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

but one month I accidentally got three times what I was supposed to have received. That was when I told Jonathan Umbert, Sid’s agent, about it. I’d flirted with him before and told him that I was thinking about leaving Sid, but I told him it wouldn’t be financially advantageous to do so. He told me he’d help get Sid a better contract. I wasn’t sure that was the answer long term for me either. That’s when I mentioned that I was getting extra HGH supplements that I wasn’t using.”

“Did he direct you toward these other players?”

“Not in the way you might think. He mentioned that he knew a few guys who might be interested and told me he could give me their contact information. When I decided to do it, he gave me all their cell phone numbers.”

“How exactly did you deliver the drugs?”

“When we first moved here, Sid bought a van to help move furniture for people in impoverished areas. He’d just drive around looking for people who needed help on his days off. Nobody ever knew it was him, but it was his way of connecting with people in the community and helping out some.”

“He sounds like a great guy.”

“He was—just not a great husband. If you only knew—”

Agent Perryman poured himself a glass of water. “So, you used the van?”

She nodded. “I would use the van to sell ice cream in a few parks around the city. The players knew when I would be there. They bought an ice cream cone with a little something extra—the location of the dead drop with the HGH.”

“Sorry I have to ask, Mrs. Westin, but did you have anything to do with your husband’s death?”

She sighed. “Don’t be sorry you have to ask that. I’m sad he’s gone, but I’m not sad I don’t have to be married to him any more. But to answer your question—no. I had nothing to do with it. I’m convinced it was just a robbery gone awry. Sid always wanted to be the hero, whether it was on the soccer field or elsewhere.”

“Did your husband know what you were doing?”

“He found out a few days before and confronted me about it. I told him I’d stop doing it.”

“And were you?”

“Was I what?”

“Were you going to stop?”

She shrugged. “I hadn’t decided yet, but he made a good case for me to stop. But since I didn’t vow to stop on the spot, maybe that’s why he decided to initiate the divorce. At that point, I honestly didn’t really have any reason to continue. I’d made plenty of money, more than enough to escape him.”

“Well, we’re going to need that money back.”

“You just gave me immunity, Agent Perryman. It’s bad enough that I’m telling you everything I know about this. And now you want me to give the money back? Forget it.”

“It’s part of the immunity deal, Mrs. Westin. If we don’t receive that money, the deal is off.”

She exhaled and crossed her arms. “I thought I could trust you.”

“It’s no trick, Mrs. Westin. But think about it this way: It’s better than going to prison and losing everything, even your son.”

He handed her a piece of paper. “All we need now is the name of every athlete you sold to.”

CHAPTER 37

CAL TOOK MONDAY OFF to help address the vandalism to his home. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted Kelly to return home and see, but she took it in stride. She’d been on enough adventures with him to know how benign—though terrifying—the stunt was.

On his knees, Cal scrubbed the wall with a brush. Kelly stopped at the doorway to his office and was smiling when he looked up at her.

“What are you looking at?” he asked.

“This is just something I never imagined I’d see when we got married.”

“What? Me cleaning a spray-painted message off the walls of my home office? If you had, I would’ve told you that you had a very active imagination.”

She laughed. “No. Just you cleaning in general. I’m not so sure you didn’t spray paint the message yourself just to avoid my wrath for the pigsty you lived in while we were gone.”

“Hey, I—”

“Cal, I’ve seen the rest of the house. You can’t blame everything on the break in.” She spun and headed down the hall.

“I did bring you flowers to the airport,” Cal yelled. “I need to get some credit.”

His phone started buzzing, and he quickly ripped off the pair of rubber gloves he was wearing to answer the call.

“Cal, this is Jarrett Anderson.”

“Agent Anderson, it’s so good to hear your voice. Anything to rescue me from my current chore.”

“And what might that be?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“I’m on my hands and knees, cleaning a wall.”

“You’re right. I don’t believe you.”

“Would it make more sense if I told you I’m cleaning spray paint from the wall? Someone tried sending me a message yesterday.”

“What kind of message?”

“The kind I get when people don’t like me digging for the truth.”

“Well, I’m not sure it’s related, but there is a little truth I wanted to tell you about—and give you a little professional thank you.”

Cal got off the floor and sat down at his desk. “What’s up?”

“That article you wrote about Rebecca Westin paid off. It got all the suspects involved running scared and resulted in her giving us what we need to get a conviction of Dr. Bill Lancaster.”

“How did that happen?”

“She came back to town. Felt bad about Jonathan Umbert taking the fall for those murders.”

“So, he didn’t do it?”

“Nope. That was all some crazy circumstantial evidence anyway. It would’ve never held up in court.”

“Was Umbert involved?”

“He was a loose accomplice, but we’ll probably scare him before we turn him loose with a warning. Besides, he’ll get hit where it hurts the most anyway when some of the players he represents get suspended for illegal drug use. No need to spend the government’s money to pile on him.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, I’m emailing