Dead and Gone Jack Patterson (ebook reader play store .txt) 📖

in Phoenix?” he asked, incredulous.

“I’ve got some business to take care of, Dad.”

“What kind of business?”

“I need people to find out about what caused Carson’s death.”

“Oh, honey, don’t do that. You’re pregnant. You should be home resting.”

“But, Dad, if I don’t, I may lose my chance to prove that Carson’s death was no accident. I need people to hear me—and believe me.”

“Look, I know you’re stressed about money now, but we’ll help you. Whatever you need, we’ll take care of it.”

“Will you take care of the half-million dollar surgery my baby needs?”

“What?”

“Yeah, you heard me—a half-million dollars. My health insurance is refusing to cover the procedure, claiming it’s elective.”

“But—”

“Meanwhile, I’ve got a life insurance company that doesn’t believe my husband was murdered. At this point, if I don’t look out for myself, no one will.”

“Jessica, it’s not worth the stress.”

“Yes, it is. But don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Just make my life less stressful by doing a good job on the baby room, okay?”

“Jessica, I—”

Her phone beeped.

“Sorry, Dad, I’ve got another call coming in. Gotta grab this. I’ll be in touch.”

She switched to the other line with the swipe of her finger. “Hello.”

“Jessica Carson?”

“Yes?”

“Your late husband owed us a half million dollars in gambling debts.”

“He what? Who is this?”

“You have one week to wire us the money. I will text you instructions. Don’t be late.”

“This is a sick joke.”

“This is no joke. One week, Jessica. You have one week.”

The caller hung up.

Jessica screamed and clenched her fists as the race track came into full view.

She felt the baby kick. And then she started to hyperventilate.

Just take a deep breath and relax.

She pulled into the parking lot to pick up her pit pass and got out of her car. After two steps, her knees weakened and she started to feel faint.

She sat down on the ground and tried to slow her breathing.

One of the track workers noticed her and ran to her side. “Are you all right, lady?”

Jessica held up her right index finger. “I’ll be just fine.” She tried to get up.

“Here, let me help you,” the worker said as he bent over and steadied her arm.

“No, I’m fine. I can do this.”

Then Jessica collapsed onto the ground and went limp.

“Someone call 9-1-1,” the worker shouted.

CHAPTER 29

CAL SWALLOWED HARD before dialing Kelly’s number. If investigative journalism taught him one thing it was that secrets had a funny way of getting out. He took that knowledge and applied it to his marriage, attempting to be forthright in every encounter. He learned that some situations required him to act more judiciously when revealing the truth, yet the truth must be presented in some semblance or another. In this instance, he couldn’t think of any way to gently break the news that he’d been fired—and the alleged reason for it.

“Hey, you! I was just thinkin’ about you. I was making out a menu for next week and I’ve got your favorite planned for Monday night when you get back. How are things going in the hunt for the saboteur?”

“Well, you might want to make that meal earlier.”

“Why’s that? What happened? Are you coming home today?” The excitement in her voice leaked out.

“Maybe. But it’s nothing to be happy about it.”

“Why’s that?”

Cal took a deep breath. “Folsom fired me this morning.”

“Fired you? Are you kidding me? What in the world for? Budget cuts? Pressure from advertisers?”

“I wish. Something far worse.”

“Worse? What happened? What did you do?”

“It’s not what I did, but what they think I did.”

“And what’s that?”

“Someone sent some anonymous pictures to Folsom of me at a strip club here in Phoenix along with receipts showing that I racked up a large tab on the company card.”

“Cal! How could you?”

“No, no, no. Now listen to me. I didn’t do it. Someone framed me. The pictures were Photoshopped. I never even went to a strip club. You know I wouldn’t do that.”

Silence.

Cal took a deep breath. “You’ve gotta believe me. I’d never do that to you, much less think about using the company credit card to do that. I’m not stupid.”

Still silence.

“Come on, Kelly. Say something. You believe me, right?”

After another pause, she finally answered. “I wanna belive you, Cal. It’s just that—”

“It’s just that what? You think I’d actually do something like that.”

“If the story led you there, I think you’d do whatever it took.”

“Kelly, come on. Think rationally. The last place I’d ever get credible information is at a strip club. And in the interest of full disclosure, last night I wrote a story and then went to the track to meet a contact. I spent some time with an elderly woman whose husband was missing only to find out this morning that he was dead on a hillside.”

“Hmmm. Sounds like you.”

“Of course, it is. I didn’t do this. In fact, I want you to prove it for me.”

“And how can I do that?”

“Utilize your photography skills and examine the photos. Highlight how they were Photoshopped and send them to Folsom.”

“He sent you the pictures?”

“Folsom wanted to prove to me that he had them. But I must warn you, it’s pretty horrific. I’m tempted to get someone else to do it because I don’t want to even put the idea in your head that I did these things.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll purge the mere idea if I can prove you’re telling the truth.”

“Seriously? You still doubt me.”

“I guess I believe you. That’s not your style.”

“Thank you. I’m going to send you the photos now.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know once I’m able to prove it.”

“I love you. You gotta know I’d never do something like that and hurt you—much less risk my job over it.”

“I know. Be safe.”

Cal hung up and let out a long breath.

That was worse than telling my brother I wrecked his Mustang.

He looked at the ground and rubbed his face, contemplating his next steps: Keep following leads in order to uncover the saboteur or go home and let Folsom deal with