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

a Christmas card—and he can be a jerk sometimes—but I think he’s a good reporter. He’d make a great fit here. Plus, someone needs to rescue him from his mom’s basement.”

“Seriously? He lives with his mom?”

Cal chuckled. “You need to get out more so you’re not so gullible.”

He turned and headed toward his desk and gathered his things.

***

THE NEXT MORNING, Cal woke to his alarm, set to sports talk radio. The voice of Hank Bingham boomed over the speakers.

While I never thought Kelvin Jameson was the answer for this team, he certainly was one of the best guys I’ve ever met while covering the Wizards. I would’ve never wished for him to die. This has to be one of the most sick and twisted stories in the sports world since—hell, I don’t know if there’s ever been anything this sick and twisted.

I found out that Nikolay Gavin made an attempt to buy this radio station just to shut me down. Oh, how I wish he could actually hear me this morning, since I know he’s locked up somewhere, like he deserves to be—but I’ll tell him this: I’ve been around long before you ever even came to America and I’ll be around long after you’re gone. I hope you are forced to listen to my show every day for the rest of your pathetic life.

Cal laughed. Only Hank Bingham.

After he took a shower, Cal received a call from Tonya Jameson, who thanked him for his relentless pursuit of the truth in uncovering who murdered her husband.

“I’m glad I could help, but I didn’t expect this from you, if I’m being frank,” Cal said.

“Oh? What did you expect?”

“I certainly thought I’d get a chillier response than this.”

“Look, Mr. Murphy, I know what Kelvin was really like. And I’ve had plenty of time to think about it over the past week. Deep down, he was a good man. He had his demons like we all do, but he didn’t deserve any of this. He didn’t deserve to be treated the way that I treated him—and he certainly didn’t deserve to have his name trashed by the likes of Scott Perry and Nikolay Gavin. Those two men are snakes and deserve what they get.”

“So, you’re not upset about what I wrote regarding DJ O.T.U.S.?”

“You gotta print the truth, right?”

“That’s not something I hear very often from people outside of the newsroom.”

“Well, your story also saved me from making another mistake with him. I knew what he was doing but refused to admit it. He even had me spying on Kelvin the night he was murdered. He was taking advantage of me, plain and simple. And I was letting him.”

“It sure seemed that way.”

“And now that Kelvin’s death was ruled a murder and not a suicide, I’ll be able to collect not only his insurance but also the rest of his salary for the season. And I’ll enjoy taking every last cent from that bastard owner.”

“Well, I wish you the best of luck in all your future endeavors. And raise your son right. He’s a good kid—and I’m glad he’ll know the truth about his father’s life and death.”

“I can’t thank you enough, Cal.”

Cal hung up and threw his phone on the couch before collapsing into it.

Kelly strode into the room and cuddled next to him. “So, you glad this whole thing is over?”

He grunted and stared out the window.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

Cal shook his head. “It’s both.”

“Both?”

“I’m glad it’s over because this story pushed me to the edge—dang near cost us our lives. But now that it’s over, it means I have to do the thing I hate more than anything else in this world.”

“Packing?” she said with a smile.

“How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess.” She patted him on the chest before she got up. “You sit here and relax for a minute. I’ll go get the boxes. Seattle, here we come!”

~~~

SIGNUP for Jack Patterson's newsletter to get the first book free in the Cal Murphy Thriller series along with other insider information:

Click here to sign up

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

WHEN IT COMES TO THOSE who helped me with the novel, the usual suspects abound, but I first must acknowledge you, the reader, for fueling my passion to write these stories.

While I grew up a nominal fan of the NBA, my passion for the sport was fueled during college by one of my good friends, Lang Whitaker. Lang helped me appreciate the sport as well as introduce me to it by taking me to my first NBA game. I’ve never stopped watching since. (Go Hawks!)

Jennifer Wolf once again helped make this a better story with her deft editing skills.

Dan Pitts crafted a beautiful cover that captures the mystery and wonder of where this novel took place.

Bill Cooper continues to crank out stellar audio versions of all my books—and I have no doubt that this will yield the same high-quality listening enjoyment.

I also received some special help from readers in crafting names for the rappers through a fun exercise on social media. Lars Almquist, Earle McDonald, Brandon Lovett, Sean Kirkland and Kelly Stimpert deserve to be recognized for their creativity and contributions here.

As always, I must acknowledge my wife for allowing me the time to write this story.

And without you, the reader, who has found my work—and enjoyed it—I never would have trudged on with the arduous task of writing more novels. Just knowing that you’re out there and enjoying the diversions created by my books continues to inspire me to press on and work diligently to refine my craft.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

JACK PATTERSON is an award-winning writer living in southeastern Idaho. He first began his illustrious writing career as a sports journalist, recording his exploits on the soccer fields in England as a young boy. Then when his father told him that people would pay him to watch sports if he would write about what he saw, he went all in. He landed his first writing job at