“You did what?”
“I told you I had to tell someone in case you decided to kill me next. That’s my little insurance policy.”
“You need to call him back right now and tell him the truth.”
She giggled. “I already did.”
“No, you didn’t.” He sighed. “You told him a story fabricated from your vivid imagination. Maybe you were still drunk from the night before or you just have it out for me, but I can assure you that you are dead wrong.”
“Then tell me where you were?”
Burns looked at the ground. “I can’t.”
“You mean, you won’t because you know how much trouble it’ll get you in.”
“No, I can’t because I promised that I wouldn’t.”
“Fine. Play it that way. I’m going to let the entire press corps know about this at the next press conference I see taking place here.”
“You can’t do that, Alexa. I swear—”
“What? You swear you’ll kill me?”
“No, you can’t say that. You’re going to get in big trouble for making up a story like that.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “You always were a comedian.”
Burns grabbed her by the arm. “Look at me, Alexa.” He waited until she turned and stared him in the eyes. “I didn’t do anything and you’re only going to hurt yourself by making such accusations to the press.”
“There’s only one way to stop me,” she said, pulling away from his grasp. “You tell me where you were and what you were doing.”
“I can’t. I promised.”
She glared at him. “Break it—right now. Or else I’m going to crash the next media event.”
Burns sighed. “Oh, what difference does it make? One way or another I’m screwed.”
“Out with it.” She folded her arms and eyed him closely.
“I was sneakin’ out a woman for Ned.”
She threw her hands in the air. “Now, I know you’re lyin’.”
He grabbed her arm again. “No, Alexa, I’m not. I can tell you her name and how to get in contact with her if you don’t believe me. I’ve been doin’ this for Ned long before you came around.”
Her expression changed and she began to pace. “Why that no good lyin’—”
“Just calm down, Alexa. Going ballistic is only gonna make things worse.”
“What can be worse than betrayal?”
Burns watched her walk back and forth, muttering to herself about how she should’ve known and how could she let herself fall for such a man. It went on for several minutes before he decided to intervene.
“There is something you could do,” he said. “A little revenge, if you will.”
She stopped and turned toward him. “And what’s that?”
“I think he knows somebody on this crew sabotaged the car—and I think I know who it is. The last thing Ned wants is for that information to be confirmed. It doesn’t look good on him or on the rest of this team. He’s trying his best to keep it under wraps and out of the press.”
“So, what can I do?”
“You can help me catch the saboteur.”
“And how exactly am I gonna do that?”
“Sit tight. I’ve got a couple of ideas. If one of them doesn’t work, I’m gonna need your help to pull it off.”
CHAPTER 28
JESSICA TANNER BRUSHED the tears off her cheeks as she bore down on the road for the Phoenix International Raceway. The place she wanted to be was at a racetrack. Her doctor had warned her not to travel, but Jessica made a habit of going against the advice of others. It wasn’t that long ago that her dad told her not to marry Carson or else he’d leave her heartbroken. She was sure he meant for some other reason, but in the end, her father was right.
Speak of the devil.
Jessica’s phone buzzed and her father’s face filled the screen, identifying him as the caller.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hey, sweetie. Where are you? I’m outside your house. Wasn’t I supposed to come over today to help paint the baby’s room?”
Oh, shoot.
“Sorry, Dad. I totally forgot about that.”
“Where are you? I can wait—or just use the hidden key.”
“Go ahead and use the key.”
“When are you gonna be back?”
“Not for a while?”
“Like later this afternoon or this evening?”
“Maybe Monday.”
“Monday? Where’d you go?”
“Phoenix.” She cringed and braced for the fallout.
“What are you doing in Phoenix?” he asked, incredulous.
“I’ve got some business to take care of, Dad.”
“What kind of business?”
“I need people to find out about what caused Carson’s death.”
“Oh, honey, don’t do that. You’re pregnant. You should be home resting.”
“But, Dad, if I don’t, I may lose my chance to prove that Carson’s death was no accident. I need people to hear me—and believe me.”
“Look, I know you’re stressed about money now, but we’ll help you. Whatever you need, we’ll take care of it.”
“Will you take care of the half-million dollar surgery my baby needs?”
“What?”
“Yeah, you heard me—a half-million dollars. My health insurance is refusing to cover the procedure, claiming it’s elective.”
“But—”
“Meanwhile, I’ve got a life insurance company that doesn’t believe my husband was murdered. At this point, if I don’t look out for myself, no one will.”
“Jessica, it’s not worth the stress.”
“Yes, it is. But don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Just make my life less stressful by doing a good job on the baby room, okay?”
“Jessica, I—”
Her phone beeped.
“Sorry, Dad, I’ve got another call coming in. Gotta grab this. I’ll be in touch.”
She switched to the other line with the swipe of her finger. “Hello.”
“Jessica Carson?”
“Yes?”
