Chapter 39
Sandra had never been to an American Legion youth baseball game since moving to the Shore, and she could see what she'd been missing.
The ball field sat on the edge of Baytown, surrounded by the kind of weathered charm that made small-town life special.
The stands were filled not just with parents, but with neighbors and friends who'd come to support the kids.
She recognized many faces from various community events—law enforcement from both counties, business owners, and fellow American Legion Auxiliary members who waved as she and Emma climbed the bleachers.
"Is this okay?" Emma asked, pausing at a row with several open seats.
"Perfect, honey." Sandra settled onto the bench, grateful for the cushion she'd remembered to bring. "Anywhere you're comfortable is fine with me."
Terry had walked over to the fence where other fathers congregated, their voices carrying across the field as they encouraged their kids. Sandra watched him blend seamlessly into the group, his easy camaraderie evidence of the deep community roots that made this place feel like home.
Emma pulled a paperback from her small purse, a sign of long experience at sporting events.
"Not really into baseball?" Sandra asked, noting how Emma's attention was already drifting toward the pages.
Emma's cheeks flushed slightly. "I want to support Toby. I mean, he's actually really good. But honestly, I'd rather read than watch the games."
Sandra smiled, remembering her own teenage years. "Nothing wrong with that. What are you reading today?"
"A mystery novel about this girl detective who solves crimes adults can't figure out." Emma's eyes lit up with genuine enthusiasm. "It's really good."
"Sounds like my kind of book. Maybe we could start a little book club with some of your friends?"
Emma's face transformed with excitement. "Really? You'd want to do that?"
"Absolutely. We could read the same book, then discuss it over hot chocolate."
As they chatted, Sandra noticed Emma's gaze drift toward a cluster of girls near the concession stand. Their animated conversation and casual confidence were focused as they watched the older boys warming up.
"You know what's weird?" Emma said quietly. "It's so easy for girls who play sports to connect with the cute guys. They're all part of the same world. And then there's me, and they just think I'm a bookworm."
Sandra felt her heart squeeze at the wistful tone. She'd been there herself… the smart girl who loved books more than boys, who felt like she was watching life through a window.
"Emma, look at me." Sandra waited until the girl met her eyes. "Being smart isn't something to apologize for. Some of the most interesting, accomplished women I know were bookworms in middle school."
Emma's expression remained skeptical, then inclined her head toward the group of girls. "But they get all the attention."
"They get a certain kind of attention right now," Sandra agreed. "But you know what you're getting? You're developing your mind, your imagination, your ability to think critically. Those skills will serve you for life."
She gestured toward the group of girls. "There's nothing wrong with being athletic or social. But there's also nothing wrong with being the girl who reads mysteries and dreams about becoming a detective, or lawyer, or writer."
Emma smiled, tension leaving her shoulders. "Mom and Dad say smart is better than popular."
"Your parents are very wise. And Emma? The right people will appreciate your intelligence. The ones who don't, aren't worth your time."
Their conversation was interrupted by Karen Robbins climbing the bleachers, her daughter Olivia trailing.
"Sandra! So glad to see you here. Emma, Olivia's been asking about you."
Olivia perked up immediately. "Emma! Did you finish that detective book?"
"I did!" Emma's earlier insecurity was forgotten as the two girls launched into an animated discussion about plot twists and character development.
Sandra smiled, watching the easy friendship between the girls who shared interests.
"Mind if we join you?" Karen asked, settling beside Sandra with Zannie, the little girl she and Mark were adopting. "Mark's down there with Terry, probably discussing cases."
"Of course. Company's always welcome."
As the game began, Sandra found herself genuinely enjoying the community atmosphere.
She waved to friends scattered throughout the stands, listening to the announcer's voice crackle over the ancient PA system as he called out players' names with the personal knowledge that only came from watching these kids grow up.
The familiar rhythm of small-town life surrounded her. Neighbors caught up on gossip, children ran between bleachers with hot dogs and popcorn, and the comfortable chaos of people milling about felt peaceful.
Sandra was so absorbed that she almost missed the commotion near the announcer's booth. A tall, silver-haired man in a polo shirt was shaking hands with officials while a photographer captured the moment.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer's voice boomed, "we'd like to recognize a very special friend of our youth baseball program."
