“Where are they?” a man asked.
Cal recognized the on-duty coroner’s voice.
“You’re not supposed to be in here,” he said. “I’m going to need to see some—”
“Okay, that will serve as identification enough. They’re in the last exam room on the right.”
Cal grabbed Mendoza by the arm, pulling him away from the body.
“I’m not done yet,” Mendoza protested. “I want to get a third vial.”
“We don’t have time. Someone is coming for us.”
Cal scanned the room and decided on a spot beneath the sole desk against the far wall was their best bet. He raced over and turned off the lights before sprinting back to his hiding spot, dragging Mendoza along.
Cal put his index finger to his lips.
“Not a word,” he whispered.
Based on the sound of the footsteps, Cal guessed there were at least two men storming down the hall. The coroner couldn’t be heard, likely because he ceased his protests. Cal doubted the man would’ve joined the assailants who had just stormed inside.
The doors flew open after a thud, which Cal guessed came from a swift kick. With a flicker, the lights came on. Cal steadied his breathing and said a short prayer that the two men roaming around the exam room wouldn’t find who they were looking for.
“Where’d they go?” a man with a whiny voice asked. “It’s obvious that they were here very recently.”
“I don’t know, but it looks like they’ve gone. Let’s get out of here before anyone sees us.”
Cal wanted to catch a glimpse of the men’s faces and burn it into his memory. Whoever they were, they had some connection to the truth about what happened to Dollinger. But Cal had to resist for his own safety as well as Mendoza’s.
After a few seconds, the door slammed shut and Cal heard the footfalls grow more faint as the men scampered away. He exhaled and shook his head.
“That was close,” Cal said.
Mendoza glared at him. “I thought I was just doing an autopsy. You didn’t tell me that my life might be in danger for doing so.”
Cal strode across the room and turned the lights back on. “Details, details.”
“Cal, I’m not in the mood.”
“Just get your last vial of blood, and let’s get outta here.”
Cal fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed Hugh Dollinger’s number.
“Well, did you find anything?” Hugh asked.
“Nothing is verified at this point, but there were several things that the coroner here missed.”
“I knew it.”
“We’re not ready to say if the initial report was intentionally misleading or simply an error, but two men just came looking for us—and let’s just say they didn’t want to have much of a conversation. We managed to hide in a corner of the room and avoid being detected.”
“And what does that tell you?” Hugh asked.
“I’m convinced that Chase was murdered—and I’m going to do my best to find out who was behind it.”
CHAPTER 6
SHAKEN BY THE INCIDENT at the morgue, Cal decided not to return there the next day to speak with the examining coroner, Sid Gambino. Cal started his day off by dropping Mendoza off at the airport before planning out the next steps. The first action Cal took was to review Gambino’s original report, which seemed rushed at best, misleading at worst. While Cal wasn’t an expert in how coroners were deemed to be good at their jobs, he couldn’t imagine landing a position in New York would be easy for someone who wasn’t in the top of his or her field.
Cal’s cursory research found that Gambino was well-respected among his peers, receiving numerous awards for his skills. In one story Cal found online, Gambino helped detectives link up several murders that led to the eventual arrest of a serial killer who had targeted bike couriers. The level of detail required to uncover elements that tied those deaths to one executioner was an exercise in fastidious analysis. And Cal could reasonably conclude that Gambino was either careless in his effort to finish quickly or an attempt to hide certain facts from the public and police detectives. If it was the latter, Cal wanted to know why.
Cal called the morgue and asked to speak with Gambino. A receptionist informed Cal that Gambino was out of the office. With Cal on a tight time schedule before he had to return to Seattle, he found Gambino’s home address and paid him a visit.
Gambino’s apartment in Brooklyn was one that had been overlooked in the neighborhood’s revitalization efforts. Dirty tile floors and paint flaking off the walls detracted from what Cal imagined was once a grand building in its prime. A man in a filthy trench coat sat on a worn couch, head down, absorbed in something on his phone. He looked up at Cal.
“You gotta cigarette I can bum off you, man?”
Cal shook his head and didn’t say a word. He hustled into the stairwell and up the steps to the third floor. After taking a deep breath, Cal knocked on the door of number 320 and waited for someone to answer. The sound of shuffling footsteps could be heard coming from the other side of the door.
“Who is it?” asked a man in a gravely voice.
“My name is Cal Murphy. I’m a reporter from Seattle.”
“What do you want?”
“I have a few questions for you. Would you mind speaking with me for a few minutes?”
“I’m sick, and I don’t feel like talking.”
“I’m not worried about catching your cold, and I promise this won’t take long.”
“Please leave me alone.”
“Fine,” Cal said. “I’ll just move forward with publishing my story about how your examination of Chase Dollinger consisted of gross errors on your part. I’m sure that won’t effect your pristine record in any way in what will be one of the most talked about stories of the day tomorrow.”
