Better Off Dead (A Cal Murphy Thriller Book 3)

by Jack Patterson

Her thoughts raced faster than her feet and she raced toward the door.

  What if he’s dead? What if Ted shoots me, too? What if they try to frame me for his murder?

  She couldn’t dismiss the thoughts fast enough before another horrible scenario presented itself.

  By the time she reached the door and yanked on the handle, she was already panting. She wasn’t sure if it was due to hyperventilation or overexertion. The amount of time it took her to reach the door would’ve given Usain Bolt a surprising challenge.

  Kelly flung the door open and could see only one thing—the body sprawled out on the floor with blood pooling around the head. Her mouth agape, Kelly covered it with her right hand, muffling her scream. The scene horrified her. Blood spatters to the right of the body. Flesh peeled back near a bloody gaping wound.

  It was the body of Ted Simpson.

  Once it finally registered with Kelly that the body wasn’t Cal, she scanned the room for him.

  “Oh, Kelly!” Cal said.

  He rushed across the room in her direction before suddenly stopping.

  Confused, Kelly tried to read the expression on Cal’s face. It was one of horror. It was one she didn’t quite understand until a firm hand clothed in a black leather glove wrapped around her mouth and another arm whipped around her stomach, clutching her tight.

  “Talk about making this easy,” the man’s voice snarled.

  Kelly struggled but to no avail. The man’s presence was enough to command Cal’s respect, if not outright fear.

  She didn’t recognize his voice. But Cal did.

  “Charles,” Cal said.

  CHAPTER 40

  IN A GAME OF POKER, it’s challenging to get the other players to fold if they don’t believe you have all the cards. If they think you’re bluffing, they’ll go all in and call your bluff. Cal was playing the consumate poker player, the wild gambler named Charles Robinson who always felt he had the best hand at the table, even when he didn’t. And he always won. But Cal was ready to go all in—he just didn’t expect the stakes to be so high.

  What is she doing here?

  Cal tried to calm down and deal rationally with the fact that the woman he loved was standing in front of him with a gun to her head. He needed to keep his hand close at this point. Even Robinson wouldn’t believe him if he showed him all his cards.

  “Let her go! She’s got nothing to do with this,” Cal finally stammered.

  Robinson just glared at Cal, choosing to remain silent.

  Frustrated, Cal repeated his demand. “I said let her go. She’s meaningless to you.”

  This time, Robinson responded.

  “Of course, she’s meaningless to me, but you aren’t. And since she means everything to you, I figured this is the best way to get you to do what I want.”

  “And what do you want?”

  “I want you to disappear. You, Kelly, all your notes, all your dreams of winning a Pulitzer. Poof! I want them all gone. You’re messing with my plan, my legacy. And I don’t like it when things get in the way. Fortunately, Ted made things a little bit easier with his cowardly stunt here. Now, you’re all that’s left between me and billions of dollars.”

  “What more could you possibly want? Don’t you already have everything a man could want?”

  “Perhaps, I do. But I don’t have everything I can have. And if I can have more, I’m going to have it. And come Monday, I’m going to have billions more.”

  Cal seized on Robinson’s bravado and his California-sized ego. “What’s happening Monday?”

  “Cal, Cal, Cal. And you call yourself a journalist? Don’t play coy with me. I know you know what’s happening Monday—unless you’re completely inept.”

  Cal knew exactly what was happening Monday and how it would result in another huge windfall for Robinson. But he wanted to make Robinson say it. He needed his hunch confirmed—like any good Pulitzer-winning reporter would do.

  “Humor me,” Cal said.

  Robinson said nothing. Still clutching Kelly, he instead moved toward Ted’s dead body and grabbed the revolver from his hand. He emptied the chamber as the bullets clinked on the cement floor. Then he moved with Kelly toward Cal.

  “Here. Take it,” Robinson said, offering the gun to Cal.

  Cal didn’t move, refusing to offer his hand.

  “If you don’t play along, Cal, there are many other ways this could end. Perhaps it’ll be a murder-suicide after a contentious breakup when the police find a break up email sent from Ms. Mendoza’s account to yours. I can make that all happen. Or there are other ways to involve other people you love.”

