Running Read online

  © 2018 by Dave Milbrandt

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN: 978-1985590885

  Cover design by Gabrielle Rodriguez

  Author photo by Lynn Milbrandt

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright ©1996, 2004, 2007, 2013 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

  To Dixie,

  More than a wonderful mother-in-law,

  your constant support and encouragement

  has been a rich blessing all these years.

  After the last tale, you said you couldn’t wait

  to see what happened next.

  Well, here you go...

  Other titles by Dave Milbrandt

  Fiction

  Chasing Deception

  Undue Pressure

  Canada Jones and the Legend of the True Cross

  Non-Fiction

  High School Declassified: An Insider’s Guide

  To Helping Your Student Succeed

  Acknowledgments

  Every time I write about Jim Mitchell and Emerald Valley, I keep telling myself this is the last book I have inside me about these characters and this place. The book you have in your hands proves I’ve been wrong twice in that prediction, and I hope you enjoy this latest trip to Emerald Valley.

  Such forays into fictional lands need help from the real world, and I am indebted to a few people who have been willing to share their brilliance without compensation other than my heartfelt appreciation.

  Thanks to social media, I was able to call upon experts from around the country when I needed advice about guns and giving birth, two things about which I am not an expert. For my firearms questions, the Army, Navy and Marines were represented as well as current and former law enforcement. These people include Ken Burford, Mat Duvall, Scott Hill, Aidan Kocalis, Jordan Law and Jon Reed.

  And, while I don’t have kids of my own, many friends of mine have. Some of them who were willing to talk about the trials and joys they faced bringing new life into this world include Thomas Allbaugh, Bronwyn Gauthier, Kelly Kocalis, LaStacia Martinez, Sarah Reed, and Robin Taylor. An unnamed friend in national law enforcement was diligent in reminding me that it would be ill-advised if my characters did bad things, like violate the United States Constitution.

  My lovely niece, Penny, was dancing around in my head as I wrote the character of Mark (here's hoping the personality quirks work with either gender). And while the character of Brian Coulter may have been loosely inspired by my friend and real-life political operative Tim Shaw, the latter is just as smart and twice as nice. Any errors, as always, are wholly the fault of the author.

  Special thanks go out to my lovely and talented wife, Lynn, a fellow writer who reads the first draft of everything I write for

  publication and still loves me despite all the mistakes I make. I also am deeply indebted to my editor and fellow grammar nerd Bethany Kaczmarek for her absolutely remarkable talents (which were seasoned with just the right amount of snark), and my good friend Janelle Dahlstrom for her eye for details as my proofreader. Gabrielle Rodriguez, as usual, performed her design magic for the cover. I delight in everything she creates for me. Finally, I am most grateful for the valiant efforts of my launch team in helping share this story with an ever-expanding audience.

  In closing, it is my fervent hope that this story will capture your attention and imagination as much as, or even more, than the first two novels in this series. And I won't even bother to predict how many more trips we might make to Emerald Valley.

  Dave Milbrandt

  Southern California

  Spring 2018

  Advance Praise for

  Running

  "Jim Mitchell is back. The former journalist of Dave Milbrandt's previous novels is now thrust into the turmoil of partisan politics as he runs for the seat of an assassinated assemblywoman for whom he had worked. He quickly learns that going into politics means being attacked for your past mistakes. Running will keep readers on edge whether they are catching up on the latest exploits of this appealing character or encountering him for the first time."

  — Joseph Bentz, the author of Nothing is Wasted

  "I really should stop reading this book before bed... I keep dreaming I'm Jim Mitchell.”

  — Joel Dominguez, Goodreads reviewer

  Critical Praise for

  The Jim Mitchell Series

  “Finding a well-rounded book with the perfect balance of mystery, religion and romance is pretty difficult and a challenging feat for any author. The fact that Dave Milbrandt accomplished this in his debut novel Chasing Deception is nothing short of spectacular.”

  – Lindsey Silvestrini, The IE Mommy Blog

  “Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter Jim Mitchell may have moved from the gritty world of daily newspaper journalism to the ivy-covered walls of academia, but he has not put scandals behind him. A star athlete at the Christian university where Jim now teaches is accused of rape, a prominent staff member goes missing, and a vice president may be having an extra-marital affair—or worse. As advisor to the student newspaper, Jim gets entangled in all of it and has to put his career on the line to hold on to his integrity.

  In Undue Pressure, Dave Milbrandt has created a compelling and multi-faceted story that will keep readers satisfied from beginning to end.”

  — Joseph Bentz, the author of Nothing is Wasted

  1

  Tuesday, August 2

  Two minutes late. Again.

  Jim Mitchell checked the email on his iPhone as he walked next to his 18-year-old niece, Rebecca.

  “Watch out, Uncle Jim!”

  He looked up just as he was about to miss the first step.

  “Thanks.” Jim glanced at Rebecca, who was Tweeting about the speech Assemblywoman Delores Holcombe had just given to the Emerald Valley City Council, talking to him and still she landed perfectly on each step. “You know, you’re half my age but can do that twice as well as I can.”

