“You mean here in Nacogdoches?”
The way he asked, she knew he’d gotten into trouble before he transferred to his sister’s school. “From when you started. Wherever you were then.”
“You mean at Boston College.” Now Pat was eager to talk. “Freshman year at BC was when I got into it. Everybody else in the dorm was betting football. Hell, I wasn’t playing anymore, and it made the games more interesting. I started out betting through my roommate. Then his bookie gave me my own account.”
“And he let you run a tab.” Credit was what made illegal sports betting so attractive to cash-poor students. A gambler didn’t have to part with a cent until his losses reached a limit established by the bookie.
“I thought I had it under control,” Pat continued. “I was doing just a quarter a game, maybe a doll
