Dead Shot by Jack Patterson (adventure books to read .TXT) 📕

“Well, I thought maybe you could tell us something.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mercer was off duty tonight but he called me about a car that he noticed had spun off the road. He said it was all smashed up against a tree, so I came down here to check it out. It’s Cal’s.”

Kelly tried to ignore her emotions and get into her reporter mindset. There were questions. Lots of them. And she needed answers now.

“Have you been down there?” Kelly asked, motioning toward the ravine below.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Is Cal hurt? Injured? Where is he?”

“When I went down there, I didn’t see anyone.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t see anyone?”

“I mean, it’s obviously a one-car accident. It looks like the impact with a tree crumpled the hood up pretty good. But nobody saw it happen. At least, there were no citizen reports of a driver veering off the road and into the woods.”

“So, he’s just gone?”

“Yep, as far as I can tell.”

“Do you think he’s still alive?”

Dawkins paused as if he was unsure of what to say, unsure of telling her the truth.

“There’s no way to know for sure. It’s hard to imagine him just getting out of that car, wrecked the way that it is, and just walking around. But we’ll keep looking.”

“Well, please call me on my cell if you find him.”

Kelly handed him her business card and began walking back to her car. She thought she might be able to make Dawkins crack. A little flirtatious behavior never hurt with law enforcement types when it came to getting what she wanted. But she left feeling like she didn’t get what she needed out of him.

Then there was a more pressing matter: Cal could be dead.

Chapter 21

Dawkins smiled as he walked back to his car. The more lies he told, the easier it got—even if he didn’t like it. Now he had lied twice in one day to Kelly. He wouldn’t let her beauty distract him from following his new orders. A night worrying about Cal would make her putty in the boss’s hands. And that’s what they needed at the moment since Cal was now missing and up to who knows what. Kelly wouldn’t think straight. Three boys would be buried on Saturday. Statenville would move on by the time she thought about revisiting the suspicious information she and Cal were gathering.

But there was a problem. A big problem.

For all of Dawkins’ lies, he didn’t know the full truth himself. The part he really cared about was Cal’s whereabouts. Cal was missing. How his car eluded the onslaught of obstacles down the hill until making a soft enough landing in the trees for him to walk away was nothing short of a miracle. But who sent him careening off the road was a bigger mystery at the moment.

By the time Dawkins arrived on the scene and found Cal’s car in the woods, Cal was gone. Did he stumble off into the woods alone? Did someone help him? What happened? Suddenly the protector of one mystery found himself wondering about another.

Just where was Cal Murphy?

Chapter 22

When Cal came to, the massive migraine throbbing in his head was quickly forgotten. He was gagged and tied to a chair with duct tape. The solitary light bulb hanging inches from his face was blinding. The smell of manure emanated from the dirt floor. Where am I? Why am I tied to a chair?

Cal remembered getting hit from behind and bounding down a hill where he came to a sudden but safe stop. The airbags deployed but he was just fine. He was stepping out of the car when two men injected him with a needle. That was the last thing he remembered. Cal was just now realizing that the needle contained a sedative—and he had no idea how long he had been out. An hour? A day? A week? There was no way of knowing for sure.

Just as Cal was ordering his thoughts, a man wearing a ski mask squatted in front of Cal and began questioning him in a smooth, calm voice.

“Are you Cal Murphy?”

“What is this?”

“Answer my question, please.”

“Yeah, I’m Cal Murphy. What are you doing to me?!”

“Please, Cal. Just remain calm, answer my questions and you’ll be out of here in no time.”

“Whatever, man. This is kidnapping. You’re going to jail for this.”

“Don’t make empty threats and hollow promises, boy. You and I both know that won’t happen. The men guiding this venture will never let that happen. So, you better just get comfortable with the idea that cooperation is in your best interest.”

Cal gritted his teeth. In a moment like this, restraint escaped him. He usually wanted justice—and he wanted it yesterday. But for all the mystery surrounding the deaths of the three teens in Statenville, he wanted to get some answers before getting offed. This story was not going find its way into print or online anytime soon anyway, so no need to push where pushing only led to trouble.

He decided to play along.

“OK, what do you want me to do?”

“Back off! If you keep digging into the death of these three teens, you’re going to write about some things that are going to anger plenty of people. Your safety will be at stake. Your life may be as well.”

“I can’t back off now, especially when I’m obviously rattling the cage of somebody somewhere.”

“You will have a lifetime to spin the tale of the three teens’ deaths. Now is not the time to rip open the heart of a grieving community. Wait a few months to disclose what you know and you’ll be duly rewarded.”

“A few months?! You mean to tell me that you kidnapped me and risked many other things just to tell me that?”

“My motivation is none of your concern. Your concern is following orders. Got it?”

“Yeah. I got it.”

“Good. I’m glad we could have this conversation.”

With that, the masked man punctured Cal’s neck with a needle, injecting another dose