  Still reluctant, Cal forced his left hand forward, hoping Robinson wouldn’t realize it.

  “Do you take me for an idiot? I know you’re right handed. Other hand!”

  Cal felt he had no choice. He also watched his winning hand transforming into a losing one—and all the chips were sitting in the middle of the table in the form of Kelly.

  How is this happening?

  Cal felt the cold metal in his hands. It was an object that demanded respect. It was an object that gave one power. It was an object that served as protection. But for Cal, it was an object that weighed on him, perhaps even an Albatross that he could never explain away in a million years to a responding officer who just so happened to be on Robinson’s payroll. He knew the charges wouldn’t stick, but even to be accused in a case of this magnitude would cause him enough problems.

  Once Cal took the revolver, Robinson continued.

  “Now that I know nobody will believe a disgraced reporter who just so happens to be a murderer, I’ll be happy to tell you how Monday will be a big pay day for me.”

  Kelly suddenly began squirming. Her quick movements annoyed Robinson, compelling him to press the barrel of his gun into her temple. She stopped as suddenly as she began.

  “Does this have anything to do with Head Gear?” Cal asked.

  Robinson smiled.

  “I see you aren’t so inept after all,” Robinson said.

  Cal kept pushing.

  “The public offering of Head Gear on Monday? That’s what this is all about?”

  With each revelation of Robinson’s self-imposed brilliance, Cal watched the owner swell with more pride. It was brazen behavior, if anything.

  “Sssshhh,” Robinson said, holding his index finger up to his mouth. “We don’t want to let out this little secret.”

  “Which one? The one about your son-in-law shielding you by investing your money in Head Gear? Or the one about you blackmailing a man with his brother’s life to turn him into an assassin? Or maybe the one about your hiding PED usage of certain football players?”

  Robinson looked down at Ted’s dead body and shook his head.

  “And you, Mr. Cal Murphy, are the reason why I own media companies. A dilligent little cub reporter like yourself just might poke his nose where it doesn’t belong. And we wouldn’t want you spreading such scintilating accusations in a respectable newspaper, now would we?”

  Kelly, who had been compliant for most of their tête-à-tête, squirmed in an attempt to break free.

  Cal said nothing as Robinson pressed his gun forcefully into her temple.

  “Now, now, little lady. We’ll get to you in a minute,” Robinson said.

  Time started to run short for Cal. He needed to throw his hand on the table. He needed to force Robinson to show his, even though the gun appeared to be the winning wildcard. If he could keep the focus on himself, maybe Kelly would be safe.

  “I will promise not to write anything if you let us walk away,” Cal said.

  Robinson snickered.

  “I think we’re way past that point. You had a chance to walk away when your boss told you to stop pushing this story. But you didn’t listen. You only have yourself to blame now—for both your death and the death of this pretty little lady right here.”

  Cal decided it was the right moment to give his conciliatory speech—one that was anything but that in
reality.

  “You’re right. I guess I should’ve walked away from a story about a blackmailing billionaire controlling NFL drug testing and assassinating potential roadblocks to his plan to cash in on a fear he stoked regarding head injuries.”

  Robinson smiled.

  “You forgot to the add the part about how I got away with it.”

  CHAPTER 41

  CAL GRIMMACED AT ROBINSON’S COMMENT. Is there something I could have possibly forgotten? Could Robinson have snuffed out any of his plan? This plan was airtight. This isn’t happening.

  Despite Robinson’s newfound bravado, Cal decided to stay the course. He was going all in.

  Time to put all the cards on the table.

  “You forgot the part where all of this was broadcast live over the Internet,” Cal quipped.

  The comment didn’t seem to phase Robinson. He paused and grinned.

  “You think I didn’t see you talking to Marty Price in the press box on Sunday?” Robinson shot back. “I approached him after you left and told him if he called you to let me know and I’d make it worth his while not to publish anything you gave him.”

  Cal nervously rocked from one foot to the other. He still hadn’t thrown his last card.

