Out of Bounds (10 page)

N
ANCY BACKED OUT
of the pantry, her heart pounding. Lonnie's promise to “shut her up” sounded real enough. Wincing, she remembered the way Lonnie had pummeled his blond teammate under the bleachers.

“Come on,” Bill said, his voice getting louder as he started up the steps. “Let's get back to the party.”

Stepping lightly, Nancy dashed through the kitchen and back into the living room. She spotted Bess and George, who were standing alone, talking together.

“What's wrong, Nancy?” George asked the
moment she saw her friend. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Rob, Bill, and Lonnie had just come into the dining room. Nancy could feel their eyes on her.

“I need some air,” Nancy told her friends, guiding them each by an elbow. “Let's grab our coats and go outside.”

“Nancy, I'm worried. What's the matter?” Bess asked anxiously when they had closed the front door behind them.

Nancy leaned against the railing on Bess's front porch and told them about the conversation she'd just overheard, leaving out Lonnie's threat. There was no point in worrying her friends needlessly.

“So now your cover is blown,” Bess concluded, shaking her blond curls.

George let out a low whistle. “Bad break,” she murmured.

“This could be a real problem,” Nancy added, shaking her head. “If they tell Pete, there could be real trouble.”

“Nancy, what do you think Rob meant about his doctor telling him to stop?” Bess asked nervously. “Do you think he's got some sort of disease?”

“I doubt it,” George put in. “He wouldn't be in good enough shape to play football if he did.”

“Good point,” said Nancy. “I'm not sure what's going on, but I can tell you one thing. If we
don't figure it out by the last game, we might never do it.”

“Nancy,” said George, her dark eyes alive with concentration, “this couldn't have anything to do with Pete, could it? Maybe when Rob and Bill talked about their doctor, they meant that man named Doc?”

“The guys are friends with Pete,” said Nancy. “And they've all been acting nervous and hostile lately. Something is definitely up. When Doc referred to ‘the boys,' maybe he did mean—”

“Hi, girls. Good to see you, Nancy.” Lonnie Price's sarcasm cut into the chilly night. “Getting a little air?”

Nancy and her friends spun around to face Lonnie and Bill. Bill's eyes bored into Nancy's.

“I was just saying good night,” Nancy fibbed, trying to sound casual as she stepped down off the porch. “I could use a good night's sleep. Do you want a lift, George?”

“I'll take you home, George,” Lonnie offered, turning on his most charming smile.

“Actually, Lonnie, I'm kind of tired. I think I will go with Nancy,” George announced with a smile as she stepped down the porch steps. “See you tomorrow, Bess. And good night, guys!”

• • •

By ten-thirty the next morning Nancy was back at the West Bedford Medical Clinic. This
time she hoped she'd be able to get in to see Rob's doctor.

“Hello, there, honey,” said the receptionist with a warm smile of recognition. “How's your brother doing?”

“Not too well,” said Nancy with a frown. “He won't talk to us, and I'm afraid he's still—you know.”

“Mmmm.” The receptionist nodded, her brows furrowing.

“I know you won't discuss the test results with me, but if I could just talk to the doctor—maybe he could give me some help on how to reach Rob.” Or maybe, she thought, I can get a solid clue about what's really going on.

“I'll see what I can do for you. Just wait right here.” The receptionist went off to speak to the doctor. A few minutes later she returned, saying, “It may be a wait, but Dr. Treschel will see you.”

Nancy flipped through magazines for the better part of an hour until the receptionist finally signaled her to come to the desk.

“Dr. Treschel can see you briefly,” she said. “First door on the right.”

The doctor's office was painted dark green and decorated with oil paintings of wilderness scenes. From behind a mahogany desk, Dr. Treschel, a dark-haired man of about forty, looked up.

“Ms. Matthews?” he asked, meeting her eyes with a steady gaze. “How may I help you?”

“Doctor,” Nancy began, taking a seat by his desk. “We're so worried about Rob. We don't really understand what's going on, and he won't talk about it. Could you—”

Holding up a palm, the doctor frowned. “We often get concerned family members in here. But you must understand, our patients have a right to privacy.”

Nancy let out a disappointed sigh and looked down at the dark green carpeting. “Can't you break your rule, just this once?” she pleaded.

“I'm sorry,” Dr. Treschel said, a look of genuine concern in his eyes. “Please tell your parents, though, that Rob is seriously jeopardizing his health.”

“You mean—?” Nancy murmured helplessly, feeling tantalizingly close to learning the truth.

“I mean exactly what I told him. He's got to stop. Right away.” The doctor added a meaningful stare. He ran a hand through his glossy hair and smiled sadly. “See if you can talk to him. If you'll excuse me—”

With a frustrated sigh Nancy stood up and walked out. Once more her attempt to find out what was happening to Rob had led nowhere.

Nancy left the clinic, planning her next move. At a nearby phone booth, she fished the brochure from McCann's Gym out of her purse and punched in the number. Jake Deaver understood a lot about the mental and physical makeup of
athletes. Maybe he could give her some insight into the kind of danger Rob was in.

“McCann's,” came Jake's familiar voice.

“Jake? It's Nancy. Nancy Edwards. Remember me? I came in the other day to look the place over, and you said—”

“Of course I remember you,” came the smooth reply. “Have you decided to take me up on my offer for dinner?”

“As a matter of fact, I have,” she answered. “How about lunch?” she asked, glancing at her watch. It was eleven-fifty—she'd have just enough time to get to McCann's by noon.

“Lunch is fine,” he said. Nancy could almost feel the smile in his voice.

“I'll see you in ten minutes, then, at the gym.” She hung up and, walking with new determination, got into her car and headed for McCann's.

