Dead in the Water (A Cal Murphy Thriller Book 4) (17 page)

“I don’t know. Ask him,” Dixon said as he gestured toward the paramedic.

Observing the interaction between Dixon and his teammates, the paramedic nodded. “There’s a very good possibility he’ll be able to come back. We just want to run a few more tests on him before releasing him.”

Coach Holloway rubbed Dixon’s head as he walked by. “Hurry up and get back out there. We need you.”

Dixon smiled and nodded at his coach before exiting the field house and walking toward the ambulance. His mother waited by the ambulance as well.

“He’s going to be fine,” one of the paramedics said. “We just need to do a few more tests, Mrs. Dixon.”

Dixon followed the paramedics and climbed inside the ambulance. He sat on a small table as the paramedics prepared to inspect him before giving their final approval.

While Dixon waited, he dug through his bag, searching for his phone.

“What the—” Dixon said as he felt a mangled mess of plastic parts at the bottom of his bag. He scooped it up and pulled it out. For a few moments, he stared at the smashed pieces of his cell phone before he started crying.

“It’s OK, kid,” one of the paramedics said. “It’s just a cell phone. They’re a lot easier to replace than you.”

Dixon stopped crying and grimaced as one of the paramedics poked and prodded him. He now knew why Tre’vell Baker was dead—and it had nothing to do with a stray bullet from a hunter’s rifle. Now someone was on to him, too.

***

Cal rapped on the ambulance doors parked next to the field house. Dixon looked startled as he motioned for Cal to come in. Cal climbed in despite the immediate protest from the paramedics.

“You can’t be in here,” one of the paramedics said.

“It’s cool. Just leave him alone,” Dixon said.

“No! I’m sorry, sir, but you must leave now.”

Dixon stood up. “Fine. We’ll take it outside.”

Cal jumped out of the ambulance with Dixon behind him. Dixon’s mother grabbed Dixon’s face with both her hands. “Are you OK, son? What’s wrong?”

Dixon shrugged her off. “I’m fine, mom. But I need some privacy to talk to Mr. Murphy here.”

Cal stepped over to the side to let the drama unfold.

“Anything you say to him, you can say to me,” she said.

“No, I can’t. And it’s for your own good. Trust me,” Dixon said.

She relented and moved away to give them privacy. Cal noticed her still leaning in with her ear to try to hear what they were saying.

“Were you trying to tell me what I think you were trying to tell me?” Cal whispered.

“What do you think I was trying to tell you?” Dixon whispered back.

“That Bryant was point-shaving?”

Dixon nodded.

“So why are you telling me this now?” Cal asked.

“Because I think someone is on to me. I think someone made me ill on purpose and when I got back to the field house, I found my cell phone all smashed up.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Because Tre’vell recorded one of the coaches giving money to the running back. This is what I wanted to show you before you cancelled our meeting yesterday. Tre’vell recorded this through a crack in one of the coaches’ doors and nobody saw us. But I told Alabama about the tape. I don’t think somebody from Alabama would destroy it as they were really anxious about getting their hands on it. All I can figure is that somebody else obviously knows it exists.”

“I think I might know who might be doing this.”

“Well, stay away from them—and don’t write anything about this. I’m pretty sure that’s what got Tre’vell killed,” Dixon said.

“And that’s exactly why I have to write about it,” Cal said. He patted Dixon on the shoulder. “Get back out there and finish these guys off. I’ve got to get back to Atlanta, but I’m going to be back.”

“Be careful, Mr. Murphy—and please leave my name out of it.”

Cal nodded. He doubted he could comply with Dixon’s request, but it didn’t matter now. He might not ever write the story if Gatlin got his way.

***

From the stands, Hugh Sanders looked through his binoculars at a discussion between Cal Murphy and Dominique Dixon taking place near the ambulance.

I wonder what that’s all about.

He watched as Cal spun and walked toward the parking lot at a swift pace. Just as he was putting his binoculars down, he noticed another familiar person emerge from the shadows. It was Frank Johnson.

