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

He stated a photographer named Kelly Mendoza would also send photos and other evidential material.

Then Mercer found Guy’s cell phone on the kitchen table. Undoubtedly a few key entries had been deleted. The last call was to what appeared to be a local cell number about 45 minutes ago. According to the call records, the final one was a minute and a half long, much longer than the time it probably took for Gold to announce he was going to drop by and discuss a few things.

Mercer redialed the number.

***

Cal felt a familiar vibrating sensation in his pants pocket. He figured it was Guy calling with instructions on where to file his non-existent story, a story that might never get written. The buzzing served as a reminder of his frustration, but it also reminded him of something else as it made an awkward clanging sound: It reminded him of his pocket knife.

Sure, it was small. Cal could’ve probably hid it in his mouth if he needed to. But in his haste to finish his assignment, Yukon didn’t confiscate cell phones, making the assumption that everything he needed was in Kelly’s bag. But then, it wasn’t like he was figuring either of the bound reporters could make an escape. Not at 75 miles an hour. Not with arms and legs bound in the bed of a pickup truck. Not on his watch.

Cal’s hope returned. He began scooting closer to Kelly. Cal was already working on a plan.

Chapter 56

Come on! Pick up the phone, Cal!

Mercer felt the walls crumbling around him. Everything he and Walker had uncovered to build their case against Mayor Gold and Cloverdale Industries was vanishing. With Walker and his reckless ways gone for good, Mercer knew how he wanted the story to be written. He was going to be the hero—and the FBI would be innocent. After all, they were just protecting the public, for the greater good.

But Mercer's ability to spin the story his way was slipping away. He had to know what Cal and Kelly knew. If he could only reach them.

***

As Yukon sped down the highway, Cal felt like the anxious driver was determined to jar every tooth loose in the remaining 30 minutes he had. It made Cal all the more determined. He began sawing through Kelly’s ropes with the precision of a heart surgeon. Despite the ticking clock, Cal knew this was no time for shortcuts or sharp cuts to the flesh. He had to cut Kelly free so she could return the favor—and the job needed to be done right.

Despite the seconds feeling as if they were hours, Cal eventually sliced his way through Kelly’s cords in about two minutes. She pulled the gag out of her mouth before pulling Cal’s off.

“Spin around so I can cut your feet loose,” Cal said to Kelly as he shouted above the whooshing wind and the flapping tarp.

Kelly didn’t hesitate to follow orders. Despite the gag being removed, she didn’t say a word. She was focused – and shaking.

Fifteen seconds later, Cal was ripping his way through the rope around Kelly’s feet. Despite having his hands bound, Cal figured he could cut her loose more quickly – and if this ride abruptly ended, he figured at least one of them could escape to tell the story of what was happening in Statenville.

Cal preferred they escape together. Eluding danger brought an adrenaline rush, but the potential of going on an adventure with Kelly seemed to heighten Cal’s excitement. This could be a high stakes game of hide and seek, but Cal liked his chances with Kelly facing the formidable – only in stature – Yukon.

Cal cut Kelly’s feet bindings free in about 90 seconds. He was quickly picking up on how to operate a pocketknife in pressure situations with his hands tied together. He had never done it before. But it made no difference now. Kelly was free.

“Start with my feet first,” Cal yelled to Kelly, who began cutting away on Cal’s ropes.

Since Cal could only guess at where they were headed, if he was wrong he at least wanted to be able to make a run for it. Free hands and bound feet meant nothing but a few parting shots before Yukon would subdue him and carry Cal to his grave. Free feet? That at least gave him a chance.

Kelly had almost finished cutting his feet loose when the truck slammed 90 degrees to the right. Kelly slid to the right as did Cal, whose shoulder saved his head from a blow against the side of the truck bed. The constant hum of four-wheel mud-grip tires on the pavement switched to the crackling sound of dirt. Cal figured his speculation about where they were headed was right: Cold River Canyon.

Based on his best guess, Cal also calculated that Kelly had about five minutes to cut him totally free before entering the foothills. Once in the foothills, the never-ending maze of hills and valleys would make it a daunting challenge for the two of them to escape alive before an all-out search party hunted them down.

Kelly kept hacking away before she cut Cal’s legs free from the rope. Then she got to work on his hands.

“Kelly, keep cutting but listen to me,” Cal said. “We’ve got to make a run for it the minute this truck slows down. There’s probably only one more place he’s going to halfway slow down that gives us a chance to jump out and run for it, OK? So, just follow my lead.”

Kelly nodded, too focused to even expend energy responding.

She, too, had quickly learned how to hasten the process while ensuring that the cut was clean. In two minute’s time, she had cut Cal free.

Just as she had finished cutting him free, the truck slowed to a stop – but it was much earlier than Cal had anticipated. Cal’s best guess was that the final turn onto Cold River Canyon Road was at least another three minutes