Dead Shot (A Cal Murphy Thriller Book 1)

DEAD LINE :: Chapter 1

DEAD LINE sample

CHAPTER ONE

NOAH LARSON WATCHED RAINDROPS trickling down the window over the kitchen sink, racing to a predictable end. Most drops would find their way to the bottom of the sill before joining others to form a small stream that spilled into the dormant flowerbed. A few lucky ones would take control of their fate, resisting the urge to be like everyone by sticking ever so tenuously to an open spot on the glass. But even they were susceptible to being washed away by a collision with just another raindrop or a blast of air. It was a depressing thought, one that was quickly washed away by the reality of Noah's life. Who had time to ponder the depths of existentialism when there was a Super Bowl to win?

In three hours, Noah was scheduled to join his teammates on a charter flight to Houston where the Seattle Seahawks would attempt to bring home the first Lombardi Trophy the city had ever seen. And it was going to happen-he just knew it. Nothing was going to stop his destiny on the football field. Ever since he first began playing peewee football, Noah's talents were apparent to everyone, including himself. While he had boxes of personal trophies, plaques and accolades, they stayed in unmarked containers on a shelf in his garage. The only trophy Noah wanted to show off was the smooth silver one, hoisting it above his head while confetti rained down from the rafters of Gillette Stadium. That destiny was only six days away.

"Dad, did you pack my lunch?" came the question from across the kitchen that snapped Noah back to the present.

"Sure, Jake. Got it right here," Noah said, handing his six-year-old son a brown paper sack. "I even remembered to put your favorite Capri Sun in there, too."

"Apple?"

"I thought you liked grape."

"Daaaaad! You always mix up my favorite flavors. I like grape jelly but apple juice."

"Well, we can fix that right now."

Noah shuffled to the pantry and ripped open a six-pack of apple-flavored Capri Suns, grabbing one for Jake.

"Here you go, son. I'll get it right next time-don't you worry."

"It's OK, dad. I'm really gonna miss you this week."

"I'm gonna miss you too, sport. But I'll see you on Friday. You and mom are flying down and we'll do something fun when I'm not busy."

"I can't wait! Can we go see the Dynamo's stadium while we're down there?"

"The Dynamo? Son, you do remember that I'm playing in the Super Bowl on Sunday? And you want to go seen an empty soccer stadium?"

"Aww, dad. Soccer is cool, too. Maybe if you win, the Seahawks can have a parade just like the Sounders did when they won the Cup."

Noah tried not to let his son's remark bother him. Jake loved soccer and preferred using his dad's celebrity status to rub shoulders with the city's star soccer players rather than NFL locker room access. What gnawed at Noah the most was the fact that Seattle threw a parade befitting of royalty when the city's pro soccer team won the championship the previous fall. The cash-strapped city never dreamed another title might come so soon. But if the Seahawks won, forget budget restraints. Seattle had a champion and it was going to celebrate it.

But Noah knew the city was going to have to go into debt in six days to throw a matching parade. He cared less about competing with the city's other pro sports teams but more about the overall sense of despair hovering over their fans' mentality. Doom and gloom held season tickets for the Seahawks - all 67,000 of them. Noah was going to change all that, maybe even turning his son into a die-hard football fan in the process.