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

which sat about a quarter of a mile off the road on a ridge overlooking the Snake River. It was a sprawling brick ranch that made up for a lack of elegant craftsmanship with its sheer size. From Cal’s perspective, the house seemed to stretch in all directions and defy the notion that public school teachers were paid a pauper’s wage.

As Kelly turned into the Reid’s lengthy dirt driveway and headed up the ridge toward the house, Cal noticed a sizable vegetable garden and a hay shed, harboring bales for a yet unseen herd of cattle or horses. However, Cal’s interest in observing the Reid’s property vanished once he saw the Brooks County Sheriff’s deputy squad cars.

Cal could see Elliott Mercer taking notes as he interviewed Mr. Reid, the head of the two-person math department at Statenville High. Mrs. Reid, the other half of the Statenville High math department, buried her head in her hands and heaved tears as the Reid’s 11-year-old daughter, Katie, consoled her. Jake Dawkins braced for their arrival. This isn’t going to be fun, Cal thought.

Kelly eased her Charger into a parking pad a few feet from the house and a few yards from the squad cars and the Reids. Kelly and Cal both got out of the car and began walking toward the house. But Dawkins appeared determined to squash this impending inquisition, and was now striding toward them.

As the chief deputy and the most experienced law enforcement agent in Statenville, aside from Sheriff Jones, Dawkins knew diplomacy. Mercer’s five years of experience in Statenville amounted to nothing in real world experience, though he had an impressive resume in private security before entering authentic law enforcement. Kelly figured if she batted her eyelashes at Mercer, he would likely reveal all the state’s secrets. Mercer was professional but seemed willing to trade information given the right circumstances. Then there was Dawkins, the 12-year no-nonsense veteran of the sheriff’s department who was all Cal and Kelly could handle.

For the second time that morning, a member of the Brooks County Sheriff’s Department saw exchanging pleasantries with Cal and Kelly as a waste of time.

“There’s nothing to see here. You two just need to turn around and go back to your office,” Dawkins said, motioning them back with both his arms.

Kelly protested.

“Dawkins, you can’t tell us to leave. We have just as much of a right as you do to question them…if they want to talk to us.”

She knew her assertion was wrong, but she wanted to let Dawkins know that they weren’t going anywhere.

“Wrong, Miss Mendoza,” Dawkins fired back. “I’m in charge when it’s a crime scene.”

Chapter 7

“Crime scene?” Cal and Kelly both asked in unison, suddenly confused again about the real nature of what happened in Statenville over the past 24 hours.

“You heard me. Now get back in your car and get on out of here,” Dawkins growled.

Kelly’s gusto was rubbing off on Cal. He stood his ground.

“Dawkins, this morning Jones told us that all three deaths in the past 24 hours were drug overdoses. Now, that’s not exactly a crime scene.”

Dawkins backpedaled.

“Well, we think it’s a drug overdose but we’re still collecting evidence.”

“So, what have you found that makes you think this could be something else?”

“Cal, Kelly, I think it’s best that you go now. You don’t want to make a scene in front of this grieving family, do you?”

Cal and Kelly shot knowing glances at one another. This was not a hill to die on. Not today. Not with Mrs. Reid grieving the loss of her son. Not with Dawkins channeling his inner Steven Segal. Not with two other “crime scenes” that had no officers present.

The pair didn’t say a word as they turned and headed straight for Kelly’s car.

“Who does he think he is?” asked Kelly as she twisted the ignition.

“That Dawkins is such a punk. There’s obviously a lot more going on here than he’s telling us.”

As Kelly’s car roared back down the road, she bit her lip and shook her head, muttering hollow threats about Dawkins and his job and what her next column would be about if she had one. Cal slunk in his seat, flummoxed over the Brooks County Sheriff’s Department stonewall. He peered in his side mirror as the scene shrunk from sight.

Cal noticed Dawkins immediately began talking into the radio mic attached to his upper sleeve. Who could he be calling? Cal wondered. Are we being watched? His eyes remained fixed on Dawkins.

Dawkins then looked up and glared in the direction of Kelly’s car, which was beginning to turn onto the highway. Cal shuddered. Dawkins’ haunting stare seemed more than passing interest about where the pair was headed next. Cal’s firm belief that the Brooks County Sheriff’s Department was just a notch above a living Mayberry – complete with Don Knotts as the sheriff and Gomer Pyle as his chief deputy – was being shaken. Gone was Dawkins’ happy-go-lucky disposition. Dawkins’ mouth said one thing, but his body language said something else, a something else that made Cal quake with fear.

Kelly made it to the highway and turned right, heading toward the Murray’s house.

Cal looked back toward the Reid house again only to see Dawkins still speaking into his radio and keeping his eyes locked on Kelly’s car. More than likely, Cal thought Dawkins was telling someone where they were headed and to watch out for them.

Finally, Cal broke the silence. “What have we got ourselves into, Kelly?”

“I don’t know, but this smells like some sort of cover up.” She jammed her foot on the gas pedal and Dawkins vanished from sight.

Chapter 8

When Cal and Kelly returned to The Register, they found Guy had retired his “I’m the Boss” coffee cup with a drink more appropriate for the afternoon. Guy was sipping from one of those giant plastic cups from the Flying J filled to the brim with soda when he noticed the pair return to the office.

“There you two are! Get