A FATHER'S JUSTICE

Ryan Caldwell sat in the rocking chair on the porch of his old, run-down,

two story house in the west Texas countryside, sipping an ice-cold glass

of sweet tea. It was a hot dusty day, but it seemed like they all were in

this part of the country. Still, he enjoyed the solitude and the peace and

quiet that came with it.

He took another sip of his tea and lit up his second cigarette of the

morning. He looked around and took note of the things that needed to be

done. Then he said "to hell with it" and figured it would be there

tomorrow, just like it was yesterday and the day before that. And the

many other days before that. So he pulled his beat-up Stetson down

over his eyes and enjoyed his cigarette.

After all, it's not like anyone ever came out to visit him. Besides, he didn't

buy this place to impress anyone - just the opposite. He didn't want

visitors. He just wanted to be left the hell alone. That's why he bought

this place three years ago, along with the 20 acres of dirt and scrub

brush it sat on.

Sure, he could afford better - much better. But the house had a good

foundation and good bones. The plumbing and electrical were

surprisingly in good shape and it even had cable with phone and

internet. The roof was in reasonably good shape and he saw no visible

signs of rot. On top of that, it suited him just fine.

So he bought the place, paying the asking price. In cash. The realtor

was happy, the seller was happy to be rid of it, and he was happy to

have a place he could call "home," even though it was basically a piece

of crap that desperately needed a coat of paint.

His attention was suddenly drawn to a noise from his left. He turned to

look and focused his one good eye on the cloud of dust at the end of his

long dirt driveway. Who the fuck is coming here, he asked himself.

Concerned, he grabbed the loaded 12-gauge pump shotgun leaning

against the wall next to him and laid it across his lap.

He watched as the black sedan stopped in front of his house. He saw

the sticker on the front bumper and knew it was a rental. A cloud of dust

rolled over the car and Ryan waved his hand in front of his face to keep

the flying dirt out of his good eye. The driver's side door opened and a

young man wearing a white polo shirt got out.

Ryan stood with his shotgun and pumped a shell in the chamber. The

young man flinched as he considered the tall, lanky man. A large patch

covered his left eye and partially covered the scar that ran down the left
side of his face. A full dark beard covered his lower face. Nevertheless,

the man knew this was Ryan Caldwell, even though the picture he had

of the man was over 10 years old.

"Are you Ryan Caldwell?" he asked nervously. Obviously, this wasn't a

cop, Ryan thought.

"Depends," Ryan said. "Are you some kinda salesman? If ya are, I ain't

lookin' to buy anything."

"I'm not here to sell anything, sir," the man said.

"Well then, you must be a fed, in which case, there's no Ryan Caldwell

here," Ryan said.

"I work for the government, but I'm not here on official business," the

man said. "It's a family matter."

"I ain't got no family," Ryan said.

"It's about your daughter, Sarah, sir," the youngster said.

"I tol' ya, I ain't got no family," Ryan said. "My daughter died over ten

years ago." That wasn't exactly true, and Ryan knew it. He did have a

daughter, but she had been dead to him for about 12 years now, ever

since she turned 16.

"It's a matter of life and death, sir," the young man said.

"You got that shit right, boy," Ryan said. Calling someone "boy" in these

parts was considered an insult and often ended up starting a fist fight.

"You can either get back in that rig and get the fuck outta here or I can

drop ya where ya stand."

"Sir, please," the man begged, holding a hand in front of him. "Can you

just give me five minutes of your time?"

"Five minutes," Ryan said. He was curious to know what this youngster

wanted, and he certainly didn't carry himself like a lawman or a fed. "Not

one second more." The young man nodded his head and grabbed a

briefcase from his car.

"Please, can I come up there?" he asked Ryan. "It's awful hot out here."

"Welcome to west Texas," Ryan said. "C'mon, show me what ya got."

The young man scurried to the porch and Ryan pointed to a wooden

chair. "You got some ID?" Ryan asked. The man pulled out his wallet

and showed Ryan his license. Ryan read the name out loud.

"Robert Greene," Ryan read. "That really you?" The man nodded his

head.

"Yes, sir, that's me," he said. "Everyone just calls me Bob."

"So, Bob," Ryan said. "Who do you work for? FBI? CIA?"

"I work for the Commerce Department, sir," Bob said. "I do statistical

analysis."

"Commerce Department?" Ryan asked. "Statistical analysis? Sounds

about as exciting as watching paint dry. What's that got to do with me?"

"Nothing, sir," Bob said. "Like I said, it's your daughter. Sarah. She's my

wife." He pulled out another photo and showed it to Ryan. Ryan looked

at the picture and recognized his daughter in her wedding dress. Bob

stood next to her, smiling. He handed the photo back.

"Congratulations," Ryan said. "But like I said, I don't have a family. Not

anymore."

"So, you don't care if your daughter dies?" Bob asked, visibly hurt and

unable to fathom how a man could turn his back on his only child. Ryan

looked at him before answering.

"She's been dead to me for over 10 years already," he said. Bob nodded

his head, wiped a tear from his eye and started to stand.

"Alright," he said, his voice filled with sadness. "I'll let her and our son

know. I'm sorry to have wasted your time, sir."

"Wait," Ryan said. Bob sat back down and looked at the older man.

"What's wrong with her?" Ryan asked.

"She's in the hospital," Bob said. "She's been diagnosed with a very rare

blood disorder. The doctor said if she doesn't get a bone marrow

transplant soon, she'll be dead in six months." Ryan thought for a

moment. His father had died from a rare blood disorder years ago. As

angry as he was with his daughter, he didn't like the idea of making her

son - his grandson - an orphan. He knew what it was like to lose a

parent.

"And you say you have a son?" Ryan asked. Bob nodded his head and

pulled out another photo, handing it to Ryan.

"Yes," Bob said. "He's three. Sarah named him Ryan, after you." Ryan's

head shot up in surprise. "It really pissed her mother off, but Sarah didn't

care." Ryan chuckled at that. He could just see his ex-wife's reaction to

that.

"What about Sarah's mother?" Ryan asked. "Couldn't she donate bone

marrow?"

"The doctor tested her, but she wasn't compatible enough," Bob said.

"Said at best, it might give Sarah a few months, but that's it."
"I see," Ryan said. "So how did you find me?" he asked.

"It wasn't easy," Bob said. "It took me several months, even with the

resources of the federal government at my disposal. You're a hard man

to find."

"That was the idea," Ryan said. "Did you tell anyone you found me?"

"Not yet," Bob said. "I wanted to make sure I had really found you before

saying anything." Ryan nodded his head.

"That was a smart move," he said. "Did Sarah tell you what happened

between her mother and I?"

"She told me some of it," Bob said. "Said her mother left you for another

man. Said she sided with her mother against you and you didn't take it

too well. She also told me she's regretted it ever since. She tried to

reach out to you. Wrote several letters but they all came back

unopened." He opened his briefcase and pulled out a stack of letters,

handing them to Ryan. Ryan looked at the letters, tied together with a

red ribbon. All of them were stamped, "No forwarding address. Return to

sender."

"Is her mother still married to Jake Knight?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah," Bob said. "But things aren't very good between them. He's

abusive and we think he's been cheating on her." Ryan chuckled at the

irony. The cheater getting cheated on. How delicious, he thought

sarcastically.

"Why does she stay with him, then?" Ryan asked.

"Money, mostly," Bob said. Of course, Ryan thought. That's the reason

she left to be with him in the first place.

"You're probably biting at the bit to ask what happened between Sarah's

mom and I, aren't you?" Ryan asked.

"I am a bit curious," Bob said. "Her mother seems to think you're dead

and she won't talk about it at all." Ryan handed the photo back and

considered Bob for a few moments.

"Would you like to hear about it?" he asked the younger man.

"Yes, sir, I would," Bob said. Ryan nodded his head.

"This could take a bit," Ryan said. "Care for some ice tea?"

"I'd like that very much, sir," Bob said. Ryan went inside and came back

with a clean glass. He poured some tea from the pitcher sitting on the

outdoor table and handed it to him. "Thank you, sir," Bob said.
"First things first," Ryan said. "Call me Ryan, not sir. I don't own you. Not

yet, anyway," he added with a smile. "Mind if I smoke?" he asked, pulling

a cigarette from the pack in his pocket.

"Not at all," Bob said. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, pulling a pack from

his briefcase. "Sarah doesn't like me to smoke in the car." Ryan smiled.

Maybe this young man was worth keeping around after all. He shook his

head.

"Not at all," Ryan said, lighting up. He offered Bob a light, and watched

as the young man took a deep drag from his cigarette. "Let me tell you

what happened."

Ryan's story:

Lisa and I were high school sweethearts. I played on the varsity football

team and she was a cheerleader. God, she looked so hot in that little

skirt. We were inseparable in those days. Made love for the first time

after our senior prom. We were both 18 and felt it was time. I only had

two dreams back then - own my own garage and marry Lisa.

When we graduated from high school, she went to college to get a

business degree and I joined the Army. We planned to get married at the

end of that first four years.

I ended up in combat - spent a year in Iraq and another in Afghanistan.

That's when I learned I had another gift. I came back and we got married

just as we had planned.

Lisa got a job with Knight Petroleum and I got a job fixing cars. I'd been

doing that since I was a young man, and I was damn good at it. She

started at the bottom of the totem pole at Knight Petroleum. We weren't

rich by any means, but we did alright.

Sarah was born 11 months after we got married. I fell in love with that

little girl the moment I laid eyes on her. Lisa took three months maternity

leave and went back to work, taking little Sarah with her. The company

had an in-house day care and it saved us a lot of money.

We progressed in our jobs and finally had enough to put a down

payment on a house. It wasn't easy, but we managed. I still dreamed of

owning my own garage so I took some night courses to learn about

running a business and got ASE certified. Eventually, I became a master

technician.

Lisa had also moved up at Knight Petroleum, and eventually became the

personal assistant to Jake Knight, the wealthy CEO of the company.

That's when the out-of-town trips began. Some of them were overseas,
and I spent many weekends playing "Mr. Mom" with Sarah. I didn't mind,

though. I loved that little girl.

Even with all that, I thought we had a good marriage and a good life, but

I began to notice a change in Lisa's attitude. Suddenly, it was as if I

wasn't good enough for her.

