Dead and Gone by Jack Patterson (universal ebook reader .TXT) 📕

“What’s done is done. I can’t change the past.”

Cal leaked a wry smile. “Want me to quote you on that?”

“For the past week, you’ve done nothing but make trouble for this team. All you care about are sales and web hits. You couldn’t care less about the people’s lives your stories are hurting.”

“Couldn’t care less? Couldn’t care less? Are you out of your mind? The only reason I’m doing this is because I actually care about people, starting with Jessica Tanner, who’s widowed and pregnant and practically penniless.”

“And I offered to take care of her.”

“To keep her quiet,” Cal huffed. “You think I can’t see right through your motives?”

Davis puffed his chest out and wagged his index finger. “And you don’t think I can’t see through yours?”

“You have no idea what sacrifices I make to track down these stories.”

Davis laughed. “Sacrifices? You have no clue what everybody in this organization goes through just to make this team competitive.”

“I doubt their wives are stalked and shot at.”

Davis stared at Cal, slack-jawed. “What are you talking about?”

“Why don’t you ask Beaumont?” Cal slapped Davis on the shoulder. “I’d love to stay and chat, big guy, but I’ve got a meeting with your fired crew chief. Something about a video I need to see. Later.” He didn’t wait for a response and turned toward the garage gate.

Cal looked over his shoulder to see Davis busily dialing his cell phone. He knew he didn’t have much time.

***

CAL STOOD OUTSIDE the gate on a plastic bunker, hoping to see Burns more easily. Burns had told him he was wearing a red hat and sunglasses along with a black jacket. But so far, nothing.

Where are you, Burns?

“Well, I do declare, if it isn’t Cal Murphy.”

Cal looked down to see Alayna French wheeling to a stop in front of him in her golf cart.

“Hi, Alayna.”

“Lookin’ for Owen Burns?”

Cal hopped down from the bunker. “How’d you know that?”

She smiled. “I know everything, remember?”

“Seriously, how’d you know?”

“I just ran into him a few minutes ago. He looked like he was in a hurry, so he asked me if I knew you and requested that I get this to you.” She handed him the thumb drive.

Cal inspected it closely. “Did he say anything else?”

“He just said something like, ‘Tell him it’s elementary, my dear Watson.’”

“What the heck does that mean?”

She laughed. “I don’t know. I guess you’re Sherlock and you’re supposed to figure out whatever is on there.”

Cal took the thumb drive from her and jammed it into his pocket.

“Need a lift?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Well, climb on in. We’ve got a race to get you to.”

***

CAL JAMMED THE THUMB DRIVE into his computer and waited for the file to appear. He glanced around the media center, full of sportswriters banging on their keyboards to finish up their last stories before the race festivities began. The pre-race shows blared over the intercom system as several racing experts explained how today’s finish would make an impact on the championship race. Outside, it was eerily quiet. Only the droning buzz from the growing crowd and the occasional public address announcement filled the air, which would soon be dominated by the roar of forty-three engines.

Cal clicked on the folder and selected the only file in it. He watched in disbelief. Then he played the video he sent himself from Ron Parker’s phone. It was a match. Only this time, the footage Burns gave him was clearer—so much so that he could positively identify the person tinkering with Carson Tanner’s car.

Elementary, indeed.

Cal’s phone buzzed. It was Jessica again.

“Well? Anything?” she said.

“Yep, give me fifteen minutes and this is going to be everywhere.”

“That’s about all we’ve got,” she said.

Cal stared at his keyboard and typed in a few searches. It didn’t take him long to find something he’d never noticed before in all his research, something that was now so obvious.

He stood up and saw Eddie Simpson talking to another reporter in the corner. Cal headed straight for him.

“Eddie, you need to see this,” Cal said.

Simpson followed Cal and covered his mouth as he watched the incident unfold.

He pointed at the screen. “Are you sure that time stamp is accurate?”

Cal pulled out his phone and started the other video. “It matches the time stamp on this phone. No reason to think two cameras colluded to change the time.”

Simpson rubbed his face with both hands and groaned.

Cal remained serious. “I’m heading down to the garage now. Care to join me?”

CHAPTER 54

CAL HUSTLED TOWARD the Davis Motorsports Team hauler with a line of people in tow. He’d wrangled a television cameraman away from his pre-race buffet, while Simpson had grabbed Rick Plimpton, the vice-president of competition, and filled him in along the way.

“I’m not so sure about making a spectacle out of this,” Simpson protested, as he struggled to keep pace.

Cal waved him off and didn’t turn around. “I thought you guys liked all the off-track drama. Great for ratings, right?”

“I just think there might be a better way to do this,” Simpson said.

“I’m sure there is, but not today. By the time I explained to you why it has to happen this way, it’d be too late.”

Clutching his laptop in one hand, Cal turned the corner and set his eyes on the Davis Motorsports Team crew. They appeared to be enjoying a plate of ribs, potato salad, and baked beans, while they laughed at some story Dirt was telling.

Jackson Holmes gestured in the direction of the oncoming crew, causing the head of every crew member to spin in Cal’s direction.

“Tryin’ to make more trouble and ruin this race team an hour before the race?” Russ Ross said. “This is gettin’ old.”

“Not this again,” Beaumont chimed in.

“Not tryin’ to ruin anyone’s day. But maybe your new crew chief can explain how he ruined Carson Tanner’s life last week.”

Holmes froze.

Ned Davis stormed out of the hauler and surveyed the situation. “What’s the meaning of this?”

Simpson held up his hand