The Runaway Reporter (A Police Procedural Mystery Series of Crime and Suspense, Hyder Ali #3)

by Thomas Fincham

  Felix nodded.

  “This could be big,” Hyder said.

  “Not only big, but very explosive,” Veronica replied. “We’re not just talking about a captain’s son being a murderer, we are also talking about a police cover-up.”

  Hyder nodded. He could already see the headlines.

  Veronica turned to Felix. “Tell him what else you told me.”

  Felix looked down at his feet. “Um, I feel bad about what happened before. You know, about the story going to the Franklin Herald. I know you’ve been really helpful to me, showing me the ropes, introducing me to everyone, and so… I want you to have the scoop.’

  Hyder was surprised. “But you worked on it, Felix. It wouldn’t be right if I took it. Plus, this could be a major story. It could be your big break.”

  “I know,” Felix said. “But I think you might be in a better position than me to move it forward.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The story, in its current form, is unsubstantiated.” Veronica replied. “We can’t print it without confirming if what we know is the truth. It could be labelled as hearsay and not as fact.”

  “So, where do I come into this?” Hyder asked.

  “You can confirm it with your contacts in the force.”

  Hyder understood. Veronica was again referring to Nolan. He hated being put in this position, but he knew there was no other way. Nolan was his friend, and who else could Hyder ask but him?

  But Hyder also knew, if the force wasn’t divulging this information then there was a reason for it. Plus, he was aware that Nolan respected Captain Ross too much. So asking him to confirm this information would not be easy.

  “What about the anonymous source?” Hyder said. “We could use them.”

  Veronica shook her head. “I think we need a name attached to the story for it to be credible, preferably someone who is working on the case.”

  Hyder knew she was right.

  FIFTY-FIVE

  Nolan was at his desk, going over the file again. He hoped he had missed something, but so far nothing made sense. The crime looked senseless and without any provocation whatsoever. Everyone they had interviewed had said Rudy Jr. got along well with Irma and Brendan. They had never seen them quarrel or even have any disagreements.

  Then what happened? Nolan thought. What made Rudy Jr. suddenly get up and brutally murder his friends and neighbors?

  Was it money? Was Rudy having financial difficulties where he couldn’t pay his rent? Did he fight his neighbors because they couldn’t pay their rent?

  But that wasn’t the case. Their bank accounts had enough funds to pay the rent for several months.

  Nolan leaned back and closed his eyes.

  What was Rudy Jr. thinking when he killed his friends? He must have thought of something. He did, after all, consciously grab a knife from the kitchen and to stab his neighbors.

  Was it a crime of passion? Was he angry or irate to the point where he could no longer control himself?

  The more he thought about the case, the more flabbergasted he became.

  The ringing of his cell phone broke his reverie.

  He answered it. “Nolan speaking,” he said. “Hyder, how are you? I’m good… I was hoping we could talk, I felt bad about… you want to talk too? Great… Privately? Sure, why not. Why don’t you drop by the house later tonight? Ok… Sounds good… See you then… Bye.”

  Nolan looked at his watch. He still had some time. He put the file away and left the department.

  FIFTY-SIX

  Hyder hung up the phone and felt good about calling Nolan. He would explain the position he was in, and, knowing Nolan, he was certain he would go on the record to confirm that Captain Ross’s son was the suspect in the Riverfield Massacre.

  Hyder was so confident in his belief that he started typing up the story immediately. All he would have to do later would be to make some slight changes and then submit it for Veronica’s approval. If all went well, it might make it on the front page of the next issue of the Daily Times.

  As Hyder worked on the story, he realized what a bombshell it would be. Did the department know the suspect was Ross’s son from the very beginning? If so, then why weren’t they releasing this information? Were the other victims’ families aware of this information? If not, then why were they not being told about it?

  What about the captain? Did he know, and if he did, then why wasn’t he coming forward himself?

  Hyder’s thoughts turned to Nolan. If there was a cover up, then was Nolan involved in it too?

  Hyder didn’t know, but it was his duty to ask the tough questions, even if the answers weren’t all that pleasant.

  He had already lost a story to the Franklin Herald. He would not lose another.

  When done, he did a quick read through of his latest masterpiece. He was careful not to make any direct accusations. All he was doing was laying out the facts and letting the readers make up their minds for themselves.

  His eyes moved to where the newspaper clipping about Francine’s death was.

  It was not on the wall.

  A few times a week a cleaning lady came by to dust and clean the cubicles, as well as vacuum the carpets. She must have inadvertently hit the clipping with a sweeper, Hyder thought.

  On several occasions he had found items and other objects not in their original position. The telephone shoved a little to the left, the stapler moved to another spot, even the keyboard was pushed back sometimes.

  He never minded it, because the cleaning lady was just doing her job. Plus, the place always looked and smelled nicer than before.

  It must have fallen underneath the desk, he thought.

  He leaned down and began searching for it.

  There were quite a lot of boxes and other items stuffed underneath, After a few minutes he realized his search was futile.

  Why was he looking for it anyways? Maybe to remind himself that there was a story there, but what?