By then, Sarah was in high school. We were still close, but she was

going through that rebellious phase that all teenagers go through, I

guess.

Then one day, Lisa lowered the boom. I came home from work and

noticed that she still hadn't gotten home yet. That, in itself, wasn't

unusual. I began making dinner, since I had been doing that more and

more lately. Finally, Lisa came home. She told Sarah to go to her room

for a bit then grabbed a glass of wine.

"Everything all right at work?" I asked her. "Jake giving you a hard time?"

She shook her head and sat down at the kitchen table.

"We need to talk," she said.

"What's wrong?" I asked as I sat down. She pulled something out of her

briefcase and handed it to me.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Divorce papers," she said. You could have knocked me over with a

feather at that point.

"What?" I asked. "Divorce? Why?"

"I don't want to be married to a... mechanic," she said, with special

emphasis on the word "mechanic."

"What?" I asked. "Are you saying that after these years I'm not good

enough for you anymore?" Then it hit me. "Oh my God," I said. "You've

fallen in love with someone else, haven't you? You've been cheating on

me. Who is he?"

"Jacob Knight," she said calmly. "And yes, we've fallen in love. I didn't

mean for it to happen, but it did. And yes, we've been... together."

"You mean, you've been fucking him behind my back," I said.

"No need to be crude," she said. "But yeah, we've had sex. A lot. It's

nothing personal, it's just that he can give me things you never could.

And you never will."

"Nothing personal? What do you mean?" I asked.

"He's filthy rich," she said. "He's a billionaire. He's not only rich, but he's

powerful. One snap of his fingers and entire governments go down the

drain. You? You're just a grease monkey."

"What about our future?" I asked, dumbfounded. "What about Sarah?"

"We have no future together," Lisa said coldly. "And Sarah will be just

fine. Jake's already got her enrolled in a private boarding school in the

northeast. She'll be going there when we get back from the south of

France in a few weeks."

"Sarah knows about this?" I asked, shocked.

"Of course," Lisa said. "She's quite excited about it."

"I'd like to hear that from her," I said.

"Whatever," Lisa said before calling Sarah back down.

"Is this true?" I asked Sarah. "Did you know what your mother planned?"

Sarah looked down before answering.

"Yes," she said quietly. "Papa Jake already has everything set up. He

said you'd be okay with it and he promised to buy me a new car when I

turn 16."

"Papa Jake?" I asked. Sarah nodded her head.

"Yeah," she said. "That's what Mom told me to call him." I looked at Lisa,

my blood boiling.
"Don't worry," Lisa said. "If you look, you'll see I'm giving you unlimited

visitation, but I doubt if you'll get to see Sarah much, what with her

schedule and all." I looked back at Sarah.

"And you're alright with all this?" I asked her.

"Mom said it would be best, Dad," she said.

"Did you know about your mother and Jake before this came down?" I

asked her. She nodded her head again.

"Yeah," she said. "Mom made me promise not to say anything, though." I

looked back at Lisa.

"How long have you been plotting this behind my back?" I asked.

"About six months," she said. "Look, Ryan, I'm not asking for anything

from you - no alimony or support. All I want are our clothes and a few

things, then we'll be gone. Sign the papers and it's a done deal."

"What if I decide to fight this?" I asked.

"That wouldn't be wise," she said. "Like I said, Jake is very powerful. You

have no idea. He can destroy you in a heartbeat." I looked between

Sarah and Lisa. Neither one could look me in the eye.

"Fine," I said. I grabbed a pen and looked over the divorce papers. She

didn't want anything, not even her half of the house. I signed the papers

and handed them back to her.

"Thank you, Ryan," Lisa said, taking off her rings and dropping them on

the table. "I'm sorry it had to end like this."

"Just get out," I said. "Now." Sarah came over to me and tried to give me

a hug, but I rebuffed her advance.

"Just go," I said. "You're both dead to me. I never want to see either of

you again." Sarah jumped back, tears in her eyes. Lisa looked at me,

shocked.

"Ryan," she began.

"Just GET THE FUCK OUT! NOW!" I yelled. "Tell Jake if he fucks with

me, so help me God, I'll kill him where he stands." They both left the

house and I never saw or heard from them again. After they drove off, I

went upstairs and found that all of their things were gone. Apparently,

Lisa had their stuff taken out while I was at work.

I took a few days off work and removed all traces of them from the

house. Pictures, clothing, everything they left behind was put into a
barrel and burned. I wanted nothing behind to remind me of either one of

them.

Without Lisa's income, the bills became a challenge, so I sold the house

and a lot of the extra furniture. I rented a one-bedroom apartment and

lived there for a few months. I remembered seeing an article about Jake

and Lisa getting married after I got the final divorce decree. The picture

in the paper showed Lisa and Jake, with a smiling Sarah next to them.

According to the article, Jake was planning to adopt her.

That night, I sat at a bar, crying in my beer, when Bill Johnson, an old

Army buddy I hadn't seen in years, sat next to me.

"Hey, Ryan," he said. "You doing okay, man?" he asked. I shook my

head.

"No," I said quietly.

"Saw the report about your ex getting married," he said. "That sucks.

Wasn't that your daughter with them?"

"I don't have a daughter anymore," I told him. He commiserated with me

for a while and we engaged in some small talk as we drank. That's when

he hit me with his idea.

"Look, Ryan," he said. "You've got nothing holding you down here. Why

don't you join up with me. I'm putting together a team for a job and I

could really use your help."

"Doing what?" I asked him.

"Mostly private security," he said. "Kinda like what we did in Afghanistan,

but with a much better compensation package."

"I'm kinda old for that shit," I told him. He laughed and shook his head.

"C'mon, you're the same age I am," he said. "You're still in pretty good

condition. It'll do you some good to get away from this shithole for a

while. A few weeks with me and I'll have you back in shape, no

problem." I thought about it for a while. I had dreams, but that was back

when I had Lisa and Sarah. Now that they were gone, I really didn't have

much of anything, not even a dog.

"What the fuck," I said. "Okay, count me in." And that began my nine-

year career as a "private security consultant," or to put it simply, a

mercenary. I handed in my two-week notice, put all my stuff in storage

since I would be gone most of the time and started my new life as a gun

for hire.
Overall, it wasn't a bad life. I got to travel, got paid good money doing

what I did best, besides fixing cars. Most of the time we actually

"consulted" or trained the guys who would do the actual work, but

sometimes, we had to pitch in. It was either that, or end up dead.

My last job was working for a Middle East oil sheikh who needed help

dealing with what he called an "outside interest" trying to take over his oil

fields to put him out of business. It was a business his family had owned

and operated for years. I didn't know who this outside interest was, and

frankly, didn't care.

I did my job as always, but one day the balloon went up as the fields

came under an intense attack by groups of black-clad men in pickups.

We fought them off but not before a nearby tank exploded after it was hit

with a rocket-propelled grenade shot by someone in the back of a

pickup.

I woke up sometime later, obviously, in a hospital room, with half of my

head covered in bandages. I saw an IV in one arm and I felt a tube in my

mouth. Before long, a nurse came in and checked my vitals. A doctor

came in and looked me over before ordering the tube removed from my

mouth.

That's when I learned that I had lost my left eye. I had been struck in the

face by a piece of shrapnel, apparently from the tank that exploded. I

was told the shrapnel would have severed my head in two had it not

been for the kevlar helmet I wore. Still, I had suffered a lot of damage

and the doctors put my face back together as best they could.

Except for the jagged scar that went down the left side of my face, and

the glass eye in my left eye socket, there were no other signs of major

damage. A couple days after I woke up, the sheikh came to visit. He told

me I had been in the hospital for several weeks undergoing

reconstructive surgery. They kept me in a medically-induced coma to

help me heal during that time.

He also gave me a very large bonus. Apparently, the "outside interests"

no longer found it viable to attack him or his oil fields directly. After that

attack, the sheikh was able to negotiate terms in such a way so as to

remain in business and be even more profitable than before. It turned

out the "outside interest" was none other than Knight Petroleum.

"So, Jake Knight knew I was working for you?" I asked.

"It would seem so," the sheikh said. "Your courageous defense taught

him that it would be better to act like a civilized man than a street thug.

And for that, I am eternally grateful."

"I take it you know I have some history with him?" I asked. He smiled

before answering.
"Yes, I know about him and your wife," he said, handing me a folder with

a dossier. "I make it my business to know who I am dealing with. As far

as he knows, you did not survive the attack. I have chosen not to inform

him otherwise nor will I ever tell him. I owe you my life and my family's

business, after all. Perhaps you can now go and live in peace."

"I'll do my best," I said. He smiled and we shook hands.

After a few more weeks, it was determined I could travel safely, so with

the aid of the local U.S. Embassy, I was able to arrange transport home.

I pulled my stuff out of storage, came here, bought this place and here

we are.

Ryan looked at Bob as he finished his story.

"Damn. That sounds like something out of a movie," he said. Ryan

chuckled at that.

"Look, it's starting to get late," Ryan said. "Why don't you stay the night."

"What about Sarah?" he asked.

"I'd like to sleep on it for a bit before I make any decisions. We'll discuss

it in the morning," Ryan said. They went inside and Bob looked around

at the empty walls and the sparsely-furnished room.

"It's like a cave in here," Bob said, his voice echoing off the bare walls.
"It suits me," Ryan said. "I don't need much. Four walls and a roof to

keep the elements out. You can sleep on the couch if you want.

Bathroom's just down the hall. Are you hungry?"

"I could eat something," Bob said.

"Don't have much," Ryan said. "TV dinners, mostly. I don't do much

cooking anymore."

"Okay," Bob said. "What do you have?"

"Salisbury steak, macaroni and cheese, hot dogs," Ryan said. "I prefer

'em raw. Your choice."

"The mac and cheese sounds good, please," Bob said.

"Okay," Ryan said. "Just give me a minute to fire up the microwave. Feel

free to turn on the TV. Might be something good on. Who knows." Bob

turned the television on as Ryan tossed the meals in the microwave. He

came back with two plates and handed one to Bob.

"Don't you ever get lonely out here all by yourself?" Bob asked. Ryan

shook his head.

"Nope," he said.
"What about women?" Bob asked. "Have you dated anyone since your

divorce?"