  “Yeah, but I’m texting like 10 hours a day and will have chronic arthritis when I’m old, like 30.”

  Her 40-year-old uncle nudged her. “Very funny.” He looked back. “Let’s wait a minute for Delores to catch up, shall we? It doesn’t matter if we get to the Rotary Club 10 minutes before the assemblywoman, since they’re just there for her anyway.”

  Rebecca covered her eyes from the setting sun that was still scorching the faded red bricks. “It’s 94 degrees at 7:30 at night. And it’s so humid it feels like the laundry room when Mom accidentally closes the door. I just want to get in the car and blast the AC.”

  Jim pinched the front of his Polo and fanned himself. He locked eyes with Brian Coulter, the assemblywoman’s chief of staff and nodded his head toward the parking lot. If they hurried, they could still make it to the Rotary meeting a few minutes before she was set to take the stage.

  A former reporter and college professor, Jim was relatively new to political consulting, having worked as communications director for Holcombe for only the last two months. He wrote speeches for Delores and served as a spokesman for the lawmaker, but he relied on Rebecca, who was interning for the campaign, to improve their social media presence.

  Brian leaned over to the assemblywoman and whispered in her ear. Jim drummed his fingers on the nearby railing as the pair approached. When he covered politicians at the Southern California Courier, Jim often made a point of confronting them when they least expected it. It threw them off their game
and often resulted in the harried official revealing more than he or she desired.

  Even as a professor at Foothill University, where Rebecca was supposed to start in the fall, he had been in charge of his own calendar. Class started and ended when he said so. Now, working for someone more important than he was, Jim had to get used to living on someone else’s timetable. Jim knew patience was a virtue; it just wasn’t one of his virtues.

  He smiled as Delores approached. “I have your speech in the car, and I can give you a copy for the ride over.”

  The assemblywoman waved off the suggestion. “No, with the sun in my eyes, I won’t be able to read it. Besides, I’m sure you did a fine job as always.”

  “Thanks,” Jim said.

  Brian picked up the pace. “Let’s go, we don’t want our wonderful Rotarians to start without us, do we?”

  Rebecca poked her head into the conversation. “They’re not going anywhere. Besides, who else do they have to listen to, right Uncle Jim?”

  Jim’s quick grin was unfazed by the glare Brian shared equally with the two. “Be that as it may, us arriving late might make them pause before breaking out their checkbooks, and the race is too close for us to risk that.”

  Since both were right to a degree, Jim decided to end rather than extend the dust-up. As Brian and Delores walked side-by-side, Jim hung back with his niece. He leaned over to Rebecca and whispered in her ear. “Next time, you probably don’t want to go toe-to-toe with Brian. At least, not out loud.”

  The teen was about to respond when the shots rang out. Jim glanced up quickly enough to see the assemblywoman slump to the ground and hear her chief of staff cry out as he doubled over.

  “Get down!” Jim dove on top of Rebecca and scanned the area to the west where the gunfire came from, but the setting sun obscured his view. Not again. In the back of his mind, Jim couldn’t help but recall the shooting at his church four months earlier. Nobody was hurt then, but today would be a much different story.

  He momentarily considered scrambling to the other side of the concrete planters to his right for protection, but that would mean he would have to get up and possibly be in the line of fire again.

  Too risky.

  The shots stopped and, despite the glare, Jim saw someone pop up from behind the low wall in front of the parking lot and run toward the street in front of City Hall.

  As he arose, Jim saw some small spots of blood on the concrete at his feet. “Are you OK? Did you get hit?”

  “My arm hurts really bad, but that’s about it.” Rebecca seemed shaky but not in immediate danger.

  “You’ve got some scrapes on your forehead. Did you pass out or anything?”

  “No, I’m good.” She briefly rested her hand on his arm. “Listen, I’ll be OK. You should go check on Mr. Coulter and Assemblywoman Holcombe.”

  He nodded in agreement and took charge of the situation. He saw the police officer who had been inside the council meeting rush out to offer aid. Jim was about to call 911, but noticed the officer speaking into the radio on his epaulette and figured that base was covered. Instead, he rushed over to the two victims.

  Brian clutched his left arm with his right, but that appeared to be the extent of his injuries. Favoring his right arm himself, Jim rolled Brian over and loosened the man’s tie, which he wrapped around the chief of staff's wounded arm and knotted to staunch the bleeding.

  He heard tires screech in the distance as he rushed to the assemblywoman. Had he not witnessed the aftermath of a mass cult suicide eight years earlier, he probably would have vomited in response to the carnage. The blood pooled on the paving stones, already flowing toward the flagpole a few feet away. The corner of her head was punctured from the entry wound. Based on the amount of blood on the ground, he suspected the exit wound was much more horrific. He remembered, years earlier as a reporter, talking to Police Chief P.J. Gibson about the different kinds of bullets and the damage they did. If his memory was correct, Jim guessed the bullets might have been hollow points, which were designed to fragment upon impact and cause maximum damage to their target.

