Bill stopped too. “Fine then. Make it quick.”
Cal climbed down off the horse and eyed the rattlesnake just a few feet away from Gary’s horse. He slowly walked in the direction of it.
“Will ya hurry it up?” Bill growled.
“Okay, okay,” Cal said as he increased his pace.
He took a deep breath and then kicked dirt in the direction of the snake. The snake rose up and headed toward him. Cal shuffled around, placing the horse between him and the snake. As Gary tried to figure out what was going on, he turned his horse around until it was facing the snake.
Gary’s horse then reared back, tossing him hard to the ground.
Bill watched slack-jawed. “What the—”
With his hands still tied, Cal scurried over to Gary, who wasn’t moving. He used the terrified horse, which was bucking about, as a shield from Bill. Cal snatched the gun off Gary and pulled a knife off his belt before he tiptoed away from his co-rider, who still lay motionless on the ground. Cal sawed discreetly at the ropes on his hands. He then began to slowly back away from Gary once he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. The snake returned and slithered toward Gary.
“No!” Bill yelled, shooting at the snake.
He missed. The snake recoiled and bit Gary on the neck.
Bill leapt off his horse and started to run toward Gary. He didn’t even see the gun trained on him.
“That’s far enough,” Cal said, his hands shaking.
Cal walked sideways, keeping Bill in front of him. “You can tend to your friend, but you’re going to let us go.”
“You know I can’t do that,” Bill said, reaching for his gun.
“Keep your hands right there,” Cal said. “I know how to use this thing.”
“I doubt that,” Bill said.
With that, Bill’s hand darted toward his gun, but it never got there.
Bam! Bam!
Cal put two shots in Bill’s left leg. Bill staggered to his knees and then fell over on the ground.
However, he didn’t lie there for more than a second or two when he heard the clicking of the rattlesnake behind. Bill wobbled to his feet and limped away from the snake.
“Now put your gun down and kick it over here,” Cal said.
“Are you crazy? I’m gonna need this thing.”
Cal fired another round at Bill’s feet.
Bill put his hands up. “Okay, okay. Here.” He followed Cal’s orders and kicked the gun to him.
Cal kept his gun trained on Bill while he picked up the other one and jammed it into the back of his pants. He then backed toward Bill’s horse.
“Give me your hands,” Cal said to Jessica. He cut her free. She didn’t need any instructions to know she was to do the same to him.
Cal climbed onto the horse behind Jessica.
“Good luck, Bill,” Cal said as he grabbed the reins. “You’re gonna need it.”
Cal directed the horse out of the gulch and toward the hill they’d just descended. Once they reached the top, they saw several law enforcement agents on ATVs. They rode down toward them and told them where Bill and Gary were. One of the agents peeled off to escort Cal and Jessica down the hill toward their response unit to get a full report.
For several minutes, neither of them said anything.
Jessica cried softly and sniffled.
Finally, Cal broke the silence. “I’m really sorry about all this.”
Jessica shook her head. “It’s not your fault. I’m just glad it’s over.” She burst into more tears. “I still haven’t even properly grieved Carson’s death yet.”
“Grief is something that never really goes away,” he said. “You just learn how to handle it better.”
She nodded. “It’s just that I feel like I found out I was married to someone I didn’t even know.”
“Carson was a good man—no matter how or why he got tangled up with these guys. Don’t ever think differently about him. Make sure your little girl knows what a good man he was.”
She sniffled again. “It’s just so strange. I never knew that side of him—the side that would be reckless to involve himself with people like that. He was always so careful, so safe. He even double-checked his race car before every race. It just doesn’t make sense.”
“Everybody has a past, but I’ve learned it’s always better to give someone the benefit of the doubt. People can change, you know?”
She nodded and didn’t say another word.
The roar of the engines droned in the distance.
CHAPTER 59
CAL NURSED A CUP of coffee and watched Kelly read his story. He smiled at every slight change of expression that swept across her face.
“Are you kidding me?” she asked as she put the paper down, mouth agape. “Talk about plotting your revenge.”
He nodded. “I almost missed it. After observing the team and listening to all the rumors, I was convinced it was anybody but Jackson Holmes. Even when I saw the video, I didn’t believe it.”
“There has to be more to the story than what you ran.”
He smiled and nodded. “Always.” He took another sip of his coffee and stared out the window.
Kelly snapped her fingers. “Hello? Aren’t you going to tell me the rest of the story?”
“If you insist.”
“Of course, I insist. Now quit keeping me in suspense.”
“I found most of this out after I wrote the story—or I couldn’t properly source it. But as with any murder like this, I’m always looking for the motive. And that’s clearly why I missed it. There didn’t seem to be a clear motive for Jackson Holmes. He was a new guy to the NASCAR scene and appeared to be content just to get his shot as a crew member in the big leagues.”
“How long had he been with the team?”
“Just two years—which makes you think if he was going to do something, why wait two years, right?”
Kelly nodded.
“So, anyway, what I found out was that the Goldini family had a strong grip on several different levels of racing. They’d pay off guys to throw races or to wreck favored drivers. But they were smart enough to only do it on occasion. However, there was a driver named Scooter Jones on the K&N East circuit who told the Goldinis that he would wreck the pole sitter that week. I forget who it was, but it doesn’t matter. Then, Jones went out and won the race.”