CHAPTER 31

CAL CLIMBED INTO HIS YUKON and checked his watch. It was 8:15. If he hustled, he could make the 10:45 p.m. flight from New Orleans to Atlanta. He buckled up and called the Delta reservation line as he began maneuvering out of the parking lot. He drove over a handful of potholes brimming with rainwater and splashed his way onward until he reached the road.

In a matter of moments he had changed his flight. Now all he needed to do was pray that there were no nasty wrecks that would hold him up on the roads.

He began to mentally go over everything he knew about the story. Baker and Dixon reneging on their commitment to Bryant. The strange circumstances surrounding Baker’s death. Someone trying to frame Alabama for illegal recruiting. Dixon telling Alabama about the tape. In the cutthroat world of recruiting, Cal couldn’t rule out any school for wanting to take down Alabama. Auburn, Tennessee, LSU, Florida, Bryant—they all loathed the empire in Tuscaloosa and would dance a jig on Alabama’s grave. Experience taught him not to jump to conclusions.

Before Cal had the chance to mentally sort through the motives of each party involved, he noticed the flashing hazard lights of a car parked on the shoulder of the road. As he passed it, he looked to see what the problem was. He saw a flat tire right away before he fully recognized the car—it was Lanette Baker’s.

He slowed down and looked at his watch. He could change a flat tire in ten minutes. He’d timed himself before. If he hurried he’d still have time to make it to the New Orleans airport with a few minutes to spare. He pulled over in front of the car to see if he could help.

Cal held the map from the rental car agency over his head as he jogged over to the driver’s side window and tapped on it. “Lanette, are you all right?” he asked.

The windshield wiper blades swished back and forth for a few moments before she moved. She rolled the window down just enough for her voice to escape through a crack. “Does it look like I’m all right?”

“Well, do you want me to help you change that flat tire?”

“The tow truck is on his way.”

“You don’t need a tow truck. I can fix that for you. Let me help you.”

Cal stopped his pleading when a large truck pulled up behind Lanette. The bright lights and the persistent rain made it difficult to tell who it was. He leaned back down toward Lanette’s window. “Looks like the cavalry’s here. Best of luck to you.”

He turned and walked away. Above the steady sound of the rain pounding the pavement, Cal heard quickening footsteps on the pavement. Before he could turn around to see what was happening, a burlap sack was shoved over his head while his hands were held down. He wrestled to pull the sack off, but his assailant zip-tied his hands behind his back and shoved him toward his truck.

“Who is this? Why are you doing this to me? You can’t just abduct me like this!”

No response.

“Come on, man. I’m begging you, whoever you are. Don’t do this. Let’s talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you.”

Still no response.

“This isn’t how we do things where I come from. Let’s have a conversation. Do you want me to help you get some message out to the media? I can do that. Whatever you want, I can help you with it.”

“Don’t struggle so much. We’re on the same team. All I want is you.” The voice was resounding, clear, powerful. Cal recognized it immediately.

It was Hugh Sanders.

***

“Mom, we can’t just sit here and do nothing,” Nikko said to Lanette. “They’re kidnapping Mr. Murphy.”

“He can take care of himself,” she said.

“No, he can’t. That guy just threw him into the back of his pickup truck.”

“Maybe Mr. Murphy deserves it. Justice in the bayou doesn’t always look the same as it does everywhere else. Besides, you don’t know what he did, son.”

“It doesn’t matter—Mr. Murphy has been tryin’ to help us and now you won’t help him?”

“Mr. Murphy has been tryin’ to help himself at our expense. Don’t confuse his desire to write some story about Tre’vell with his caring about us.”

“But he stopped and tried to help us in the pouring rain. He wasn’t going to get a story out of that.”

Lanette rolled her eyes. “You’re as relentless as your older brother. How in the world did I get a family of do-gooders?” She shook her head and looked ahead at the road. “Where is that tow truck? It should’ve been here a long time ago.”

“Mom, you didn’t call one,” Nikko said.

“Cyrus Wilhelm cruises up and down the road at least once an hour in his truck huntin’ for business. He’ll eventually find us. Just you wait and see.”

***

Hugh Sanders watched Cal writhing about in the back of his pickup truck as he turned off the main road and onto a dirt road riddled with potholes. He slowed to ten miles per hour as he crept along. With the keenness of a hawk, Sanders scanned the road for a turnoff well hidden by shrubs and bushes.
Bingo!