"Nope," Ryan said. "Been there, done that. Gave Lisa 20 years of my life

and for what? Never again. If I get really hard up, I'll go into town and

rent a woman for an hour or two if you know what I mean." Bob chuckled

at that. "Trust me, son, at some point it'll happen to you, too."

"Sarah would never do to me what Lisa did to you," Bob said.

"That's what I thought once upon a time," Ryan said. "And what did that

get me? It's in their genes, son. You'd best do what you can to protect

yourself now."

"You must really hate women," Bob said.

"Nope," Ryan said. "Just one or two of 'em. The rest I trust about as far

as I can spit 'em."

"What about your dream of owning your own garage?" Bob asked.

"Up in smoke, same as my marriage," Ryan said.

"What are your dreams now?" Bob asked.

"Wake up, get through another day," Ryan said. "Although, I do fantasize

about getting Jake alone for about five minutes."

"Would you kill him?" Bob asked.

"Don't know," Ryan said. "It'd be mighty tempting, but I kinda like the

idea of seeing him in pain for the rest of his miserable life, constantly

looking over his shoulder." They finished their meal in silence. Finally,

Ryan got up and collected the dishes. He took them into the kitchen and

rinsed them before placing them in the dishwasher.

"You have a place to stay tonight?" he asked after he came back out.

"Not yet," Bob said.

"Might as well rack out here then," Ryan said. He grabbed a blanket and

pillow out of the hall closet and handed them to Bob. "Couch is fairly

comfortable. Only one bed in the place and that's where I sleep. Make

yourself to home. I'm usually up about 6:00. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Bob said as he got ready for the night. He noticed Ryan

had the letters he had given him earlier in the day and wondered if he

planned to read them.

...

The next morning, Bob woke to the smell of coffee and something he

didn't recognize. Ryan came in the front room and handed him what

looked like an egg burrito.

"Good morning," Ryan said. "I trust you slept well last night. Have some

breakfast. Not much flavor but it'll help kick start ya."

"Thanks," Bob said, yawning. He took a bite of the burrito and set the

rest back on the plate. Ryan was right. There wasn't much flavor and the

microwaved tortilla was already getting hard as a brick.

"So, what have you got planned for the day?" Ryan asked.

"I'll be flying back this morning," Bob said. "I'd like it if you came back

with me."

"I figured you would," Ryan said. "I'm packed and ready to go any time

you are." Bob looked and saw a duffel bag next to the door. "When is

your flight?"

"There's a flight heading out at 11:00," Bob said. "We'd better head out

pretty soon if you plan to go back with me. If you don't mind my asking,

what made you decide to do this?"

"Sarah's letters," Ryan said. "I read them last night. I think she realizes

that what she did was wrong."

"I could have told you that," Bob said.

"Perhaps," Ryan said. "But it means more coming from her. How well

does she get along with her mother?"

"Not very well," Bob said. "She's polite and all, but she doesn't approve

of what her mother did, and she's not shy about telling her that. And she

can't stand Jake." Ryan nodded his head.

"Well, I guess there is hope for her after all," Ryan said. "C'mon, we'd

better get going." Ryan closed up the house, making sure everything

was locked up and after Bob took a shower and dressed, they left.

When they got to the airport, Bob turned the rental car back in and paid

for it, then they went to the ticket counter. As Ryan paid for his ticket - in

cash - Bob made a phone call. They met back up and stood in line for

security.

"You always carry a lot of cash on you?" Bob asked quietly so no one

else could hear.

"I prefer to pay for everything in cash," Ryan said. "Keeps me off the

grid, if you know what I mean."

"Ah," Bob said in response. "Well, just be careful."

"Don't worry, son," Ryan said. "I got yer back." He smiled and winked at

the younger man who simply shook his head.

"By the way, Dr. Fritz - Sarah's doctor - wants to see you as soon as we

get to the hospital," Bob said.

"Is that who you were talking to earlier?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah," Bob said. "I also called Sarah and told her I was coming back.

And no, I didn't mention you at all. I figured you'd want to surprise her."

"Good man," Ryan said. They finally got settled into their seats and the

plane took off. Ryan was already asleep when the aircraft reached its

cruising altitude, his beat-up Stetson pulled low over his face. A couple

hours later, the plane descended, waking Ryan up from his nap. Their

flight ended shortly thereafter and they made their way off the plane.

Ryan followed Bob to the parking lot, his duffel bag slung over his

shoulder. They got to Bob's car, a fairly new RAV4, and put their

luggage in the back. They climbed in and Bob drove to the hospital as

Ryan checked out the area.

When they got to the hospital, Bob led Ryan inside and took him to Dr.

Fritz's office, where he introduced the two men to each other. Ryan

shook the doctor's hand and sat down at his invitation.

"I understand you're Sarah Greene's father," Dr. Fritz said.

"That's right," Ryan said.

"Her mother told me you were dead," the doctor said.

"Well, her source was mistaken," Ryan said.

"I see," Dr. Fritz said. "I take it Mr. Greene has told you about your

daughter's condition."

"Yes, he has," Ryan said. "And if there's anything I can do to help, I will."

"I'm glad to hear that," Dr. Fritz said. "What Sarah needs more than

anything right now is a bone marrow transplant."

"Will that cure her?" Ryan asked.

"I believe it will," the doctor said. "I don't want to give false hope, but

without it, she won't make it."

"What do I have to do?" Ryan asked.

"We'll need to take some blood from you and run a series of tests to

make sure it's safe and compatible," the doctor said.

"Do what you need to, doc," Ryan said. "When will you know for

certain?"

"We'll take the samples now and run them over to the lab," Dr. Fritz said.

"We'll know for certain by noon tomorrow."

"Alright," Ryan said. "Let's git 'er done." Dr. Fritz smiled at that. He

stepped to the door of his office and called for a nurse. He gave her

some instructions and turned to Ryan.

"Just follow Nurse Black," he said. "She'll take you to the room over

there and draw the blood. Check back with me about this time

tomorrow."

"Can I see my daughter when we're done here?" Ryan asked.

"Absolutely," Dr. Fritz said. "I'm sure her husband knows the way by

now. Good to meet you, Mr. Caldwell. I'll talk to you tomorrow." They

shook hands one more time and the doctor left to tend to another

patient. Ryan followed the nurse to a small room and watched as she

prepared the vials. He hated needles and looked away as she got

everything ready.

"Okay, Mr. Caldwell," she said after wiping his arm with an alcohol swab.

"Just a little poke and we're done." Ryan closed his eyes and was

surprised that it didn't hurt nearly as bad as he thought it would.

"That's it," she said with a smile. "That wasn't too bad, now, was it?" she

asked as she put a colorful band-aid on his arm.

"No, it wasn't," he said.

"Good," she said. "We'll get this to the lab and we should have results

tomorrow. See you then." After she left, he buttoned his shirt sleeve and

walked out to meet Bob.

"You ready to go see Sarah?" Bob asked. Ryan nodded his head.

"Yeah," he said nervously. "Let's go do this." He followed Bob,

wondering how anyone could work here without getting lost. The place

was like a labyrinth, with corridors and hallways going every which way.

They got to an elevator and rode it to the sixth floor. After they got off,

they went down a few more corridors until they got to Sarah's room. Bob

knocked on the door and peeked inside. He motioned for Ryan to stay

outside for just a moment. Ryan could hear his daughter's voice from

inside the room.

"Hi, sweetie," she said weakly.

"I have a surprise for you," Bob said.

"Oh goody," she said. "You know I love surprises." Bob motioned for

Ryan to come inside. He stepped in the room and saw his daughter for

the first time in over 10 years. She was still quite beautiful, even though

her skin was pale and somewhat mottled. When she saw him, her eyes

grew wide and her mouth opened in surprise.

"Daddy?" she asked, reminding him of when she was little. Tears began

to form in the corner of his good eye as he looked at her. "Is that really

you?" she asked.

"It's me, princess," he said, calling her by the nickname he used when

she was little. As he stepped to her side, she lifted her arms out to hug

him, tears falling down her face.

"I thought you were dead," she cried as she hugged him tight.

"Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated," he said in a vain

attempt at humor.

"What happened to you?" she asked.

"Oh, you mean this?" Ryan asked, pointing to the eye patch.

"Yeah," she said.

"A workplace accident," he said. "I, uh, did a lot of traveling overseas

after you and your mom left."

"What were you doing?" she asked.

"I was what you might call a private security consultant," he said.

"Sometimes things would get a bit, well, dicey."

"Did you ever start up your garage?" she asked. Ryan shook his head.

"No, never," he said. "After your mother left me the way she did, I lost

the desire to start a garage."

"Oh, Daddy, I'm so sorry," she said. "I feel so bad about how that

happened."

"I know," Ryan said. "I read your letters."

"Is that why they all kept coming back?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. "I sold the house and got rid of everything after you left.

Saw no reason to keep it."

"Why didn't you ever write me?" she asked.

"Well, the way you guys left, I got the impression you didn't want to see

or hear from me," Ryan told her. "Besides, I didn't have your address."

"I'm sorry about that," she said. "I fell for all of Jake's bullshit, just like

Mom did. Can you ever forgive me?"

"I already have, princess," Ryan said, prompting her to sob

uncontrollably as he held her. "It's okay, sweetie," he whispered as he

held her and stroked her hair. "Daddy's here. Everything's going to be

alright." After a few minutes, she laid back in her bed, exhausted.

"Did Bob tell you what's going on?" she asked.

"Yes, he did," Ryan said. "I've already talked to Dr. Fritz. They took

some blood and they're testing it to make sure it's compatible. If it is, I'll

donate the bone marrow for you."

"When will you know for sure?" she asked.

"Tomorrow," Ryan said.

"Thank you," she said. "I'll never be able to repay you for this."

"There's no need," Ryan said. "You just get well, okay? And take care of

my grandson." She smiled weakly and nodded her head.

"I will," she said before turning to Bob. "Thank you for finding my daddy,"

she told him. He smiled and hugged her as she cried some more.

"You're welcome," he said. "I told you I would, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," she said. They heard the door open and turned to see

who was coming inside. Even though it had been over 10 years, Ryan

recognized the woman standing there - Lisa. She was still in good shape

and was quite attractive, but he noticed her features were somewhat

harder, more defined than before.