“Your late husband owed us a half million dollars in gambling debts.”
“He what? Who is this?”
“You have one week to wire us the money. I will text you instructions. Don’t be late.”
“This is a sick joke.”
“This is no joke. One week, Jessica. You have one week.”
The caller hung up.
Jessica screamed and clenched her fists as the race track came into full view.
She felt the baby kick. And then she started to hyperventilate.
Just take a deep breath and relax.
She pulled into the parking lot to pick up her pit pass and got out of her car. After two steps, her knees weakened and she started to feel faint.
She sat down on the ground and tried to slow her breathing.
One of the track workers noticed her and ran to her side. “Are you all right, lady?”
Jessica held up her right index finger. “I’ll be just fine.” She tried to get up.
“Here, let me help you,” the worker said as he bent over and steadied her arm.
“No, I’m fine. I can do this.”
Then Jessica collapsed onto the ground and went limp.
“Someone call 9-1-1,” the worker shouted.
CHAPTER 29
CAL SWALLOWED HARD before dialing Kelly’s number. If investigative journalism taught him one thing it was that secrets had a funny way of getting out. He took that knowledge and applied it to his marriage, attempting to be forthright in every encounter. He learned that some situations required him to act more judiciously when revealing the truth, yet the truth must be presented in some semblance or another. In this instance, he couldn’t think of any way to gently break the news that he’d been fired—and the alleged reason for it.
“Hey, you! I was just thinkin’ about you. I was making out a menu for next week an
d I’ve got your favorite planned for Monday night when you get back. How are things going in the hunt for the saboteur?”
“Well, you might want to make that meal earlier.”
“Why’s that? What happened? Are you coming home today?” The excitement in her voice leaked out.
“Maybe. But it’s nothing to be happy about it.”
“Why’s that?”
Cal took a deep breath. “Folsom fired me this morning.”
“Fired you? Are you kidding me? What in the world for? Budget cuts? Pressure from advertisers?”
“I wish. Something far worse.”
“Worse? What happened? What did you do?”
“It’s not what I did, but what they think I did.”
“And what’s that?”
“Someone sent some anonymous pictures to Folsom of me at a strip club here in Phoenix along with receipts showing that I racked up a large tab on the company card.”
“Cal! How could you?”
“No, no, no. Now listen to me. I didn’t do it. Someone framed me. The pictures were Photoshopped. I never even went to a strip club. You know I wouldn’t do that.”
Silence.
Cal took a deep breath. “You’ve gotta believe me. I’d never do that to you, much less think about using the company credit card to do that. I’m not stupid.”
Still silence.
“Come on, Kelly. Say something. You believe me, right?”
After another pause, she finally answered. “I wanna belive you, Cal. It’s just that—”
“It’s just that what? You think I’d actually do something like that.”
“If the story led you there, I think you’d do whatever it took.”
“Kelly, come on. Think rationally. The last place I’d ever get credible information is at a strip club. And in the interest of full disclosure, last night I wrote a story and then went to the track to meet a contact. I spent some time with an elderly woman whose husband was missing only to find out this morning that he was dead on a hillside.”
“Hmmm. Sounds like you.”
“Of course, it is. I didn’t do this. In fact, I want you to prove it for me.”
“And how can I do that?”
“Utilize your photography skills and examine the photos. Highlight how they were Photoshopped and send them to Folsom.”
“He sent you the pictures?”
“Folsom wanted to prove to me that he had them. But I must warn you, it’s pretty horrific. I’m tempted to get someone else to do it because I don’t want to even put the idea in your head that I did these things.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll purge the mere idea if I can prove you’re telling the truth.”
“Seriously? You still doubt me.”
“I guess I believe you. That’s not your style.”
“Thank you. I’m going to send you the photos now.”
“Okay. I’ll let you know once I’m able to prove it.”
“I love you. You gotta know I’d never do something like that and hurt you—much less risk my job over it.”
“I know. Be safe.”
Cal hung up and let out a long breath.
That was worse than telling my brother I wrecked his Mustang.
He looked at the ground and rubbed his face, contemplating his next steps: Keep following leads in order to uncover the saboteur or go home and let Folsom deal with the consequences of missing out on a big story because he believed some fake photos. The second option was vengeful, and one he wanted to choose so he could stick it to his weak-kneed editor. But that would mean letting someone get away with something—or at least letting another reporter beat him to the punch. And he would never let that happen, except under the most extraordinary of circumstances. Cal didn’t count losing his job as that extraordinary.
While he was thinking about where to go and who to talk to, a voice snapped him out of his mental deliberations.
“Rough morning?” the man asked.
“Not as rough as riding bareback without chaps,” Cal quipped.
The man offered his hand and forced a smile. “Burt Glover, chaplain for Pro Racers of America.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Cal Murphy, a reporter for The Observer.”
“Well, Cal, you look like you could use some coffee.”
