His captor was built like a block. At six foot two and at least 225 pounds, he wore a Richard Nixon mask and a muscle shirt to show off his bulging biceps. With a slight smile, he looked Cal up and down.
“You’ve got a lot of fight in you for a man of your stature,” the man said. “Maybe next time you won’t struggle so much.”
He reared back and punched Cal in the stomach. As he absorbed the blow, he doubled over in pain.
“Who are you?” Cal asked after regaining his breath.
“I’m Tricky Dick,” the man said. “Haven’t you ever heard of me? I also go by Deep Throat.”
“What kind of sick joke is this?” Cal said.
“This is no joke, Mr. Murphy. My employer thinks this is serious business.”
“And who exactly is your employer?”
The man chuckled. “That’s information that neither you nor anyone else needs to know. But let me tell you what you do need to know.”
“I’d love to write all this down,” Cal said. “However, I’m a little tied up at the moment.”
“I have a feeling you’ll be able to commit all of this to memory. Now, let’s begin.”
Tricky Dick paced around the room, his feet shuffling as he did. Cal took advantage of the free moment to inspect his surroundings in case he ever received the opportunity to search for it again or identify it for local law enforcement. A light-green tile decorated the lower half of the walls, while the upper half was painted white. But the painted portion along with the tile grout was dotted with mildew. The ceiling tiles had water damage, and the one in the far corner dripped a drop of water about every minute.
The only light came from the flickering fluorescent bulbs overhead. The pale hue cast about the room made it difficult for Cal to make out many of the words written on the tiles, presumably by people who had been held here. But it gave Cal the sense that he was in what had essentially been a prison.
“First off, my boss wants you to know that you’ve overstepped your bounds. You’re a sports writer. You’re supposed to write about sports, about games—not begin investigating something you have no business looking into.”
Tricky Dick took a deep breath before continuing.
“Second, if you don’t drop your investigation, the body count is going to rise. And it’s already too high as it is.”
“Too high?” Cal asked. “Is one considered too high of a number for your employer?”
Tricky Dick chuckled.
“The body count is actually up to three,” he said as he picked up a file off the table behind Cal.
Cal furrowed his brow. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Maybe this will jog your memory,” Tricky Dick said, holding up a photo and rotating through them as he spoke. “Sid Gambino, your friendly New York coroner. Phil White Bull, your meddling mechanic from North Dakota, and Seattle bus driver Ray Jackson.”
Cal stared at the photos. They all looked authentic. With wide eyes, he realized everyone he’d spoken to about the story was now dead.
“We’ve been watching your every move, Mr. Murphy. And my employer isn’t happy about having to cover his tracks so aggressively. Now, if don’t want Kelly and Maddie to have to look at your dead body over a graveside service real soon, you need to stop what you’re doing. Do I make myself clear?”
Cal narrowed his eyes and nodded.
“This isn’t a game, Mr. Murphy. Therefore, you need to butt out. No one will blame you if you just request to go watch the Seahawks play instead of scraping the bottom of the barrel for a conspiracy story that no one’s going to believe any way.”
That was the last thing Cal heard before getting whacked in the head again.
* * *
CAL OPENED HIS EYES and realized he was sitting up, propped against the outside wall of a business. Clambering to his feet, he looked up at the sign: Winston’s Wrecker Service.
He ambled inside and asked a woman behind the counter what time it was. Nodding toward the clock on the far wall, she asked him if he needed something.
Cal looked down at his shirt and pants, both of which were covered in dirt and grime. There were even scant traces of blood.
He then cocked his head to one side and glanced at her.
“Do you know what I’m doing here?” he asked.
The woman smacked her gum as she talked. “If you’re not here to pick up a towed vehicle, I have no idea because those are the kinds of people who typically enter a wrecking company office off the street.”
Cal sighed and dug into his pocket for his phone. It was still there but turned off. He powered it up and waited for a few seconds.
“If you’re here for the reason I mentioned, let’s start with a last name.”
Cal looked up at the woman as she blew another huge bubble.
“The name’s Murphy,” he said.
The bubble popped and covered most of her mouth. Effortlessly, she wrangled the gum with her teeth and continued chewing while typing on her keyboard.
“Calvin?” she asked after a few seconds.
“I go by Cal, but yes.”
“Calvin Murphy, we’ve got your car here. Where would you like for us to tow it?”
“I can’t just drive it out of here?”
She laughed with a snort. “Not unless you’re some type of magician. I saw your car. It isn’t going anywhere for a while.”
“Where is it?” he asked.
She pointed toward a glass door. Cal wandered toward it and then shoved it open with his hips. Outside, he saw several rows of cars, some of them with boots on the back tires, others that appeared to be smashed from some sort of accident.
He cruised down a couple of aisles until he found his car, which had suffered a smashed in front end.
Great. Just what I need this week—the hassle of a car in the shop.
Cal dialed Kelly’s number.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “I’ve been worried sick about you. I tried calling you and texting you, but nothing.”
Cal sighed. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly in a position to call you back, much less in the frame of mind to do so.”