"Ryan?" she asked. "Is that you? I thought you were..."

"Dead?" he asked, finishing her sentence.

"Yeah," she said. "That's what Jake told me."

"Well, I'm very much alive, no thanks to you," Ryan said, causing her to

flinch. "Your husband did his best, but he missed the mark."

"What do you mean?" she asked, shocked.

"Oh, come on, Lisa," Ryan said. "Surely you know it was him who sent

those men to take me out in the Middle East. Figured he'd kill two birds

with one stone. But he screwed up and missed."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said.

"Bullshit," Ryan said.

"Can we talk somewhere, in private?" she asked. Ryan looked at Sarah

and Bob before responding.

"Sure," he said, standing up. He went to the nurse's station and asked if

there was a private room they could use for a few minutes.

"Sure," the nurse said, pointing to a small conference room. "Just put

this on the door before you close it," she added, handing him a sign that

read, "In Use."

"Thanks," Ryan said, taking the sign. They went into the room and Lisa

sat down as Ryan hung the sign on the door. He closed and locked it

before sitting down.

"Alright, Ryan," Lisa began. "What's going on? Why are you here?"

"You're a smart woman," he said. "Surely you can figure that one out.

Your son-in-law found me and informed me that Sarah needs a bone

marrow transplant. She's still my daughter, despite everything you and

Jake did to split us up and I'm here to help her in any way I can."

"How much do you want?" Lisa asked.

"What?" Ryan asked, shocked.

"You heard me," she said. "How much do you want for your bone

marrow? That's why you're really here, isn't it? Your garage is failing and

you obviously need money, so you came here to see what you could get

out of me."

"First of all, bitch," Ryan said, emphasizing the word, "bitch," causing

Lisa to recoil, "I have no need of your stinking blood money. Second, our

daughter is in a room right over there fighting for her life. So you can get

off your God damned high horse."

"So, you think that after 10 years you can just waltz in here and suddenly

be the father of the year?" she asked sarcastically.

"Okay, so I'm not perfect," Ryan said. "But it wasn't me who cheated on

you. It was the other way around. It wasn't me who dropped a divorce on

the table without a moment's warning. It wasn't me who plotted and

schemed to destroy our family. It was you. You're the one who cheated

on me and for what? For money. What does that make you? Hmmm?

The last time I looked, that fit the definition of a prostitute. So don't act all

high and mighty with me."

"So what do you want?" she asked. "Really?"

"I want my daughter to get well," he said.

"But surely there's something else," she said in response.

"Since you mention it, there is something I'd like," Ryan said.

"What's that?" Lisa said.

"Five minutes alone with your husband," he said.

"For what?" she asked. "So you can hit him? Is that it? You didn't get to

confront him when I left you for him so now you want to meet him on the

playground?"
"Actually, I was thinking about that nice dark alley between Third and

Fourth Streets off Riverside," Ryan said.

"You can't be serious," she said.

"I am serious," he told her.

"You think my husband - a wealthy, powerful man worth billions, a man

powerful enough to get people elected to office - has the time to meet

you in an alleyway?" she asked. "You're out of your mind."

"Fine," he said, standing up. "I guess you really don't care about your

daughter getting well. Maybe I should just go home."

"Wait," she said. "You're really serious about this."

"I am," he said. "Five minutes. No weapons, no security, no bodyguards.

Just him and me, mano a mano. He owes me a pound of flesh and I

intend to get it from him one way or another."

"He knows karate," Lisa said. "He can defend himself."

"Good," Ryan said. "He'll need to be able to defend himself. Tell me,

does he use you as his personal punching bag?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"I can see the edge of a bruise there on your collar," he said. "I also

noticed a bruise on your arm. How long has he been abusing you?" She

pulled her sleeve down and looked away for a moment.

"That was an accident," she said nervously. "I was clumsy and tripped."

Ryan chuckled.

"Bullshit," he said. "I know he's been abusing you. Hell, from what I can

tell, everybody knows. Bob knows, which means Sarah knows as well.

Why do you stay with him? Is it the money? That's it, isn't it? It's all

you've ever cared about."

"Look, Jake is under a lot of stress," she said. "Sometimes, he does

things, but he really doesn't mean anything by them." Ryan shook his

head.

"I don't believe a word you're saying," he told her. "Why don't you grab

your phone and call him, right now."

"Are you serious about this?" she asked. "You really want to meet him in

a dark alley so you can hit him?"

"I plan to do more than just hit him, but yeah," Ryan said.

"When do you want to do this?" she asked.

"Right fucking now," Ryan said. She looked at him, shocked. Who was

this man, she wondered. She pulled her phone from her purse. "Put it on

speaker," Ryan said. She nodded her head, hit the speed dial and put it

on speaker.

"What's up?" Jake asked asked when he answered the phone.

"Hi, babe," Lisa said. "Um, there's someone in town visiting Sarah in the

hospital and he wants to see you right away."

"Oh?" Jake asked. "Who is it?"

"It's, um, Ryan," she said.

"Ryan?" Jake asked. "Your ex? That Ryan?"

"Yeah," Lisa said. "He's pretty adamant about seeing you right away.

Says he only needs five minutes."

"Well, I'm not sure I can get away right now," Jake said. "I've got a

shareholder's meeting this afternoon and I have a lot to go over."

"Listen to me, you little prick," Ryan said. "I have a score to settle with

you and I want to meet you right fucking now."

"Where?" Jake asked.

"In the alley between Third and Fourth off Riverside," Jake said. "You

know the area?"

"Yes, I know it," Jake said.

"Good," Ryan said. "Be there. No security, no bodyguards, no weapons.

Just you and me. Or are you too scared to face a real man on your own?

Maybe you'd prefer to hide behind your wife's skirts."

"You bastard," Jake snarled.

"You got that right," Ryan said. "Tell me, Jake, do your shareholders

know how you broke up my family? Do they know about how you

managed that deal in the Middle East three years ago? Do they know

you sent a team there to assassinate your wife's ex-husband? Do they

know about your philandering and the bastard children you've brought

into the world? Do they know about how you abuse your wife?"

"You fucking prick," Jake growled. "You wouldn't dare put that out into

the public. I'll sue you for defamation."

"You're wrong about that, Jake," Ryan said. "I've got a dossier on you

that's nearly three inches thick. And I know some reporters over at the

Wall Street Journal who would love to get their hands on it. I think the

boys over at the SEC and the DOJ might be interested as well. So,
what'll it be? Are you gonna meet me one-on-one, or do I make a phone

call? What are you, Jake? A man? Or a mouse?"

"Alright, you asshole," Jake said. "I'll meet you, just as you said."

"Good," Ryan said. "And just so you know, if something - anything -

happens to me, my daughter or Lisa, that dossier will get sent out to a

hundred media outlets and more than a few federal agencies, not to

mention your shareholders and your board of directors. Along with

pictures and video. Got it?"

"I got it," Jake said, sighing. The call ended and Ryan looked at Lisa,

who regarded him with shock.

"Were you serious about all that?" she asked.

"Absolutely," Ryan said. "You don't think I've been twiddling my thumbs

all these years, do you?"

"I want to go with you," she said.

"I don't think that's a very good idea," he told her.

"I don't care," she said. "I have a right to face him as well."

"I take it you didn't know about all of this?" Ryan asked. She shook her

head.
"No, I didn't," she said. "Not all of it, anyway. You really have evidence of

all this?"

"Sure do," Ryan said. "One call and it becomes public knowledge.

Certainly won't be very good for business."

"That bastard," she said quietly.

"You ready?" Ryan asked. She nodded her head and stood up. "Good.

Let's go. I'll have Bob drive us over." They walked out of the room

together and went to Sarah's room.

"Bob, I need you to drive Lisa and I over to an alley off Riverside," Ryan

said.

"What?" Bob asked.

"You do know the area?" Ryan asked.

"Of course I do, but are you sure?" Bob asked. "That's a pretty rough

neighborhood."

"We won't be there long," Ryan said.

"What's going on?" Sarah asked.

"Just going to clean up a loose end," Ryan said. "Don't worry, we'll be

back."
"I love you, Daddy," she cried out. Ryan looked at her before he

answered. It had been years since anyone had said that to him.

"I love you, too, princess," he said. "Get some rest, we'll be back." They

went to Bob's car in silence and got in. Bob started the engine and

looked at Ryan.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Really?"

"Just a friendly little meeting," Ryan said. Bob didn't believe him, but

decided it best not to press the issue. He put the car in gear and headed

out. They saw Jake's Jaguar parked next to the curb and pulled in

behind it. After the car stopped, Ryan looked around to see if Jake had

posted any guards or snipers. Seeing none, he got out of the car as Lisa

and Bob did the same.

They walked into the alley and saw Jake leaning against a dumpster, his

expensive jacket over his shoulder.

"Stay here," Ryan told Bob. "Keep an eye out. And hold my hat." Bob

took Ryan's beat-up Stetson and stayed behind as Ryan and Lisa

walked into the alley.

"Well, the cuckold returns from the grave," Jake said, a sneer on his

face. "I thought you were killed three years ago in the Middle East.

Guess if you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself."

"Reckon so," Ryan said. Lisa stood off to the side and watched the two

men interact.

"You know, I'm a third-degree black belt," Jake said. "I've won a bunch

of tournaments."

"What do ya want, a medal or something to pin it on?" Ryan said. Jake

snickered.

"A sense of humor, I see," he said. "Good. If you think that was funny,

check this out. You know the best part of seducing a married woman?"

"No, but I'm sure you're gonna tell me," Ryan said.

"Yeah," Jake sneered. "The best part is knowing that she'll be taking a

sloppy old creampie back to her unsuspecting husband. That he'll

probably end up eating it out of her nasty cunt that very day, or night."

"So that's all Lisa was to you, a cunt?" Ryan asked.

"She was the best piece of ass I've ever had," Jake said. "I watched for

six months as she slowly lost her love and respect for you. Then I talked
to your daughter. Got her to go along with my little plan to fuck up your

life."

"So you just used them for your own satisfaction," Ryan said. Jake

shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah," he said. "And you wanna know why? Because I could. And I'm

still doing it. Sorry, Lisa, didn't mean to let it out of the bag like that. It

was just sex, though. I still love you."

