Dead and Gone

by Jack Patterson

  What did I miss?

  He stepped back and watched the scene unfold. Reporters jammed their microphones in his face; other camera crew members fought for the precious real estate over Simpson’s head with their boom microphones. A flurry of questions asked simultaneously morphed into a cacophony of shouting reporters. Simpson shoved a mic out of his face, bit his lip, and marched on.

  Cal grabbed a straggling reporter by the shirtsleeve. “Hey, what happened in there?”

  The reporter slowed down for a minute. “Eddie Simpson announced they’re reopening the investigation into Carson Tanner’s accident.”

  “That’s what this buzz is all about?”

  The reporter kept walking and shook his head. “The police just found a body up on Rattlesnake Hill.”

  Cal hustled after the man. “Did he say who?”

  “No, not yet, but the police are investigating. The track’s probably worried they won’t be able to open for the rest of the races this weekend.”

  Cal thanked the reporter and stopped. He needed to climb the iconic hill and find out what was really going on. And, more importantly, who was dead.

  His pace quickened as he left the pack of reporters hounding Simpson and headed for Rattlesnake Hill. He’d climbed the hill a couple of days before just to get a different perspective of the track and watch the sunset over the Arizona mountains surrounding the raceway. He thought it had to rank as one of the best natural features of any stadium in the country. A view from here allowed fans to see the entire track without any blind spots.

  He trudged up the steep embankment devoid of any fans. At race time, fans would pack the hill with lawn chairs, coolers, and flags of their favorite drivers.

  The tiered seating area for fans ended about three-fourths of the way up the hill, as it was topped with piles of large rocks and rattlesnake hideouts. The end of the seating area also marked the place where a Maricopa County Sheriff’s deputy stood watch to provide a barrier between any snoopy members of the public and the officers investigating the scene.

  Cal stopped about fifty yards short of the deputy when his phone buzzed. It was Folsom.

  “What did I do this time?” Cal asked jokingly as he answered.

  “You’ve written your last piece for The Observer, that’s what,” Folsom fired back.

  “What? You’re joking, right?”

  “No, Cal, I’m not.”

  “What did I do? That story was tight yesterday.”

  Folsom sighed. “It has nothing to do with the story.”

  “What then? Why would you possibly fire me?”

  “Maybe the fact that you ran up a five thousand dollar tab at a Phoenix strip club last night on strippers and bottles of Cristal.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I did no such thing.”

  “Well, I’ve got pictures to prove it—along with credit card receipts.”

  “You’ve got to be joking. If this is some kind of sick joke, Folsom, it isn’t funny.”

  “Nobody’s laughing, Cal. Least of all, my boss.”

  Cal seethed as he turned toward the track and watched a few cars on practice runs. “I’m telling you right now, those pictures are fake. Someone must have stolen my credit card.”

  “Do you have it on you now?”

  Cal looked into his wallet. “Yes.”

  “Then how did they steal it, genius?”

  “I—I don’t know, but somebody is messing with you.”

  “Cal, I told you when you started to go down this path to watch out. Bad things were gonna happen.”

  “You know I’m innocent, Folsom. You implied as much right there.”

  “What I know is that my publisher called me this morning with these photos and the alleged stories about what you were doing last night—and he believed what he saw.”

  “You can’t believe everything you see.”

  “Or hear or read, right?”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “Those are the lines we hear as journalists from anyone who’s ever been caught in a lie. I wouldn’t expect to hear any less from you.”

  “Come on, you know I’m being set up.”

  Folsom ignored Cal’s pleas. “The good news for you is that the paper isn’t going to press charges as long as you repay the five grand and change you rolled up last night.”

  “This is outrageous.”

  “Come home immediately, Cal, and get this taken care of so it doesn’t cost you your career. I’ll write you a recommendation, but we can’t stand for this behavior. I’ll forward you the pictures so you can see the evidence for yourself.”

  “I didn’t do this, Folsom. You’ve gotta believe me. I wouldn’t do this, especially not to Kelly. How do you think this makes me look now? If you fire me, it’s gonna make it look like I did these things—and that’ll crush her.”

  “Maybe you should have considered that before you went out clubbing last night.”

  Cal growled. “You’re unbelievable, Folsom. You know me. You know I’d never do anything like that.”

  “If you’re not back here on Monday with the money in hand, they’re going to prosecute you.”

  “But—”

  “Sorry, Cal. That’s the way it is. I’ve gotta run.”

  Cal hung up and kicked at some loose rocks in front of him. He took a deep breath and put his hands behind his head as he walked in circles for about a minute. This was not how he saw this day going, especially as he was on the verge of discovering who was behind Carson Tanner’s death.

  He remained pre-occupied with the stunning news and didn’t notice the deputy who was just a few feet away.

  “Is everything all right there, mister?” the deputy asked.

  Cal spun toward the voice and stopped. He sighed. “Yes, everything’s fine, sir. I’m just having a bit of a bad day.”

  “Well, it could be worse,” the deputy said, nodding in the direction of the crime scene agents scouring the ground for clues.

