But it wasn’t just asking. It was instinct. The same instinct that had told her to throw that ball from her window. And right now, that instinct was screaming that something was very, very wrong. She just didn’t know what yet. But she would. Soon.
Skye couldn’t sleep that night. She lay in bed staring at the ceiling, her mind racing. Something about Devin didn’t sit right. The way he’d shown up at the perfect time. The way he always asked questions about schedules, security, who had keys to what. At 2 a.m., she gave up trying to sleep and grabbed her grandmother’s old laptop. She typed into Google: Devin Harris Baseball Coach. Nothing came up. No teams. No records. No photos. She tried: Devin Harris High School Baseball. Still nothing. That was weird. He’d said he played four years varsity. Made all-conference. Almost got a scholarship. Someone who played that well would have some record online. Some newspaper article. Some team photo. But there was nothing. Like he’d never played at all.
Skye’s stomach twisted. She kept digging. Tried social media. Found three Devin Harris’s in the area, but none of them matched. Two were way older. One was white. At 3:15 a.m., she found something that made her blood run cold. A news article from eight months ago. Local man arrested in connection with loan shark operation. There was a photo. Grainy. Taken from a distance. But the face. It looked like Devin. Same beard. Same build. Same eyes. The article said charges were dropped due to lack of evidence, but the man, identified only as D. Harris, had been questioned in connection with a violent debt collection ring. Skye’s hands shook as she screenshotted the article. Maybe it was a different person. Maybe it was a coincidence. But maybe it wasn’t. She had to tell Gavin.
The next morning, Skye showed up at the field at 7 a.m. Gavin’s car was already there. He’d been sleeping in his office—a converted storage container he’d set up on site. She knocked on the metal door. “Come in,” his tired voice called. Gavin looked rough. Unshaven. Dark circles under his eyes. Coffee cups everywhere. Papers spread across a makeshift desk. “Skye. What are you doing here so early?” “I need to show you something.” She pulled out her grandmother’s laptop and opened the article. “Look at this.” Gavin leaned forward, reading. His face got serious fast. “Where’d you find this?” “I couldn’t sleep. So I looked up Devin. And Mr. Gavin.” She looked at him hard. “He lied. He said he played four years varsity baseball. But there’s no record of him anywhere. No team photos. No stats. Nothing.”
Gavin sat back slowly. “You think he’s lying about playing?” “I think he’s lying about everything.” They stared at each other. “That’s a serious accusation,” Gavin said carefully. “You understand that, right? If you’re wrong—” “I’m not wrong.” Skye’s voice was firm. “Something’s off about him. I felt it from the start. I just didn’t want to say anything because everyone else liked him.” Gavin rubbed his face. “Let me make some calls. See what I can find out.” “What if he’s working with whoever destroyed the field?” That thought hung in the air like poison. “Then we have a much bigger problem,” Gavin said quietly.
By noon, Gavin had answers. He’d called a private investigator, someone who owed him a favor. Asked them to run a background check on Devin Harris. The results came back fast. Devin Harris. Age 27. No criminal record—the charges from eight months ago had been dropped. But he did have something interesting: recent bank deposits. Ten thousand dollars, paid out in cash two days after the field was vandalized. The money had come from an LLC registered to a shell company. The kind of company people used when they didn’t want their names attached to something. And when the investigator dug deeper into the shell company? It led back to Councilman Alan Pierce.
“Son of a—” Gavin slammed his fist on the desk. “What?” Skye asked. “What did you find?” Gavin looked at her with eyes that burned with rage. “Devin’s been paid off. He’s been feeding someone information about this field. And that someone is a city councilman named Alan Pierce.” Skye felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. “Coach Devin? He… he helped destroy the field?” “It looks that way. But why? Why would he do that?” Gavin pulled up a file on his computer. Showed her Pierce’s photo, a man in an expensive suit shaking hands with the mayor. “This man wants this land for a development deal. Luxury condos. He’s been trying to buy it for years. Our field is in his way. So he sent Devin to spy on us.” “Looks like it.”
Skye felt tears burning her eyes. Not sad tears. Angry tears. The kind that made your whole body shake. “He taught me how to pitch better,” she said, her voice breaking. “He said I was special. He brought us snacks. He learned everyone’s names!” “I know.” “And the whole time he was lying!” Her voice rose. “The whole time he was helping someone destroy what we built!” Gavin reached across the desk and took her hand. “I’m sorry, Skye. I’m so sorry. We trusted him.” Tears rolled down her face now. “All of us. The kids loved him. And he was just using us.” She pulled her hand away and stood up, pacing the small office like a caged animal. “What do we do?” she asked. “How do we stop them?”
“I don’t know yet. But we will.” Gavin’s voice was steel. “We’re going to expose Pierce. We’re going to expose Devin. And we’re going to make sure everyone knows what they did.” “When?” “Soon. But we need proof. Real proof. Not just bank records and suspicions.” Skye wiped her eyes. “What kind of proof?” Gavin thought for a moment. “We need to catch them in the act. Get them on camera or recording admitting what they’ve done. How?” A slow, dangerous smile spread across Gavin’s face. “We set a trap.”
That evening, practice was scheduled. Only eight kids showed up, down from thirty. But they showed up. That meant something. Devin arrived right on time, smiling his usual smile, carrying his worn glove. “What’s up, team?” He called out cheerfully. Skye watched him from across the field. Watched him joke with the kids. Watched him help a seven-year-old grip a bat correctly. Watched him be exactly the person everyone thought he was. And it made her sick. But she didn’t let it show.
She walked over, forcing herself to smile. “Hey, Coach Devin.” “Hey, Sky. You ready to work on that curveball?” “Yeah. Can we talk first? Just for a second.” “Sure thing.” They walked away from the others. Skye’s heart pounded. Gavin was watching from his office, recording everything with a hidden camera. “I just wanted to say thanks,” Skye said, keeping her voice steady. “For staying. After everything that happened. A lot of people left, but you stayed.” Devin’s smile softened. For just a second, something real flickered in his eyes. Something that might have been guilt. “Of course I stayed,” he said quietly. “You kids deserve better than what happened.”
“Do you think whoever did it will come back?” His face twitched. Just barely. “I don’t know. Maybe. Some people just hate seeing others succeed.” “That’s sad.” “Yeah. It is.” They stood in silence for a moment. “Coach Devin.” Skye asked. “If you knew who did it, would you tell us?” He looked at her. Really looked at her. And for the first time since they’d met, his smile disappeared completely. “What kind of question is that?” “Just wondering. Like, if you knew and didn’t tell, would that make you just as bad as them?” Devin’s jaw clenched. “I don’t know who did it, Sky.” “I didn’t say you did. I’m just asking hypothetically.” “Well, hypothetically…” His voice got harder. “Yeah. If someone knew and didn’t say anything, that’d make them pretty terrible. Even if they had a good reason.” “There’s no good reason for hurting kids.” Skye looked him dead in the eyes. “I hope you mean that.” Something passed between them. Understanding. Suspicion. Fear. “I gotta go set up drills,” Devin said, backing away. “We’ll talk later, okay?” “Okay.” He walked off quickly…
