Read Poison Town for Free Online Page A

reporter, a good friend of mine, Derrick Whittaker.”
    “Hmm.”
    “But I’m going to see if I might be able to work with him on it. Do you have those notes your dad kept?”
    “They’re in Momma’s old desk in the kitchen. You was standin’ right by it this mornin’.”
    “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to see those notes.”
    “Sure, sure. How ’bout when you come by to get the Jetta?”
    “Yeah. I might want to see them before that. I’d like to talk with Coon, but I want to know what’s in those notes first.”
    “Good idea,” Travis said.
    “Is anybody around the house—if I were to get a ride over there?”
    “Shoot, it’s open, Jack. Just go on in, same way you came in this mornin’. Daddy’s notes is in the drawer on the far left, in one a’ them manila folders. It’s got D-V written on it. Can’t miss it.”
    “Okay then. I might have Derrick run me over there.”
    “Jack, you think Demler-Vargus did this to Daddy?”
    Jack exhaled loudly. “I can’t imagine that. It would be very sloppy.”
    “Well, someone poisoned him.” Travis stood. “And whoever did it is gonna face the wrath of the Randall clan—and that ain’t gonna be purty.”

Chapter 5
    Jack was jealous of the heat blasting in Derrick’s maroon Toyota FJ Cruiser, which had him sweating within minutes as they drove to the Randalls’ place. He felt quite hip riding shotgun in the Cruiser, which Derrick had decked out with the all-terrain package: rock rails, fog lights, side steps, roof rack, tow kit, and black wheels.
    As they rolled through slushy backstreets beneath a dreary winter sky, Jack explained all he knew about the Randalls’ accusations against Demler-Vargus and Galen’s apparent poisoning.
    “That is crazy,” Derrick said. “They’re sure he was poisoned?”
    “Yep. I got a feeling about this one,” Jack said.
    “Barton’s gonna lose his marbles when he finds out we’re both working on this thing.”
    “Look, he told Pete to give you the story, and for me to give you my leads. That’s what we’re doing. Finding Galen’s folder will get you started. You can take it from there.” But Jack wanted to be more involved—and had a hunch he would be.
    “You believe how these people live over here?” Derrick scanned the drab, impoverished landscape. “Never fails to remind me of Detroit.”
    “That’s right, you’re a Motor City kid.”
    “Lower east side. Mostly single-parent homes. Food stamps. Drugs. Gangs.”
    “You had both parents, didn’t you?”
    Derrick nodded and tugged at his black leather gloves as he drove. “We were the exception. Had a lot of love between my folks and my three sisters. All my buddies wanted to hang at my house. It always amazed them—how calm things were, when right outside the door there was gunfire and all kinds of chaos.”
    “Where’d your dad work?”
    “GM. Mom, too. We got out of that neighborhood eventually.”
    “Turn left here, and that’s it on the right.” Jack pointed.
    Jack’s Jetta and several other vehicles sat covered in a dusting of snow in front of the large metal garage. Derrick pulled into the driveway over some tire tracks and footprints that were fading with the new snow.
    “I can’t believe they just leave it open.” Derrick parked, yanked the brake, and turned off the car.
    “If you knew them, you’d understand. Very simple people.” Jack opened his door. “Brrr.”
    Rusty, stationed on the back porch, howled with such zeal that he came off his front paws.
    “Hey. I don’t do attack dogs.” Derrick got out of the Cruiser slowly and stood behind his open door. He tugged his green ski cap low over his forehead and remained there.
    “He’s harmless.” Jack trudged toward the steps. “I was just here this morning and walked right past him. Come on.”
    “Man, they don’t pay me for this.” Derrick slammed his door. “Wait up, Critt.” Derrick slipped but grabbed the big side mirror on the Cruiser to