inner pocket of his jacket.
    “I’m sorry, Beth,” he says. “I saw her at the hospital; she thought it would be easier coming from me.”
    Beth slowly puts down her drink, reaches for the letter. She rips open the envelope and scans the contents quickly. She sets it back down and reaches for her drink.
    “I’m sorry, Beth.”
    Peter watches Beth try to control her emotions, but he can see them racing across her eyes, trample her control until her face crumples and a tear rolls down her face. Suddenly, she leans back and hurls the glass full of coke and whiskey against the wall. Peter puts his arms around her as she sobs. “It’s going to be all right,” he says, trying to put comfort into his voice. “It’ll work out. We’ll make it work.”
    From outside the door: “Beth?”
    “It’s okay, Mrs. Fisher,” Peter says.
    Hesitation, and then footsteps going back down the stairs.
    Peter can feel the heat from Beth’s face. The moisture from her tears soaking through his shirt against his skin. Slowly, the crying ebbs. Peter stares at the wall. Above Beth’s bed, he sees a small crucifix. Has that always been there ? he wonders.
    “It’s not going to be okay,” Beth says, her voice muffled.
    “It’s not going to be easy,” Peter says. “But it’ll be okay.”
    “How?”
    “I don’t know, Beth. I wish I did.”
    She pulls away from him. “I’m going to be stuck in this shithole of a town. That scholarship was my ticket out.”
    “A year’s worth of rehab—”
    “I can’t take another year.”
    “And maybe you’ll get another scholarship.”
    “Big maybe. And another year of my life wasted.”
    “Beth—”
    “And you.” She looks close at his face. “You might get a ticket out of here.” Peter does his best to keep his face clear, but she knows him too well.
    “You…already did?”
    He knows that lying would be the worst thing to do, but he’s still tempted.
    “Where?”
    Peter sees the sadness, the self-pity leave Beth’s face. It’s replaced by something else. Something far more dangerous and potentially damaging.
    Fear.
    He takes a deep breath. “Marquette.”
    “Milwaukee,” Beth says. Her voice sounds lost, like a little girl talking to herself. She snaps out of it and hugs him. “Congratulations. Full scholarship?”
    He nods. Despite the situation, he can feel the pride in his belly. He made it out of Lake Orion. He worked hard, but he was given the height along with the speed. As hard as he tries to quench it, he feels proud of the fact that he made the most out of what he was given. Beth had worked hard too. Poor Beth, he thinks.
    “Do you think we can…?” she falters, blushing.
    He takes her hands in his. “I think we can make it work,” he says. “If that was what you