Dead Shot Jack Patterson (e reader manga .txt) 📖

had begun dabbling in drugs, but they chose to ignore it. They never thought he would end up dead.

But that was the nature of Statenville’s secret. It chose justification to assuage the town’s collective conscience—the few who knew there was a secret to keep. Most people were oblivious to what was happening. Gold and his inner circle decided a long time ago to keep it that way. The fewer people who knew, the less chance a conscientious objector would one day come forward; that and the fact that they were all paid handsomely. Sometimes it meant blood was on their hands, but blood money didn’t seem so bad when there was so much of it, enough to buy oneself a perfect life in Mayberry West.

Gold fingered a picture of Riley and stared out his office window. Maybe this secret isn’t worth it. But then he looked around at what he had created, what Statenville was. It was costly, but it was most definitely worth it. Instead of becoming a virtual ghost town with a national failing economy, it was a boomtown. People were employed. They were happy. They were living a real dream. Did they really care where the money came from?

Those people never had a chance to decide if it was worth it. They never even knew. It was decided for them by Gold. They were but pawns in an elaborate get-rich scheme that was so flush with cash it opted to line the empty pockets of anyone who dared question them. It was much better than murdering them – and it raised less eyebrows than dead bodies. Everyone had a price. Almost everyone. There were always exceptions.

Cal Murphy had become an exception.

Chapter 32

Guy hung up the phone. Another grilling from Mr. Mendoza. Another order to tone down the coverage of the three teens’ deaths in Wednesday’s edition of The Register. Today, he truly felt like nothing more than a managing editor. No real decisions to make, just ensure people did what they were told.

It also explained why he was getting so agitated with Cal. With his assignment changed to a simple management position, Guy’s star reporter was gone and not returning his calls. Guy couldn’t even do the one thing he was being asked to do that day.

Three calls were made to Cal throughout the early afternoon. And three calls went straight to voicemail.

Guy had been tough on Cal before, but he always responded in a positive way. This time though, it wasn’t elderly wisdom being passed down by Guy. It was a direct command, complete with all of Guy’s redirected anger that went against every journalistic instinct Cal had ever cultivated. Stop working on a story that could expose a deep level of corruption? Cal had questioned after being told to stand down. And Guy knew it was a tough directive to follow. After all, stories like these were what journalists dreamed about at night while climbing into bed after eating a TV dinner all alone. At least, it was what Guy used to dream about.

Guy knew Cal would never stop pursuing this story. Something in the seasoned newspaperman’s gut told him that Cal wasn’t just concocting a cockamamie conspiracy theory. He only hoped Cal’s pursuit of the truth wouldn’t end in his death.

Chapter 33

Cal heard the shot and felt the sting in his right arm almost simultaneously. He had never been shot before, nor had he imagined the searing pain that would accompany a bullet barreling into his tricep. It was such a sharp pain that it sent him sprawling toward the ground as he half tripped and half dove, hoping to avoid any other bullets whizzing his way.

Kelly dove for the ground as well. Lying on her stomach a few feet from Cal, she inched her way toward Cal while remaining on her belly. When she reached him, she frantically tried to get Cal to move. It was only about 15 yards to the dock, which had an open bay at the moment. With a gunfight breaking out, it was unlikely to stay open for long.

“Come on, Cal. We’ve got to move!”

Cal nodded, grimacing at the pain and the sight of blood gushing from his arm, despite pressure from his left hand. He looked more like a butcher than a reporter.

Two more bullets zipped in their direction, both off target.

Cal and Kelly scrambled for the open bay door. It took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust from the bright Idaho sunlight to the dimly lit warehouse space that was surprisingly less full than Cal anticipated. The back of the warehouse was empty and stretched into darkness for at least 300 yards. It was quickly looking like a dead end when it came to finding a place for cover.

Stacks of empty wooden pallets lined the back wall of the facility, and there was a small janitor’s closet about 30 yards away.

Still no sign of anyone from inside the facility.

Cal recognized his two less-than-desirable choices: make a run for the racks and hide on top of a shelf, or hide in the janitor’s closet. The burning sensation in Cal’s arm along with the close proximity of the janitor’s closet made Cal’s decision easy.

***

Cloverdale security fanned out across the building looking for two suspects. Mel Davis, head of Cloverdale’s security operation, received a phone call from one of the executives about a possible perimeter violation. A man and a woman were headed for their facility and they didn’t have good intentions, at least that’s what Davis was told.

The order was shoot to kill.

While he didn’t mind the healthy paycheck, Mel often questioned why there was such tight security at a mid-level marketing company. Whenever he voiced his concern, he was silenced by the rehearsed chorus of managers telling him that corporate espionage is real—and if you don’t take proactive steps to stop it, it will stop you.

Mel just nodded and did what he was told. This wasn’t the first time