Free Framed to Death (A Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery Book 4) by Christina Freeburn

got me every time.
    “Eden won the toss and will receive.”
    The game started, and I tried keeping my attention on it, but nothing made much sense. One team went after the other team who had the football. Bodies fell on top of each other. I wasn’t sure if all of the shoving and smacks were a true part of the game, or sneaky ways of getting back at the rival team.
    A large heavily padded player wrapped his arms around a smaller player wearing the black and gold uniform, crashing them both to the ground. I squeezed my eyes shut, wincing. Why in the world would parents allow their sons to play football? Seemed violent to me.
    Says the woman who involves herself in murders. I guess everyone had a less-than-safe activity they engaged in.
    While I waited for a break in the game, I scanned the crowd. Nearly everyone in Eden was in attendance; I thought it might be interesting to see who wasn’t here. I switched to my zoom lens and moved the focus back and forth across the crowd. My grandmothers were seated in the middle, wearing black and gold garb from the top of their heads to, I suspected, their feet. I doubted they’d don black and gold-brimmed straw hats and black shirts with Eden written in gold glitter across their chests only to put on just any old pair of shoes. They waved pom-poms in the air. Chief Moore sat a few people down from Hope, a wistful expression on his face. Poor guy. I hoped my grandmother forgave him soon. My grandfather had died eleven years ago, and I was happy to see Hope might have found someone to share the rest of her life with. I know Grandpa Tom would want that for her.
    Chad was talking to someone standing in the shadows between the sets of bleachers. He gestured wildly, almost striking the other person in the face while they stood calmly. I took a few shots, then snuck my way over to the duo. People didn’t conduct meetings in alleyways unless they were up to something. And what better place to hand off illegal drugs to kids than at a football game, where most people’s attention was on the field?
    I flattened myself against the wall, hoping I blended into the gloom.
    Chad accepted something from the man, taking a few tries before he successfully shoved it into his back pocket. “People are looking, but it’s perfect timing.”
    The man in the shadows nodded.
    “Has to be tonight.”
    A roar echoed in the gangway.
    Chad’s gaze flicked in my direction. I held my breath. He weaved his head back and forth.
    Rocks skittered behind me. Both men turned and exited from the side closest to the restrooms, away from me. I released the air in my lungs and turned. Brandon Sullivan was struggling with his wheelchair on the gravel.
    “Need some help?” I rested my camera on my chest, the strap tugging at my neck.
    “I got it.” He jerked forward, knuckles turning white as he gripped the rims of the wheels tighter.
    Heat flashed across my face. He was probably tired of people walking up and doing things for him, implying that simple tasks were beyond his ability. “Sorry.”
    “Kind of a bad day for me. No need to take it out on you.” He wheeled away.
    I’m sure it was. Instead of being the star quarterback, he was on the sidelines in a wheelchair because of an accident everyone assumed he’d caused.
    I ran after him. “Can I ask you a question?”
    His gaze skittered around the stadium. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
    “Your mom said you attended the bonfires and that’s where the kids are getting the drugs. Who sold it?”
    Brandon turned his chair to face me. “I don’t know.”
    “You didn’t see anything?”
    “Sometimes it’s best not to see or hear things. I never touched it when it was passed around.”
    “Were other kids smoking it around you? Maybe someone gave it to you and told you it was a cigarette?”
    “I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but the help’s not coming from me.” Brandon spun his chair and wheeled toward the concession stand,