  With a single glance at her half-open mouth and glazed eyes, he knew he needn’t bother checking for a pulse.

  As the paramedics approached, he briefed them on their injuries.

  “Are you OK, sir?”

  Looking down at his Polo, the blood stains darkened the bright blue shirt. “It’s not mine.”

  The female paramedic, whose nameplate identified her as Sarah Rose, sat Jim down and looked him over. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  As Jim patted himself down, he winced when he moved his left wrist. Holding out the arm, the paramedic gently probed the area.

  “It’s probably just a sprain, but you’ll want to get some x-rays to be sure. I’m going to wrap your wrist and then we'll get you in a sling, OK?”

  Jim nodded as the paramedic began to work.

  “Nice job with tying off the arm wound over there.”

  “Thanks. I took a first-aid class just before my son was born. I never thought I would be using that part of the lesson.”

  “How old’s your boy now?”

  “Mark turns three next Monday.”

  “Well, lucky for him you’re going to be there, even if you do have a couple scrapes and bruises.”

  Jim looked over as police officers joined the paramedics who were inspecting the lifeless body of Delores Holcombe.

  “Yeah. Lucky.”

  _____

  He approached the park bench where Rebecca was sitting as medical personnel applied a cotton bandage and wrapped her forehead. He motioned to her right arm, which was also in a sling, hoping to momentarily distract her from the carnage a few yards away.

  “Look, we match.”

  Her eyes widened when she saw his shirt. “I thought you weren’t shot.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  Rebecca’s gaze flicked over to the flagpole. “Are they going to make it?”

  “Brian got hit in the arm. They’re taking him to the hospital right now.”

  “What about the assemblywoman?”

  Jim paused, then shook his head.

  The paramedic finished treating Rebecca and left.

  “We could have been killed.”

  “Yes, we could have.”

  Rebecca leaned into Jim’s shoulder. “I’m scared.”

  “Me, too.”

  Jim’s phone began to buzz. Gingerly pulling it out of his pocket, he saw his wife’s face on the Caller ID.

  “Hi, hon. I’m OK.”

  “Dale called me from the office and said there were shots fired at Delores at City Hall. What on Earth happened?”

  Jim exhaled as he told Melissa the events of the last half hour.

  _____

  Jim quickly recognized Courier cops reporter Dale Henzie as he arrived on the scene and went to talk to his old coworker.

  “What can you tell me?”

  The former reporter noticed Dale didn’t have his notepad or phone out. “Is this on the record?”

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  Jim thought for a moment. “I guess it doesn’t matter, since I don’t know too much. I was about five feet away when the shots rang out. Brian Coulter was hit in the arm and was headed to the hospital last I saw.”

  “And Assemblywoman Holcombe?”

  He grimaced as he considered what to share. “You’re going to find out soon enough anyway. She didn’t make it.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep.” He glanced back at Rebecca. “Listen, that’s all I’ve got for now. I’m sure I’ll have more for you later.”

  “OK.”

  “By the way. Thanks for calling Melissa. I know she was scared, but I would rather have had her call me than wait until I could call her.”

  “Glad to help. Listen, any idea why someone would do this?”

  Jim shook his head. “Not a clue.”

  2

  Jim waved over his sister-in-law Elizabeth and
her husband, Timothy, when they arrived on the scene. Elizabeth hugged her daughter as fiercely as seemed wise considering her injuries.

  “Are you OK, honey?”

  “My arm is still pretty sore, and I don’t know what I’ll do about pictures for my school ID in a couple of weeks.” Rebecca motioned to her face. “But that’s about it.”

  Timothy came over and kissed Rebecca on the top of her head.

  “You had us worried there, pumpkin.”

  She sighed “It was so scary. We were just walking and then all of a sudden I heard the shots and the assemblywoman’s head just kind of…exploded.”

  Elizabeth hugged her tighter. “Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

  Timothy looked at Jim. “How are you doing?”

  Jim pointed to his arm. “They think it’s a sprain, but I’m going to get a ride to the hospital to get an x-ray.”

  “Do you need us to take you?”

  Jim shook his head. “Melissa dropped Mark off with her parents, and she’ll be here in a few minutes with a clean shirt. The media’s already begun to descend. I’ll have to talk to them for a few minutes before I go to the hospital.”

  Rebecca looked up. “Do you need me to stay and help out?”

  The fear that flashed across Elizabeth’s face answered the question. He appeared to give the offer a little more thought, so his niece didn’t think he was dismissing her out of turn.

  “Go home and rest. If I need something, I’ll text you.”

  He had a feeling his in-laws wouldn’t want to let her out of their sight any time in the near future. The problem was that, while she was a pretty good kid, she was 18 and not technically a “kid” anymore. Rebecca had the right to make her own decisions, but the last thing Jim Mitchell wanted was to cause division in his family. He may have been a bit of a self-centered troublemaker as an award-winning investigative reporter, but his conversion to Christianity had helped soften his ego and refocus his purpose in life.