The latch unlocked, and the door swung open. Standing in front of Cal was wiry man that appeared to be somewhere in his 50s with a full head of gray hair and a beard to match. The wrinkles in his forehead looked more like the result of a stressed life than old age. Gambino wore a long, navy-blue bathrobe that dragged the floor, and he clutched a steaming mug of coffee.
“You better keep your word about this being quick,” Gambino said. “The longer you’re here, the more danger we’ll both be in.”
Cal slipped inside and watched as Gambino re-secured the door. He gestured for his guest to have a seat on the couch in the adjacent living room.
“I’m not here to blow up your career,” Cal said as he eased onto the couch.
Gambino settled into a chair opposite of Cal and sighed. “I wish I could say that mattered to me at this point. But right now my only desire is that I don’t get murdered.”
“So you found something else and failed to report it?” Cal asked.
“I didn’t really have much of a choice. If I recorded everything I saw while looking over Chase Dollinger’s body, they would’ve killed me and then found someone else to report it the way they wanted.”
“Who is this they you’re referring to?”
Gambino shrugged. “I don’t know. And quite frankly, I don’t care. They are powerful people who are devoid of any moral bearings. Whatever agenda they have, they’re going to carry it out without regard for all the collateral damage.”
“How did they get you to cooperate?”
Gambino looked down and shook his head. “My niece. They held her at knifepoint and described what they would do to her if I didn’t follow their instructions to the letter.”
Cal remained quiet as he noticed Gambino start to tear up.
“Seeing her like that—I just couldn’t let them harm her in any way.”
“And did they warn you about letting the police know about everything?”
Gambino nodded. “That’s why you can’t print that story.”
Cal furrowed his brow and took a deep breath, contemplating what to say next. “I can’t let a man’s murder get swept under the rug like this. It’s not ri
ght. And besides, if we do, those men who were responsible for Dollinger’s death will likely strike again when it suits their end game.”
“I’m begging you, please don’t write a word of this. They’ll kill me or my niece—or maybe even both of us.”
“Look, I appreciate you having the courage to speak with me, but I’m not about to promise that I won’t share what we’ve found publicly. However, I will give you a minimum of three days to find a safe place for you and your niece before I publish this story.”
“That’s not enough time,” Gambino said. “You don’t know who these people are and what they’re capable of.”
“Go to your friends at the NYPD, tell them about how you were coerced into committing this crime, and get protection. I’m sure they’ll be able to keep you hidden, at least until we’re able to figure out who’s behind this and catch them.”
“No, no, no. I—I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t even know who to trust anymore.”
“Yet you spoke with me,” Cal said. “You didn’t even ask if I was really a reporter. You just spilled your guts. Based on what you’ve told me, I think you do have a keen sense of who to trust because I’m one of the good guys. You’ll be able to tell.”
“But my niece and her family—I don’t know if she’ll go along with this.”
“I’m sure if she tells them what happened, she’ll be able to convince them as well. Just act quickly, okay?”
“The blood will be on your hands if this situation goes south. And I can promise you that if my niece dies, I’ll never forgive you.”
“People have already died—and more will in the future if I don’t seek justice for Chase Dollinger.”
“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” Gambino said. “You’re just a reporter.”
Cal stood. “I’m just a reporter who has seen and uncovered his fair share of corrupt men trying to get away with murder for one reason or another. This is just another day at the office for me. Don’t you worry about my well being. You get yourself and your niece somewhere safe and watch these monsters get brought to justice.”
Gambino stood and nodded meekly, his gaze fixated on the floor. “I’ll do what I can. And good luck, Mr. Murphy. You’re going to need lots of it.”
CHAPTER 7
ONCE CAL RETURNED to his hotel room, he made some notes in a file on his computer. The most puzzling part so far about Dollinger’s apparent murder was motive. After being in the sports journalism business for as long as Cal had, he saw plenty of troubling activity when it came to athletes’ behavior. The sense of entitlement and belief that they were above reproach fueled their recklessness. Whether it was drugs or criminal activity of some sort, certain stars just couldn’t resist indulging in the forbidden. Cal never felt like it was his job to expose them, but he was always aware that not everything was as it seemed.
As far as Cal knew, Chase Dollinger was one of the good guys, a young athlete devoid of a checkered past or troubled childhood. By all accounts, Dollinger went out of his way to interact with fans and engage in meaningful service community projects. Baseball was his profession, but he worked just as hard at trying to use his resources and celebrity status to better the Seattle area.
All that led Cal to wonder aloud, “Who would murder such a guy?”
He figured there had to be something he was missing. Uncovering the truth about Dollinger meant doing a deep dive investigation. Cal needed to look further at Dollinger’s path from Seattle to New York. Cal needed a partner.
“How are things going, Kelly?” Cal asked his wife after she answered his call.
“Fine so far but wondering when you’re going to get home,” she said. “Maddie really misses you.”
“And you don’t?”
She laughed. “Of course I do. To be honest, I need some one-on-one time with you.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking. Think your mom would mind watching Maddie for a few days?”
“She could do it. What do you have in mind? Quick trip to Hawaii?”