Cal shook his head. “I look that bad, huh?”
“I’ve seen worse, but I know what a bad-morning face looks like.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
Glover, who was already holding a mug, gestured for Cal to follow him toward his hauler. “You can tell me all about it on the way.”
Cal nodded and fell into lockstep with Glover.
“So, what terrible hand did life deal you this morning?”
“I am about to break a major story and I got a call from my editor telling me I’d been fired.”
“What would make him do that?”
“Someone who doesn’t like the story I’m working on made it look like I ran up a big bill on the company credit card at a place I shouldn’t have been.”
“Casino? Strip club?”
Cal nodded. “The second one.” He paused. “But I didn’t go. Someone created fake photos of me, making it look like I was there. And they also stole my credit card number and ran up a huge bill.”
They arrived at the hauler. Cal followed Glover inside where a pot of hot coffee awaited.
“Have a seat,” Glover said. He topped off his mug and poured a cup for Cal.
They both sat down and took a few sips before continuing.
Glover studied Cal. “So, what are you gonna do now?”
“I’m gonna finish what I started, with or without a paper.”
“Good for you.”
“It’s the only thing I know how to do.”
Glover leaned back in his seat. “Well, don’t get too discouraged by all this. You’re in good company.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Bible is full of stories about men who were unjustly accused. My personal favorite is Joseph.”
“What happened to him?”
“If you’re on a deadline, I don’t have enough time. But the long and the short of it is he was a slave who was accused of sexually assaulting his owner’s wife. Then he went to prison.”
Cal sighed. “Sounds promising.”
“That wasn’t the end. Joseph eventually became the second in command of Egypt.”
“Now, I can get behind that.”
“Just a little encouragement for you. Things might be bad for a while, but just keep doing the right thing and eventually the truth will come out.”
“Don’t I know that. It’s my job to make sure the truth always comes out.”
Glover stood up and shook Cal’s hand. “Thanks for stopping by.”
Cal raised his cup. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“Anytime. And you know where to find me if you need to talk again.”
Cal smiled and slipped outside the hauler. He assessed the scene again. The garage area bustled with activity. Car engines roared as technicians tinkered with settings. Reporters interviewed drivers. Fans zipped around taking photos of their favorite driver’s car and hoped for a photo op. Everything looked normal.
Almost everything.
He glanced over his shoulder to notice two guys who appeared out of place. They looked like they belonged to a security detail. Their attempts to blend into the background only made them stick out to Cal. Dark suits, dark glasses, alone. They both appeared to be staring out into space as if they were looking over the crowd.
Cal wondered who they were, but he didn’t want them to realize he’d noticed them. So he walked casually for about fifty yards before he stopped. He pulled out his cell phone and began to have a fake conversation. As he scanned the area, he saw the men had moved closer toward him.
Are they following me?
Cal kept walking, his pace quickening along with his heart rate. He walked around the corner of the ga
rage office and hustled near a stack of tires. In a matter of seconds, the men appeared. They looked frazzled as if they’d lost something—or someone.
Cal stood up in plain sight and glanced around again. This time, they were looking right at him. He had no idea who they were, but he knew who they were after.
He no longer had the chance to mull his next move in his investigation, forced to do the only thing he could do—run.
CHAPTER 30
OWEN BURNS PICKED the cheese off his sub sandwich and laid it on top of the wrapper. He cursed under his breath and felt his blood pressure rise.
How many times do I have to tell them …
Jackson Holmes sauntered up and gawked for a moment at Burns’ antics. He finally broke his silence, alerting Burns to his presence.
“You tryin’ to catch a rat?” Holmes asked.
Burns didn’t look up. “Haven’t you heard? Rats don’t like cheese. They like peanut butter.” He paused. “But I use other methods to catch rats.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
“I like to let them run loose for a while and then—BAM!” Burns clapped his hands. “I put them in a trap they can’t escape.”
Holmes furrowed his brow. “Sounds like a regular rat trap to me.”
“That’s what they all think, but it’s the one behind them that they need to be on the lookout for.”
“I’ll remember that if I’m ever looking for something to eat at your house.”
Burns laughed. He gestured toward a tray of subs. “You better get yourself something to eat. Got a big afternoon ahead of us.”
Holmes grabbed a sandwich and disappeared.
After reassembling his sandwich sans cheese, Burns stood up and turned around to watch the garage activity.
Another day, another dollar.
He sat down and continued eating only to turn around when he heard approaching footsteps. It was Dirt. Burns turned back around and didn’t saying anything.
“What’s got your goat today?” Dirt asked.
“Tryin’ to figure out who on my crew sabotaged Tanner’s car last week.”
Dirt sighed and rolled his eyes. “Oh, great. This again, huh? You seriously believe all those reports in the news? Those people are just tryin’ to sell a story.”
Burns stood up. “Or maybe you’re just tryin’ to cover it up?”
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