Dead to Rights by Jack Patterson (fiction book recommendations .txt) 📕

I help you?” Hank said before realizing who was standing in front of him.

“Hello, again. We were wondering if we could speak with Jordan Hayward again,” Cal said.

“I wish,” Hank growled. “That little lowlife hasn’t shown up for work today. So, if you find him, tell him he’s late.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Kelly asked.

“He was here yesterday. But he was supposed to be here an hour ago, and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him.”

Cal nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

He and Kelly turned toward the door and exited the shop, running right into Crazy Corey Taylor.

“I know who killed Susannah Sloan,” Taylor said, bouncing from side to side, while carrying another sign proclaiming the end of days. “Talk to me, and I’ll tell you who.”

Before Cal could say another word, Hank rushed outside and ran up to Taylor, giving him a swift shove.

“How many times do I have to tell you to get outta here and stop harassing my customers?” Hank said.

“They’re not customers,” Taylor said.

“Neither are you. Now scram,” Hank said.

He turned toward Cal and Kelly as the town’s lunatic scampered down the street, lugging his sign behind him.

“I’m really sorry about that,” Hank said. “That guy is certifiable, and why he continues to walk the streets of Pickett is one of the world’s biggest mysteries if you ask me.”

“No harm, no foul,” Cal said as he headed toward his car.

“And don’t forget—if you see Jordan, tell him he’s late for work,” Hank said.

Cal raised his hand in acknowledgement without turning around.

Once inside the car, Kelly buckled her seatbelt before asking the obvious question. “Should we go talk to Crazy Corey Taylor?”

“It can’t hurt,” Cal said. “Plus, it’d add some great color to the story, though Buckman would probably cut it anyway.”

“Worth a try,” she said.

“You’re right. But I want to make a quick visit to the sheriff’s office first.”

***

ONCE CAL PULLED into a parking spot in front of the Pickett County Sheriff’s Office, he realized an unusually large number of people poking their heads inside as well as others milling around outside on the sidewalk.

“What do you think is going on here?” Cal asked before getting out of the car.

“Beats me, but I’d bet it’s gonna be good,” Kelly said.

They walked up to the crowd and tapped a man on the shoulder.

“What’s happening?” Kelly asked him.

“They found a body,” he said.

“Where?”

“Somewhere near the swamp.”

“Whose is it?” Cal asked.

The man turned to face Cal. “Not sure yet, but I heard it might be Jordan Hayward.”

CHAPTER 21

CAL RUSHED BACK to their car and opened up an app on his phone. He needed to see the scene for himself, if for anything to capture it for his article or possibly one that the news side would want. With the likelihood that Isaiah Drake was about to be released, the murder of his best friend from high school on the same day seemed strange and at a minimum newsworthy. But Cal wanted to see the body for himself.

“Are you trying to find out where they are from the scanner?” Kelly asked, following him back to the car.

Cal nodded. “Doesn’t it make you miss when we first started out as cub reporters in Statenville?”

“I don’t know if miss is the word I’d choose, but it definitely makes me sentimental.”

Cal searched until he found the Pickett County live feed and listened in. After a few moments of garbled communication and a couple of codes Cal had never heard of, he finally heard that familiar booming voice.

“It’s Sheriff Sloan,” Kelly said.

“Sshh.”

We got a 926 at the north end of Bee Gum Lake, just off Swamp Perimeter Road. Requesting a 901.

 

“Did you get all of that, Cal?” Kelly asked.

He nodded. “Yep. Buckle up. Let’s go.”

“Come on. Don’t leave me in suspense.”

Cal winked at her. “They’ve got a dead body at the lake, and they need an ambulance.”

With the county’s law enforcement all working the crime scene, Cal didn’t hesitate to stomp on the accelerator once they left the city limits. Their twenty-mile trip took only fifteen minutes. And when they pulled up to the scene, Cal was amazed that The Searchlight’s editor Larry Arant was already there.

“Nothing gets by ole Larry, does it?” Cal asked Kelly.

“Speaking of getting by, I’m not sure we’re going to be able to get by one of Sheriff Sloan’s deputies.”

She nodded in the direction of a deputy Cal didn’t recognize. The deputy was placing sawhorses every few feet to create a crime scene around the perimeter. Cal noted that most of the people at the scene were first responders, though he saw a few Looky-Lous wander up to find out what was going on. Cal thought the saw horses were a bit of an overkill.

“What’s next? Helicopters overhead to keep the news choppers from getting footage for the six o’clock news?” Cal asked.

“You’ll have to ask Arant if this is protocol for Pickett County. Maybe it is.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” Cal said dryly.

“Turn around,” Kelly said, nodding to Cal’s right. “Here’s your chance to find out.”

Cal spun to see Larry Arant shuffling toward him.

“Larry,” Cal said as he offered his hand, “it’s so good to see you. You made it out here quickly, didn’t you?”

Arant nodded imperceptibly. “Murders around here happen about as often as a day in July without gnats. Gotta enjoy ‘em while you can.” He patted his pants pocket. “Those scanner apps are somethin’ else, aren’t they?”

“Have Sheriff Sloan or any of his deputies let you know what’s going on yet?” Cal asked.

“Not yet.”

“So, they’re keeping you in the dark?”

Arant started laughing before he broke into a coughing fit. Once he stopped, he continued. “Sloan’s boys live in the dark. If Isaiah Drake had woken up in that boat without a soul around him, I’m not sure he would’ve ever been tied to Susannah’s murder all those years ago. Aside from Deputy Tillman, these Pickett County deputies make Barney Fife seem like Sherlock Holmes. And I say that