Sandra's attention snapped to the figure beside the booth.
"Harrison Blackwood, owner of Blackwood Luxury Custom Homes, has generously donated funds for brand new uniforms and equipment for all our teams. Let's give Mr. Blackwood a big round of applause!"
The crowd erupted in enthusiastic applause. Parents stood, children cheered, and Sandra watched in fascination as Harrison waved with practiced humility, his smile perfect, his posture conveying exactly the right balance of pride and modesty.
"Isn't that wonderful?" Karen clapped excitedly. "These kids have been making do with hand-me-downs for years. So generous of him."
Sandra managed to nod and clap along, but her mind was racing. The man being celebrated as a community benefactor was the same person whose business she suspected of systematic fraud. The uniforms being praised so eagerly might be purchased with laundered money.
"Hey there."
A familiar voice at her shoulder made her turn.
Lia McFarlane settled onto the bleacher beside her. "Just wanted to give you a quick update. I made some calls about typical contractor markups."
Sandra held Lia's gaze. "And?"
"You were right, not that I doubted it." Lia's voice was carefully casual. "I didn’t come up with another builder who marks their subcontractor prices so high. It’s highly unusual."
Sandra felt the pieces clicking into place. "Unusual enough to warrant further investigation?"
"Definitely. Just be careful who you share the information with."
As Harrison Blackwood continued to bask in the crowd's appreciation, Sandra felt something cold settle in her stomach. The community was celebrating him as a hero, completely unaware that their gratitude might be built on a foundation of criminal activity.
She made a decision that surprised her with its boldness. "I'll be right back," she told Emma, who was still deep in conversation with Olivia about book recommendations.
Emma nodded absently, and Sandra slipped down from the bleachers with practiced casualness. She moved through the crowd, timing her approach to intercept Harrison as he finished his photo opportunities.
Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to smile brightly as she approached. This was her chance to get a read on Harrison Blackwood, to see if her suspicions were justified.
"Mr. Blackwood?" Sandra called out, her voice warm with manufactured enthusiasm. "I wanted to thank you personally for your generosity to these kids."
Harrison turned with polished charm, his smile practiced and apparently genuine. Up close, he was even more impressive with blue eyes that seemed to catalog every detail.
"Thank you," he said, extending his hand. "These young people deserve every opportunity we can give them."
"Absolutely. You know, I was thinking that if you ever need backup suppliers for the equipment you order, I know someone local who could help. Keeping business on the Shore is always good for the community."
"That's thoughtful," Harrison replied smoothly, "but my son handles our donations. He's worked with the same Norfolk suppliers for years. They understand exactly what these programs need. Consistency is important in partnerships."
Sandra nodded as though this made perfect sense, even as her mind cataloged the subtle defensiveness in his tone.
"Of course, loyalty is so important in business," she said, maintaining her friendly demeanor. "I'm sure your suppliers appreciate such a reliable client."
"Indeed." Harrison's smile had become slightly fixed, and Sandra sensed he was looking for a polite exit. "Well, I should be going. Thank you for your kind words."
As if summoned by an invisible signal, a black BMW pulled up nearby. Sandra watched with interest as Harry Blackwood emerged from the driver's seat, his gaze moving between his father and her with obvious tension.
"There's my ride," Harrison said, relief barely concealed. "Have a wonderful evening."
Sandra watched the exchange between father and son as Harrison approached the car.
Even from a distance, she could see rigid shoulders and the way they avoided direct eye contact.
When Harry's gaze found hers across the parking lot, she caught something that made her blood run cold…
recognition mixed with barely contained panic.
As the BMW pulled away, Sandra felt a chill that had nothing to do with the evening breeze.
She'd confirmed her suspicions about the Norfolk suppliers, but more importantly, she'd put herself directly on Harrison Blackwood's radar.
The fear she'd detected in Harry during their office meeting was nothing compared to the tension she'd just witnessed between father and son.
Whatever they were hiding, her questions were making them nervous. And in Sandra's experience, desperate people made dangerous decisions.