CHAPTER 20

CAL AND KELLY LEANED against their car and watched as the black Suburban and the rest of the FBI entourage rolled away. Cameramen whom Cal had seen scarfing down doughnuts at the hotel’s continental breakfast a few hours ago stumbled after the vehicle that carried Josh Hood. Cal snickered as one videographer finished in a most ungraceful way, splayed in the middle of the street with accessories from his camera bag strewn about.

One too many doughnuts, buster.

Not that unhealthy eating was unique to news photographers and videographers. Poor eating habits—along with drinking problems—were systemic in newsrooms across the country. Whether delivered as peace offerings for a blowup in the editorial department the night before or as a way to butter up colleagues for a special assignment, sweet pastries seemed to possess a magical elixir. And everyone partook of them. Cal patted his stomach as he recalled the two he ate earlier that morning. A little stale, but they still hit the spot.

At least I can still see my toes.

However, what Cal wasn’t likely to see any time soon after the end of the month was a paycheck. Wilfred Lee had seen to that with his vindictive antics.

The scene at the Miller County courthouse remained carnival-like. Reporters jockeyed for position to capture the iconic Miller County courthouse in the background while they told the public about the atrocities allegedly committed by this privileged superstar. Cal and Kelly snickered watching the prima donna news reporters contort their faces as makeup artists powdered them up.

“The joys of reporting in HD,” Cal remarked.

With the crossover appeal of the story, every mainstream national news outlet had a presence there—and so did many sports outlets. Sports radio and sports news stations made this event reminiscent of the Super Bowl to Cal. Total chaos and one-upmanship. He knew he would’ve been right there with them, scrambling for the story scraps if he hadn’t been summarily dismissed by the paper for false allegations. Though he was relieved not to be shoe horned into the masses fighting for a unique angle to the story, he would’ve traded his peaceful moment for the frenetic pace and thrill of chasing down such a story. Deep down, he knew he still was going to write one—even if he didn’t have a paper sponsoring his journalism habit at the moment.

Kelly put her arm around him and pulled him tight.

“So, is that it?” she asked. “Josh Hood rides off in the Suburban and the big boys take over the story from here?”

Cal took a deep breath and kissed the top of her head. “The big boys just regurgitate what they’re fed.”

Kelly sniffled, catching Cal off guard. He pulled back from her to confirm what he heard.

“Hey, honey. What’s wrong?”

She whimpered and took a deep breath. “At least they’re getting fed.”

“Oh, come on, now. It’s not that bad.”

Kelly wiped a streaking teardrop and took a step back. “Not that bad? Not that bad? Are you kidding me? We’ve got a baby and a mortgage—and no income. Not to mention that Mister Whiskey Man has annihilated your career this week.” Her hands were waving wildly. “So, yeah. It’s that bad—and quite frankly I’d like to see you exhibit a little more concern.”

Cal stepped toward her and gently held her with both his hands. “Honey, don’t mistake my calm demeanor for not having any concern. I’m very concerned. But I’m also trying to figure a way out of this.”

“A way out? Are you kidding me? There’s no way out of this. You’re going to have to reinvent yourself. Your credibility is gone. Do you not get that? It’s gone. Everyone thinks you’re plagiarizing.”

Cal peered down the street and didn’t respond to Kelly’s rant.

She snapped her fingers. “Hey, Cal. Over here. Are you listening to me?”

He put his hand up. “Does anything look odd to you down there?”

Kelly sighed. “I give up. What are you talking about?”

“Look at Wilfred Lee. He doesn’t appear to be so upset about his nephew getting hauled off by the feds. And that’s very strange considering how much he tried to bully us when we first started working on this story.”

“He’s a heartless man. We get that. He’s also doing some illegal things he needs to be nailed for.” She paused and put her arm around him. “But we’re not going to be the people who get to do that.”

Cal pulled back and looked at her, his eyes narrowing. “If you think I’m going to let Wilfred Lee and his thugs steal my livelihood away—my passion for journalism—you’re wrong. I’m going to fight until I’ve got nothing left. And we’re going to win.” He stopped and took her hands. “And I need to know that you’re with me. I can’t do this alone.”

She tilted her head. “How do you think we’re gonna do this? We’ve got nothing but hunches and disconnected evidence at this point—evidence that proves nothing.”

“Well, let’s connect it then and get our lives back.”

Cal turned to see Wilfred Lee and two other men lumbering toward them.

As Lee neared the couple, he stopped and winked. “How’s the newspaper business treatin’ ya these days, Mr. Murphy? Looks like you missed the photo op, too. It was quite a scene. You must be proud of the fact that you started all this. Too bad you couldn’t finish it.”

One of the men with Lee answered his phone and took a few steps back.

Cal glared at Lee. “I may not have been able to finish that story, but I’m gonna finish you. The focus of my story has shifted.”

“That’s funny. I haven’t read that story yet. From what I hear, you’re only good at cutting and pasting.” The man who’d answered his phone hung up and whispered something in Lee’s ear. His demeanor turned dour and he started walking away. But not before he turned around to add, “Good luck with that story, Cal. You’re going to need it if you think you can come after me. I thought you would’ve figured that out by now.”

Cal slammed his fist into the side of his car.

“Easy now, honey,” Kelly said. “Don’t let him get to you like that. He’s only goading you on.”

Cal had much more to say but he held his tongue. He turned to get into his car when his phone started buzzing. Kelly joined him inside as he answered the call.

“This is Cal Murphy.”

“Mr. Murphy, I wanted to call you and tell you that there’s been a terrible mistake. You led the FBI to the wrong criminal in the case of Emily Palmer.”

“Who is this?”

“It’s not important who I am, but what is important is what you do with this information. Keep digging on this case and don’t let the FBI put away the wrong person. Josh’s life is in your hands now.”

“How do you know—Hello? Are you still there?”

The line was dead.

“Who was that?” Kelly asked.

“They didn’t say and their number was blocked.”

“What did they want?”

“They wanted me to know that Josh Hood is innocent, something they said they know for a fact.”

“How is that possible?”

“I don’t know, but I’m starting to think I missed something. Buckle up. We’ve gotta catch that FBI entourage.”