Free Break Point: BookShots by James Patterson Page B

died, which means the guy is still fixated on you. He’s dangerous, and he’s coming. The safest thing to do is to get out of the way.’
    Abbot turned to Keller and backed up his friend.
    ‘Chris is right,’ he said. ‘This guy’s getting closer and it looks as though he’s focusing on the final.’
    Keller twisted in her seat and faced Foster full on, her eyes burning into his.
    ‘I can’t control what happens when you’re out on the court,’ Foster told her, his voice a low admission.
    ‘I can’t promise to keep you safe. So you need to go home.’
    Keller took a breath and composed herself. As Foster watched, she found her nerve. Her skin flushed, suddenly glowing healthily under the dim yellow lights. Her shoulders broadened as her lungs filled and her whole frame set in a stronger, more perfect poise. Slowly, the cold-steel gaze that Foster had seen in her eyes during matches replaced the burning anger.
    ‘I am twenty-three years old,’ she said. ‘This is my time. And it doesn’t come around twice. It’s my time to win matches, to win tournaments and to become world champion. You know who says so? Maria Rosario. Except that she’s dead. But I’ll tell you something: if I run now, I will never find out who killed her, and I’ll never know why. And we’ll never catch this guy, and I’ll live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.’
    Foster nodded.
    ‘You know what, Chris?’ Keller continued. ‘Maria told me once that she quit coaching Marta Basilia because she couldn’t stay objective after they slept together. And I can see that in your eyes, right now. So you need to forget everything that’s happened between us and do your job. You’re going to keep me safe, and we’re going to nail this guy. We’re going to do both of those things for Maria. Now drink up, I’ll wait in the car.’
    She swiped Foster’s keys off the table and headed for the door. Foster swallowed his beer, avoiding eye contact with Tom Abbot. He stood up and followed Keller, lengthening his stride to keep her in sight. The words
everything that’s happened between us
were still hanging in the air and, at Foster’s side, Tom Abbot was suppressing a smile.
    ‘Whatever you’re about to say,’ Foster told him as they walked, ‘don’t.’

CHAPTER 22
    FOSTER ENJOYED THE drive back to the hotel. Abbot was riding shotgun and Keller had strapped herself into the back. The skies had cleared and the summer rain was starting to steam off the tarmac. Keller’s new-found strength was invigorating and his mood had lifted.
    ‘One of us can stay with you at all times over the next couple of days,’ he told her. ‘Once you’re on the court you’ll be exposed, obviously, but I can reach you in seven seconds if I’m sitting in the front few rows.’
    ‘Don’t you take me off the court,’ Keller warned him as they thundered under the railway bridges at Vauxhall. ‘Not in the final. I’m going to win this for Maria.’
    Foster locked eyes on Keller in the rear-view mirror.
    ‘If you’re in danger, I couldn’t give a damn about Maria Rosario’s legacy, or your prize money, or anything else. I’ll drag you off that court, if it’s the right thing to do.’
    At Foster’s request, Abbot kept his eyes on Keller all afternoon. She spent most of the time in her suite, calling her family and arranging her travel plans for after the final. Then she dedicated some time to a few more episodes of
Better Call Saul
. She educated Abbot as they went along, explaining
Breaking Bad
back-stories about Walter White and people cooking meth in their underpants.
    Foster needed some space to think, so he drove over to the quiet solitude of Highgate Cemetery. The skies stayed blue and the warm sunlight threw sharp, contrasting shadows over the white-marble carvings. Angels looked down on him and the breeze carried the sounds of songbirds and tousled the creeping ivy, as unchecked nature slowly claimed the stone back for itself. If