THURSDAY 4:49 P.M.

It was nearly five when I met Donny Campbell at the park for our workout. He pulled me into a corner of the locker room. No one else was around at the moment.

“Everybody on the team has been warned by the representatives from the major leagues not to talk to you and that talking to you will cause them to never get a chance at the majors. Connor Knecht has put out a text message to everyone on the team that if they don’t cooperate with you, they will be off the team. Everybody’s upset. Their lives and their futures are at stake.”

“Unless they’re the killer, they have nothing to fear from me.”

“I know that. They don’t.”

“I understand.”

During the game, I sat on the bench. I tried not to be bored. I wanted to be asking questions and getting answers. Donny sat next to me and stayed close, his leg usually touching mine.

We lost ten to one. Saying we were distracted was an understatement.