Читать книгу Long Distance Lover - Donna Hill - Страница 6

Prologue

Associated Press—Atlanta

Scandal Rocks Sports World…

Kelly slowly read the headline.

Gold Medal Hopeful Stephanie Daniels Found Dead in her Atlanta Apartment. Kelly’s hands shook as she read on. Following an injury several weeks ago, Kelly Maxwell lost her starting position to Daniels along with her chance at a gold medal. Now it appears that with Maxwell on the mend and her competitor no longer a threat, Maxwell may well regain her golden-girl title. However, speculation abounds and the Atlanta police continue their investigation…

The rest of the words danced and scurried across the page like frightened ants. She tossed the Atlanta Journal-Constitution onto the couch in frustration. Her nerves were ragged and the circles under her eyes testified to her lack of sleep.

Ever since the story broke earlier that week the entire track team had been on pins and needles. Investigators from the sports commission had been all over them, digging, probing, wanting to hang something on them—her in particular. She was the star now, the comeback kid, the one in the spotlight, the one they would love to see fall. She was next in line for the starting position on the team—now that Stephanie was gone.

David swore to her that there was nothing to the story—an ugly rumor that had gone haywire, he’d said.

Now, she didn’t know what to believe. Too many things didn’t add up and what did she didn’t like. If everything the papers said was true, her future was over and she had no one to blame but herself.

Moving slowly through her one-bedroom garden apartment in the exclusive Atlanta community, she glanced around at the trophies, the symbols of her accomplishments, the expensive furniture and original artwork, which were all a testament to her ability on the track. Outside her living room window sat a brand-new Navigator, a treat to herself for making it back. In a matter of days, if the stories were true, it could all be gone and she would be hung out to dry.

She picked up her purse from the end table by the door along with her car keys. Her test was scheduled for nine a.m. She opened the front door to flashbulbs and a cacophony of reporters that assaulted her.

“Ms. Maxwell, Ms. Maxwell, what will you do if the tests come back positive?” Pop, pop, flash, flash. “Did your coach, David Livingston, have anything to do with this?” “Give us a statement, Ms. Maxwell.”

Kelly held her purse up to her face and pushed past the hungry vultures, practically sprinting to her car. She was sure that would be the picture that would wind up on the front page of tomorrow’s paper. She jumped into the SUV, put it in gear and sped off, spewing dust and gravel in her wake.

She should have listened to Alex. She should have listened to her heart and stayed in New York.