They were both quiet. Then Caden said, “I need to talk to the commissioner.”
“You can’t. If he finds out I told you, he might ruin my chance of winning. He’s worried about losing his position.”
“Then why did you tell me all this?”
“Because I want you to find Blondie before he kills Morton-or me. The commissioner thinks the shooter might be some crazy guy obsessed with the Gauntlet.” Lara shifted in her chair. “If I wasn’t competing throughout the next two days, I’d find him myself.”
Caden’s expression softened and he almost smiled. “I believe you would. I just don’t know how I’m going to tie Kirsten’s death to the shooting of a federal employee without mentioning-”
He stopped cold and she watched him make a mental connection.
“What is it? You know something about Morton.”
“I can’t tell you.”
“That’s not fair. I told you what I know.”
“This is different. It’s another investigation involving federal employees, and now I’m wondering if they’re connected.”
Lara itched to know everything. She loved working complex cases and wanted to help with this one. “I used to be a detective and I’m good at making connections.”
“I have to look at a file first.” Caden leaned forward as if to get up. “Anything else you should tell me?”
“No.” Except the last four hours had been the best she’d spent in many years. “Can you get the charges against me dropped?” Lara held up her ankle, indicating the monitor.
“I’ll try.” He kissed her gently. “I wish we had more time and different circumstances.”
“Story of my life.”
Caden Harper walked out and Lara wondered if she would ever see him again.
Chapter 27
Thurs., May 11, 8:05 a.m.
Lara slept soundly for the first time in ages and rose late, happy she didn’t compete until noon. After a protein shake, she went for a short run, then spent an hour stretching and practicing defense moves. Caden kept intruding into her thoughts, but she suppressed him. She didn’t let herself dwell on the shooter either. The next phase of the competition would be the most challenging. No one made it into the Gauntlet without having superior hand-to-hand combat skills. She would have the disadvantage of being smaller than the other contestants. Would her speed and training overcome that? Doubt flooded her and she had to block it with positive self-talk.
At eleven, Lara caught a shuttle to the Battle arena, ignoring the other contestant in the van. He wasn’t her challenger in the first round, and she didn’t want to be distracted or discouraged. They pulled into the parking area at the north end of the property and she noted it was full of cars, many of them new expensive hybrids. The hand-to-hand combat would have in-house spectators, a thought that filled her with dread. What if they rooted against her? A disapproving crowd could be demoralizing.
A reporter rushed up when she entered the lobby. Lara recognized Jessie Stark from CNC Broadcasting, who’d interviewed her before the orientation. Jessie signaled to her cameraman to roll.
“We’re live with Lara Evans of Oregon, who’s about to enter the Battle arena for a round of combat with Sam Duggar of Texas. Lara, you’re five-five and 126 pounds. Sam is six-two and 205 pounds. Do you believe that was a random assignment?”
“Of course,” Lara lied. “There are only eleven other competitors left, and any of them would be tough to beat.” She felt strongly the tournament matchups were calculated, despite claims they were software generated. Both the director and the commissioner wanted her to go away.
“The internet is buzzing with the rumor that the director set you up to be eliminated, and our recent poll says the viewers are pissed off and rooting for you.”
The news pleased Lara, but voters couldn’t help or hurt her inside the Battle circle. It was pure competition with the loser of each round going home. But viewers could add significantly to her points if she won each round. “I hope to win and earn their support.”
“Do you have a strategy?”
“Stay low and wear him down.” Lara grinned. “What else can I say? I’m fighting for jobs for my state, and a lot of good people are counting on me. I’m not going down without giving Sam Duggar the battle of his life.”
“Good luck in there.”
Lara strode through the lobby, passing the wide entrance of the arena where hundreds of spectators filled the grandstands. The sight of all those faces looking down made her feel small and vulnerable. She sucked in oxygen in rapid breaths and focused on the match. She would fight as though her life depended on it. In some ways it did. This was her chance to made amends, to earn some peace of mind and maybe forgive herself.
Minda and her co-host were waiting in the small locker room. Lara stashed her shoulder bag in a locker, then endured another round of viewer-hype chat. She tried to keep her answers fresh and snappy for the audience, but she was tired of the camera in her face. She just wanted to compete.
At ten minutes before noon, they walked into the Battle arena. The crowd roared, filling her veins with adrenaline. Thank god they were supportive. She would need every advantage.
“Wait on this bench until you’re called, then walk out onto the platform.” Minda gave her instructions, then trotted off with her entourage. The group walked around the twenty-foot circular platform, keeping off the thick surrounding mat. The director headed for the adjacent locker room to speak with Sam Duggar.
Lara took a seat on the small bench and closed her eyes. To calm her nerves and empty her mind, she hummed a deep repetitive chant from her long-ago yoga days.
The crowd started clapping. She opened her eyes and watched Sam enter the arena. The cheer for her opponent faded quickly. Lara bounced on her toes, waiting to be called.
“Bring on the weapons!”
Two young men in black gear rushed out of the judges’ box, carrying jousting poles. One came toward her and placed the weapon in her hands. “Good luck.” His tone was solemn but he winked as he turned away.
The four-foot joust was made of gray pliable PVC, the ends padded with three inches of dense foam. On one end, the padding was long and narrow, shaped for jabbing. On the other, it was a small dense ball meant for an overhand strike. The joust wouldn’t have been her first choice, because it gave Sam too much reach, but it wasn’t a worst-case scenario either.
“Contestants, enter the Battle circle,” a male voice boomed.
A surge of hyper energy filled her body, starting in her legs and gushing into her torso. She jogged across the thick gray mat and entered the red battle ring. Sam strode toward her from the other side. Her opponent was built like Adonis-chiseled muscles, chiseled face. Lara had seen him in the lobby, but they hadn’t spoken. His size should have been intimidating but she felt pumped and more ready than she’d ever been. She’d sparred with bigger men and beaten them. That’s how she ended up representing Oregon. She could do this.
The announcer was still speaking but Lara tuned him out. As the battle circle under her feet rose in the air, she focused on her opponent, memorizing the height of his targets: kidney, mid-sternum, and the carotid and vagus nerves in his neck. Lara had little hope of knocking him off the raised platform, so her strategy was to hit the spots that would cause pain, irregular heartbeat, or loss of blood to the brain. Slowing him down would buy her time and keep her on the platform. Speed and the ability to leap from a standstill were her only advantages. If she survived the seven-minute round and stayed on the platform, the judges would call the match. They were often swayed by the mood of the crowd.
“Let the battle begin!”
An electronic gong sounded and Sam rushed at her like an enraged bull, the jabbing end of his joust aimed at her head. Lara dropped to her knees just before his weapon came within striking distance. As she went down, she swung her joust like a bat, striking his left kneecap and rolling to get out of the way of his thundering body. Lara was surprised by his opening tactic. He either expected her to be easily overpowered or he had little training in martial arts.