Chapter 24
Cal's iPhone was programmed to awaken him at 8 a.m. every Tuesday. It was his deadline day. The Register went to press every Tuesday at 8:30 p.m. rarely without exception.
The last time the presses were held was two years ago when Paul Hackett brought his pick axe to a board of education meeting and threatened one of the board members. When the appropriately named Hackett waved his axe within inches of the board member's face, Kelly snapped a photo. With barely six months of experience under her belt, she managed to convince Guy to hold the presses. It turned out to be good journalistic instincts by everyone as the photo won best news action shot for an Idaho weekly.
Cal's iPhone chimed an airy melody. He didn't move much.
Cal was groggy. The wild events of the night before left him wondering if it wasn't all a bad dream. There he was in his bed with his clothes on. What happened?
Cal stumbled into the shower, hoping hot water might rouse him to his senses. Slowly, it began to come back to him. He was meeting Kelly. Then someone hit him from behind on purpose. He slid off the road. He survived the spill down the hill. Someone drugged him, warned him to back off, and put him to sleep in his apartment.
Without a second thought, Cal dashed to the window to look for his car. It wasn't there.
Cal returned to the shower, trying to squeeze out more details from his beleaguered memory. Who took him? Where did they take him? And why? Why warn him to wait before releasing the story?
None of it made sense. Cal's initial hypothesis was that someone ran him off the road because he got too close to the truth about the teens' deaths. Or at least they thought he was getting close. Cal felt like he was no closer at that moment than he was 24 hours before when he was taking a shower just after hearing the news from Guy.
Not that it really mattered anyway. Guy had assigned him a benign reaction piece-and Cal doubted Tuesday before deadline was enough time to sway Guy's opinion to allow him to write the real story. Especially when Cal had nothing but the memory of those boys' mutilated bodies in his mind.
Cal finished his shower, toweled off and dialed Kelly's number.
"Cal? Is that you?!" Kelly asked without the slightest thought of a greeting.
"Yeah, Kelly. I'm OK. Sorry about last night."
"Sorry about last night? Are you kidding me? I'm just glad you're alive. I thought you were dead after I heard your car went off the road and they couldn't find you."
Cal cringed. He remembered his car had been wrecked. While it was the least of his worries, he hated the hassle of being without a car and having to get it repaired.
"Yeah, I'm gonna need a ride this morning."
"Don't worry. I'll come get you. Be there in 15 minutes."
Cal finished getting dressed and mulled over the previous night's events. He wasn't close to having all the facts or even close enough to the truth to form a fledgling theory to float to Guy. But he knew that whatever information he had led to something more. Maybe it was sinister. Maybe it was corruption. Maybe it was a cover up. Maybe ...
Conspiracy theorists irked Cal, but he couldn't help himself. Something was going on, and somebody didn't want him to find out what. Unraveling the mystery was as simple as that-find out who the somebody is and learn what the something is. But there was nothing simple about it.
Cal's mind whirled with ideas. Did he hear helicopters overhead? Did a special ops guy rush him from the river where he had been lying in wait? Cal's imagination was beginning to drift when the beeping of Kelly's car horn broke his trance.
He grabbed his iPhone and his keys and glanced back at his room before he headed out. Then he noticed a note lying unopened on his dresser. It was addressed to him: "Mr. Cal Murphy."
Ding, Dong! Cal realized that Kelly was anxious to see him.
Cal stuffed the envelope into his pocket and headed for the front door.