So, had star forward Meghan Cronin tried to throw the first round game? FBI Special Agent Dawna Shepherd was ninety-nine percent convinced the answer was no. Meghan hadn't intended to miss those free throws last night in the NCAA Women's Basketball Championship playoff against Oregon State. Most likely, she'd put up those bricks only because she had tournament jitters.

Dawna caught a whiff of frying onions from the campus grill and her stomach grumbled noisily. Six o'clock on Saturday night and she'd been at it all afternoon. Time to kick back and get some chow. She'd already gone farther than the Bureau required. But then, the Bureau hadn't sent Dawna to Nacogdoches State University. She'd interrupted her West Texas vacation as a favor to her old friend and former college teammate, Guadalupe Navarro, who had a big--very big--thing about illegal gambling on college sports. Lupe had been in her first year at Tulane in 1985 when five players on the men's basketball team were caught shaving points in exchange for cash and cocaine. Appalled, Lupe'd transferred to UT where Dawna had later joined her as a Lady Longhorn. She'd told Dawna often how high rollers ruined the game she loved.

Now Lupe was on the coaching staff at Nacogdoches State and she was still outraged by illegal betting. Which Lupe feared was the explanation for what she believed she'd witnessed last night. She'd shown Dawna the crucial seconds of videotape and the odd expression on Meghan's face at the moment she knew her second shot would fail. Relief was what Lupe read there. The head coach had disagreed and he'd told Lupe to back off. But Lupe--being Lupe--wouldn't let it go. She'd tracked Dawna down, called her in to investigate Meghan on the sly. And Lupe would not be satisfied until Dawna checked out every lead Lupe had given her. Which left one more interview to finish tonight.

Dawna found an occupied pay phone near the grill. She loitered ostentatiously nearby, mentally urging the multiply-pierced lime-haired co-ed to hurry. The fog off the lake hadn't lifted all day and mist blurred the edges of the surrounding buildings. Dawna caught an alarmed glance from the co-ed and she checked out her reflection in the display window. With her high-rising hairdo and platform shoes, she'd added at least three more inches to the six-three nature had given her. In boot-cut jeans topped by a tweed blazer, her silhouette was all long legs and backbone. Not a student and from the nervous way the caller ended her conversation, not a woman you'd want to mess with on a foggy night.

Dawna inhaled the scent of French fries blended with the piney tang of East Texas. Then she dialed the number for Meghan Cronin's younger brother, Michael. And for the third time, the answering machine in his apartment asked her to leave a number or drop by his fraternity house.

Dawna would've preferred to speak to Michael alone. Not likely he'd reveal anything new about his sister, not in front of his frat brothers. Dawna had already learned that Meghan Cronin came from Beverly Farms, a town outside of Boston. A green-eyed redhead with an exuberant grin, she'd led her high school to four consecutive state championships and been named All American by the Women's Basketball Coaches Association. Early in her freshman year in Nacogdoches, she'd torn the ACL in her left knee, missing the season while she had reconstructive surgery. Now she was twenty-three years old, a fifth year senior, and the leading scorer for the Axewomen. Nacogdoches State had lost only two regular season games--both while Meghan was benched recovering from a possible concussion.

Posing as a sports reporter, Dawna had heard from Meghan's roommates, teammates and male and female friends that Meghan was a comedian equally adept at one-liners and practical jokes. Despite her life-of-the-party demeanor, she went to bed early most nights, got up on Sunday mornings in time for Mass, swilled nonfat milk from gallon containers, and ate huge quantities of green vegetables and very little meat. No minor vices: Meghan didn't drink, smoke or cheat on her taxes. Nor did she wager. She was so fiercely opposed to gambling that she wouldn't even buy a lottery ticket.

Dawna had talked to seven people and the sole criticism of Meghan came from the guy she'd dropped mid-season: "Basketball was the only thing she took seriously."

Too seriously to blow a free throw on purpose, Dawna figured. One more interview, she could make that report to Lupe. She owed Lupe, after all. For the past six months, Dawna had been teaching at Quantico East, the FBI's International Law Enforcement Academy in Budapest. She'd saved all her vacation time for March--for March Madness, really--combining a visit to her folks with the end-of-the-month Big Dance in San Antonio. She hadn't guessed that Lupe's Axewomen would capture the Southland Conference title. The first and second round games in Nacogdoches had sold out while she was in transit from Budapest. Dawna had cursed her luck.

So when Lupe had reached her by phone at eleven-thirty last night and offered her a reserved seat at Sunday's game against Texas Tech, Dawna had agreed instantly to Lupe's price. Leaving her girlhood home at sunrise, Dawna had traveled by plane and rental car across Texas, from the treeless plains to the moist woodlands of the east, arriving in Nacogdoches in time for lunch with Lupe. I have to know, Lupe had told Dawna. I have to know for sure.

Lupe had told her that Michael Cronin was a former high school athlete who'd never played at the collegiate level. He'd transferred to Nacogdoches his sophomore year. At first he'd shown up often to watch Meghan practice, but Lupe hadn't seen him much this season. She had a "feeling" about Michael, which meant there was no way Dawna could skip this interview.

With a no-nonsense stride, she covered the three blocks to the frat house and found the brothers finishing their evening meal. The dining room was set up like a sports bar with TV monitors in the four corners showing local news, both ESPN channels, and CNN headline news with the sports ticker running across the bottom of the screen. No surprise that Meghan's brother, a former high school player, had joined a house that followed athletic events.

But noteworthy--very noteworthy--that he belonged to precisely the kind of sports-obsessed collegiate community where illegal gambling thrived.