“Did that Sanchez guy do something to you?”
“No, I never even made it to him.”
“Why not?”
“Somebody was tailing me, and I came up on a crosswalk when a little old lady stepped out in front of me. I swerved to miss her and hit a utility pole. The next thing I knew, I woke up bound and wearing a hood.”
“What in the world have we gotten into this time?” she asked.
“There’s much more to the story. I’ll have to fill you in when I get home. But just know that you need to get Maddie somewhere safe and do it quickly. I’ll give you all the details later.”
“Fine,” she said. “But I hope you have an idea of where to go with this story.”
“Why’s that?”
“I spoke with Buckman while I was looking for you earlier today. Apparently, this story is all over the internet. It hasn’t gone mainstream yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”
Cal sighed. “Okay, I’ll give Buckman a call.”
“Be careful, Cal. And get an Uber ride out of there as soon as you can.”
CHAPTER 15
CAL HAD HIS Uber driver get off the Interstate and drop him off at Li’l Woody’s for a burger and a shake. The restaurant was thinning out from the early dinner crowd, enabling Cal to snag a booth. He needed some privacy to call Buckman back and recount the events of the day.
“I was hoping you were still alive,” Buckman said after answering the phone. “I can’t have my favorite reporter winding up dead in a back alley somewhere.”
“Well, I wish I could say the same for all my sources,” Cal said.
“What do you mean?”
“They’re all dead, Buckman. Every last one of them. The coroner, the mechanic, the bus driver.”
“How do you know that?”
“I was knocked out and interrogated in som
e dilapidated building in South Park before I ever met with Sanchez. Some guy in a Richard Nixon mask showed me photos of all of the people I’ve interviewed—and they were all dead.”
“Have you confirmed that yet?”
“No, but I know a thing or two about identifying an image that’s been Photoshopped. If these were fakes, they were dang good ones.”
Buckman groaned. “So, what do you have to go on at this point for a story? I want to get out in front of this thing before internet journalists take up the cause.”
“At this point, not much—just what I was told when I was threatened. I’ll see if I can confirm all those murders and then put something together. But other than a police spokesperson in those cities, I won’t have much in the way of sources.”
“That’s better than nothing. You didn’t happen to record the conversations, did you?”
Cal huffed a laugh through his nose. “I wasn’t exactly in any position to pull out my phone and start recording anything. I’m really fortunate that he let me leave with my phone.”
“Okay, just confirm that all those people were murdered, starting with our own Seattle PD and then report what happened to you. We’ll have some type of record and can move forward from there.”
“I’m on it,” Cal said before hanging up.
Cal caught another ride home before briefing Kelly about the plan he had devised with Buckman.
“You need to speak with someone who’s a friend of the paper’s,” Kelly advised. “Find someone who you can trust because this story is going to go crazy quick.”
Cal furrowed his brow. “What exactly are you worried about? The guy who came after me today?”
Kelly shook her head. “The quicker this gets public, the quicker you’re protected from them. I’m just afraid they may come after you in a different way.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if they killed every person that we spoke to together or you spoke with alone, who do you think is going to look like a prime suspect?”
Cal pointed at himself. “You think they’re going to see me as someone who murdered all these people? What motive could they conjure up?”
“I don’t know, but do they really need one?” she asked with a shrug. “If they put you at the scene of the crime, you’re in trouble.”
“So are you,” Cal said.
“Let’s just hope I’m worrying about this for no reason.”
Cal nodded. “How’s Maddie? Did you drop her off with your mother?”
“Maddie and my mom are fine. Nobody is penetrating that fortress of hers.”
“How’d your mom take the whole thing?”
“She’ll be fine as long as this doesn’t drag on.”
“Okay, I’m going to make some calls in my office, and then you and I can discuss how we might handle any situations that could arise from this investigation.”
Cal shut the door to his office and settled into his chair. He skimmed several emails before texting the Times’ lead police reporter to get a name for a helpful detective.
Doug Jordan was the name that came back on the reply along with his phone number.
Cal dialed Jordan’s cell and waited for the detective to answer.
“Cal Murphy?” Jordan said after exchanging pleasantries. “This is the Cal Murphy?”
Cal chuckled. “It’s not like anyone is clamoring to be me this week.”
“Maybe, but every time I’m watching a major sporting event involving a Seattle sports teams, I think about how awesome it’d be to be you and be in the stadium for the game.”
“Then you must not think that very often,” Cal said with a laugh. “These are Seattle sports we’re talking about.”
“That’s why when one of our teams does make it somewhere, being there would be that much more special.”
“Well, don’t hold your breath. It might be a while before something like that happens again.”
Jordan sighed. “You’re probably right. Anyway, I’m sure you didn’t call me to discuss our terrible sports town. What can I help you with?”
“I wanted to report an incident I was in today, but first I wanted to ask about a possible homicide that may have occurred yesterday.”
“I can’t comment on anything until it’s been made public through our communications department. In fact, I’m not really supposed to be talking with anyone from the media without clearance first.”
