Lottery by C.T. Bonnett

Author:C.T. Bonnett [Bonnett, C.T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-12-07T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Montana

Morgan awoke to the sound of gravel trucks and earth-moving equipment preparing an industrial park site, less than thirty yards outside his hotel window.

Excellent hotel choice, next time we should include a flight path — oh, that’s right, we did.

He struggled out of bed and turned on the shower. It seemed like ten minutes before the water heated to his liking. He checked the stitches on his forehead in the bathroom mirror. They looked less gross than the day before, maybe he would be lucky, and the scar would not be so noticeable. He jumped into the shower and lathered up, knowing he had only a few minutes to get ready.

Sandy pounded on the door, interrupting him with a head full of suds.

“Come on, Morgan, I told you eight o’clock. We need to get going,” she yelled, loud enough to wake the entire floor.

“Okay,” Morgan called from the shower. “I’ll be ready in ten.”

He finished rinsing off and grabbed a towel. He kept his hair razor short to disguise his receding hairline. Avoiding the need to dry his hair was a bonus. He checked his stitches in the mirror again. They were starting to itch. He changed his mind about the scar and thought about getting a motorcycle and growing a beard. “The ladies do like the bad boys,” he said as he toweled off.

Morgan dressed and walked down to the lobby. Sandy waited in the breakfast area, reading the news on her phone.

“There’s nothing in the news about my office exploding,” she said as Morgan dropped his bag on the floor.

“I need a coffee,” he said.

Sandy followed Morgan to the breakfast bar, still reading from her phone. “I don’t see anything about Reese or Fred either. Why have no major news outlets reported any of this?”

“No idea,” Morgan shrugged and walked back to the table with Sandy following.

“No, seriously, Morgan. This is weird. It’s like a massive cover-up. It makes our story even more important. When we expose all of this, we’re talking major publicity for the paper.”

Morgan sat down with his coffee, “Lots of people die in Chicago every day. What makes those murders so special?”

“These were not just random acts of violence. They were mob hits, and how do you explain no coverage of an office exploding in the middle of downtown? Dozens of witnesses saw it, and no one called the media? No print, no internet, no cable news outlets thought it important enough to cover? It’s like someone put the word out to not report the story,” Sandy snapped, irritated by Morgan’s apathy.

“I don’t know. This last week can only be described as insane. News coverage has been the last thing on my mind, but you’re right. No one covering these stories is odd. It’s not like a newspaper office building blows up every day.”

Morgan finished his coffee, and they made their way to the car. Sandy pulled the rental key from her purse and pressed the remote to unlock the trunk. Morgan tossed in his bag as Sandy struggled with her suitcase.

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