Cross Hairs (20 page)

He glanced down at the text message on his phone.

where r u?

Cal pounded back his answer in text script. He was east of the road where they had escaped, staying in a barn at the edge of the cornfield.

Cal waited a moment and then his phone buzzed again.

I’ll b right there

Wondering how she would “be right there,” Cal responded with a quick “awesome” and then began formulating a few plans to help them survive the day. And if they were lucky, maybe he and Kelly could write an article on the FBI’s dirty little secret – and the truth behind Cloverdale Industries and Mayor Gold. It was difficult to see this idea becoming a reality in a timely manner, one that could happen before a deadline somewhere in the next 24 hours. But that thought remained secondary to survival – and surviving meant figuring out a way to leverage their knowledge of Cloverdale Industries and turning it into asylum. But Cal kept hitting mental dead ends. Maybe it was because he had yet to have his morning cup of coffee, something else that seemed unlikely given his current situation. Or maybe it was because Gold’s stranglehold on the entire city of Statenville made it impossible to conceive of a plausible way to remove the bounty on his head. Either way, Cal was frustrated.

As promised, Cal looked up after about five minutes and saw a white delivery box truck bouncing along the farm road ruts toward the barn. A simple logo adorned both sides of the truck: Infinger Farms. The “i” in the middle of Infinger was a milk bottle with an apple over the top. Kelly had a big smile on her face, but the young farmhand driving the truck didn’t share in her excitement.

The truck came to a stop just outside the barn, the engine still running. Cal approached the passenger side door where Kelly was climbing out.

“What in the world is this?” Cal asked, stunned at Kelly’s resourcefulness. He had figured getting to Salt Lake would be an all-day affair. Could they really be going in a delivery truck?

“This is Infinger Farms’ delivery truck – and this is T.J., who just so happens to be making a delivery of milk to an organic market in Salt Lake this morning.”

“How did you find this?”

“Pure luck. I ran through the cornfield until I came to a clearing, which happened to be the edge of Infinger Farms’ dairy complex. Mr. Infinger was checking on a sick cow when I came racing out of the field. At first he was cautious when I started telling him my story, then he eventually warmed up to me and realized I needed help. He took me to his house and let me stay in their guest room. And then this morning, after Mrs. Infinger cooked me a hearty country breakfast, Mr. Infinger offered to let us ride down to Salt Lake with T.J. So, here we are.”

“What luck!”

“I even brought you a cup of coffee.”

“You’re an angel. Let’s get moving. We’ve still got a lot to figure out.”

Cal and Kelly climbed into the truck before Cal and T.J. formally introduced themselves to one another. Then they were on their way.

For the first 30 minutes of the drive, Cal and Kelly discussed strategies. They finally agreed upon a way they could gain leverage on Gold. The remaining two hours were spent talking about other fun outdoor adventures. None rivaled running for their lives the night before, but it was a nice diversion from the intensity of trying to survive a man – and town – bent on shoveling dirt on your grave as soon as possible.

At 11 a.m., the delivery truck rolled to a stop outside the steps of
The Tribune
offices.

“I think this is your stop,” T.J. announced, anxious to get the giddy pair out of his truck.

After wishing him well, Cal and Kelly strode through the front doors and asked to see an editor. But not just any editor,
the
editor. The secretary met their request with disdain, shooting a “you guys know nothing about newspapers” glance at them. She dialed an extension anyway, confident they would be shooed away like pesky flies at a picnic. But she was wrong.

“OK, I’ll send them right up,” she said.

She hung up and asked them to sign in on the visitor’s log.

“I don’t know who you guys know, but you’re in. Someone will be down shortly to take you up to the newsroom.”

Cal and Kelly both took seats in the waiting area. Nervous, Cal cracked his knuckles. This was it and he knew it. If he was going to get this story in print, he had to sell it right here – and he had yet to discover the full scope of the story, a fact of which he was certain.

CHAPTER 61

GOLD AWOKE AT 10:30
a.m. after hearing his front door slam. He ditched his morning coffee routine. Gold needed no adrenaline rush; panic and fear made coffee seem like a calming agent. After waiting up late into the night to hear word on the capture of the two reporters, Gold had fallen asleep in his chair.

