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

Behind Cal’s desk was Kelly’s workstation, the almighty photo department, and a spot for Sammy Mendoza, Kelly’s 26-year-old cousin assigned to cover society functions who spent most of his time basking in nepotism. Sammy wasn’t interested in small talk unless it included the latest gossip on who was running around on whom or who had purchased the latest top-of-the-line luxury automobile.

That left Guy and his secretary, Mindy Nicholson. Mindy didn’t belong in this position. She was sharp, savvy and ambitious. But those things don’t matter much when you decide to marry a sheep farmer. She would do anything for Guy and was exactly what he needed to maintain his sanity when something went awry.

Guy managed to cordon himself off from everyone else, if ever so slightly, with four-foot bluish-gray cubicle walls that were well past their prime. Mostly, it made Guy look silly as he tried to maintain some semblance of past newsroom glory as the editor of the Salt Lake City Tribune. But he pretended not to care that it looked just like you would imagine a small town newspaper in the middle-of-nowhere Idaho would look like.

Cal’s desk, a relic rivaling Edith, was awash in papers. If Cal had 30 seconds to locate a meaningful piece of information on his desk or he would be typing in obituaries for a week, Earl would have been assured a week of vacation.

Normally on a Monday morning, only Edith and Earl would be at their posts, but today, there wasn’t an empty seat – not even Sammy’s.

Cal dumped his laptop bag on his desk and headed for Guy’s space.

“So, what’s the scoop, boss?”

“That’s why I hire reporters, Cal,” Guy growled. “They’re supposed to bring me the scoop.”

Cal sucked in a short breath. He was unsure of how to respond to Guy’s thinly veiled accusation. But he didn’t have a chance to say anything as Guy began barking instructions.

“Go to the sheriff’s office and see if Jones will give you anything. Then report back to me and we’ll figure out where to go next.”

“You got it.”

“And, Cal, be careful, you hear me? I want Kelly with you at all times to get some good art. We need a good dominant photo for Wednesday’s paper. Even if it’s Jones looking forlorn, I want something.”

“Will do, boss.”

Kelly was already gathering her camera bag and notepad before Cal turned around and headed for his desk. She was waiting for Cal by the glass doorway as he scooped up his belongings.

Just as Cal was about to pass Edith near the front of the newsroom, she hung up the phone and began shaking.

“Cal, don’t go anywhere,” she said. “I think you’re going to want to hear this.”

Then she turned toward the back of the newsroom and utilized her Edithcom.

“Guy, there’s been another murder!”

Chapter 5

The joint consolidation of the Statenville Police Department with the Brooks County Sheriff’s Department was the mastermind of Mayor Nathan Gold. Twelve years ago when he first assumed office in the town without term limits, the word “recession” was rarely uttered, much less the basis for decision-making among local, state and federal governments. But Gold looked like a genius over a decade later. Some called him visionary. Others considered him controlling, which certainly was a by-product of a city-county law enforcement department.

Nevertheless, the consolidation of resources and elimination of needless officers in a town where most people chose to remain in accordance with the law made Gold popular. Under his careful watch, Statenville had thrived – even in the midst of a down economy. Who could argue with his decisions when Statenville’s major export business – Cloverdale Industries – was turning the city into a boon town, while neighboring cities in other counties were struggling to survive?

While there was still some debate among locals over the reasons for such a move, Sheriff Hunter Jones wasn’t complaining. He enjoyed having more assets and control.

When Cal and Kelly burst through the Brooks County Sheriff’s Office, located three storefronts down from the Register, Sheriff Jones didn’t flinch. He sat with his dull black boots propped on his desk while giving a wooden toothpick a good workout between his teeth.

Jones deliberately looked the reporters up and down before speaking.

“Soooo, what brings you two cub reporters to my office this early on a Monday morning?” he asked as he leaked a wry smile.

“Sheriff Jones, you know good and well why we’re here,” Cal shot back, more than willing to dispense with any unnecessary pleasantries.

“You must’ve heard about the drug overdoses,” Jones said, pausing for effect before continuing. “What a shame. I can’t believe those boys threw away all that talent for a meth high.”

Cal and Kelly looked at one another, both exhaling and relaxing for the first time since they heard the initial report.

“You mean, this isn’t some vendetta murder or the work of some serial killer?” Cal asked, secretly hoping that his dreams of a Pulitzer weren’t going to disappear due to simple drug usage.

“Do you think I’d still be here if that were true?” Jones fired back. He stood up and began moving toward the office coffee maker located on the vacant receptionist’s desk in front of Cal and Kelly.

“Help yourself to the coffee,” Jones offered, refilling his coffee mug and waiting for the duo to reply. While the Sherriff returned to his desk, both reporters eyed the small Styrofoam cups next to the dingy coffee pot, then declined the Sherriff’s generous offer.

“What about the third murder victim? Who was he?” Cal asked.

“That would be Jim Reid’s boy, Devin. And why do you keep using the ‘M’ word? They all died of a simple drug overdose.”

“In a 24-hour period? Doesn’t that seem a bit suspicious to you?” Cal questioned again.

“Well, sure it does. But that’s why we investigate, little cubbie. Suspicion alone never gets a conviction. We need evidence. And we seem to have it.”

Kelly grew tired of listening to Jones dance around the facts.

“You’ve got to give us more