Even the Score

EVEN THE SCORE A CHEER MOMS MYSTERY - BOOK 2 L.C. TURNER CONTENTS A Message from L.C. Turner Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 FREE book Thanks for Reading Silence the Cheers About the Author Also by L.C. Turner A MESSAGE FROM L.C. TURNER Hello, and thank you for deciding to read my book! Welcome to the world of competitive cheerleading! If you don’t know anything about it and are curious, try a Google search and be prepared to be amazed. These athletes are a far cry from the usual high school cheerleader. My daughter has been involved in competitive cheer since she was little and, as with all organized sports, some parents can get a little… over the top. One day, killing time while my daughter practiced, I started thinking about a cozy mystery set in the world of cheer. Since I’m a writer, it’s sometimes an occupational hazard to see murder and mayhem everywhere. Anyway, that’s how this series was born. I do hope you enjoy it! Sign up for my newsletter and get a FREE book! Happy Reading, Laina 1 I whipped into the parking garage and ducked my head slightly. “I knew we should’ve left earlier,” I mumbled to my daughter Ashley, who sat in the passenger seat, as I tried to find a parking spot at the hotel. I was up to the fifth level, and it was packed. That was no great surprise, as the cheer competition had started at six p.m. Luckily, Ashley wasn’t competing until 8:15. We’d hit construction on our drive from Cherry City, Illinois, to St. Louis, Missouri, that had us at a standstill for almost an hour. I’d already been pushing it, leaving a little late because I got caught up at work, and I was kicking myself for it now. Running late for anything took my anxiety to the next level. “It will be fine, Mom. Most of the team is already here and my friends texted that the competition is at least thirty minutes behind. So we have plenty of time.” Thank goodness for small favors, I thought as I finally eyeballed a parking spot. I was just close enough to flick my turn signal on and claim it when a small sports car came around the corner in the opposite direction and zipped right in. I may have let out a few choice words, and Ashley whipped her head to the side to look at me with her mouth gaping open. “Mom!” “I know I shouldn’t say those things, but that was my spot.” As I slowly drove past the red car, I saw a man, probably in his late twenties, get out and swing a backpack over his shoulder. His sweatshirt said Jaguars, so I assumed he must be a coach, and my anger softened a little. Coming from the city where the Jaguars’ gym was located meant he would’ve been on the same road we were, so he was probably running late too. I sighed. It was what it was. Finally, at the very top level of the parking garage, we found a space. I wasn’t thrilled, because it was supposed to snow, which meant my car would be covered with white stuff when we went to leave on Sunday. I knew most of the hotels across from the convention center were sold out for the weekend because of the competition, so I was grateful I got a spot at all. “Get your gym bag and your suitcase, honey,” I said. “I will.” “And help me with the cooler?” I ticked off all the things I’d packed in my head. “That stupid cooler,” Ashley grumbled. She was annoyed that every time we went out of town for competition, I packed a cooler of food. What she didn’t realize was how much of that food she and her friends ate while we were at these competitions. While there were places to eat at the hotel and convention center, it wasn’t always convenient and it was always expensive. Plus, if the lines were long and they just wanted something quick, they might not have time. Food from the cooler was fast and a whole lot healthier. “Oh, stop complaining. I got plenty of raspberries and blueberries this time, along with some of the deviled eggs you like for good protein.” I put my purse and computer bag over my shoulder and grabbed the handle of my suitcase with one hand and an end of the cooler with the other. Ashley took her end—of course, rolling her eyes, like every teenager—and we headed to the elevator. “Once we get down to registration level, we can grab a cart,” I said to appease her, but she sighed heavily. I had to chuckle. She was a good kid most of the time, so the occasional thirteen-year-old attitude didn’t bother me. We made our way to the first floor, which was, of course, packed with people checking in, and I parked Ashley and our belongings in a corner. “Stay here and watch our stuff. I’ll just check us in and, once we get our things up to the room, we’ll hustle over to the convention center.” I stood in line to register while sending a text to a group chat I had with the other team moms asking them if they were already here. They all responded that they were. Clearly, they’d left on time, unlike me, and were waiting outside the practice room with the girls. However, they confirmed what Ashley told me. The competition was behind and I shouldn’t worry. After what seemed like forever, I got up to the registration desk, took care of everything, and grabbed the room keys before I went back to where Ashley waited. “Got the keys.