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

patted him on the shoulder. “Just knock it out of the park on your next story—pun intended.”

Cal forced a smile and glanced at her. “No, that right there is why I’m glad I married you.”

He had a tendency to be hard on himself whenever he made a mistake, but she was right. The only thing he could do now was vow not to let it happen again and make his editor—and the newspaper’s readers—forget all about his missteps with some award-winning caliber reporting on his next story.

He pulled up to the curb and put the car in park, hustling to the back and unloading Kelly and Maddie’s luggage.

Kneeling down in front of Maddie, Cal looked her in the eyes. “You have fun with grandma, okay?”

“I will, Daddy,” she said. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, pumpkin. Take care of Mommy for me.”

She set down MooMoo so she could hug him tight with both hands. Cal tousled her hair and then watched her reach down and collect her stuffed cow.

He turned toward Kelly. “And don’t you lose, MooMoo.”

Kelly hugged him goodbye. “Don’t get in any trouble while we’re gone. Understand?”

“You know me.”

“That’s exactly why I said that,” she said as she grabbed the handle on her suitcase and offered her hand to Maddie. “You know where to find me if you need help.”

He waved again as Maddie looked over her shoulder for one final glimpse at him before disappearing through the sliding glass doors.

Cal slipped back into his car and pulled into one of the outer lanes. He hadn’t driven two minutes before his phone rang. He answered it without looking at the screen.

“Did you forget something?” he asked.

“Forget something?” came the familiar voice. “Who do you think this is?”

Embarrassed that he didn’t realize it was his editor on the other end of the call, Cal forced a laugh. “Sorry, Buckman, I just dropped my wife off at the airport. I thought she was calling me and telling me she’d forgotten something.”

“If she did, she’ll need to figure out a way to get it herself.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“I need you on a story ASAP.”

“What happened?”

“It’s Sid Westin. He was killed earlier today.”

“I’m on my way.”

CHAPTER 3

DETECTIVE MEL KITTRELL APPROACHED the crime scene and slipped underneath the yellow tape cordoning off a small perimeter in front of Puget Sound Bank. He stopped and held it up for his partner, Eddie Quinn, who ducked beneath the tape and joined him on the other side. Several uniformed officers scurried out of the bank.

Phil Arledge, the sergeant who first responded to the scene, stood at the top of the bank steps and surveyed the area. He glanced down at Kittrell and Quinn as they made their way up the steps. “You ready for this?” he asked.

Kittrell shrugged and eyed the sergeant cautiously. “Would it make any difference if we weren’t?”

“I’ve got half a mind to let one of those rookies take this case just because of your attitude,” Arledge shot back.

“You sure it’s got nothing to do with our last case?” Quinn said.

“Just don’t screw this one up, okay? Both our jobs might be on the line if you do. Got it?” Arledge said.

Kittrell nodded and turned around to look at the officers interviewing witnesses and taking statements. A few feet away from the bottom of the steps, two officers were talking with the branch manager under the watchful eye of a man Kittrell assumed was the bank president based on his expensive shoes and designer wool suit.

After taking in the scene, he followed Quinn into the building. Inside, the bank hummed with a bevy of activity. Picture taking. Bullet casing demarcations. Covering the deceased. The usual.

Lenny Young, one of the uniformed officers working the scene, hustled over to Kittrell and Quinn. “Hey, guys. Welcome to the party. This one is pretty nasty.”

“I thought it was a basic armed robbery,” Kittrell said.

“Sure. The crime itself was basic, but not one of the victims,” Young said, gesturing for them to follow him. He pointed at the body. “See for yourself.”

Kittrell knelt down and discreetly lifted the sheet draped over a lifeless body.

“You recognize him?” Young asked.

“Isn’t this the famous soccer player from England?” Kittrell said, snapping his fingers. “Shawn? Or Simon?”

“Sid,” Quinn said. “Sid Westin.”

“Yeah. This is the guy?”

“The one and only,” Young said.

Kittrell stood up. “Bastards shot him at point blank range.”

“It appears that way,” Young said.

“Anything else we need to know?”

Young nodded. “Follow me.”

Kittrell and Quinn trailed Young as he led them across the bank toward another covered body. Kittrell crouched down and lifted the sheet.

“Security guard?”

Young nodded. “Sounds like they shot him on the way out just for fun. Witnesses said he never went for his gun.”

“Your weapon never does you any good in your holster,” Quinn said.

Kittrell put his hands on his hips and exhaled. “So, how did this go down?”

Young pointed back in the direction of Westin’s body. “Four perps. The leader commanded the scene from atop the counter. It sounded pretty straightforward and was going down without a hitch until Sid Westin tried to play hero.”

Kittrell’s eyebrows shot upward. “Hero?”

“Yeah. Witnesses said he rushed the leader, who shot him point-blank right before he reached him. Dropped Westin right there.”

“Why would he do that?” Quinn asked.

“Maybe he saw his opportunity to increase his brand if he brazenly stopped these guys,” Young said.

Kittrell let out a long breath. “He’s lucky he didn’t get anyone else killed. You never know how these armed scum will react in a situation like that.”

“Witnesses said the leader was very calm and in control. He warned everyone not to try anything.”

“They always say that,” Kittrell said. “That’s Standard Bank Robbery 101.”

“Well, at least it’s not like your last case,” Young said.

Kittrell shot Young a dirty look. “If you want all your teeth, I suggest you keep those kind of comments to yourself.”

Young didn’t flinch but stared back at Kittrell. “I’ll be over there if you need me for anything.”

Kittrell