Lost & Found

Chapter 1

"Uh, Sir?" My secretary, Tris Prior, sounds uncertain as she addresses me through the intercom.

Tris is never unsure. She's petite, but athletic - the kind of woman who runs every day as a matter of course, and dabbles in kickboxing and yoga for fun. The exercise gives her confidence. It also gives her a very shapely body, though I keep those thoughts buried as much as possible.

She has been my assistant for about a year now, and she's incredibly capable. She is never intimidated by me, even in my worst moods. She's firm when she needs to be, deferential when appropriate, and works harder than anyone I've ever met. She looks out for me like a guard dog - always making sure I eat, that my travel arrangements are comfortable, that I keep my doctor appointments, and that the firm and I look good.

Easton Property Management would be lost without her - I would be lost without her. Tris takes care of me like no one ever has - including my wife.

I shake off the borderline inappropriate thought.

"Yes, Tris?" I say as patiently as possible. She isn't usually shy about interrupting when she needs to, so why the sudden temerity?

"Uh, I have, um, Eric Coulter? On the line for you. Sir?"

Coulter? One of the two most talked about sports figures in the world right now, Eric Coulter, is on the phone for me. Tris may be confused, but I'm not. I know why Coulter is calling. I've been found.

"Mr. Easton? Thomas?" Tris' voice gets my attention again. "Sir, Mr. Coulter says it's very important that he speaks with you. I don't know how he got your number without going through the company main line, but he called direct. And he seems… upset."

Of course he's upset. Coulter plays linebacker for the New York Giants. He's a beast of a man, even by NFL standards. During his college career at Ohio State and his first two seasons with the Giants, Coulter was known for his aggressive, sometimes dirty play and his hair-trigger temper. An off-season car accident was the wakeup call he needed, and he went into treatment for alcoholism.

Since his treatment, Coulter has become a different man. He is vocal about the dangers of alcohol abuse. He speaks up for at-risk youth. He started a charitable foundation. From my outsider perspective, he did everything right and seemed to be on a new path in life.

Then, during the Sunday night game two weeks ago, Coulter made a legal but brutal hit on the receiver he was covering. The Philadelphia Eagles' rookie, Albert Connors, dropped to the turf like a rock. Two commercial breaks later, Connors was removed from the field on a stretcher and taken straight to the hospital, where he was pronounced dead. It was the first injury-caused on-field death in NFL history.

In the weeks since Connors' death, both the sports networks and other news outlets have talked of little else. The play was dissected by every talking head in the industry. NFL spokespeople, doctors, lawyers, Coulter's agent, the victim's family, other players who've suffered severe sports injuries - anyone with anything to say got their fifteen minutes of airtime. Protests erupted outside NFL headquarters and stadiums across the country. Sponsors withdrew ads from gametime slots. Parents pulled their kids from peewee and high school teams. The entire game was in jeopardy.

In the end, it was discovered that some of the padding had been removed from Connors' helmet. When Coulter's hit knocked him out, his head was virtually unprotected as it bounced off the hard shell of the helmet contacting the turf. Hours of footage from cameras throughout the stadium were analyzed, looking for a negligent equipment manager or someone to blame for the tragic death. When the footage was found, it showed that Connors himself had pulled the padding from inside his helmet and surreptitiously threw it in a sideline trash can, though no one knows why. The whole thing was nothing but a horrible, tragic accident.