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

need to take any chances by putting them next to each other. Walker’s colleague sealed their mouths shut with duct tape.

Walker stood at the doorway and smiled at his good fortune: the pesky reporter who refused to heed his warnings and his sidekick were now his temporary guests. He watched the unsettled dust hang in the air before turning off the light. They would forgive his rude treatment later. They would understand. Everyone understood the importance of protecting the common good. Even meddlesome reporters.

***

Guy was fumbling for his car keys in his briefcase when Sheriff Jones roared into The Register’s parking lot and parked at an angle behind Guy. There was no way Guy could maneuver his white 2009 Cadillac CTS Coupe out of his parking space now.

Jones took his time getting out of his car. He didn’t appear to be in a hurry. Guy was.

“Hi, Sheriff. What’s the meaning of all this?”

“Well, I thought you could tell me, Guy.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“I think I asked you a question first.”

“Are you getting smart with me, Mr. Newspaper Man?”

“Nope. Just wanting to know why you came flying into the parking lot here just to block my car in.”

“You’ve got a busted taillight and I didn’t want you to get a ticket.”

“A busted tail light?” Guy began to walk around to the back of the car to verify Jones’s claim. He didn’t see anything that resembled a scratched taillight, much less a busted one. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about this one.”

With that statement, Jones pulled his foot back and kicked the left taillight with his boot heel, causing the plastic to crack and splinter.

“You better be careful not to get on the road with that light busted like it is.”

Guy couldn’t believe what he just witnessed. He had heard from some people in the community that Jones could be ruthless. Hearing about it and watching it happen were two different things. Guy never imagined Jones would abuse his authority to that degree.

“I’d get that fixed if I were you,” Jones said, scribbling out a busted tail light warning for Guy.

Guy began to protest.

“Who do you think you—”

“No, no, no, Guy. You know who I am and you know who I think I am—and they are the same person. I’m the same person who can take you to jail for driving with a busted taillight. So, I suggest you get Carson down at the auto parts shop to get you a new one before you get back on the road and I have to take you in.”

“Jail? For a busted taillight?”

“I don’t make the laws, Guy. I just enforce ‘em.”

Jones climbed back into his car and rolled down the driver’s side window for a parting salvo.

“I’ll be watching you, Guy.”

Guy looked at the warning ticket in his hand as Jones drove off. There wasn’t anything he could do to help Cal and Kelly now—except walk to the auto parts store and pick out a new taillight.

Guy hammered out a short text explaining the reason for his delay and began walking toward Hal’s Auto Parts Store one block down from The Register. He knew time was the commodity that mattered most when it came to helping Cal, but Jones had just shortened his supply of it.

Chapter 42

Dawkins’ patrol car zoomed up the driveway of Walker’s house. Only five minutes before, Dawkins and rookie deputy Willie Warren had been attacking a plate of ribs from Ray-Ray’s when Sheriff Jones radioed for them to check out a disturbance at the Walker place.

After Dawkins was in the car, Sheriff Jones called him on his cell to let him know that the “disturbance” was actually the location of Statenville’s hottest fugitive, Cal Murphy. The sheriff was tipped off to Cal and Kelly’s whereabouts and the two snoopy reporters were about to be arrested on more trumped up charges.

Without any reason to believe the situation was dangerous, Dawkins took his time getting out of his car. He sent Warren around the back of the house to make sure the elusive reporters didn’t make an attempt to escape. Lacking familiarity with Cal and Kelly, Warren unholstered his gun. He wanted the two fugitives to know he was serious.

Meanwhile, Dawkins sauntered up to the door and rang the doorbell. Then he waited. If anyone was home, they weren’t moving about the house. Silence ruled the air.

“I know you’re in there, Cal,” Dawkins yelled. “Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be.”

No response.

Dawkins began pounding on the front door.

***

When the sedative wore off, Cal guessed it hadn’t been that long, but he couldn’t be sure. Sitting in a pitch black room fastened to a chair with your mouth taped shut offered few ways to get any answers—if there was anyone else in the room to get answers from.

He grunted as he tried to shout Kelly’s name. Nothing.

With no light, he couldn’t see if she was even in the room, much less if she was all right. Cal figured with Kelly’s smaller frame, she would take a little longer to awaken from the sedative. But Cal knew she was there. He could smell her. All day the sweet smell of her perfume had reminded him that the thrill ride they were on had become more about protecting her than extracting the truth from a well-guarded mystery.

After doing nothing but sitting in the dark and trying to piece together the disjointed events of the day, Cal felt Kelly begin to stir.

She began her muffled cries for help, too.

Cal responded with a few of his own.

The pointless exchange went on for about a minute until they both realized communicating was impossible without the ability to make a cognitive sound. Being bound to a chair back to back in a dark room didn’t help either.

They went five minutes without even a grunt or a stir coming from either one. Cal decided not to fight Walker either. It was clear that pleas for mercy