Vengeance Road by Rick Mofina Read Free Book Online

services picked it up.
    It was the win he needed.
    The light changed and Gannon continued through traffic, turning into the Sentinel ’s parking lot, concentrating on the reason he’d come in early today: to work on a follow-up. Beating the competition always meant they’d come back at you big-time.
    He was not going to lose this one .
    He grabbed a paper from the security desk in the lobby before stepping into the elevator. Ascending alone, he studied the front-page photo of Styebeck’s handsome hero face next to one of Bernice.
    What a heartbreaker .
    During his years on the crime desk, he’d encountered tragedies every day: the deaths of children, school shootings, gang murders, fires, wrecks, calamities, manifestations of evil in every form. He went at things wearing emotional armor.
    But something about Bernice Hogan’s tragedy got to him.
    Looking at her face, he vowed to see that, in death, she received the respect that had eluded her in life.
    The elevator stopped and he went to the newsroom kitchen for coffee.
    The best follow-up to this morning’s exclusive would be a feature on Styebeck. He’d go into Styebeck’s life, his upbringing and how he came to be a hero cop and suspected killer. Maybe he’d call some criminal profilers, talk about cases of murderers leading double lives.
    He’d need a few days but it might work.
    â€œYou’re in early.” Jeff kept his eyes on his computer screen where he was playing solitaire.
    â€œAnything going on out there?”
    â€œIt’s deadsville, Jack. Nice hit on the cop. You blew away the Buffalo Snooze.” Jeff nodded to the managingeditor’s glass-walled office across the newsroom. “Nate’s been trying to reach you.”
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œDon’t know. Can’t be good. I’d give it a minute.”
    Gannon didn’t like the scene he saw playing out in the office. Nate Fowler kept jabbing his finger at Ward Wallace who kept throwing up his hands. Their voices were raised but Gannon couldn’t make out what they were saying. As night editor, Wallace never came in at this hour unless there was a problem.
    A serious problem.
    â€œWhat’s going on in there?” Gannon set his coffee down. “What’s Wallace doing here?”
    â€œBeats me. Oh, and there’s a lady here to see you. I told her you usually get in later, but she’s been waiting in reception for about an hour.”
    â€œShe say what she wants?”
    â€œNo. I’ll get her.”
    Gannon did a quick check of e-mails and sipped some coffee before he saw Jeff direct a woman in her fifties toward his desk.
    She wore no makeup, had reddened eyes and unkempt hair. Her sweater and slacks had frayed edges. She held a slim file folder, her fingernails were bitten.
    â€œYou’re Jack Gannon, the reporter?”
    â€œThat’s me. And you are?”
    â€œMary Peller, and I really need your help, Mr. Gannon.”
    â€œIt’s Jack.” Gannon cleared a stack of justice reports from an extra chair for her. “How can I help you?”
    â€œMy daughter, Jolene, is missing.”
    â€œMissing? How old is she?” Gannon fished a notebook from a pile, flipped to a fresh page.
    â€œTwenty-six.”
    â€œTwenty-six? What’s the story?”
    What came next was a tale Gannon had heard before. Jolene’s dad walked out on them when Jolene was eleven. When Jolene hit her teens, Mary lost her to drugs and the street. A year ago, after Jolene nearly died from overdosing on bad drugs, she started going to church and decided, for the sake of her three-year-old son, Cody, that she had to get clean.
    Jolene got a fast-food job, took night courses, and through a service, landed a junior motel manager position in Orlando.
    â€œJo was over the moon because it was her chance to start a new life. She wasn’t proud of the things she’d done to get drugs…”