"You fucking piece of shit," she said.

"It's not exactly a secret," Ryan said.

"I guess not," Jake said. "So, we gonna get this show of yours on the

road, or are we just gonna stand around and jaw-jack all fucking day?"

"Let's see what ya got," Ryan said. Jake sneered and assumed a

fighting stance. Ryan shook his head and snickered. Jake let loose with

a kick that Ryan easily blocked.

"Boy, using that oriental martial arts bullshit on me is gonna get real

fucking expensive," Ryan said. Jake snickered and came at Ryan, but

he was prepared, since Jake telegraphed his move. Ryan was a blur,

striking Jake in the throat, the solar plexus and finally in the groin.
As Jake doubled over, Ryan picked him up and ran toward one of the

brick walls that lined the alley. He heard the cracking of bones as Jake's

back came into contact with a large metal pipe that jutted out from the

building. Jake screamed out in pain as Ryan threw him on the ground.

He wasted no time, repeatedly kicking Jake as hard as he could in the

crotch and the ribs. Jake doubled over in pain and Ryan knelt down on

his throat, blocking Jake's airway.

"I... can't... breathe," Jake gasped. Ryan ignored him and began grinding

his knee into the other man's throat.

"Ryan, please stop," Lisa cried. "You're killing him." Ryan looked at her

with his one good eye.

"Yes. Exhilarating, isn't it?" he said with an evil glint in his eye. He

looked back down and saw Jake's face begin to turn blue. He took his

knee off Jake's throat and watched as he desperately gasped for air.

Ryan knelt by Jake and whispered loud enough for Lisa to hear him.

"Our time is about up, Jake, old buddy," he said. "But know this. If you

ever raise a hand to Lisa, or if you ever do anything to hurt anyone in my

family, I swear to God I will hunt you down like the dog you are and I will

cut your stupid fucking head off and feed it to the pigs. You understand

me?"
"Yes," Jake croaked.

"Yes, WHAT?" Ryan bellowed.

"Yes... sir," Jake said. Ryan nodded his head.

"By the way," Ryan added. "Parts of that dossier are being sent to the

feds, anonymously. The parts that involve your illegal transactions, that

is."

"But you promised," Jake croaked.

"So I told a little fib," Ryan said. "You know all about that, don't you? I

couldn't very well cover up illegal behavior. That would make me an

accessory after the fact. You have a nice day now, you hear? Oh, and

remember, I was never here." Ryan stood and looked at Lisa.

"So, this is the piece of dog shit you and Sarah left me for," he said,

kicking Jake one more time in the groin. "I hope he was worth it. By the

way, you may want to call for an ambulance. I think he slipped on

something."

"A part of me wants to let him lay there and die," she said. "But that

would be wrong, wouldn't it?" Ryan shrugged his shoulders. "I'll call, but

that'll be the last thing I ever do for him. Maybe I'll tell them he slipped on

a banana peel." Ryan smiled.

"You might as well take his Jag over to the hospital," Ryan said.

"Somehow, I don't think he's gonna be in any shape to drive for a while."

Ryan turned and walked away, taking his hat as he passed Bob.

"What now?" Bob asked as they walked to his car.

"There's a Holiday Inn Express a couple blocks down the road," Ryan

said. "Take me there, if you would, please."

A Father's Justice, Pt. 02...

End of "A Father's Justice, Pt. 01":

"So, this is the piece of dog shit you and Sarah left me for," he said,

kicking Jake one more time in the groin. "I hope he was worth it. By the

way, you may want to call for an ambulance. I think he slipped on

something."

"A part of me wants to let him lay there and die," she said. "But that

would be wrong, wouldn't it?" Ryan shrugged his shoulders. "I'll call, but

that'll be the last thing I ever do for him. Maybe I'll tell them he slipped on

a banana peel." Ryan smiled.

"You might as well take his Jag over to the hospital," Ryan said.

"Somehow, I don't think he's gonna be in any shape to drive for a while."

Ryan turned and walked away, taking his hat as he passed Bob.
"What now?" Bob asked as they walked to his car.

"There's a Holiday Inn Express a couple blocks down the road," Ryan

said. "Take me there, if you would, please."

...

Part 02:

Several hours later, Ryan grabbed his hat and prepared to leave to grab

some dinner when there was a knock on the door. He expected a visit

from the local police, but when he looked through the peephole he saw

Lisa with a younger man, dressed in a white shirt, vest and tie. He

wondered what she wanted and opened the door.

"Good, you're here," Lisa said. "Can we come in for a bit, please?" Ryan

looked and saw no one else, and noticed the cart between them.

"I was just gonna go grab a bite to eat, but yeah, come on in," he said,

opening the door and standing back.

"You can put that on the table over there," Lisa told the man with her.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, wheeling the cart to the table. As Ryan watched,

the man took two covered dishes out of the box on the cart and set them

on the table. He put a bucket of ice on the table and opened a bottle of
wine, pouring it into two flutes, which he set next to the covered dishes.

When he finished setting the table, he uncovered the dishes.

"Cornish game hens," Lisa said. "It's one of my favorites. Served with

steamed carrots, onions, mushrooms and rice pilaf. And a nice Cabernet

Sauvignon." She turned to the man with her. "Thank you, Raul, that will

be all. I'll bring the dishes back with me."

"As you wish, ma'am," the man said quietly. "Enjoy your dinner, sir," he

told Ryan.

"Thank you, Raul," Ryan said. The young man turned and left the room,

pushing the cart before him. Ryan looked at Lisa.

"You didn't have to do this," he told her.

"I didn't," she said. "This was supposed to be Jake's dinner tonight, but

he's in the hospital and I don't think he'll be in any shape to eat at home

for a while. The staff worked on this for several hours, and I couldn't just

throw it out. Besides, Bob tells me all you eat are TV dinners and raw

hot dogs, so I thought you might enjoy a real meal for once."

"This was supposed to be Jake's dinner?" Ryan asked. Lisa nodded her

head.

"Yes," she said.

"Well, then," he said. "In that case, let's dig in. I'd be more than happy to

eat his dinner. How is Jake, by the way?"

"He's been better," she said, sitting down. "He's got several broken and

cracked ribs. His throat is damaged and the doctor said he'll probably

end up losing one of his testicles. On top of that, there's a chance he'll

be paralyzed from the waist down for life. Whatever it was you threw him

against did a lot of damage to his spine."

"Well, you'll pardon me if I don't wish him a speedy recovery," Ryan said,

taking a bite of the bird on his plate. "This is delicious, by the way. My

regards to your chef." Lisa smiled.

"Thank you," she said, taking a bite of her food. She considered him for

a while before speaking. "What happened to you, Ryan?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You've changed," she said.

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when the people you loved more than

life itself screw you in the ass with no Vaseline," he said, taking a sip of

wine.
"I'm really very sorry about that," she said. "So, what did you do after we

split? I know Sarah tried to get in touch with you, but she was never able

to. What happened?"

"I sold the place and got a small apartment," Ryan said. "I spent a few

months crying in my beer, basically feeling sorry for myself. When I saw

the article about your marriage to Jake, I went to a bar to get drunk. Ran

into an old Army buddy and he recruited me for a job. Spent the next

nine years working as a 'private security consultant.'"

"A what?" Lisa asked.

"A mercenary," he said. "A gun for hire. Made pretty damn good money

doing that, by the way. Also gave me a chance to work off some of the

anger I felt toward the three of you."

"You really must've hated us," she said.

"You have no idea," he said. "Every time I pulled the trigger, I saw you or

Sarah or Jake."

"Oh my God," she said. "Ryan, I'm so sorry. I had no idea it would've

hurt you like that. I thought you'd just find another woman and move on."

Ryan shook his head.

"Nope," he said. "Don't get me wrong. I met lots of women. Even had

sex with a bunch of them. But I'm done with relationships. Once bitten,

twice shy, I guess."

"What about now?" she asked. "Is there someone in your life now? A

girlfriend or something?" Ryan shook his head.

"No," he said. "Tried that once. It didn't take. Like I told Bob, if I get that

hard up, I go into town and rent someone for a couple hours."

"You must be so lonely," she said.

"I'm alone, but I'm not lonely," he said.

"Do you still hate us?" Lisa asked.

"No," he said. "Not as much, anyway. I've forgiven Sarah, in case you're

wondering."

"What about me?" she asked.

"Well, after today, I feel like I can be in the same room as you without

feeling the urge to strangle your pretty little neck," he said.

"Thank you for that, I guess," she said. "You forgave Sarah, why not

me?"
"I read her letters," he said. "Bob brought them out to me. I realized after

reading them that she was manipulated. After all, she was young,

inexperienced and impressionable. You and Jake took advantage of

that. He dangled promises of expensive cars, an expensive education

and trips to fancy places, and there was no way I could compete with

that. She grew up, though, and realized what she had done was wrong.

She tried to tell me back then, but I never got her letters. I'm sure if I

knew how to use email back then, she would have reached out that way

as well. Hell, I didn't even know how to use a computer, let alone use

email. I didn't even know how to use a cell phone. I still don't have one,

by the way." He took a sip of wine before continuing.

"You, on the other hand, had no such excuse," Ryan said. "It's not like

you were drugged, or raped, or blackmailed. He seduced you and you

went along with it. Then you helped him turn Sarah against me. That's

not something I can just forgive or forget. You destroyed me.

Deliberately. Believe me, it would have been better if you had just blown

my head off."

"I never thought of it like that," she said. "I really am so very sorry."

"Anyway, I worked for an oil sheikh in the Middle East on my last job,"

Ryan said. "He was under pressure to sell out and had come under
attack. I was hired to help train his security forces. Guess who it was

going after him?"

"Jake?" she asked.

"Bingo," Ryan said. "You know, you'd be amazed at who hires

mercenaries these days. Turns out Jake hired a bunch to seize the

sheikh's oil fields. Kinda like a carrot-and-stick approach. If negotiations

don't work, use force. Turns out Jake learned I was working for him, so

he embedded some assassins to take me out. I guess he figured he'd kill

two birds with one stone."

"That's how you lost your eye?" she asked. Ryan nodded his head.

