Dead to Rights by Jack Patterson (fiction book recommendations .txt) 📕

“What did you see?”

Drake took a deep breath and waited a moment before continuing. “It was a picture of her, of Susannah. And she was in the arms of another man. It wasn’t innocent either. There’s no other way anyone could’ve interpreted the picture. She was gazing romantically at him.”

“So, what’d you do next?”

“I remember storming out of The Pirate’s Den and heading toward my car. I jumped behind the steering wheel and sped toward her house.”

“Were you drunk?”

“I’d only had a couple of drinks, so I was very much aware of what was going on. But once I got there, it all became a blur.”

“How so?”

“I saw her and then I heard some voices, but I still can’t remember whose they were. Parts of that night are still so hazy to me. I remember that I rolled over and looked up at her and she had a frightened look on her face. Then everything went black.”

“Everything?”

Drake nodded. “I don’t remember anything until the next morning when I woke up with a gun in my hand, lying on my back in a johnboat in the Okefenokee. I know it sounds ridiculous, but that’s how I felt, like, what am I doing here? Whose gun is this? And whose finger is this? I was really freaked out by everything.”

“So, before you had a chance to investigate on your own what was going on, you were arrested?”

“Arrested, incarcerated, and now headed for death row. Even all my money couldn’t buy the kind of criminal defense I needed to beat a murder rap of the sheriff’s daughter. I never had a chance.”

“Do you think someone set you up?”

“I believe I was framed. I don’t care how drunk I was or doped up by whatever those punks put in my system, there’s no way I would’ve harmed Susannah. She was my world.”

“Who would frame you?”

Drake shook his head. “I’ve been thinking about that for over a decade, and I can’t figure out who had it out for me that much.”

“Maybe it was someone who had it out for Susannah, instead, and they just saw you as a convenient person to accuse.”

“You could be right, but I can’t even think of anyone who hated Susannah. Everyone in Pickett County loved her.”

“If she was the prosecutor, I doubt everyone did.”

“That’d be the only logical explanation when it comes to why anyone would target her. For all I know, they could’ve been planning on killing her that night no matter what and I just happened to come to the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Cal took a deep breath and shifted in his seat. “It could’ve been a crime of convenience, but I’m guessing it was more a crime of passion based on everything I’ve read about the case.”

“That’s possible, but it wasn’t my passion—at least, I don’t remember a thing about it, if it was. I can’t help but think . . .”

“Think what?” Cal asked.

“Who got to that kid who supposedly said he saw me kill her.”

“What kid?”

“His name was Keith Hurley. He was about twelve years old and was a water boy for the football team when I played. The defense convinced the jury that he’d never forget what I looked like. His testimony is what sunk me. Well, that and waking up in a boat with the murder weapon and Susannah’s finger in my hand.”

“Sullivan didn’t try to discredit this Hurley kid?”

“He did, but it didn’t turn out like we hoped. It actually made the kid look more credible.”

Cal scratched down a few more notes and looked at his voice recorder. “I hate to be blunt like this, but if you didn’t kill Susannah, who do you think did?”

“Oh, I don’t know. If I had to guess, I’d say it was Sheriff Sloan. He’s the only one who could’ve covered everything up so neatly.”

“He’d kill his own daughter? I’ve got a daughter, and I couldn’t imagine doing something like that, no matter how mad I was at her.”

“They had a strained relationship to say the least, but I’d be willing to bet she found out something about what he was doing.”

“So, you’re saying he’s dirty?”

“I’m saying go check it out and find out what you can—and do it fast. I don’t have much time left before I exhaust all my appeals.”

“I’ll do my best,” Cal said as he stood up.

Drake grabbed Cal’s wrist before he could turn away.

“Be careful, Mr. Murphy. Pickett County has a lot of people with a lot of secrets. If you go poking around down there, you might end up like me—or worse.”

CHAPTER 4

A TIN BELL CLANKED against the glass door of The Searchlight, Pickett County’s weekly newspaper, after Cal and Kelly slipped inside early Tuesday morning. Though tidy and well organized, the cramped reception area was unattended. Cal doubted anyone was permanently assigned to manage the trickling foot traffic a weekly newspaper was likely to receive. When he’d worked at a small paper, such duties were doled out based on seniority.

“Remind you of Statenville?” Kelly asked, referencing the small town paper where they’d first met.

“If I hadn’t seen the sign when I walked in, I might have thought I’d been magically transported there.”

Before their conversation continued, a young man who looked not a day older than twenty walked toward them.

“May I help you?” he asked.

“I hope so,” Cal said, offering his hand to the man. “Cal Murphy, Seattle Times.”

The man eyed Cal cautiously before glancing over at Kelly and giving her the once over.

“What can I do for you and this pretty little lady here?” he asked, shooting a wink at Kelly.

“Well, my wife and I are wondering if we can speak with your editor,” Cal said.

“About what, exactly? He’s kinda busy at the moment.”

Cal tilted his head to the side, peering around the man. A buxom lady was vacuuming the floor behind him, while the only other person in the office was a man seated comfortably at his desk, nursing a