  He didn’t know.

  He looked at his watch and decided to leave.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  The boat was docked in Franklin Harbor. It was a twenty-footer, with a tiny cabin and a full mast.

  It was named Mowgli, after the character from the Jungle Book. Captain Rudyard Ross had been named after its author, Rudyard Kipling, so he figured it would be a nice touch to name the boat after one of Kipling’s beloved characters.

  Nolan approached the boat, saw Ross get up from where he was sitting.

  “Thanks for coming, Tom,” Ross said. “Come in.”

  Nolan got on board. He had promised Ross that he would keep him updated on the case. Today, it meant visiting him on his boat.

  It took Nolan a minute to realize this was the first time he had seen Ross without a suit on. Right now he was wearing a red track suit.

  “Have you been drinking, sir?” Nolan asked.

  Nolan knew all too well that he was. His eyes were bloodshot and his speech was slightly slurred. Plus, the foul odor reminded Nolan of why he wanted to quit in the first place.

  “Just a little,” Ross replied with a smile.

  The death of his son had taken a toll on him. He couldn’t keep it together in front of his family, so he had taken refuge on his boat.

  “I had to console the grieving families, knowing that it was my son who had taken their children away.” Ross continued.

  Pain crossed his face. He quickly took a drink from his glass.

  “It won’t make it go away,” Nolan said, referring to the alcohol.

  “But it will help numb it.”

  “It does, only for a little while, until it begins to consume every aspect of your life. Before you know it, you will become numb toward even those you cared for. All you would think about is the end.”

  Ross looked at him and then put his face in his hands. “I don’t know what to do. I’m so lost.”

  “I was too, sir,” Nolan said. “But, lucky for me, I had a great captain who cared for m
e enough to bring me back to the life I knew.” It was Ross who had pushed Nolan to return to his job as a detective. Had he not done that, Nolan would have surely drunk himself to death.

  Ross took a deep breath, nodded. “Thanks for keeping Rudy’s name out of the papers. I really appreciate what you have done for us, Tom.”

  “I can only keep it out for so long,” Nolan said. “Halton is on my heels.”

  “I know,” Ross said. “I just haven’t had the courage to tell Vivien yet. I know what her response would be: Why did he do it?” Ross paused. “Tom, I want to have an answer for her.”

  “I’ll have it for you, sir.”

  Nolan looked at his watch. It was almost time to meet Hyder. He left.

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  Hyder pulled the car up and saw Naveed sitting in the bus shelter.

  He spotted Hyder and quickly came over.

  Naveed was wearing a T-shirt with Arabic written on it. He was sporting a short beard and he had a prayer cap over his head.

  Hyder noticed that he looked much better than the last time he had picked him up. Whereas before he was anxious and intoxicated, now he looked calm and sober. Even the studs in his ears were no longer there.

  After saying their greetings, Hyder said, “So, where do you want to go?”

  “We don’t have to go anywhere,” Naveed said. “We can talk right here.”

  “Um, don’t you want to go to a restaurant?” Hyder was thinking of taking Naveed someplace to talk and eat.

  “Nah.” Naveed shook his head. “I’m fasting.”

  Hyder was surprised. “Really?”

  “Yeah, I figured Ramadan only comes once a year. Might as well make the best of it before it’s gone.”

  Hyder smiled. “I’m really happy to hear that, Naveed. What does your dad think about this?”

  “I’m not doing it for him. I’m doing this for myself.”

  Hyder’s smile widened even more. “Good to hear that. Is he still giving you a hard time?”

  “Not really,” Naveed said with a shrug. “He’s backed off, but our relationship is still strained, you know.”

  “It’ll get better in time.”

  “Thanks for helping me out, Bhai,” Naveed said.

  “Hey, that’s what older cousins are for,” Hyder said. “Apart from beating you in basketball.”

  “You never beat me,” Naveed said, getting excited. “I let you score those points.”

  “I hit eight three pointers in that game, and you were guarding me, so I think that counts as beating you.”

  “Yeah, but I was going through a lot and my mind was messed up. If we play now, I guarantee you won’t be open to hit even a single shot.”

  “Once Ramadan is over, we are hitting the courts.”

  “You’re on.”

  They both laughed.

  When he had dropped Naveed off, Hyder looked at his watch. It was time to meet Nolan.

  FIFTY-NINE

  Lopez headed home to a house she shared with her younger sister, but she had it to herself more often than not. Angela was usually away, either for a stage production or on some movie set miles away.

  Lopez’s family had come to the US from Mexico. She was only six when they had crossed the border. Her parents had left when her older brother, Eduardo, was killed in a shootout between two rival drug gangs. He was coming back from school, and had somehow gotten caught in the crossfire.

  When they had found his body, it was riddled with over a dozen bullets. In his hand was a report card. He had scored the highest in his class and was eager to show it to his parents.