"Yup," he said. "They came close, but missed. The sheikh knew but

never let on to Jake or his representatives that I was still alive."

"How do you know all this?" Lisa asked.

"He gave me a dossier with all kinds of very interesting information,"

Ryan said. "He also gave me a bit of fatherly advise. Something along

the lines of getting rid of my hate before it kills me. He was right, of

course. He paid for my medical expenses, gave me a very large bonus

and suggested I find someplace nice and quiet. So I bought a place in

west Texas and started my own little operation."

"Operation?" Lisa asked.

"Yeah," he said. "I've spent the last three years and about three million

dollars keeping Jake under constant surveillance. Even recruited a few

moles within Knight Petroleum. You'd be amazed at what I've found out."

"That's the dossier you spoke about earlier, right?" she asked.

"Yes, it is. Tell me something," Ryan said. "All that stuff Jake said in the

alley. Is that true? Did you really do all that to me?" Her face turned red

and she looked down for a moment before answering.

"Yes, I'm sorry to say, but it is," she said quietly. "I can't begin to tell you

how ashamed I am of what I did to you. You didn't deserve any of it."

"Suppose the shoe was on the other foot," Ryan said. "What if it was me

who cheated on you? How would you have reacted?"

"I'd be furious, of course," she said. "I know, it sounds hypocritical."

"That's because it is," he said. "Now what if I told you I have ironclad

proof Jake actually did cheat on you? That, in fact, he's been cheating

on you for at least three years? How would feel about that? You were

there in the alley. You heard what he said."

"I'd like to see that proof," she said. Jake grabbed his duffel bag, pulled

out a notebook binder and handed it to her.

"There you go," he said. "Written reports, DVDs with photos and videos,

even certified copies of his children's birth certificates and DNA test

results proving he's the sperm donor. I've been told there's more than

enough proof for a judge to grant you a divorce on the grounds of

infidelity." She flipped through the pages in the binder, shocked at what

she read. Finally, she closed the binder and wiped a tear from her eye.

"Hurts like hell, doesn't it?" he asked.

"Yes," she said quietly. "I've suspected for a little while, but I had no

proof. I'll bet this made you happy, didn't it?"

"I gotta admit, when I first learned about it, I was somewhat exuberant,"

Ryan said. "The cheater getting cheated on by the guy she originally

cheated with? Talk about poetic justice. Then I remembered how I first

felt."

"At least I told you," she said.

"Six months after the fact," Ryan answered. "Speaking of which, how did

it happen? How did he manage to turn the two of you against me?"

"You want a play-by-play?" she asked.

"No, the Cliff Notes version will do just fine," he said.

"It started after I got hired as his PA," she said. "At first, he was

professional, friendly, polite. Then he turned on the charm. You know I

traveled with him all over the world on business trips. We stayed at the

best hotels, ate at the finest restaurants. I met a lot of what you would

call 'mucky-mucks' -- celebrities, members of Congress, business

tycoons, heads of state. I even met the president once.

"Jake started making little statements here and there, telling me this

could be my life if I chose. He constantly put you down, saying you were

just a washed-up grease monkey who would never amount to anything

and would never be able to give Sarah and I the life we deserved.

"After a while, I started seeing you the way he did. I'm not sure exactly

when it happened, but I lost all respect for you. On one hand, I knew you

were working hard for Sarah and I and I knew you had your dream. But

on the other, I knew Jake was right. The sex just came naturally, I

guess." She looked at the floor, her face red with shame.

"I'm so sorry, Ryan," she said. "I realize now that I was just being a

selfish bitch. Right now, all I can do is hope that one day you can forgive

me."

"I'm not your father confessor," he said. "When did the abuse start?"
"About four or five years ago," she said. "I accused him of having an

affair. I didn't have any proof, just a rumor I had heard at the office. We

had a huge fight and he slapped me, hard. I told him if he ever hit me

again, I'd divorce him. It didn't happen again for quite some time. He

didn't hit me, but he roughed me up pretty bad. It happens now about

once every couple weeks."

"Why didn't you call the cops?" Ryan asked. "You could've had him

thrown in jail."

"I was afraid," she said. "I've seen what he does to people and I didn't

want to end up dead."

"Dead?" he asked. She nodded her head.

"He's the one who told me that you were dead," she said. "The way he

said it frightened me. He never gave any specifics, but somehow, I knew

he was involved."

"I see," Ryan said. "By the way, There's one other thing I think you

should see." He pulled an envelope out of his duffel bag and showed her

the letter inside. It was one that Sarah had sent him years earlier. He

pointed to a paragraph he had highlighted.

"I hate it here," Sarah wrote. "I hate Jake and I hate Mom. He's creepy,

Dad. You have no idea. He stares at me all the time and he makes

crude comments about my body. I swear if he touches me, I'll kick him in

the nuts the way you taught me. I wish you were here so you could kick

his ass. I tried telling Mom, but she never listens. She's too wrapped up

in his money and his dick to give a damn." Lisa handed the letter back, a

tear falling down her cheek.

"Oh, God," she said. "My own daughter hates me."

"I don't think she feels that way anymore," Ryan said. "Judging from the

postmark, this was written about a week or so after she turned 18. Still, it

provides some insight into your home life at the time. Did you ever notice

anything between them?" Lisa shook her head.

"I don't really remember," she said. "But she was right. I was pretty

wrapped up in his money. And, his dick. I do remember her saying

something to me about it back then, but I just chalked it up to teenage

rebellion and blew it off. I guess I should've listened to her."

"So basically, you looked and thought the grass was greener on the

other side of the fence, and learned it was full of chiggers, ticks and

snakes," Ryan said.

"Yeah, pretty much," Lisa said.

"So, what are you gonna do?" he asked.

"I'm not looking forward to another divorce, but I can't go on like this,"

she said.

"Well, whatever you do, you'd better do it fast," Ryan told her. "Once the

feds get what I sent them, the shit's gonna hit the fan."

"What kind of stuff are we talking about?" she asked.

"Most of it's financial stuff -- way over my head. There's also bribes to

foreign officials and some other things, like attempted murder and

conspiracy to commit murder. Against me, by the way. My attorney tells

me Jake could end up in prison for a long time and Knight Petroleum

could end up on the ash heap with Enron. Once they get started, they

could easily freeze all of your assets," Ryan said. "So if I were you, I'd

strike while the iron's hot. Get what you can before the feds close in."

"You're probably right," she said. "I'll call my attorney first thing in the

morning."

"I think that would be wise," Ryan said.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked. "Helping me, that is. After what

I've done to you?"

"That's easy," Ryan said. "Sarah's gonna need all the help and support

she can get, and she's got a young 'un that needs his grandma."

"Do you think that maybe once this is all over, that we could, you know,"

Lisa began before Ryan cut her off.

"What? Get back together? Start over where we left off like nothing ever

happened?" he asked. He shook his head. "I don't see that happening.

Been there once already. Like I said, I'm damaged goods. You said it

yourself. I've changed. A lot. I'm not the man you knew 12 years ago.

Besides, you're cornish game hens, champagne and caviar while I'm TV

dinners, sweet tea and raw hot dogs."

"I understand," she said quietly. "Think maybe we could at least be

friends? Maybe even with benefits?"

"I've learned never to say never," he said. "I don't know. Maybe, one

day. Who knows what tomorrow might bring?"

"Can I at least come visit you in Texas?" she asked.

"Well, I don't live in a mansion like you do, and I sure as hell don't have

servants waiting on me hand and foot, but I reckon you can, that is, if

you don't mind sleeping on the couch or the floor," he said.

"The couch or the floor?" she asked.

"Yeah," Ryan said. "I've only got one little twin bed and that's where I

sleep. If Bob's there, he gets the couch. That only leaves the floor. But it

is a fairly good size place, so there's lots of floor." She chuckled at that.

"I remember a time when we could make good use of a twin bed. Or a

couch. Or a floor. But, at least it's a start," she said. "Speaking of

tomorrow, when are you going back to the hospital?"

"I'm scheduled to see Dr. Fritz just before noon," he said. "Bob's coming

by to pick me up about 10:00."

"Alright," she said. "I'll see you at the hospital."

"Okay," he said. "And, thank you for the meal. It was the best I've had in

years." She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "Why don't you let me

help you carry this down to your car?"

"That would be nice," she said. "Thanks." They gathered the used

dishes, made sure the wine was closed back up and carried everything

down to her car. After it was loaded up and secured, Lisa looked at Ryan

one last time.

"I'm so sorry I fucked everything up," she said. "I hope that one day you

can set your hatred of me aside and learn to forgive me."

"One day at a time," Ryan said. "That meal was a nice start. Thank you

again."

"Any time," she said, giving him a hug. She was surprised that he

hugged her back the way he always used to. She got in her car, a tear

falling down her cheek. How could I have been so stupid and selfish, she

thought to herself. He waved and watched as she drove off, smoked a

cigarette, then went back to his room.

...

The next morning, Bob picked him up right at 10:00 and they headed for

the hospital.

"I heard you and Lisa had dinner last night," Bob said.

"Yeah," Ryan said. "She brought over a cornish game hen."

"The good stuff, huh?" Bob asked. "Say what you want about Jake, but

his staff sure does know how to cook. You two have a chance to talk

much?"

"Yeah, we did," Ryan said. "I think we managed to get off to a good start.

For Sarah and little Ryan's sake, that is," he added as Bob smiled.

"Of course," Bob said. They got to the hospital and went to see Dr. Fritz.
"Mr. Caldwell," the doctor said as they walked in. "Please, come into my

office." They went into his small office and the doctor closed the door.

"What's the word, doc?" Ryan asked.

"Good news, Mr. Caldwell," Dr. Fritz said. "You're a perfect match."

"Excellent," Ryan said. "So when do we get started?"

"I've got a surgical suite reserved for 1:00 this afternoon," the doctor

said. "We'll take both you and Sarah in at the same time, put you both

under then we'll get it done." The doctor went on to explain the

procedure, which sounded quite painful to Ryan. "Don't worry," Dr. Fritz

said. "You'll be under the whole time. We'll keep you overnight just to

manage the pain. You'll be pretty sore for a little while, but it'll wear off."

"How long before we know if it works?" Ryan asked.

"We should know pretty soon after the procedure," the doctor said.