  Sensing an opportunity, Cal stopped his pity act. “What happened up there?”

  The deputy shook his head. “Not sure, but a man’s dead. Strange place to die if you ask me.”

  Cal froze as he heard some clicking noise. “Do you hear that?” The clicking continued.

  “Just another rattlesnake.”

  “And you’re not scared?”

  The deputy patted his gun. “I feel pretty safe right now.” He put his hand out. “Deputy Livingston.”

  Cal shook his hand. “Cal Murphy. Nice to meet you.”

  The pair stared down at the track below.

  The deputy finally broke the silence. “So, what brings you up here today? Trying to get a peek at the dead?”

  Cal shook his head. “Just needed to take a walk.”

  The deputy glanced down at Cal’s media badge. “You sure it wasn’t to find out what was going on up here?”

  “Just wondering who it was—that’s all.”

  “You think you might know the fellow?”

  Cal took a deep breath. “Maybe. I was supposed to meet an informant last night and he never showed up. The people who were after him were dangerous.”

  “I see. Maybe we better talk more formally, Mr. Murphy?”

  “Look, I don’t wanna bother you any longer since I know you’ve got important work to do up here. I’m just gonna head on back to the track.”

  “If you know something, mister, you ought to tell us.”

  Cal looked at the ground and then back up at the deputy. He needed to study his eyes. “That’s not a Mr. Ronald Parker up there, is it?”

  The deputy immediately looked away, signaling to Cal that he was right.

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss such things just yet until the next of kin has been notified,” the deputy said. “Our spokesperson will be making a formal announcement later today. But I think perhaps we should definitely let you talk to some investigators now.”

  Cal started walking back down the hill. He turned and shouted
over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Deputy Livingston, I’ll be in touch very soon. But there’s somewhere I’ve gotta go first.”

  CHAPTER 26

  NED DAVIS STORMED into the NASCAR hauler, his face already beading with sweat despite the cool desert breeze.

  “Where is he?” Davis yelled.

  “Excuse me, sir,” a young intern asked. She took a step back when she recognized him. “Who are you looking for?”

  “Eddie Simpson. I need to talk to him right now,” he growled.

  “Follow me.”

  She led him back to Eddie’s desk where he sat, head down staring at a folder.

  “Eddie, someone’s here to see you,” she said before she scurried away.

  “I told you it couldn’t wait,” Davis said.

  Simpson didn’t look up, pretending not to hear.

  “Are you listening to me?” Davis asked.

  Simpson waved him off and kept reading.

  Davis reached into Simpson’s cubicle and slammed the file shut before banging his fist on the desk. “We need to talk—now!”

  Simpson stood up and looked around to see if any other employees were around. They weren’t. He motioned for Davis to sit. “Now, what can I help you with, Ned?”

  “I know what’s going on here,” Davis started.

  “I’m glad someone does. Would you please tell me?”

  “Someone is trying to make it look like one of our guys sabotaged Carson Tanner’s car last week.”

  Simpson grunted. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

  “So you think that, too?”

  “I don’t know what to think. I just know there are a lot of people gettin’ up in my business and messing with things they shouldn’t be messing with. We let that hack of an investigator take a look at everything at Jessica Tanner’s request. It’s not like we could refuse her. And of course he found something. It’s all makin’ my life a livin’ hell.”

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “At this point, we’ve come to the conclusion that there’s a strong possibility that some of the information that emerged from that report in The Observer is true.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “We’re discussing the possibility of having you withdraw your car from the race so we can investigate your team.”

  “You can’t do that. That’s—”

  Simpson held up his hand. “I know it sounds harsh, but our first priority is safety. And if you’ve got some guy on your team sabotaging your own car, who knows who might be next? You know we can’t have this.”

  “That report is garbage.”

  “And you know this how? Can you account for everyone on your team the morning this alleged sabotage took place?”

  “Absolutely. I ate breakfast with every one of them, just like I always do.”

  “As much as I’d like to take your word over this report, we need to do our due diligence here.”

  “So, you’re gonna reopen the investigation?”

  Simpson nodded.

  Davis’ eyes narrowed. “What are you gonna find?”

  “Hopefully, the truth, so we can turn the focus back to racin’.”

  Davis poked Simpson in the chest. “No, that’s not what you’re gonna find.”

  “Hey, now. Knock it off, Ned.”

  Davis edged closer. “No, you listen to me. You’re gonna find nothin’ because nothin’ happened. You understand?”

  Simpson leaned back. “Just chill, Ned. If you guys didn’t do anything wrong, you’ll be fine.”

  “Not if the public already makes up its mind first—I’ll be ruined. Nobody will come work for me.”

  “You can just clean house then.”

  “No, I can’t. I’ve got too many guys under contract. It’d sink me if I had to start all over.”

  Simpson shook his head. “Come on, Ned. You expect me to believe that? Your team is flush with cash.”

  “Not like you might think. I just lost my star driver—and with him, all that sponsorship money.”

  “You’ll get it back. Might take a year or two and you’ll be winning championships before you know it.”

