Tuesday evening matches in Willowcreek were nothing like the city leagues. No jerseys, no shouting coaches, no official referees. Just men and boys in worn shirts and rolled-up trousers, chasing a scuffed ball until the light faded.
I'd been playing with them for a week now. It was how I got to know people in town without looking like a stranger poking into their business. They laughed easily here—most of them—but there was something in their eyes when certain topics came up, a flicker of caution, like they were afraid to speak too loudly.
I was halfway into the second half when I noticed a man I'd never seen before sitting on the bench near the goalpost, not watching the match so much as watching us. His gaze moved from player to player, lingering on some longer than others. When our eyes met, he didn't look away.
After the game, I walked over to shake hands with a few teammates. One of them—Femi, a wiry guy with a smile too quick to be trusted—slapped me on the back.
"You're getting better, Murphy," he said, breathing hard. "Almost like you've been playing here all your life."
"I'm just lucky with the ball," I replied, smiling. But my mind was elsewhere, on the man by the bench. He was gone now.
As we packed up, I lingered behind. Some of the older players chatted in a low circle, glancing around before speaking. I caught snippets—mentions of "deliveries," "the mayor," "tonight"—but their voices were swallowed by the sound of the ball bouncing against the pitch wall.
On my way back, I took the long route past the alley where I'd seen the three men the day before. It was empty now, but a faint smell of cigarette smoke still hung in the air. I told myself I wasn't looking for trouble, that I was only curious.
But the truth was, I wanted answers.
That night, in my small rented room, I finally opened the envelope.
Inside was a single sheet of paper. My father's handwriting again, shaky but deliberate:
If you're reading this, it means you've come to Willowcreek. Be careful, son. The games here are older than the town itself.
The pendant around my neck suddenly felt heavier.