Raw Vengeance (The Rich Fordham Series) by Josh Handrich

He won’t be back until this weekend.”
    “ Awesome. I’ll get back to you in five minutes.” He hung up.
    Relieved, Rich put his feet up on the dash and nervously shook his right foot. His lavender tie was pulled down and the top button on his white dress shirt was undone. He looked over at Gabe, who drove, and asked with a devilish smile, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
    Gabe tilted his head and made eye contact while returning the smile. “Okay, Mr. Wildman, you’re just trying to get us both—ah, fuck it.” He cranked the wheel hard left and gunned the skinny pedal as they sped toward oncoming traffic. Lucky for them the police had already blocked off the southbound lanes, reducing traffic to a minimum. Adrenaline kicked in when they came across the first sets of police cars. Along with at least fifty other emergency responders, they parked near an abandoned police car with its lights flashing. The paramedics and fire trucks parked the closest; the police cruisers spread out and formed a barrier to keep nosey gawkers—and the media—out.
    A symbiotic relationship existed between the media and cops. They needed each other, but neither would publically admit it. It was like the relationship of the police with the average Joe who hated being pulled over for speeding, but loved the police when they were being mugged.
    For news events as sensitive as a school shooting, the cops wouldn’t give the media the normal courtesy. But Rich had a plan. He dialed up Officer Rhonda Diaz.
    “ Whatcha want, honey? This ain’t a good time,” she answered.
    “ Are you at Loring? If you are, we can meet you.” It was more of a statement than a question.
    Rhonda took a deep breath. “No, but Andy Porter probably is. Give him a shout,” she advised before the line went dead.
    Gotta love friends in low places. Andy had tipped off Rich to a scandal involving the former police chief who had figured out a way to funnel money from the police’s pension fund and put it into his own. Andy had been indebted to him ever since Rich broke the story and the chief was exposed and later fired. Rich dialed Andy’s number. When he picked up, Rich could hear the sirens blaring in the background.
    “ Yeah?” he answered in irritation.
    “ Andy, it’s Rich Fordham. It’s been a while. Sounds like you’ve got a lot going on right now.”
    “ A couple of black kids are shot. Maybe more. Looks bad. Sorry… but tell me what you need… I’m in a hurry.” He sounded out of breath.
    “ Gabe and I are near the east lot and are getting stonewalled. Can you get us in?”
    “ Now’s a really bad time.”
    “ Come on, Andy, you owe me one.”
    “ I need to help secure the building,” Andy said. It sounded like he was jogging. “I’ll be there in ten, but I can’t let you inside the school. The vics are inside with the paramedics, and it’d look bad if you were in there.”
    “ Not a problem. Thanks, Andy.” Rich paused, then said to Gabe, “We’re in.” He went over and raised the antenna’s fifty-foot mast while Gabe got his electronic gear in order. Per his pre-on-camera routine, he looked himself over in front of a large mirror mounted inside of the swinging side door. He made a slight adjustment to his hair and tie and finished by adding powder to his face to prevent shine.
    They worked their way through the throngs of people, a small feat in itself. Time ticked by, and they needed a shot. Less than a hundred feet away stood Andy, who could get them the opportunity they needed.
    As they got closer, Gabe trotted with the thirty-pound camera on his shoulder, avoiding the temptation to film. So far, the only action was the police presence itself.
    Andy “Tiny” Porter didn’t wear his normal cheerful expression. Rather, his brows furrowed into a deep frown and his jaw jutted forward, making him look forbidding. Andy, a proud former Marine, still bore the same flat buzz cut he wore in the service. Biceps the size