Cal took another sip of his coffee and continued.
“This really irked the Goldinis. They told Jones that he owed them two hundred thousand dollars, and Jones reportedly laughed at them to their faces. The Goldinis then went to Carson Tanner and told him he needed to wreck Jones hard within the first five laps of the following week’s race. Tanner owed the Goldinis a favor after they had the favorite eliminated a few months before to clear the path for Tanner to win his first race.”
Kelly’s eyes bulged. “Wow, what a tangled web this story is.”
“That’s not the half of it. So, Tanner wrecked Jones hard, causing serious injuries. After ten days in the hospital, Jones died from injuries due to the wreck.” Cal paused. “And guess who is cousins with Scooter Jones?”
“Jackson Holmes?” Kelly said.
“Bingo. I almost missed that in his bio, which made a brief mention of it. And I still probably wouldn’t have thought much about it until I typed in their names together. The second search page had a big story about the death of stock car racing’s next greatest hero who would never be—and both their names were in the article. Jackson Holmes was quoted and he seemed miffed, to put it mildly.”
“But Davis Motorsports still hired him?”
“Maybe they didn’t see the article. I don’t know. It’s not like Ned Davis would tell me anything these days. NASCAR suspended him from operating a team for two years.”
“The cover up is always worse than the crime.”
Cal nodded. “And the crazy thing is, he didn’t commit the crime either. He got what he deserved. At least for him, he’s not facing a murder c
harge like Holmes.”
Kelly folded the paper again. “Have you spoken with Jessica since you got back? How is she?”
“She’s fine—and the baby is fine. Her baby still needs that surgery, but it looks like she’s going to at least be able to get that life insurance policy to pay out now.”
Kelly’s stopped. “Do you hear that? Sounds like Maddie waking up.” She darted off to get her daughter.
Cal drained the last of his coffee before his phone rang. It was Owen Burns.
“Burns, how are ya?”
“Alive—and employed.”
“Congratulations. Who’d you land with?”
“I can’t talk about it right now, but when I can, you’ll be the first to know.”
Cal smiled. “Thanks.”
“No, I’m the one who needs to be thanking you. You salvaged my reputation and career with that article. Davis had already done his best to marginalize me—and if you didn’t have the courage to do what you did, I might be looking for some other type of work.”
“And that’d be a bad thing?”
Burns chuckled. “Probably not, but racing is all I know. And I love it with every fiber in my being. So, I just had to tell you ‘thank you.’ ”
“My pleasure,” Cal said. “Be safe out there.”
“Don’t worry, I always am.”
Cal hung up and watched a few rays of sunlight beam through the naked trees in his backyard. He understood Burns’ desire to stick with his passion. It’s what drove him to be the best journalist he could be.
Buzzz.
Another text message?
It was the tour chaplain, Burt Glover.
I told you it’d work out.
Cal nodded and put his phone in his pocket.
Yes, you did.
His phone buzzed again.
Geez, what is going on?
It was Folsom.
Speak of the devil. Wonder what he wants?
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THIS NOVEL wouldn’t be what it was without the help of the good people at the Phoenix International Raceway. Their help was invaluable in helping craft a story that could be considered both realistic in setting and scope.
Zac Emmons, the public relations director at PIR, was a tremendous help in getting me access to the track and drivers. Aimee Dulebohn, one of his team of consummate professionals, was also a big help to me while in Phoenix.
While I might feel like a true NASCAR driver in the number of people I thank, it really did take all these people to help me write a realistic story about a story so many people are passionate about. Justin Allgaier, Kurt Busch, and Jeffrey Earnhardt all took the time to talk with me about their experiences on the track and off of it to help create more realism with the people surrounding racing. Glenn Evans, Ryan Scott, and Manny Leach are some people who work tirelessly behind the scenes to help create such great theater during the races — and they all were gracious enough to take time to talk about the sport they’re all so passionate about.
Lauren Emling, Alex Taurus, and Rory Connellan all helped make those interviews with drivers happen, and for that I’m incredibly grateful. They also shared with me their experience around the sport along with Amy Walsh in creating a big picture and their role in the drivers’ lives.
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.
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 want to thank Duncan Campbell, one of my readers who over Twitter suggested that I write a story using NASCAR as the backdrop. That kind of interaction with Duncan is one of the reasons I love writing in the new digital age as no author is forced to write in a vacuum any longer.
As always, I must acknowledge my wife for allowing me the time to write this story and to spend time away from our family researching and writing.
And finally you, the reader — thank you for your support in my work. It inspires me to keep writing.
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 age 15 as a sports writer for a daily newspaper in Orangeburg, S.C. He later earned a degree in newspaper journalism from the University of Georgia, where he took a job covering high school sports for the award-winning Athens Banner-Herald and Daily News.
He later became the sports editor at a daily newspaper in south Georgia before working in the magazine world as an editor and freelance journalist. He has won numerous writing awards, including a national award for his investigative reporting on a sordid tale surrounding an NCAA investigation over the University of Georgia football program.
Jack enjoys the great outdoors of the Northwest while living there with his wife and three children. He still follows sports closely.
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DEAD AND GONE
Electronic Edition Copyright © 2015 Jack Patterson
eBook ISBN: 978-1-938848-62-9
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.
Cover Design by Dan Pitts
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Dead and Gone Page 21