Cal sucked a breath through his teeth and responded as he cringed. “I was thinking about Bismarck.”
“North Dakota?” Kelly exclaimed. “It’s probably already forty degrees below there by now. Why would you want to go there?”
“I need your help on an investigation,” he said. “Plus, it’s been a while since we worked on a case together. I’m sure you’d enjoy it.”
“Cal, don’t let anyone ever tell you that you aren’t a romantic,” she said emphatically. “You know the way to my heart.”
Cal smiled. Kelly was always a sucker for an investigation, especially one they could work on together.
“I’m glad you agree. I need to speak with Buckman to let him know about my plans, but I should be home tomorrow, and then we can leave the day after. Sound good?”
“I’ll put my mom on notice about Maddie.”
“Great,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”
Cal hung up and then dialed Buckman.
“Any news?” the sports editor asked.
“Yes and plenty of it, but nothing we can print just yet.”
“Still trying to corroborate everything?”
Cal sighed. “Sort of. I’m trying to give the coroner here in New York time to find protection and get to safety. I swung by his apartment today, and he confessed to filing a false report after his examination of Dollinger’s body.”
“And you’re just going to sit on this?”
“He was threatened. Or more correctly, his niece was threatened at knifepoint if he didn’t do what he was told to do.”
“Does he know who’s behind all this?”
“No,” Cal said. “He doesn’t have a clue.”
“And you believe him?”
“He looked genuinely terrified while talking about the whole experience. Now I was in New York, so maybe he is a coroner only because he failed on Broadway, but with a performance like that, I doubt he would’ve ever been wanting for a job. The fear I saw in his eyes was real, especially when he was begging me not to publish the story.”
“So, what’s your next move?”
“I think I’ve done everything I can do here,” Cal said. “I’d like to take Kelly with me to investigate what happened in North Dakota. This whole ordeal seems far too planned out to be a random murder. From what I’m seeing, Dollinger was targeted—and every step of the way has been intentional.”
“All right. I’m sure I won’t have any problem getting those expenses approved. Just leaving New York early will probably keep us in the black even after your trip to Bismarck.”
“One more thing, Buckman.”
“What is it?”
“Be careful about who you tell. I wouldn’t expect anyone in our office to be connected to this, but if word starts to leak out that we know what we know, we could be in danger. I’ve already had some gang banger types looking for me.”
“Mum’s the word—for now. But I don’t want to sit on this story for long. Dollinger and his father deserve justice.”
“And I intend to get it for them.”
CHAPTER 8
Bismarck, North Dakota
CAL AND KELLY WASTED no time in getting to the rental car desk after their plane landed at the Bismarck airport. Most of the time Cal would’ve opted for the midsize sedan, but he wanted to be less conspicuous—and the guy at the desk offered him a significant discount to rent a white Ford F-150.
“You got a truck?” Kelly asked, cocking her head to one side as Cal started loading their luggage into the bed.
“Look around you,” Cal said. “Everybody in this state drives a truck. It’s a fact.”
“That’s fake news,” she said with a wry grin.
Cal narrowed his eyes. “You know I hate that phrase.”
“It’s true. Look, there’s a car. Not everyone in North Dakota drives a truck.”
“You’re such a literalist.”
Kelly chuckled and cl
imbed into the passenger’s seat. Cal eased into the driver’s side and ignited the engine with the push of a button.
“You ready to go uncover tomorrow’s news? I promise you there will be nothing fake about it.”
“I’m game. Where to first?”
“The TravelStop gas station off I-94. According to Dollinger’s father, that’s where Chase and his driver stopped and subsequently realized they had a problem with the engine.”
“What kind of problem?” she asked as she buckled her seatbelt.
“The engine wouldn’t start.”
“Just like that?” she said, snapping her fingers. “Do engines really die so suddenly?”
“It’s unusual in my experience, but that’s why we need to look into it and find out what happened.”
“Why not go to the RV center where the vehicle was repaired first?”
“Because I want to see if something happened to the their ride while they were at the gas station. It’s strange to be cruising down the highway at top speed without any signs of a problem and then pull into a gas station, turn the engine off, and not be able to crank it back up without something going wrong with it.”
“There aren’t any plausible explanations for that scenario other than sabotage?”
“Well, I can think of two. The first one being that you’re completely out of fuel, which we can rule out since the driver refueled the vehicle. The second one is that the driver never noticed something going wrong with the RV in the first place. I find that to be a stretch to believe, but it is possible. He could’ve just been rocking out to music with his earphones in and wasn’t paying attention to any of the warning signs, like an engine that wasn’t firing properly.”
Kelly arched an eyebrow.
“You really think that’s possible?”
“Possible, but not probable.”
“So, in your mind, sabotage is the only answer.”
“The only one that makes sense and seems both plausible and probable.”
Ten minutes later, Cal pulled into the TravelCenter and parked around the side. He and Kelly bought a pair of bottled waters and then asked to see the manager.
Dead on Arrival Page 5
