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

Westin and HGH, you assumed that it’d be easy to lump Shawn Lynch into that story and make it all believable. And it almost was, except for a few key elements.”

Cal stopped and held up his index finger. “First, you didn’t know that Rebecca Westin already gave the authorities a full list of every athlete she sold drugs to—and Shawn Lynch’s name wasn’t on the list. Secondly, and your most critical mistake, was that you gave us Sid’s original burner phone, which had the original conversation that gave you—and you alone—motive. You killed three men at that warehouse, including your friend Ty. And you even managed to pay someone to kill the other robber in prison. But what angers me the most is that you came into my house and tried to threaten me.”

Martinez unzipped his bag and fished around in it for a second, pulling out an object that he hid behind his back from Cal. “Perhaps you should’ve been a detective instead of a journalist. Too bad no one will ever read this story.”

Realizing what was happening, Cal spun and started sprinting toward his car. He heard Martinez’s footsteps getting closer and closer with each passing second. Glancing over his shoulder to see what Martinez had in his hand, he was somewhat relieved to know it was a knife instead of a gun, but that didn’t change the fact that Cal was in grave danger.

Cal pumped his fists and could almost hear Martinez breathing down his neck. Then a swipe, nicking Cal’s right arm and sending blood everywhere. Then another swipe at his left arm. And then a thud.

Cal didn’t stop running, but he looked behind him to see what happened. Martinez had tumbled to the ground, and a ball bounced a few meters away. Then another ball came flying in Martinez’s direction. Cal had turned his attention straight ahead but heard the ball hit hard off Martinez’s back.

As Cal neared the fence exiting the practice field, he spied a slew of agents racing toward him.

“Took you long enough,” Cal said to one of the men, who grabbed him and pulled him over to the side. “He could’ve killed me.”

“But he didn’t,” the officer said, devoid of emotion.

Cal watched as the squad sprinted onto the field toward Martinez and hemmed him in. Less than thirty seconds later, Martinez was lying face down on the turf with one officer securing his hands behind his back with handcuffs. Cal remained in his position until they brought Martinez by.

Cal held up his hand, motioning for the officers to stop. They turned Martinez so he was facing Cal.

“Why’d you do it, Javy? I know you and Sid were friends. How could you?”

“Her blood is on your hands now,” Martinez hissed. “It’s on your hands.”

“Whose blood?”

“My mother’s. Now’s she’s going die because of you. William Lynch owned that house we lived in, and it was built using materials nobody should have to live around. Asbestos, lead in the pipes and paint; it was a death trap. And it all caught up with my mother.”

“Javy, there are lawyers who could’ve helped you.”

“They did help. She won a settlement out of court to pay her medical fees. But when the cancer returned, she couldn’t sue them again. A doctor on Lynch’s payroll declared her cancer free, which meant any return would be on her dime now. The only way I could make enough money to help get her the treatment she needs to survive is expensive—and I can’t even afford it. Her insurance won’t pay for it, so she’s left to fend for herself. And I wasn’t about to let my mother die like that.” He choked back a few tears. “Cal, have you ever seen someone die of cancer?”

Cal nodded.

“So you know. It’s brutal. And now my mother will endure all that pain—and all because of that greedy bastard William Lynch.”

Cal looked sympathetically at Martinez. “I’ll take care of your mother; don’t you worry about that.” Cal sighed. “But you had someone murdered. And that I can’t help you with.”

He nodded at the guards, who resumed marching Martinez toward several squad cars.

“Great work, Detective,” came a voice behind Cal. He turned around to see Quinn standing next to Kittrell. “Don’t think this is going to be a permanent thing for you.”

Cal laughed and pointed at Quinn. “I hope you’re feeling better because this is a job I don’t want.” Cal turned and looked at Kittrell. “And how long were you going to wait before you came to give me a hand? I could’ve gotten killed out there.”

Kittrell reached up Cal’s shirt and snatched the wire off his chest.

“Ouch! A little warning would’ve been nice,” Cal said.

Kittrell snickered. “But, Cal, it’s the element of surprise that made your little operation work.”

“Little? I was able to save evidence that would’ve otherwise been thrown out for the prosecution and unearthed Martinez’s motive. I’d say that was huge.”

“Either way, good work. I’m glad you agreed to consult with us. You’d make a great detective.”

Cal smiled. “Thanks—and you just might make a good writer, too.”

CHAPTER 44

CAL NEVER IMAGINED his determination to prove that Sid Westin’s death would unravel the city like it did. In his article detailing the plot, he also revealed another scoop Kittrell gave him: The seven businessmen who were supposedly killed by Arnold Grayson were believed to have been killed by Robert Fisher, the alias for Ty Pullman. He made sure to give Kittrell full credit for solving the crime and coerced the editor to pen an apology on the opinion page for chastising Kittrell and Quinn in the past as the “Keystone Cops.” But that wasn’t all.

The story that sent shockwaves throughout the city was the revelation of William Lynch’s underground gambling ring. Whatever friends Lynch had in Seattle law enforcement who were protecting him from getting exposed couldn’t any longer. Lynch couldn’t escape the weight of justice and landed in prison with a twenty-year sentence.

Meanwhile, Dr. Bill Lancaster