"Good," Ryan said. "Is it okay if we go up to see Sarah now?"

"By all means," Dr. Fritz said. "We'll need to get you checked in pretty

soon, though, so don't take too much time."

"Got it," Ryan said. He stood, shook the doctor's hand and the two left.

They went to Sarah's room and gave her the news.

"Oh, thank goodness," she said. "I was told they might be prepping us

for surgery pretty soon."

"Have you talked to your mother?" Ryan asked.

"Yes, she popped in earlier and said she was going to see her lawyer,"

Sarah said. "Is she going for a divorce?"

"I think so," Ryan said.

"It's about damn time," she said. "Bob told me what you did to Jake," she

added. "You were too easy on him from what I heard."

"Your mother said he may be paralyzed from the waist down," Ryan

said.

"He still got off too easy," she said bitterly.

"Something tells me the real fun is just beginning," Ryan told her.

"You mean, there's more?" she asked. Ryan smiled and winked at her,

causing her to smile. "Goody! I can't wait." After they visited for a while,

Dr. Fritz came in with a couple nurses.

"Good, you're all here," the doctor said. "It's time to get you two ready.

Mr. Caldwell, please go with Nurse Jacobs here and she'll get you

checked in and into your room."

"Okay," Ryan said. He bent over his daughter and gave her a hug and a

kiss on the cheek. "Showtime," he said with a smile. She smiled back at

him. "It's gonna be just fine," he said. He followed the nurse out of the

room and went to a desk next to the nurse's station.

After filling out what seemed like a ream of paperwork, he was escorted

into a room, handed a hospital gown and told to disrobe.

"Since we're going to need access to your pelvic region, we'll need you

to strip completely," the nurse said with a somewhat evil smile. After he

was ready, they inserted an IV into his arm and checked his vitals.

Before long, they wheeled him out of the room and into a rather cool

surgical suite. They had already given him a sedative and he was feeling

the affects. Dr. Fritz looked down at him and Ryan could tell he was

smiling.

"Ready?" the doctor asked.

"Git 'er done," Ryan said. They put something over his face and he fell

asleep.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up in his room. It took a while for

him to get his bearings but as he did, he felt the pain in his hips. The

doctor warned him this would happen. A few minutes after he woke up,

Dr. Fritz came into the room and looked him over.
"How are we feeling?" he asked. Ryan laughed to himself. Why do they

always use "we," he asked himself.

"My hip hurts like hell," Ryan croaked.

"That's normal," Dr. Fritz said. "We'll give you something for the pain.

Normally, we'd handle this on an outpatient basis, but since you're in

from out of town, I'm keeping you here overnight, just to monitor your

recovery."

"How's Sarah?" Ryan asked.

"I think she's going to be just fine," the doctor said. "It's too early to tell,

but she seems to be responding better than we anticipated." Ryan

nodded his head.

"When can I see her?" he asked.

"Oh, not until tomorrow," Dr. Fritz said. "I want the two of you to recover

a bit first. Get some rest now, Mr. Caldwell. I'll check in on you later." A

nurse came in, checked his vitals and gave him a pill for the pain.

"Get some rest now, Mr. Caldwell," she said. "If you get hungry, just call

the kitchen and let them know what you want, okay?"

"Thanks," he said before falling asleep. He woke up a couple hours later

and looked at the menu. He called the kitchen, placed his order and a
worker brought his meal up to him -- meat loaf, mashed potatoes and

gravy and green beans. It was somewhat better than the TV dinners he

was used to, but not by a whole lot. Still, it took the hunger away. He had

just finished when he heard a knock at the door.

"Yeah," he called out. Bob and Lisa came into the room. They took

positions on either side of him.

"How are you feeling?" Lisa asked.

"Sore," he said. "But okay otherwise. Doc says I'll be released

tomorrow."

"Good," Bob said.

"How's Sarah?" Ryan asked. Bob nodded his head.

"She's doing better than anyone expected," he said. "They're very

optimistic."

"That is good news," Ryan said. He looked at Lisa before speaking

again. "How are things with you?"

"Frantic," she said. "I saw my lawyer this morning and got the divorce

started. I've also started the process to split our assets. This is a

community property state, so technically I'm entitled to half of all our

assets. The only fly in the ointment is the prenup he made me sign, but

my lawyer thinks he can get around that."

"Well then, you should be in good shape," Ryan said.

"In theory," Lisa said. "We'll see. It's not going to be an easy divorce,

certainly not like ours."

"I reckon not," Ryan told her.

"I'm also getting a restraining order to keep him away from me, the

house and Sarah," she said. "I don't think that'll be a problem, though."

"Have you seen Jake yet?" he asked.

"Not yet," she said. "I'm not going to see him until he's served. He's still

in the hospital, probably will be for a while yet. After that, who knows.

Look, I'd better get going. I have a lot to do yet. I'll be by tomorrow,

okay?"

"Sure," Ryan said.

"How long will you be here?" she asked.

"Don't know," he said. "Maybe another day or so. I want to make sure

Sarah is gonna be okay before I go home."

"Alright," she said. "I'll see you later, then."

"See ya," he said. To his surprise, she bent over and gave him a kiss on

the cheek.

"Sweet dreams," she said with a smile. Before he could react, she was

out the door. He glanced at Bob, and saw the questioning look on his

face.

"What?" Ryan asked.

"That must've been some dinner she gave you last night," Bob said.

Ryan smiled.

"Yeah, it was," he said. "But that's all it was."

"Whatever you say," Bob said. "If you don't mind, I'm gonna check on

Sarah then head out. See ya tomorrow."

"Okay," Ryan said. "See ya then."

The next day, he found that his hip didn't hurt quite as bad as before,

was was still sore and it was hard to walk without support. A nurse

brought him a cane and he found that helped a lot. That afternoon, the

doctor checked him out and released him after giving him a prescription

for pain medication. A nurse brought a wheelchair in and took him to

Sarah's room, where Bob was already waiting.

"Daddy!" Sarah exclaimed when she saw him. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," he said. "How about you? You're looking better. At least you

have some color in your skin."

"I'm still pretty sore," she said, "but the doctor says I'm doing a lot better

than they anticipated."

"I'm glad to hear that, princess," he said. They visited for a while longer,

until Ryan noticed that Sarah looked a bit tired. He looked up at Bob.

"Mind giving me a ride back to the hotel?" he asked.

"Not at all," Bob said. They said their goodbyes and a nurse wheeled

Ryan to the patient pickup area where Bob had parked.

"You going to be okay getting to your room?" Bob asked.

"I'll manage," Ryan said. "They gave me some pills and this cane, so I'll

be okay."

"Alright," Bob said. "Pick you up tomorrow, say about 10:00?"

"Yeah," Ryan said. "That works. See ya then." Ryan climbed out of the

RAV-4 and went to his room, using the cane for support.

...

That night as he lay on the bed in his pajamas watching television, he

heard a knock on the door.

"Just a minute," he said, grabbing his cane. He limped to the door and

looked through the peephole. He saw Lisa and noticed she was alone,

so he opened the door. He still expected a visit from the local authorities

so he looked around as she stepped inside, carrying what looked like a

large picnic basket.

"I hope you don't mind my stopping by," she said. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No, not yet," he said. "I was just sitting here watching a little TV."

"Why don't you get off your feet and I'll get you some dinner," she said.

"You still like lasagna?"

"Love it," he said.

"Good," she said as she set the large basket down. Opening it, she

pulled out a portable tray and set it on the bed across his lap. Then she

pulled out a covered dish and some silverware, placing it on the tray in

front of him. Then she pulled out a can of green tea.

"You have some ice?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, pointing to the bucket on the dresser. She put ice in a

plastic glass and poured some tea into it.

"Thank you," he said after she set the tea on the nightstand next to him.

"Aren't you going to eat?"

"I've already eaten," she said.

"So, what brought this on?" he asked her.

"I remember how much you used to enjoy my lasagna, and I just thought

you might appreciate it," she said.

"Well, I do," he told her. "Thanks, and it's every bit as good as I

remember."

"Better than those TV dinners?" she asked with a smile.

"By a long shot," Ryan said.

"You know, those things are loaded with all kinds of crap," she said.

"Yeah, and sometimes I think the cardboard would taste better than

what's inside," he told her.

"So why do you eat them?" she asked. "Don't you cook anymore? You

used to cook all the time."

"Well, I had someone to cook for at the time," Ryan said. "I guess it's just

laziness. I don't see the need to go to a lot of trouble when it's just me."

"Did you ever start your garage?" she asked. He shook his head.

"No," he said. "That dream died when you and Sarah left. I'm too damn

old and worn out to start a business anyway."

"Nonsense," she said. "You're what, 50? That's not too old."

"When you've been through what I have these last ten years or so, it is,"

he said with a wistful look in his eye. "Trust me."

"But what do you live on?" she asked.

"I do just fine," he said. "I've got enough to last me the rest of my life."

"What do you do all day?" she asked.

"Mostly just sit around, drink tea," he said. "Watch the weeds grow. Look

at the clouds. Do a little target practice from time to time."

"That's no way to live," she said. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe. The place could use a coat of paint," he said. "Maybe I can start

on that when I get back."

"That's better than doing nothing," she said.

"Sometimes, doing nothing suits me just fine," he said.

"Mind if I sit with you and watch some television?" she asked.

"Not at all," he said, gently scooting over to give her room on the bed.

She sat next to him and they watched a movie.

"I remember we used to do this all the time," she said. He nodded his

head. He remembered it as well. "I loved it when you would sit and rock

Sarah to sleep. She looked so innocent with her little arms around your

neck. You'd take her to bed and cover her up and give her a good night

kiss. I miss that."

"Yeah, me too," he said. She nuzzled close to him and put her head on

his shoulders.

"Hold me? Please?" she begged. He put an arm around her and held her

close. It had been years since he had done this. She felt as good as she

did when they were still married. Suddenly, she burst into tears, sobbing

on his shoulder. He held her close and let her cry.

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping the tears from her face. "I miss this with you

so bad. I can't ever remember Jake doing anything like this. I really

fucked everything up for everyone, didn't I?"

"You'll get no argument from me," he said. She cried some more as he

held her in silence. They watched another program in silence, Lisa's

head on Ryan's shoulder. After the program ended, she sat up and

looked at him.

