Dead Wrong (A Cal Murphy Thriller Book 7) Jack Patterson (good beach reads .txt) 📖

coddled like the sheep on a commercial jet, think again. This is for the experienced travelers.”

Cal didn’t respond to the young man’s comment. He buckled his seat belt and began gnawing on his wings.

***

CHRIS BUTLER LOOKED at a picture of his boys on his phone and took a deep breath. His window to fake a heart attack was approaching fast. Three and a half hours into the flight, he knew it was time—or his entire family’s lives might be in jeopardy, if they weren’t already.

With a sudden burst of shallow breaths, Butler launched his performance. He’d already dabbed his forehead with a damp paper towel stolen on his previous trip to the restroom. He then began complaining of nausea and a weakness through his entire body.

“What’s wrong?” Ed Wilson, his co-pilot, asked.

“I don’t know,” Butler stammered. “I think I’m having a heart attack.”

“What?”

“Yeah. We need to land now—right now!”

Wilson wasted no time in announcing to the cabin to sit down as they were going to have to make an unscheduled landing. He told everyone there was no reason to panic, but his co-pilot needed some immediate medical attention.

Butler grimaced as he swatted at Wilson and shook his head. “No, don’t say that.”

It was too late.

Wilson had whipped the cabin into a frenzy. Several players banged on the door to the pilot’s cabin as the plane nosed downward.

“Tell us what’s going on?” one of the players yelled by the cockpit.

“We have a right to know!” said another.

But they didn’t. And having unauthorized personnel in the cockpit was a violation of FAA regulations anyway.

“I’m taking you to Phoenix,” Wilson said.

Butler’s eyes bulged as he stared at Wilson. “No, I need to get some attention now.”

“The nearest airfield around here is Ajo. There’s hardly anything there.”

“I’m sure there’s a doctor and a medical facility that can help me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Wilson paused. “I’m taking you to Phoenix.”

Butler then reached for the cockpit’s fire extinguisher. “Like hell you are. I need to get down now.”

Wilson shrugged off Butler’s comment. “Too bad you’re not in charge of the airplane then, huh?”

Butler reared back and struck Wilson with a fire extinguisher in the head, sending him to the floor.

He grabbed the intercom and mustered up his best impersonation of Wilson. “Sorry, everyone. We need to stop immediately. We’re going to make a quick stop in Ajo, Arizona, and hopefully get us back on track shortly for California.”

Butler glanced at Wilson, who’d yet to move. He punched in the coordinates for Eric Marcus Municipal Airport in Ajo. It wouldn’t be long until they’d be on the ground—and he’d fulfill his directive.

After that, Butler had no idea what would happen—or when it would be safe for them to continue on their journey.

***

CAL WONDERED IF KELLY might crush his hand as she listened to the announcement. She leaned into him and muttered a prayer under her breath.

“It’s going to be all right,” he said.

She jerked her head up and looked at him. “You don’t know that.”

“It’ll be fine. Trust me.”

She shook her head. “Where have I heard that before?”

“All I can think about is Maddie.” A tear streaked down her face.

“There’s nothing to worry about. The pilot didn’t say there was anything wrong with the plane, just one of the pilots. Just relax, okay?”

She took a deep breath and squeezed his hand hard again.

Cal rested his head against the back of his seat, unsure if he had convinced himself.

CHAPTER 20

WILL SIMON REFRESHED HIS BROWSER and marveled at the statistics multiplying what seemed like exponentially each time. He knew he had a big story on his hands when DJ O.T.U.S. came to him with the scurrilous details of Tonya Jameson’s meetings with the Wizards’ owner. But based off the comments posted beneath his story, people actually believed this theory.

Are you kidding me?

He watched every social media outlet explode with reaction, both good and bad. Some people called him a “sorry excuse for a journalist” or “journalist wannabe,” but others called him a relentless reporter whose story should be taken seriously. Simon chose to believe the latter and ignored the former. No one could be universally loved, a fact he’d long since accepted. However, it wasn’t very often that he’d received this much love on social media for any story he’d written.

The night before, he’d felt a twinge of jealousy for the Cal Murphys of the world, those journalists of privilege who gained access to “the machine” of professional sports. Cal would undoubtedly give readers a behind-the-scenes glance at how the Wizards operate when they’re outside the Beltway—and fans would find it interesting. He would even find it interesting. But those kinds of stories never advanced one’s career. What Simon needed was a story that made him synonymous with uncovering the truth. And this story on Nikolay Gavin and Tonya Jameson was doing it for him.

It had all the elements: class, power, privilege, money—even romance. The immigrant Russian owner who’d risen to power versus the struggling African-American singer who’d be widowed with a young son after her philandering husband partied with questionable women. He smiled at the thought. Maybe even Lifetime would call and ask him to write the made-for-TV movie script.

Though Simon had only met The Washington Times editor Marcus Hale once, he could only imagine how angry he was over reading his story after Cal Murphy’s story all but implicated Tonya Jameson as the one behind the murder and splashed it across the front page of that morning’s daily newspaper. Even rival newspaper The Washington Post couldn’t find a fresh angle on the story. There wasn’t a media outline inside the Beltway—or outside of it—that had a compelling angle. Nothing could usurp what he’d written.

His phone buzzed, interrupting his moment.

While he’d been reveling in his moment, someone else wasn’t so pleased with his story.

Do you have a death wish?

He glared at the message frozen on the screen of his phone. Of course he didn’t. But he felt