Dead Drop by Jack Patterson (reading cloud ebooks txt) 📕

“Thanks, Ellie.” She forced herself to thank the woman even though she knew Ellie didn’t mean it. “Now, do you know where Jonathan is by chance? When I called, I went straight to voice mail.”

“Oh, you haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“It’s all over the news.”

“Ellie, I’m in Dubai. It’s not on the news here.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Westin. He’s been arrested for murder—and they’re saying he killed the men he hired to kill Sid. I’m sorry to tell you like this, but I thought you would’ve heard this by now.”

“Can you tell me any more details?”

“The story on the news is that the bank robbers who killed Sid were all found dead in a warehouse in what first appeared to be a murder-suicide. But then they found out that Mr. Umbert arrived on a flight early enough to kill the men and stage a murder-suicide.”

“Did they say when he got back?”

“Yeah, they said sometime around 10 PM on Friday.”

Rebecca hung up and smashed her wine glass on the balcony. She let out a frustrated scream and was heading inside when she heard a voice that arrested her attention.

“I know that scream,” said an elderly woman on the balcony next to Rebecca’s room.

Rebecca stopped and shot the woman a look. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know that when a woman breaks a wine glass, it can only ever be about one thing.”

“And what’s that?” Rebecca snarled.

“A man.”

Rebecca was angry, and she found a target practically begging to be peppered with multiple rounds of hateful words. “Well, congratulations, Dear Abby. Women only get upset about two things: men or their kids. You had a 50-50 shot.”

“And is this man here with you?”

“I didn’t ask for a counseling session.”

“Good because I’m not giving one. I only give guidance. And if you love this man as much as I think you do, you need to go to this man.”

“Not so easy, oh great wise one. He’s in prison now.”

The old woman didn’t flinch. “All the more reason to go to him.” She took a long pull on her glass of wine. “I don’t know why you’re still standing here.”

Rebecca’s anger yielded to sorrow as she began to sob. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the emotions of everything finally hitting her at once—or a combination of the two. Regardless of the reason, she couldn’t stop the tears once they started.

“There you go,” the old woman said. “Just let it out. Have a good cry. And then go get your man.”

Rebecca didn’t say anything for at least a minute. She broke the silence by muttering, “Thank you,” to her friendly neighbor and going inside. As much as the woman dishing unsolicited advice bothered Rebecca, she knew the woman was right.

Jonathan Umbert needed her—and her alibi. And he needed her thirty seconds ago.

CHAPTER 35

CAL CAUTIOUSLY APPROACHED THE FRONT STEPS to his house. Something didn’t feel right—and it didn’t look right either. The doormat was off kilter, and the door was ajar. For a fleeting moment, he thought Kelly and Maddie had taken the redeye home and were trying to surprise him. But he dismissed that idea, concluding that they would’ve called to check on him if he wasn’t there when they arrived.

No, something was wrong.

He pushed the door open slowly.

“Hello?” he said. “Is anybody here?”

There could’ve been a handful of guys who were playing a prank on him, but he doubted it. Then he considered for a moment that maybe Kelly had asked their cleaning service to come by, knowing he would’ve kept the house a wreck. And, sadly, she was right.

If this had been his bachelor days, he would’ve had a hard time proving anyone had been in his house aside from the open door. But Kelly kept their home orderly, and there was no doubt someone had ransacked his house.

As he surveyed the carnage, nothing looked broken or damaged. And nothing seemed to be missing, either. If this was a robbery, it hadn’t gone well. Cal figured either the burglar got spooked or the purpose behind the break-in was to scare him. If what really happened was the latter, the robber failed. Such minor incidents were far more common occurrences than Cal preferred—and it didn’t faze him.

But it did make him angry.

After he picked up for a few minutes, he sat down at his kitchen table and tried to think about the why.

Why would they target me? Something I wrote? Something I have?

The only person who could possibly be upset enough at something he wrote to strike back would be Rebecca Westin—and she was out of the country. Not that she would do something like this herself. He figured she would’ve hired somebody for the job. But he doubted someone as vindictive as she was would have his place tossed just to prove a point.

Then there were William Lynch’s thugs. They’d already used Cal as a punching bag once but seemed to enjoy sending messages. What they sent, Cal received loud and clear. He passed it along to Buckman, who obviously relayed it to Josh Moore. In that morning’s paper, Josh’s article sang the praises of Shawn Lynch, who scored the game-winning goal with less than two minutes remaining to give Seattle FC the victory.

Cal couldn’t think of anyone else who could possibly have it out that bad for him these days.

Maybe a former client or a disgruntled athlete.

Narrowing down that list wouldn’t be easy as it numbered in the dozens. But he also doubted they would go through all this trouble just to send a message. Those people would be looking to exact revenge, make it hurt Cal where he was most vulnerable.

Unable to come up with a reasonable theory, he got up to walk through the house again and inspect the damage more closely. He went into his study and found proof that this was indeed a scare tactic. “Mind Your Own Business” was spray painted on the wall in bright red.