  “I hope you called Miles Kennedy, too.”

  His final salvo launched, Cal waited for any number of outcomes, only one of which he wanted to see: total surrender.

  Robinson remained stoic, forcing a smile that left Cal wondering if he was outsmarted by the consumate opportunist. His phone began beeping incessantly. One, two, three. Alerts one right after the other lit up his phone. He resisted the urge to answer.

  “I think those are your friends telling you to put a sock in it,” Cal said, smirking triumphantly.

  “Well played, Cal. Too bad it’s not going to save your life or hers.”

  With his retort, Robinson shoved Kelly away, shooting her in the back. He then took aim at Cal, firing off three rounds before sprinting toward the door.

  Outside the building was an FBI SWAT team awaiting Robinson. The hostage situation broadcast live over the Internet was enough for Kennedy to convince the FBI that his former reporter needed assistance.

  Robinson immediately threw his hands in the air and dropped his gun as FBI agents descended upon him. Smothered into the parking lot gravel, Robinson surrendered without a struggle. For all his bluster, Robinson wasn’t willing to go down in a firestorm of bullets. A media mogul done in by new media.

  As the agents cuffed Robinson’s hands behind his backs, a blood curdling scream ripped through the parking lot.

  “Noooooooo! No! No! No!”

  It was Cal’s voice.

  CHAPTER 42

  INSTEAD OF RAKING in the chips that was Robinson’s arrogant bravado, Cal was left on the dirty floor begging for Kelly’s life. He could barely see her limp body through the tears flowing out of his eyes. No story was worth this pain and anguish. No writing award could make up for the loss of the woman he loved.

  Cal fell to his knees next to Kelly, begging her to hold on. There wasn’t much else he could do except pray. And he wasn’t very good at that, though he regretted his sporadic contact with the Almighty in the moment.

  “God, no!” Cal cried.

  Two FBI agents rushed in and began performing CPR on Kelly in an effort to revive her. The seconds ticked by like hours for Cal as he wailed.

  It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Kelly wasn’t supposed to be here. Why was she here anyway?

  A million questions flooded Cal’s mind. He couldn’t begin to dismiss them fast enough before another one presented itself.

  Cal grabbed Kelly’s hand and pleaded with her.

  “Hang on, baby! I know you can do it!”

  Just then, Cal felt a slight squeeze from Kelly. Her eyes opened and she looked at him.

  At this point, nothing was for certain, but Cal took it as a good sign.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of her,” said one of the attending FBI agents.

  Moments later, a medical response team swarmed into the room, stretcher in tow. Cal felt Kelly squeeze his hand once more before the paramedics whisked her away and into a vehicle headed for a nearby hospital. Cal wanted to go but was restrained by an FBI agent.

  “We need you here, Cal,” he said. “We’ve got some important questions for you. She’ll be alright.”

  Cal hoped the agent was right.

  CHAPTER 43

  FBI AGENTS PULLED CAL aside and began routine questioning. Cal asked for a moment alone before delving into such matters. Nothing seemed important to him other than Kelly. However, he couldn’t ignore his phone, which rattled with texts and voice messages. He dug into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone and get the perspective of those who had helped him orchestrate the dramatic live takedown of Charles Robinson.

  He punched in Miles Kennedy’s number without listening to his voice message.

  “That was spectacular!” Kennedy said.

  Cal knew how the drama must have played on a live web stream, but he didn’t feel the same way—not yet, anyway. Kelly was lying in a hospital somewhere fighting for her life.

  “So you captured it all?” Cal asked.

  “Every last second. I can’t believe it. If you don’t win some sort of award for this, that will render all awards meaningless in my book. Simply incredible. And to think you weren’t a fan of new media?”

  Cal appreciated Kennedy’s support and enthusiasm. But at the moment, none of it seemed to matter much to him.

  “I’m still worried about Kelly,” Cal replied.

  “Is she gonna make it?”

  “That’s what the paramedic told me—but she lost a lot of blood. I’ve got to get to the hospital and be by her side.”