Gold dialed Yukon’s cell number, hoping to get something he hadn’t received all night – an answer. The call went straight to voice mail. Gold hung up, realizing that his most trusted ally had vanished and had no intention of ever calling him back. He then called Sheriff Jones to get an update.

“Sheriff, got any news for me?”

“Well, we’re still searching for—”

“Still searching? You haven’t found those two yet? They’re just simpleton reporters! You should have brought them in a long time ago. Put a $250,000 reward out on them – that’ll get you some help!”

“Now, Mayor, just calm down. We’ve got some good men out there. They just need a little bit of time. We’re tracking everything we can to locate them. Those two will make a mistake soon enough.”

“You just remember, Sheriff, that if I go down, you’re going down with me.”

“No need for idle threats. We’ve had close calls before. Once we catch them, there won’t be any corroborating evidence. You do have their equipment, right?”

“Got it right here. It was the only thing Yukon did right last night.”

“Well, just sit tight. I’ll call you when we’ve apprehended them. My men have been out looking all night. They’ll find them.”

Gold hung up and threw his phone into his chair, running his hands through his hair.

This should’ve been over a long time ago! How did it come to this?

He sat back down, wondering if he might need to begin getting his flight bag together. The thought of running made him ill. He had grown to love his wife and kids. He never expected the ultimate cover for his past life of crime to become such a burden in his new ventures. But they were. And it made him more patient than he would’ve been in the past.

Twelve more hours and then I’m out of here.

It was time for Gold to head to the office, act normal, do his job.

***

Mercer sat in his patrol car 15 minutes north of Statenville. He was tired and needed a nap. His eyes were almost asleep when another communication from dispatch woke him up again. Based on the nature of the message, Mercer knew Gold was crawling all over the Sheriff – it was more motivation talk to find Cal and Kelly.

Mercer was growing tired of this. He decided to call Cal again.

***

“I’m sorry, but we just can’t run your story,” Dave Youngman told the two reporters sitting across from him.

Cal sighed and slumped. Without the protection of the press, life was going to get complicated – if there was even a life to return to in Statenville. But he decided not to let the news defeat him.

“Is there anything else we can get that would improve the chances of you running this story?” Cal asked.

“Yeah, there has to be something,” Kelly added.

“Well, a confession would be nice,” said Youngman, smiling. “Seriously, other than that, we need something besides your anonymous sources. I only trust you because Guy told me to trust you – but if you can’t even tell me who your anonymous sources are, I’m going to have a hard time defending you if we get questioned about it. Get me something that proves that you’re not just two crazy conspiracy theorists. Prove the conspiracy.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” Cal said, standing up to leave. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Youngman.”

Cal took two strides toward the door to show himself out. Kelly followed.

“Call me if you get something else, Cal,” Youngman said. “I do think you’ve got the makings of a great story – but you’re just not there yet.”

Cal turned toward Youngman and nodded. He thought the most dangerous part of this adventure was over. But apparently, there was still work to do, still a criminal to take down – and he and Kelly only had each other.

CHAPTER 62

WHEN CAL’S PHONE RANG,
he didn’t recognize the number. As he walked out of the lobby doors of
The Tribune
office, he thought about not answering it for a moment, fearing that some government agency might be trying to track him right now. But the curiosity was too much for him.

“Hello?”

“Cal, is that you?”

“Yes – who is this?”

“It’s Mercer from the Statenville Sheriff’s Department. Don’t hang up – just hear me out.”

“OK, make it quick, but I’ve done nothing wrong and I’m not coming in to face some trumped up charges.”

“Well, that’s kind of why I’m calling. I want to help you.”

“I’m listening.”

“OK, I know that Mayor Gold was trying to kill you and Kelly last night. Is she with you?”

“Why do you ask?”

“It’s important. I need both of you to help me catch Gold.”

“Catch Gold? You? What for?”

“Well, Cal, I’m not exactly who I appear to be. I’m actually in deep cover with Buddy Walker, God rest his soul.”

“What? Walker’s dead?”

“Yeah, the body count is getting unusually high around here – and you know Gold wanted to add you to that number, right?”

