Buried by Jeffery Deaver

 Buried

Buried (Hush Collection) by Jeffery Deaver
English | 2020| Mystery/Thriller | ePUB | 3.0 MB

An old-school reporter discovers that the search for the truth is still full of surprises in a twisty short thriller from bestselling master of suspense Jeffery Deaver.
After a long run as a respected journalist, Edward “Fitz” Fitzhugh is on his way out when he stumbles across the story of a lifetime. The Gravedigger is a serial kidnapper who taunts the police with riddles. The other puzzle is his motive, which Fitz is determined to piece together. When an eyewitness to the latest abduction leads Fitz closer to the facts, he realizes that the last great story of his career is not at all what it appears to be.

Swan song . . .

National Media Group had looked at bottom lines, as companies named National Media Group will do, and decided that the print edition of the Examiner had to go—dwindling circulation and ad revenues, high overhead.

The noble newspaper was shutting down in less than a month—this, the paper that had not only reported in depth about local matters and New York State politics, but had had its own reporters covering D-Day, the Korean War, the Cuban Missile Crisis, JFK’s assassination, Nixon’s resignation, the Iranian hostages, the Iraq War, the elections of Obama and of Trump.

Soon to be no more.

And with the paper and ink edition gone, all original hard news reporting would end too. Of the paper’s two full-time reporters, one would be going to online and Fitz would be retiring.

The ExaminerOnline would still run news but—as Bradford had just mentioned—only from the national feeds and in limited amounts. Most of the website’s stories would be what National Media was known for: OOMC, vocalized as “Oomec.” It stood for “Original Online Media Content”: bastard quasi-journalistic/quasi-entertainment web stories and blogs and, for listeners, podcasts and internet radio talk shows (like reality TV, obscenely cheap, wildly popular and extremely profitable).

To Fitz, OOMC articles were mostly time wasters, junk food. Oh, some blogs and podcasts featured solid investigative reporting, but to read or listen to them steadily, you’d think the world was populated with stabbed spouses, missing children and wrongfully convicted felons whom the bloggers were on hell-bent missions to free.

Most OOMC run by ExaminerOnline and its sister outlets was about influencers (whatever they were), TV personalities, actors, famous chefs, stand-up comics, outlandish artists, fashion designers, athletes, musicians, the rich . . . basically any manner of celebrity, provided they were hugely popular or sexy or had either spoken up for a good cause (LGBTQ and animals were winners) or misbehaved in a tasty, but misdemeanorly way.

OOMCs . . . Christ . . .

So, retirement.

Maybe he’d write his memoir. Maybe teach. Maybe fish.

He stared at the scanner again, waiting for any juicy reports from the front.

Nothing. Radio silence.

With some effort, breathing hard, he bent over and dug for his dusty digital camera in his bottom desk drawer—in his more than three decades working for the paper, he’d never had to take his own cuts. He found the small Nikon behind a sloshing Jack Daniel’s bottle. The battery was dead. He plugged in the charger cable.

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