Dead Drop Jack Patterson (best chinese ebook reader TXT) 📖

insinuated that his son used performance enhancing drugs.”

“So, he had someone beat you up over that? Seems petty.”

“I agree, of course, as do my aching ribs. But that doesn't change what happened. Think you can tell Josh to write a glowing story about him if he wins the game tonight for Seattle FC?”

“This isn't like you, Cal. Normally, you'd want to go after someone who did something like that to you. What's going on?”

“I just need time to plot my revenge.”

“Against William Lynch? Good luck with that.”

"So, do you want me to go after him or not? I'm getting mixed signals here.”

"It's simple: I expect you to go after him, but I wish you wouldn’t."

“Again, my ribs agree.”

"Well, rest up and don’t be stupid—and treat your co-workers better. If you did, you'd be writing a much sexier story.”

Cal hung up and let out a frustrated scream over Buckman’s position of giving Ramsey this story. His boss had dug his heels in—and justifiably so. But it didn’t lessen the pain of knowing that Ramsey was about to steal his scoop and probably win an award or two in the process.

***

EDDIE RAMSEY HUNG UP on his call from Buckman. Cal’s misfortune was turning out to be one of his greatest breaks since he’d joined The Times. While he secretly admired Cal professionally, Ramsey remained professionally jealous. He was convinced he was every bit as good of a reporter and writer as Cal Murphy, but he never seemed to get the breaks Cal did—until now. He tried to ignore the fact that his tip, the one that was going to give him the material for an award-winning story, came from Cal by way of Buckman.

Ramsey’s job was simple: Get someone close to the Seattle FC front office to confirm the fact that Tim Peterson was about to be suspended by the league for illegal drug use. After that, Ramsey could pad the story with quotes about the FBI investigation into how Rebecca Westin was distributing HGH and let readers connect the dots for themselves. If he could figure out a way to provoke the reader to think that this potentially had something to do with the reason Sid Westin was killed in an armed robbery, all the better. But first things first—getting confirmation about the suspension.

Since Ramsey was devoid of any insider connections on the club—and Buckman wanted to keep his beat reporter as far away from this kind of story as possible—he started by calling the club's media relations director, Paul Holloway.

“Who told you that?” Holloway screamed.

“A credible source,” Ramsey answered smugly.

“You need new sources.”

“That's not exactly a denial, Paul.”

“Do I need to tell you that this team is still grieving the loss of one of its most beloved players? And you're going to pick now to stir the pot?”

“So, that would be a yes then? Peterson is about to be suspended for PED usage?”

“I swear, Eddie, you and Cal Murphy will never get credentials over here again. If I ever see you near our practice facility, I’ll have you thrown off the premises for trespassing.”

“I’m just doing my job.”

“Doing your job, my ass. You think you're going to win the admiration of all your little journalist buddies if you break a big story. But the truth is you're just a hack—and don't you forget it.”

The line went dead.

Ramsey set his phone down and stared out the window for a moment. That's when he began to conjure up a conspiracy theory out of little more than a hunch and one emphatic rejection for a confirmation. Either Holloway was being evasive or Cal Murphy was trying to strike back and get Ramsey in trouble with Buckman in retaliation for getting yanked off the story. Ramsey chose to believe his second theory.

He called Buckman back and filled him in on what was happening.

“Well, find another source," Buckman said. "Do you think if you try one guy in the organization that you’ve performed due diligence? I guarantee you Cal would engage at least fifteen people in a conversation about it before he wrote a story like that—even if the first one confirmed it.”

“Yeah. About Cal—I think he’s trying to sabotage me. He's just dying to get back on this story.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. You've been reading too many conspiracy novels.”

“No, I swear. It's true. He did this to set me up. If Holloway sticks to his word and refuses to let me near any of the players, how am I supposed to cover this story? It’s going to be a headache—and that’s only if we're lucky.”

“Hmmm.” Ramsey hoped that Buckman was giving pause to consider his theory. Ramsey made sense for once.

“Let me talk to Cal and get a feel for him on this one.”

“Great,” Ramsey said. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”

***

CAL COULDN’T BELIEVE BUCKMAN had lost trust in him so easily. If he was honest with himself, he knew he only had himself to blame. He should've never been in that position to begin with. If Kelly had been around to keep him focused, perhaps it never would've happened. He missed her and wished she and Maddie would hurry up and return home. But in the meantime, he had to quit pining and move on. He figured it was only a matter of time before Ramsey screwed something up again, and Buckman might be willing to swallow his pride and get him back on the story.

Speak of the devil!

His phone buzzed with a call from Buckman.

He's probably calling me back to ask me to write the story.

“Buckman, it's like you’ve got nothing to do on this fine spring afternoon but call me and torture me.”

“Save it, Cal. I'm not in the mood right now.”

“What's going on?”

“I just got off the phone with Ramsey, and he said that Holloway stoned him on the Peterson story. He wouldn’t confirm it for him.”

“And you’re surprised?”

“Who’s your source, Cal? Just let me know so I can have Ramsey confirm with him directly.”

Cal took