Cal scribbled some notes on his pad. “I’m not looking for a comment—just some answers.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t give you any of those either.”
“So, the name Ray Jackson doesn’t mean anything to you.”
There was a long pause.
“Detective Jordan?” Cal asked.
“I’m here.”
“So, you don’t want to tell me anything off the record?”
“Didn’t you say you wanted to report an incident?”
“Yes,” Cal said. “But first I—”
“You need to call the precinct downtown to report any incident. I’m just a detective. It’s been a pleasure talking with you, Mr. Murphy.”
Jordan hung up.
Well, that had to be the most telling no comment I’ve ever had.
Cal scratched down a few notes and then looked up the number for the downtown precinct so he could report his abduction and assault.
The person who answered the phone transferred the call, and a man who identified himself as Sergeant Davis answered.
“Interesting that you should give us a call tonight, Mr. Murphy,” Sergeant Davis said. “Your name has been bandied about the office quite a bit today.”
Cal chuckled. “Why? Were you guys still lamenting the Mariners’ loss to the Yankees in the divisional series?”
“To be honest, it was work related.”
Cal’s eyes bulged, making him glad that his facial expressions couldn’t be seen by Sergeant Davis.
“What’s going on?” Cal asked.
“Late this afternoon, we had a visit from some special agents from the FBI. There’s been a string of murders across the country, which all seem related—and apparently, you’re part of their investigation.”
“Am I suspect?”
“Let’s just say I wouldn’t advise you to leave town.”
“But, Sergeant Davis, I need to report an assault against me today.”
“Go ahead, Mr. Murphy. I’m listening. Tell me what happened.”
Cal’s train of thought was interrupted when he heard a pair of car doors slamming. He hustled across the room and peeked out the window. A man and a woman dressed in suits were strolling up the walkway.
“Never mind, Sergeant Davis. I’ll have to call you back later. Something’s come up here that I need to attend to right away.”
“Is everything okay, Mr. Murphy? I can—”
Cal hung up and rushed out of his office to look for Kelly. She was leafing through a magazine in the living room.
“You were right,” Cal said.
“About what?” Kelly said with a smile before looking up at Cal. “There are so many things.”
“Kelly,” Cal said, the panic in his voice showing. “They’re here.”
“Who?”
“The FBI. I just saw a couple agents heading up the walkway.”
She snapped the magazine shut and tossed it on the coffee table. “Sometimes I hate being right.”
“I just got off the phone with a sergeant at the Seattle Police Department, and he told me that the FBI was asking about me today.”
The doorbell rang.
“So, what do you want to do?” Kelly asked.
“I’m gonna get out of here. You try to stall them any way you can.”
Cal turned his phone off and slipped it into his pocket. He kissed Kelly on the cheek and assured her that he would contact her when it was safe.
“Tell Maddie I’ll call her tomorrow.”
Cal then eased out the backdoor before breaking into a sprint a
nd running as fast as he could away from his house.
CHAPTER 16
CAL STOLE ACROSS his yard and scaled the six-foot-high fence separating his yard from his neighbor’s. Praying that the man’s dog was inside, Cal breathed a sigh of relief when the neighborhood barker wasn’t patrolling the back. Cal proceeded to jump one more fence before climbing over another bordering a house that faced the street parallel to his.
While Cal didn’t hear any shouts or footfalls, he realized he couldn’t be too cautious, at least not until he found out what the FBI wanted from him. Based on his conversation with Sergeant Davis, Cal certainly felt like there was a very real possibility that he was being framed. And given the fact that he had already determined that some powerful people had to be involved in the cover up of Chase Dollinger’s murder, Cal couldn’t be too careful.
Two blocks away was The Oracle, a trendy restaurant and bar that almost always had a taxi on call, especially on Friday nights. Cal planned to hail a cab there and then get somewhere safe until he could learn more.
However, Cal’s scheme was torpedoed by Mrs. Neuberger and her Pomeranian, Fifi. The neighborhood’s nosiest resident never missed an opportunity to stop and talk, usually dishing out all the local gossip she’d learned. If Cal wasn’t under such scrutiny, he would’ve greeted her before making up an excuse to get away. But given the circumstances, he needed to endear himself a little bit to her in case the FBI or Seattle PD decided to canvas the area looking for him. If he was in her good graces, she might keep her big mouth shut, all for the sake of sharing the gossip later with another neighbor.
Cal knelt and petted Fifi.
“What are you two doing out so late?” Cal asked.
“Oh, when Fifi wants to go for a walk, we go for a walk,” Mrs. Neuberger said.
Cal looked up to see her eyeing him closely. He stood and smiled. “What is it, Mrs. Neuberger?”
She cocked her head to one side. “Where’s Kelly tonight? I haven’t seen her or Maddie out in a while. There’s not any trouble going on at home, is there?”
Cal smiled. “Actually, things couldn’t be better. We’ve just been catching up on lost time since baseball season finally ended. And I needed a little walk to get some fresh air after a busy day at my home office.”
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