“Yeah, so get to your point. I’m losing patience here.”

“OK, listen. I know you’re trying to write a story on all of this, but I want to help you win a Pulitzer.”

Cal laughed. “OK, that’d be nice, but I’m willing to settle for something unusual for my clips file.”

“How about Gold confessing to murder?”

“Murder? Who did he kill?”

“Walker, for starters. But he also killed someone else you know...”

Cal’s heart stopped. There was only one person – other than the woman he was standing next to – that would’ve motivated him to risk his life to catch Gold. Then Mercer uttered his name.

“Guy Thompson.”

Cal dropped to the ground. The phone fell out of his hand, too, spinning on the concrete below with the same speed as his racing mind.

How could this happen? This is my fault. He was the only one protecting me.

Only the ambient sounds of Fourth Street were being transmitted back to Mercer.

“What’s wrong, Cal?” Kelly asked, kneeling beside him and placing her hand on his back. “What happened?”

Cal looked down and shook his head. “They killed Guy.”

Kelly began sobbing. Cal finally released some tears, too. They shared a short embrace and wiped back their tears.

“Kelly, we’ve got to nail Gold. He can’t get away with this.”

She nodded. “Whatever we need to do, I’m in.”

Cal had almost forgotten about Mercer until he heard a voice coming from his phone, which was now a foot away on the sidewalk.

“Cal? Cal? You there?”

Cal slowly picked up the phone.

“I’m here.”

“Listen, Cal. I’m really sorry for your loss. I know Guy was a great man and a good newspaper editor.”

“He was an amazing man – and I’m not going to let his death be for naught. How do we get Gold to confess to murder?”

“OK, great. Well, I was thinking that I could bring you two in so he wouldn’t suspect anything. Then, I would call him over and you could have a private moment with him, get him to tell you he did it. Then I would turn around and arrest him and we’d all get what we wanted.”

“Why are you doing this, Mercer?”

“Well, I like you, Cal. And I like Kelly. And I really liked Walker, my partner. I wouldn’t want his name to be tarnished forever. What he did was wrong, lacing those drugs that ended up killing those boys. But he was just trying to do the right thing. I wouldn’t want his relatives to think he was a killer instead of a man who fought for justice.”

“Fair enough. Sounds like a good plan. You’ll have to come get us. We’ll be at the FBI offices in Salt Lake City.”

“I’m on my way. I’ll call you in two hours when I get there.”

Cal hung up and exhaled. He was tired. And angry. And broken. His mentor was murdered all because Cal couldn’t stop with this story. Guilt crept over him. Cal started crying again.

“It’s all my fault,” Cal said, trying to regain his composure.

Kelly teared up again as well. “No, it’s not, Cal. You can’t blame yourself for what one monster did to Guy. He chose to help us. We lost a good friend today, but let’s think of him as a man who sacrificed his life for the truth to be known – and let’s figure out a way to survive and tell this story so we can properly honor him.”

Cal nodded. He wiped his tears with the back of his hand and got up. He would have to put the full gamut of his emotions on hold. He needed to talk with Mr. Youngman.

CHAPTER 63

“DO YOU THINK THIS
will work?” Kelly asked Cal.

“I hope so,” he said. “It’s the best idea that has come to me.”

Cal and Kelly went over their own plan as they waited for Mercer to arrive. They trusted him. What other motivation could he have? But Cal was growing up fast. His cub status as a reporter was transitioning to veteran with every twist and turn during his efforts to gather everything he needed to write an accurate story. Cal hoped he was right about Mercer, but he couldn’t ignore any inklings that said otherwise. Hopefully, his precautionary measures would be enough, should it come to that.

Cal’s heart remained heavy, even as he stole a few glances at Kelly. She was beautiful and he wanted to think about a future with her – but he couldn’t. The grief over losing his mentor was too strong, the wound too fresh. Once he did justice for Guy, maybe he could dream of a future with Ms. Mendoza. But for now, there was only one thing he had space in his mind for – catching Gold and telling a story that was so unbelievable Cal scarcely believed it himself. But he knew it was real. People he knew were dead, and he had escaped with his life – so far.