  “I don’t have two years, Eddie.”

  Simpson cocked his head and furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

  Davis gritted his teeth and lied. “I can’t talk about it right now, but time is one thing I don’t have.”

  “Aww, Ned. Quit playing games.”

  Davis shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Didn’t your daughter just get into Duke?”

  Simpson shot him a look and stood up. “How’d you know that?”

  Davis said nothing.

  “Never mind. I’ve got work to do. So, if you’ll excuse me.”

  Davis moved to impede Simpson’s path. “I bet she was real excited about it, wasn’t she? Probably her dream.”

  Simpson nodded and tried to sidestep Davis. “It was, but I’ve really gotta run.”

  “I’ve got a building named after me at Duke,” Davis said. He eased out of the way and leaned in close to Simpson’s ear. “I’d hate for her acceptance letter to be followed up with another letter that denied her entrance.”

  Simpson glared at him. “You wouldn’t dare—”

  Davis shook his head. “Of course not.” He paused as Simpson started to walk away. But Davis wasn’t finished with his thought. “As long as that investigation doesn’t find anything.”

  Simpson glanced over his shoulder and shot another nasty look at Davis.

  CHAPTER 27

  OWEN BURNS STARED at the monitor just outside the Davis Motorsports hauler and let out a deep breath. He’d heard about the report from The Observer that Jessica Tanner’s investigator found something that suggested foul play was involved in her husband’s deadly crash. He nursed a cup of coffee in one hand, but it didn’t seem to making his morning grumpiness vanish.

  “Who calibrated this thing?” Burns yelled.

  The rest of his team remained inside going over the schedule for the day. The only person outside was Alexa Jennings, who was stepping out of the hauler in time to hear him.

  “Well, it wasn’t me,” she said.

  Burns turned toward her and rolled his eyes.

  Alexa walked up to him and stroked the back of his head. “Did somebody wake up on the wrong side of the bed?”

  Burns grunted and withdrew.

  She backed away before leaning on the chair next to his monitor. “Anything I can do to help?”

  He stopped and glanced at her. “Maybe you can leave.”

  “Aren’t we testy this morning?”

  “I’ve got a lot on my plate today, so if you don’t mind—”

  “If you constantly find yourself in stressful situations, perhaps it’s your own doing.”

  Burns closed his eyes and counted to five in his head. God, please make her go away. “You’re the one adding to my stress right now.”

  “What? Worried they’re going to find out you sabotaged your own team’s car last week?”

  Burns’ eyes narrowed as he focused his gaze on her. “Now, you listen here. I put up with your crap all the time, but you’re not going to come in here lobbing allegations like that. For all I know, you could’ve been the one to sabotage the car. So, don’t start talking about things unless you know what you’re talking about.” He paused. “You’re so clueless most of the time anyway.”

  She stamped her foot and put her hands on her hips. “I beg your pardon. I know more about what’s going on here than you do. In fact, I know exactly what’s going on with you, you little saboteur.”

  He stopped. “What are you talking about?”

  “I know what happened. You were all upset about Carson’s ineffectiveness on the track because it was making you look bad. He couldn’t win a championship if his life depended on it—and little did he know, it really did.”

  He shook his head. “This is unbelievable.”

  She continued. “And
then when you realized he was never going to live up to the lofty expectations you had for him—and that Ned wasn’t in a position financially to fire him—you decided to take care of that yourself.”

  “What other delusional ideas are pinging around in that vast space between your ears?”

  “Don’t even try to deny it, Owen. I know the truth. And I know when you did it. And I’ve already told someone else about it—so don’t even think about trying to kill me off to guarantee my silence.”

  “This is absurd. First of all, I’d never kill anyone. And second of all, I’d never do anything like you’re suggesting, especially to Carson. He was one of the best drivers I’ve ever worked with and one of the best human beings I ever met. So, if you’ll excuse me, I really need to get some work done here.”

  She remained undaunted. “Nice little speech, but I know the truth and have proof.”

  “Proof?” Burns started laughing. “You are crazier than you look—and that’s sayin’ somethin’. If you only knew half of what went on around here.”

  “I know everything that goes on around here, including when you snuck off to sabotage the car.”

  Burns rolled his eyes. “Oh, please, great oracle, tell me when I committed this crime.”

  “Don’t mock me because it’s my testimony that could ruin your career and send you away to prison for a long time.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “Fine. It was at breakfast on Sunday morning. The whole team was there, but not you. You’re the only one who was unaccounted for.”

  “What did you do? Check everyone’s room key logs?”

  “We had to send a search party out for you at breakfast. Even Ned was worried about you. He told me yesterday that he was ready to give you up to the investigators and tell them that you were suspiciously missing.”

  Burns waved her off. “Now, I know you’re full of it.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I was running an errand for Ned.”

  “Oh, really? What kind of errand?”

  “The kind I don’t talk about.”

  Alexa tied her hair up into a bun. “Typical. Nothin’ but lies out of you. Good thing I told that reporter Cal Murphy about your actions that morning.”