Cross Hairs by Jack Patterson
Authors: Jack Patterson
Tags: Fiction, thriller, Suspense, adventure, Crime, Mystery, Nora Roberts, Action, Hard-Boiled, Reporter, trilogy, Deception, james patterson, conspiracy, Lee Child, New York Times bestseller, new release, mystery and suspense, award winning, award, fbi, &NEW, Stephen King, bestselling, cj lyons, Joshua Graham, George R.R. Martin, like John Grisham, John Grisham, popular, Steig Larson, Kindle eBook, like James Patterson, like Christine Kling, deal, newspaper, John Locke, David Baldacci, similar to Dean Koontz, similar to Nora Roberts, winning, like Aaron Patterson, Aaron Patterson, William Landay, punishment, five star review, Millennium, top rated, kindle ebooks, like Lee Child, Andrew E. Kaufman, New York Times best seller, Cal Murphy, like David Baldacci, 5 star review, Amazon eBook, national award-winning, like Joshua Graham, The Girl who Kicked the Hornets Nest, Dean Koontz, Christine Kling, similar to James Patterson, like Dean Koontz, Stieg Larsson, 5 stars, Steig Larsson, similar to Joshua Graham, similar to John Grisham, Kirk Russell, Dani Amore, Mary Higgins Clark, five stars, similar to John Locke, like William Landay, like Dani Amore, like John Locke, like Nora Roberts
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The phone quit buzzing. Their conversation prevented Cal from answering until he knew they were on the same page about their story.
He dialed Guy’s number.
“Where have you been?! I told you to come straight back to the office. That was over an hour ago!”
“Sorry, boss. We had to pay a little visit to the coroner.”
“The coroner? Who do you guys think you are? Starsky and Hutch? It’s not your job to investigate a murder — it’s just your job to report it.”
“I understand, boss. But almost no one has been giving us straight answers today.”
“That’s because you’re acting like a gumshoe cop instead of a journalist! Did you ever think about that, boy wonder?”
Kelly stomped on the gas pedal.
Cal knew what she was doing. He mouthed a “thank you” to her while continuing to cringe from the verbal tirade Guy was on. Guy was never this cruel in person and Cal was eager to get back in order to stop this nonsense.
***
Trailing about one hundred yards behind Kelly’s car was the F-250. The driver carefully calculated where he would make his move.
But there wasn’t a chance just yet. Kelly was driving through a main road that led back to downtown. All the local businesses on either side of the road made it very difficult to fulfill his mission.
He eased off the gas. He knew where they were going. Tonight would give him a better chance. He would finish his assignment then.
CHAPTER 17
WHEN CAL AND KELLY returned to The Register , the newsroom was still full of faithful staff, preparing as much of the paper as they could for that week’s edition slated to go to press Tuesday night. Cal’s deadline was more than 24 hours away, but he still needed to do some of his other mundane duties before he called it a day.
Cal could sense Guy’s growing angst as the day progressed, but by 5:30 in the evening, angst had given way to dirty office politics and the abuse of power. By the way Guy was acting on the phone, Cal guessed Guy hadn’t even stepped outside The Register’s office all day for anything other than a smoke break. But Cal never would’ve guessed what came out of Guys’ mouth next.
“I hope you’ve got something for a reaction piece cause this is all you’re writing, understand?” Guy bellowed from behind his desk.
A reaction piece? In the journalism world, a reaction piece is slightly above a man-on-the-street poll. It’s a story that just about any numbskull can write without screwing up. You talk to people about a certain topic or issue or event. You quote them. They are the story. The “reporter” more or less transcribed an interview. Even a high school intern could do it.
With that re-assignment, Cal’s spirit was crushed. Pulitzer award-winning story? Gone. Strong article for the clip file? Doubtful. Cal’s Monday started with so much promise, but hope for a positive conclusion was fleeting faster than William Hung’s 15 minutes of fame.
He almost took it without a word. Almost.