“Hello, there,” said Jake, looking up with a warm smile when Nancy walked into the reception area of the gym,

“Hi,” Nancy replied. “Thanks for meeting me.

“Thanks for inviting me,” he said, lifting a gray jacket off the coatrack near the file cabinet and slinging it over his shoulder. “There's a quiet little place near here called Le Corner Bistro. I thought we could go there.”

“Sounds great,” Nancy said, smiling at the name of the restaurant.

They walked out of the building and rounded the corner past a group of stores to the restaurant.

“After you,” said Jake, gallantly holding the door open for her.

Nancy walked in and spotted a booth near the back of the place. “How's this?” she asked Jake.

“Fine with me,” he answered, slipping into the booth and signaling a waitress whose dark hair was knotted on top of her head.

Nancy and Jake ordered two mineral waters while they looked over the menu. “The quiche is excellent,” he told her.

“I think that's what I'll order. With a green salad,” Nancy told him.

The waitress returned and set two glasses and two bottles of water in front of them.

“Two quiches with salads,” Jake told her.

As soon as the waitress was out of earshot, Nancy met Jake's gaze and sighed. “Jake, I'm hoping you can help me,” she said.

“Anything,” he promised. “Just ask.”

“It's about my girlfriend's boyfriend. He's a real jock, you know? He's been acting kind of weird lately. He won't talk to me about it, but he's been having dizzy spells, and he's always acting hyper and angry. He even passed out. His pulse was uneven, and his breathing was off, too.”

“I see a lot of that at the gym,” Jake said with a knowing nod.

“You do?” Nancy asked, surprised. “Tell me about it.”

“Oh, we've got guys passing out there all the time. I told you they're crazy, remember?”

“I don't get it, though,” Nancy said. “People pass out just from sheer exertion?”

“Well, yeah, they do sometimes, but that's not what we're talking about here, is it?'”

Nancy leaned in toward him.

“I sympathize,” he said, taking a sip of his water. “See, I was into that garbage myself once. Really bad mood swings, headaches, always getting dizzy. I wound up in the hospital, finally, and it was a good thing, too. My liver would have been shot if I'd gone on much longer.”

“Your liver!” Nancy gasped.

“Yup,” he replied with a regretful shake of his head. “Fortunately, I quit.”

“I don't understand,” Nancy prodded. “Quit what?”

Jake paused and gave Nancy a long look, obviously wondering if he should tell her. Finally he spoke up. “Steroids, Nancy. It sounds to me like your friend is on steroids.”

S
TEROIDS?”
Nancy said the word slowly, carefully. Finally. Now she had the missing piece of the puzzle, the one that had eluded her for so long.

“Yeah, steroids,” Jake murmured, shaking his head. “They're real bad news and terrible for your health, but a lot of guys take them anyway. The kind you see most is the one that's worst for your liver—dynazol.”

“Dynazol!” Nancy remembered running across it once before, on a case she'd solved with the Hardy brothers. “Steroids do cause mood swings, hostility, and dizziness, too. Don't they?” Nancy asked breathlessly.

“All of the above,” Jake said with a nod. “Like I said—steroids are bad news. And dynazol is one of the worst.”

“Whew.” Nancy sighed, and then took a sip of her mineral water. “Everything you're saying makes perfect sense.”

“Everyone thinks they can get away with it,” Jake said, his face suddenly sad. “But after a while—and when someone's already blacking out, that time isn't too far away—their health just falls apart. At that point it's a short downhill ride.”

A chill slowly made its way over Nancy. Rob had obviously begun his “downhill ride.” No wonder he looked terrible and seemed so fragile. His body was being ravaged by one of the most potent drugs around. “Why do people do it to themselves?”

“Lots of reasons,” Jake explained as their lunches arrived. After the waitress left, he continued. “You said your friend's a jock, right? Well, if he's hot stuff, then he's probably under a lot of pressure to succeed. Steroids build muscles, stamina, and physical strength. Unfortunately, they do a lot more harm than good. See, the harm's invisible for a long while, sometimes long after it's too late. In the end steroids destroy a lot more careers than they create.”

“And it goes on a lot, huh?” Nancy asked.

“You wouldn't believe how widespread the use
of the stuff is. You don't even have to be a big-time jock to take it. Some guys use the stuff just to impress the girls. They want bulging muscles to show how strong they are. Trouble is, when you're sick, nobody looks good.”

“Jake, how do people get their hands on the stuff?” she asked.

Jake looked at her sharply. “You mean, how is your friend getting them, right?”

Nancy's eyes met his evenly. “That's exactly what I mean.”

“There are a few ways. Doctors can prescribe the drugs, but no ethical doctor will. Most people get it from underground contacts.”

“Such as?” she wanted to know.

“Coaches, mostly. A lot of coaches'll do anything to have winners. They don't care about their athletes' long-term health.”

Nancy thought of Coach Novak. He certainly seemed to be the type to want to win, even at the expense of his players' health.

“Jake, this has been a very educational lunch. I really appreciate your talking to me,” Nancy said after they finished eating. She reached into her purse, wanting to pay for lunch and get to Bedford High right away. The time had come to confront the Bears' coach.

“Wait a minute!” Jake protested. “You're not going? We haven't had a chance to talk about you. Let's get together again, okay?”

“Jake, I like you a lot,” Nancy explained softly, “but the truth is, I already have a boyfriend. You know how it is—we're in love.”

“How come all the good ones are taken?” Jake said. “He's a lucky guy, Nancy.”

“Thanks,” Nancy said with a little laugh. “And, of course, I want to pay for lunch.”

“Forget it, will you?” he said, grabbing the check from her. “One of these days you'll buy me lunch. Good luck with your friend, Nancy. If he wants to talk to someone who's been there, have him give me a call.”