  Maybe that was why, years later, Lopez had wanted to be a police officer. Maybe she could right the wrong that had happened to her older brother. She had initially thought about joining the Drug Enforcement Agency. She wanted to go after the dealers and the cartels who were responsible for the deaths of countless children just like her brother. But her mother feared losing another child, and she begged Lopez to try another profession. Become a lawyer, a doctor, anything other than law enforcement. But Lopez was stubborn. She was only interested in becoming a cop. Soon a compromise was brokered. Lopez would become a city police officer, with the intent of making detective. This way she wasn’t directly involved in preventing a crime, but would still be involved in solving it.

  Her parents had a house in Mexico. Once they retired, they decided to move back. Plus, they still had a large family there, so they were always surrounded by relatives. Lopez tried to visit regularly, but now it was becoming more and more difficult.

  But there was another reason she avoided going back. Everyone always asked why she wasn’t married yet. Her parents wanted her to marry a good Christian boy, one who was preferably Mexican, but over the years she had always fallen for bad boys. These men only wanted to have a good time. They didn’t want any responsibility that a relationship entailed. Marriage, a mortgage, children, even a stable job, was not something they were too interested in.

  Soon, Lopez became tired of their childish behavior and she quickly moved on from them.

  But Nolan was different. Yes, he had his share of baggage, but he was a real man. He was willing to commit to a marriage, a house, a child (his wife was five months pregnant at the time of her death) and even a career. He accepted the responsibilities that came from being with someone. Plus, he was capable of real love—a love that nearly destroyed him when his wife had died.

  If things progressed well between them, she was certain he would be as devoted to her as he was with his wife.

  She pulled off her jacket and tossed it on the sofa. She removed her gun from her holster and placed it on the side table.

  Angela was away on some audition and wouldn’t be home tonight, so Lopez wasn’t worried about putting the weapon in a secure place.

  She turned on the television and moved to the kitchen. The fridge was filled with leftovers from the previous nights. She sniffed and tossed out most of the containers until she came upon a box of Chinese noodles.

  She thought they smelled kind of fresh. She didn’t have the energy to cook up something. All she wanted was to take a long bath and watch some television.

  She heated up the noodles and quickly ate them.

  She then went upstairs. From her closet, she picked out a set of pajamas and then moved to the bathroom. She turned on the tap and began to fill the tub.

  She heard a noise. At first she decided to ignore it, but when it wouldn’t desist she turned the tap off and listened.

  It was the telephone ringing.

  Who is calling me at this time of the night? She thought. Couldn’t she get one evening to herself?

  Grudgingly, she went out. She found the phone and picked it up.

  The moment she heard who was on the other line, she dropped it and ran out of the house.

  SIXTY

  (Present Day)

  Lopez was in the waiting room of Franklin General Hospital. She was anxious and stressed. Nolan was in the operating room and even after two hours, she still hadn’t heard anything back.

  She felt a pain in her chest. She had tried to calm herself, first by picking up a magazine and scanning the pages, and then by staring at the television in the waiting room. But nothing made the dread she was feeling go away.

  What if Nolan didn’t make it? This thought kept recurring in her brain. She tried to push it aside by calling it nonsense, but deep down she knew the possibility was significant. In her career, she had seen many gun related injuries, ones that the victims seldom survived.

  Nolan had been hit at close range and he had lost a lot of blood. The chances of him being able to walk away from it were very slim.

  She had to prepare herself for the worse. She had to remind herself that there was nothing more she could have done.

  But there was…

  She could have called 9-1-1 the moment she had received his phone call. He could’ve called 9-1-1 instead of calling her. And then, when he did call her, he told he
r to come by herself and not call for medical help.

  Why? She thought.

  Maybe he wanted to tell her something before the paramedics took him away. Maybe he knew his time was short.

  She cringed.

  If only she had listened to herself instead of him, maybe he would have been at the hospital sooner rather than later.

  She put her face in her hands. She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t allow herself to do it. Not now, not until she was certain of it anyways

  Good or bad, she had to wait for the doctors to confirm it.

  She stood up and began pacing the room. Luckily, there was only one other person there and he was passed out on one of the chairs.

  Lopez tried to relive what had happened. After receiving the call she drove like a maniac to Nolan’s house. She found him bloodied on the kitchen floor. He then told her…

  Hyder.

  She found she couldn’t breathe anymore. The room began to spin around her. She fell into a chair, covered her face with her hands again.

  Hyder shot Nolan.

  At first she didn’t believe what she had heard, but when Nolan repeated it, she knew he was telling the truth. Also, he had mentioned to her that he was going to meet Hyder later in the day. She was certain they were together in the house at that time.

  But why did Hyder shoot Tom?

  They were friends who had been through the TriGate Scandal and then the Monkey Murders, so what had happened?

  She knew from Nolan that Hyder was unhappy about losing a story to the Franklin Herald. Did they have a quarrel over this, which then got out of hand, causing Hyder to hurt Nolan?

  But why did Nolan ask her to help Hyder? Why was Nolan protecting the person who had tried to kill him? And also, why did he tell her not to tell anyone?

  She shook her head. Nothing made sense.

  She leaned back in the chair, stared up at the ceiling. This felt like a terrible nightmare, one she wished she could wake up from.