Dead and Gone by Jack Patterson (universal ebook reader .TXT) 📕

his friends into so many burner phones that he now knew them all by heart.

A reporter walked past him and flashed his pit pass. Parker waived him through.

Parker tried reading to pass the time but couldn’t focus after coming across a passage about a man who thought he was safe only to be dragged away moments later by a team of thugs.

Is this to be my fate?

He closed the book and tried to think about something else, anything else. The scoreboard in the middle of the track flickered with drivers’ times. He tried to predict which of those drivers near the top would win the upcoming race. If he’d learned anything about racing, it was that the fastest car didn’t always win; but if you weren’t in the top fifteen during qualifying, you wouldn’t be challenging anyone for the victory on race day.

Several crew members approached the gate and displayed their passes. He stood up and allowed them to enter.

He glanced up at the cloudless sky before he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

Must be Nancy. She’s the only one who has this number.

Parker made a habit of reprogramming her phone when she wasn’t looking. She never bothered to look at the number once she discovered the ease of pushing a button, speaking his name, and waiting a moment before it called him.

He dug his phone out and stared at the number. It wasn’t Nancy or any number he recognized.

What the—

“Hello?” he answered.

“Nice of you to pick up, Parker,” the voice said.

“Now, listen, I told you I’m going to get you your money, but you have to give me some time.”

“Oh, you’re all out of time. Now that I know where you are, I’m comin’ for you. And, Parker?”

“Yes?”

“The price just went up.”

The line went dead.

Parker wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and slumped on top of his stool.

Deep breath, deep breath.

He looked at his hand, which wouldn’t stop shaking.

What am I gonna do?

Parker scanned the asphalt in front of him. There wasn’t a soul in sight. He turned around and looked over his shoulder into the garage area. He saw a familiar face. At least, he thought he did.

Is that him?

He squinted as he turned all the way around and peered into the garage area.

I swear that’s the guy.

Parker pulled out his phone and tried to snap a picture. Before he could get a close enough view, the man vanished around a stack of tires.

He wanted to find that reporter again, let him know who was tinkering on Tanner’s car on Sunday morning. But not now.

Parker had a different idea, a better one—one that could make all his problems go away.

CHAPTER 14

CAL SHUFFLED TOWARD HIS SEAT on press row in the media center. He tossed his computer bag on the table and headed toward the media buffet. As he squeezed past another writer reading the comments section of an article he had written, Cal stopped and leaned over his shoulder.

“You’ll live a lot longer if you don’t read those,” Cal said.

The writer nodded and smiled. “I read them purely for entertainment.”

“You need a new hobby.”

Cal headed outside and took a spot at the back of the line.

“Just the person I wanted to see,” he said.

Sylvia Yates, the Davis Motor Sports media relations manager, turned around. “Cal Murphy—as I live and breathe. I can’t believe you’re still alive.”

He shook his head. “I take it you read my article from yesterday.”

“Read it? I had to deal with the fallout of it. Thanks to you, my easy Thursday was ruined. Everybody wanted to talk to Ned about what you wrote.”

“I hope it didn’t upset him.”

“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head. “Upset is far too mild of a word. And the more accurate word is not one appropriate for a lady to utter in public.”

“Every word of it was true.”

She wagged her finger at him. “Those sneaky little unnamed sources.”

“They can be little flies in the ointment, can’t they?”

“Apparently, not for you. They’re more like the spice of life—or the crux of your story.”

Cal picked up a paper plate and a plastic fork wrapped in a napkin. “Sylvia, you ought to know by now that I don’t make things up.”

She nodded. “Maybe, but I’m very suspicious of reporters when they start quoting unnamed sources.”

“Does this mean my interview with J.T. Beaumont is off?”

She eyed him cautiously before selecting a deli sandwich off a large platter. “No, I wouldn’t do that to you. But you must realize you’ve put me in a precarious situation with your story.”

“Is Ned cracking the whip?”

“Let’s just say it’s best that you avoid him for a while.”

“I’m not trying to bust anybody’s chops, okay? My job is to report what’s happening out there.”

Sylvia grabbed a cookie off the dessert tray. “I understand that, but I have a boss who pays me to control the narrative. And it’s getting away from him right now.”

“Maybe he shouldn’t have been so loose with his lips.” Cal gestured toward a table and allowed Sylvia to lead the way.

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying I’ve got audio of Ned Davis talking about J.T. Beaumont and Carson Tanner. His comments about Tanner are—how should I say this—less than sympathetic.”

They both sat down at the table. Cal dug into his sandwich and glanced at the cars speeding around the track on practice runs.

“I think you need to stop,” she said.

“Stop what?”

“Stop writing about this story.”

Cal leaned back, his brow furrowed. “And why would I do that? I’m just publishing facts.”

“Yeah, well, Ned Davis can make your life difficult.”

Cal eyed her cautiously. “That almost sounds like a threat.”

“I’m simply warning you about what might happen if you continue on this path. Look, there might be something suspicious going on—or maybe not. I understand you have to get your answers. But don’t come looking to me for them. I like Mr. Davis and I like my job. Understand?”

Cal nodded.

She continued. “I once thought I had