Sanders put his truck in park and ran over to move the shrubs and bushes that were loosely laid on the ground to cover the roadway. He drove through the makeshift gate and continued on until he reached a small clearing at the water’s edge.

CHAPTER 32

THE TRUCK FINALLY STOPPED and so did the wind and rain. Aside from his own breathing against the burlap sack, Cal could hear a cacophony of bullfrogs and other swamp wildlife. Had the situation been any different, he might have relished this moment in nature. Instead, Hugh Sanders shocked him by abducting and transporting him to this remote location.

He strained to hear anything else. After a few moments, he could hear the muffled voice of Sanders.
What is going on?

Cal heard the truck door open and a rhythmic high-pitched sound that warned Sanders his keys were still in the ignition. Cal sat up as he heard the door slammed shut followed by the sloshing of footsteps.

Without warning, Sanders yanked the burlap sack off Cal’s head.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Cal demanded as he squirmed from a sitting position.

Sanders leaned on the truck. He appeared calm and in control. “Now, calm down, Cal. It’s not what it seems.”

“It seems like you’ve lost your mind! Now untie me and take me back to my truck. I’ve got a flight to catch tonight.”

“There’s been a change of plans. You won’t be leaving here any time soon.”

“This is absurd. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

Sanders rocked back and forth as he glared at Cal. “Ashamed of myself? For what? Doin’ the right thing? Sometimes doin’ the right thing takes more courage than doin’ the wrong thing, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t know what you mean and I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please take me back right now.”

Sanders shook his head. “No can do, amigo. I’ve got something on the agenda for us that you might actually appreciate.”

“The only thing I’ll appreciate is you taking me back to my truck.”

“Now, Cal, you just need to relax and trust me. We both want the same thing here.”

“And what might that be?”

“The truth.”

Cal paused for a moment as he stared at Sanders. His shook his head and looked downward as he spoke. “This isn’t how you get the truth.”

Sanders reached into the truck bed and pulled out a large flashlight. He shined it into a nearby bank. Two alligators on the shore dodged the light by sliding into the water.

“Well, it’s how we’re gonna get it tonight at Devil’s Point. Now, you just keep your mouth shut, let me do all the talkin’. And who knows? You might just get out of here alive.”

Cal sighed. “Can you at least untie me instead of treating me like some criminal? I’m not going anywhere and nobody is looking for me.”

Sanders grunted and walked toward the truck. He dug a sharp hunting knife out of his coat pocket and cut Cal loose. “No funny business. You understand?” Sanders said as he backed away and shined his flashlight into the water where three alligators had now gathered.

Cal nodded. There was nothing funny about the text message he furiously wrote while Sanders scanned the swamp.

***

The moment Frank Johnson received a call from Hugh Sanders he marched right out of the stadium and toward his truck. Saint-Parran had taken a commanding 34-12 lead on West St. John early in the fourth quarter—and now Johnson had more important business at hand.

He climbed into his truck and slammed his fist on the steering wheel before turning the ignition. He paused a moment before launching into a tirade that included both cursing and punching his dashboard. “How did this happen? I
know
that was the only copy of that video left!”

Johnson roared down the highway, riding the centerline as he jammed his foot on the accelerator pedal. He recognized Lanette Baker’s car as he flew past it.

“That ungrateful wench! Her stupid son screwed everything up!”

Johnson activated the speaker function on his phone and called Bryant coach Gerald Gardner.

“What’s the good news, Frank?” Gardner said as he answered.

“There’s no good news right now, Coach.”

“That’s not what I wanna hear.”

“I know, but I’m going to rectify the situation shortly. I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

“Anything I should be concerned about?”

“There’s another copy of the video.”

Gardner remained silent.

“Coach? Are you still there?”

Nothing.

“Coach?”

“You better find that tape, Frank. You know what that will mean for all of us if it leaks out. We’re finished—all of us!”

Gardner hung up.

Johnson could feel his blood pressure rising as he sped down the highway.

“I’m gonna tear Sanders apart!”