“Seriously, Guy? A reaction piece? I’ve been tracking down this story all day long and there’s more to it than three teens overdosing on drugs—that much I’m sure of.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, this is Mayberry, not New York City. Sensationalizing the unfortunate death of these kids is not something that people here want to read. So, unless you’ve got something other than the off-the-record whispers and innuendos you mentioned earlier, I’m not interested.”
“But, boss—”
“Are you that slow, Cal? We’re not doing a triple deck murder story headline, especially when there wasn’t a murder. Now go get me a cutline for that board of education meeting you covered last Thursday and get out of here.”
The problem with protesting one of Guy’s decisions in The Register ’s tiny office was that everyone heard him dressing you down.
The phone quit buzzing. Their conversation prevented Cal from answering until he knew they were on the same page about their story.
He dialed Guy’s number.
“Where have you been?! I told you to come straight back to the office. That was over an hour ago!”
“Sorry, boss. We had to pay a little visit to the coroner.”
“The coroner? Who do you guys think you are? Starsky and Hutch? It’s not your job to investigate a murder — it’s just your job to report it.”
“I understand, boss. But almost no one has been giving us straight answers today.”
“That’s because you’re acting like a gumshoe cop instead of a journalist! Did you ever think about that, boy wonder?”
Kelly stomped on the gas pedal.
Cal knew what she was doing. He mouthed a “thank you” to her while continuing to cringe from the verbal tirade Guy was on. Guy was never this cruel in person and Cal was eager to get back in order to stop this nonsense.
***
Trailing about one hundred yards behind Kelly’s car was the F-250. The driver carefully calculated where he would make his move.
But there wasn’t a chance just yet. Kelly was driving through a main road that led back to downtown. All the local businesses on either side of the road made it very difficult to fulfill his mission.
He eased off the gas. He knew where they were going. Tonight would give him a better chance. He would finish his assignment then.
CHAPTER 17
WHEN CAL AND KELLY returned to The Register , the newsroom was still full of faithful staff, preparing as much of the paper as they could for that week’s edition slated to go to press Tuesday night. Cal’s deadline was more than 24 hours away, but he still needed to do some of his other mundane duties before he called it a day.
Cal could sense Guy’s growing angst as the day progressed, but by 5:30 in the evening, angst had given way to dirty office politics and the abuse of power. By the way Guy was acting on the phone, Cal guessed Guy hadn’t even stepped outside The Register’s office all day for anything other than a smoke break. But Cal never would’ve guessed what came out of Guys’ mouth next.
“I hope you’ve got something for a reaction piece cause this is all you’re writing, understand?” Guy bellowed from behind his desk.
A reaction piece? In the journalism world, a reaction piece is slightly above a man-on-the-street poll. It’s a story that just about any numbskull can write without screwing up. You talk to people about a certain topic or issue or event. You quote them. They are the story. The “reporter” more or less transcribed an interview. Even a high school intern could do it.
With that re-assignment, Cal’s spirit was crushed. Pulitzer award-winning story? Gone. Strong article for the clip file? Doubtful. Cal’s Monday started with so much promise, but hope for a positive conclusion was fleeting faster than William Hung’s 15 minutes of fame.
He almost took it without a word. Almost.
“Seriously, Guy? A reaction piece? I’ve been tracking down this story all day long and there’s more to it than three teens overdosing on drugs—that much I’m sure of.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, this is Mayberry, not New York City. Sensationalizing the unfortunate death of these kids is not something that people here want to read. So, unless you’ve got something other than the off-the-record whispers and innuendos you mentioned earlier, I’m not interested.”
“But, boss—”
“Are you that slow, Cal? We’re not doing a triple deck murder story headline, especially when there wasn’t a murder. Now go get me a cutline for that board of education meeting you covered last Thursday and get out of here.”
The problem with protesting one of Guy’s decisions in The Register ’s tiny office was that everyone heard him dressing you down.
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