  “She’ll make it, Cal. And don’t worry—what you did today was an incredible act of heroism and journalism. If I ever get the chance, I’m going to hire you back.”

  Cal smiled. He didn’t care about his job at that moment. All he cared about was Kelly. But it was nice to hear Kennedy say such kind words about him, especially since Cal’s actions nearly cost Kennedy his job, too.

  * * *

  The ride to the hospital would have been faster in a horse and carriage. At least, that’s what Cal thought as the black government-issued Chevy Tahoe caught every red light over the seven-mile drive to UCSF Medical Center. He reflected over his adventures with Kelly from the past. She somehow managed to worm her way into life-threatening situations with him, yet she always escaped unscathed. But not this time. The image of her limp body oozing blood onto the warehouse floor seared into his memory. He couldn’t shake it no matter how hard he tried. And the anxious ride to the hospital only gave him more time to replay how he could have kept her out of harm’s way.

  When Cal arrived at the hospital, the medical staff directed him to the waiting room. Kelly entered surgery as soon as she arrived and the prognosis was grim. The sheer amount of blood lost put her survival in doubt. Cal slumped into a waiting room chair and stared at his feet. He glanced around the room only to notice it was full of others as glum as himself. As the minutes ticked by, all Cal could do was think about how amazing Kelly was.

  Kelly was as independent as they come, a pure bred Idaho woman through and through. Her nose for a good story spelled her downfall this time. Cal had picked up on the link between Robinson and Head Gear. It wasn’t until he listened to his voicemail from Kelly that he realized it was scandalous, too. An inferior product using endorsements bought with hush money. Robinson was no fool. Public offering on Monday—stock sold within a month. He was already angling to avoid blame once Head Gear faced its first lawsuit.

  That was Kelly’s all-important contribution to the investigation, one that not only would assist in the ultimate takedown of Charles Robinson but also nuke Head Gear’s initial public offering. While photojournalists don’t exactly garner much respect by their newsroom brethren, Kelly had it. She earned it with instincts on
par with a veteran reporter.

  But she also possessed some other important qualities, some that pushed this case from a hunch to a full-blown conspiracy. She had people skills. Kelly, not Cal, convinced Mrs. Banks that exhuming her son’s body was necessary to prove he was murdered and help clear his name. And she held Mrs. Banks’ hand when watching her son’s lifeless body get sliced open on the medical examiner’s table was too much to bear. It was kind-hearted Kelly at her finest.

  Another hand grabbed Cal’s cold sweaty palm and squeezed it, snapping Cal from his stupor. He looked up. It was Mrs. Banks.

  CHAPTER 44

  “MAY I JOIN YOU?” Mrs. Banks asked.

  Cal nodded, gesturing to the open seat next to him. He glanced at her and forced a slight smile before staring back down at his feet.

  “She’s gonna make it, you know,” Mrs. Banks said, trying to start the conversation.

  Cal remained motionless.

  Mrs. Banks pressed on.

  “You know why she’s going to make it?”

  Cal said nothing.

  “She’s going to make it because she has something to fight for. She has someone to fight for.”

  Cal resisted the urge to reply. How can she be so sure? What does she know about Kelly?

  “You’re probably wondering how I know that. I know you are. When you were examining Aaron’s body after our talk and I just couldn’t take it any more, she sat with me. I asked her what brought joy in her life. And you know what she said?”

  Cal slowly raised his head and looked at Mrs. Banks in the eye for the first time. He still said nothing.

  “She said you. She told me about how exciting it is to be with you and how satisfying it is to track down stories that rip the mask off evil and expose it to the world.”

  Cal looked back down at the ground again and wondered to himself if she would say the same thing tomorrow. It’s not very exciting to be used as a pawn by some evil power broker in a high-stakes game. Yet, that’s what she was. And Robinson decided to fold like a coward, shooting a woman in the back. Cal pondered the reality of the situation and wanted to lash out at Mrs. Banks. But he couldn’t. She was too kind, too compassionate. And she had just ventured through the worst living hell a mother could conceive.