"I have to get going before it gets too late," she said. "I've really enjoyed

spending this time with you."

"I have too," he said. "And thank you again for the dinner. It was

delicious."

"You're welcome," she said. "Will you do something for me, please?"

"What's that?" he asked, wary of what she might want.

"You said the other day that little Ryan needs his grandmother," she

said. "He also needs his grandpa. Will you promise to be there for him?

And Sarah?"

"Of course," he said, bringing a smile to her face.

"Thank you," she said. "When are you going home?"

"I'll be flying out tomorrow afternoon," he said. "Bob is picking me up in

the morning and I'll say goodbye to Sarah, then I'm heading back."

"Okay," she said. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

"I won't," he said. She kissed him on the cheek, gathered her stuff and

left.

...

The next day, he found that he wasn't quite as sore as before, but still

needed the cane to get around. After breakfast, Bob came by and
helped him with his gear. He checked out of the hotel and they headed

to the hospital.

When they got to Sarah's room, he saw a young boy next to her bed. He

knew from the photo he had seen earlier it was her child, Ryan. He

looked up as they walked in.

"Ryan," Sarah said. "This is your grandpa. He's also named Ryan. Why

don't you go say hello?"

"Hello, sir," the little boy said. "Are you really my grandpa?" Ryan sat

and smiled as he looked at the youngster.

"Yes, I am," he said.

"What happened to your eye?" the little boy asked, pointing to Ryan's

eye patch.

"Well, I lost it," Ryan said.

"Want me to help you find it?" the boy asked. "I'm real good at finding

things." Ryan laughed.

"I'm sure you are," Ryan said. "But no, that's alright." He gave the boy a

hug and turned to Sarah.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her. "You're looking better than you did

yesterday."

"Still sore and weak, but getting better," she said. "They're gonna keep

me here for a few days to monitor my progress."

"That's probably wise," Ryan said. They talked for some time before Lisa

came into the room. After they all got caught up, Bob looked at his

watch.

"I think it's time we get you to the airport," he said. Ryan looked at his

watch.

"You're right," he said. He stood and gave his daughter a hug and kissed

her cheek. "You get well, now, you hear me?" he asked.

"I will, Daddy," she said. "Thank you for everything. I love you."

"I love you too, princess," Ryan said.

"Uh, Bob," Lisa said. "If it's okay with you, I'd like to take Ryan to the

airport. I have a couple of things I need to talk to him about. Do you

mind?"

"Not at all," he said. "I'll go down and get his bag."

"Promise me you'll come visit sometime," Ryan told Sarah.

"I will, Daddy," she said. He nodded his head and walked out of the

room, Lisa next to him.

"So, what do you need to talk to me about?" Ryan asked after he got in

Lisa's BMW.

"I got a visit from Elmer Jenkins, the chairman of the board," she said. "It

seems the feds got your dossier and someone gave him a heads-up.

The board will be getting together this evening to discuss the situation.

Elmer tells me the board is leaning toward putting Jake on an extended

leave of absence, at least until the court case is resolved."

"Couldn't happen to a nicer guy," Ryan said.

"He also said they're thinking about having me fill in as interim CEO for a

while, at least during the investigation and the trial, if there is one," she

said.

"Congratulations," he said.

"That may be premature," she said. "But thanks anyway. After Jake and

I married, he made me a vice president and put me in charge of what he

called 'administrative operations.' Basically, I was the head paper-

pusher. Apparently, Elmer thinks I can up to speed on what Jake was

doing pretty fast, and he seems to think the company needs a Knight at

the helm, at least for now."

"I wish you the best of luck," he said. "So, why are you telling me this?"

"Because I know how the board works," she said. "They're going to want

to know how you got that information."

"And they think you can turn on your feminine charms and get it out of

me?" Ryan asked. "Maybe ply me with homemade lasagna?" She

chuckled at that.

"Perhaps," she said.

"Well, that's not going to happen," he said. "I promised anonymity, and I

keep my word. Besides, it's out of my hands now."

"I understand," she said. "Completely. I won't push it, promise." They

pulled in front of the terminal and Lisa stopped the car. She pulled a box

out of her purse and handed it to him.

"What's this?" Ryan asked.

"Just a little present," she said. "I know you don't have a phone, so I got

you one. It's the latest with all the features. You can send texts, emails,

take pictures, video, whatever you want. I've already got it set up with
your area code and programmed it with my number, along with Bob's

and Sarah's."

"Thank you," he said. "You didn't have to do this."

"I know," she said. "But you promised to stay in touch, and I think this is

the best way."

"Is there an instruction book for this?" he asked.

"Of course," she said.

"Good," he told her. "That'll give me something to read on the way back."

She walked with him to the check-in counter and waited for him to get

his boarding pass. She stayed with him until he reached the security

checkpoint.

"I guess this is where we say goodbye," he said.

"Not goodbye," she said. "Just, 'so long,' at least for now. Let me know

when you get home, okay?"

"I will," he said. She kissed him on the cheek.

"It was good to see you again, Ryan," she said. "I really am sorry about

everything." He nodded his head.

"I know. It was good to see you, too," he said. "Give the kids my love,

will you?" She smiled.

"I will," she said before walking off. He watched her leave before getting

in line for the security check.

...

A few hours later, he stood in front of his house after the cab dropped

him off. Home, crap, home, he thought to himself as he looked at the old

place. He could see the paint peeling off, exposing boards that had

turned gray with exposure. The whole place looked... sad.

In his mind's eye, he pictured a cartoon house with a sad face, a tear

falling out of one downcast eye. It reflected the way he had felt for quite

some time. He felt bad about letting the old place fall into such disrepair.

It had been good to him -- gave him shelter from the elements, kept him

warm in the winter and relatively cool in the hot summer.

But something had changed in him over the last few days. He no longer

felt the pervasive anger and hatred that had kept him company all these

years. Perhaps, he thought, it was time the house reflected that.

"Maybe it's time we get you fixed up, old friend," he said to no one in

particular. In his mind, the sad house-face smiled and the tear
disappeared. He pulled out his phone and was surprised he had good

reception. It took him a while, but he sent a text to Lisa, Sarah and Bob,

letting them all know he made it home.

"Thanks for letting us know," Bob replied. Sarah sent the same

message, adding, "I love you," with a happy face emoji. Lisa also

thanked him for letting her know. He grabbed his cane and his duffel bag

and went inside.

The next day, he began walking around the place, taking notes of

everything that needed to be done. He finally realized there was no way

he could do all this by himself, so he started calling contractors. Over the

next few days, several had come out to look at the place and give him

an estimate.

The contractor he selected wasn't the cheapest, nor was he the most

expensive. But he said he could get everything Ryan wanted done, even

if he had to hire subcontractors. Ryan knew it would cost him but he

wasn't worried about that. He just wanted a good job done on the place.

Ryan originally wanted the place painted, but the contractor suggested

he have the old wood removed and replaced with siding. That way, he

said, they could also get a good look at the frame and replace whatever
was needed. That sounded good to Ryan, so he gave the contractor the

go-ahead, along with a check to get things started.

A couple months later, Ryan sat in his front room, eating a microwaved

meat loaf dinner, watching television, when a news report grabbed his

attention.

"This just in," the anchor said. "Today, the Department of Justice

announced federal indictments have been handed down against Jacob

Knight, the former CEO of Knight Petroleum. Knight has been charged

with a number of allegations, which include attempted murder and

conspiracy to commit murder. He was relieved of his duties by the board

two months ago after he was reportedly mugged in a Central City

alleyway. His estranged wife, Lisa Knight, was named the interim CEO

in his absence. Knight, who is now confined to a wheelchair, has been

taken into federal custody and is being held without bail."

A few minutes after the report, his phone buzzed. He noticed it was Lisa,

and took the call.

"Did you see the report?" she asked.

"Just saw it," he said.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"I think he's still as dangerous as ever," Ryan told her. "Maybe even

more so. You be careful."

"I will," she said. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing fine," he said. "Just getting some work done on the old place."

"I can't wait to see what you've done to it," she said. "I saw that picture

you sent. It looked pretty sad."

"Yeah it did," he said. "So, was there anything else you wanted?"

"Yeah," she said. "Now that he's been indicted, you may hear from the

feds," she said. "They're interested in his attempt on your life. I just

wanted to give you a head's up."

"Thanks for that. I've been expecting it," he said. They ended the call

and Ryan finished his dinner.

The next day, he got a call from Mike Gregory, his lawyer in town, asking

him to come by.

"I've got two federal agents here," he said. "They want to talk to you

about the attempt on your life."

"Not without immunity," Ryan said.

"That's already been arranged," Mike said. "Can you make it in?"
"Yeah, I'll be right down," Ryan said. He let the foreman running the

renovation know he would be gone for a while and headed into town.

When he got to Mike's office, he was introduced to two men in dark

suits, Special Agent Darrel Smith and Agent Jim Jones, both with the

FBI, based out of El Paso.

"What can I do for you two?" Ryan asked.

"We're tying up some loose ends in the case against Jacob Knight and

we'd like some information about your work in the Middle East," Smith

said. Ryan looked at Mike before saying anything.

"I'd like some assurances first," Ryan said.

"We've already agreed to give you total immunity," Smith said. "We just

want to know why Jacob Knight would want to target you." Ryan looked

at Mike for confirmation.

"It's alright, Ryan," Mike said. "You have total immunity in exchange for

whatever information you can give them." Ryan nodded his head and sat

down.

"Alright," he said. "Did you know he, meaning Jake Knight, stole my wife

12 years ago and conspired to destroy my family?"

"No, we didn't know that," Jones said.

"He did," Ryan said. "After he took my wife and daughter from me, I did

some private work for about nine years. My last job was in the Middle

East, helping an oil sheikh beef up his security. I was later told that he

was under pressure to sell out to Knight Petroleum. While I was there,

we came under attack by armed individuals. At first I thought they might

have been terrorists with al Qaeda or ISIS, but I later learned they

worked for Knight. Somehow, Knight got word I was working for the

sheikh, so he embedded a team of assassins to target me."

"How did you learn that?" Smith asked.

"I got that from the sheikh after the attack," Ryan said. "He gave me a

dossier which was part of the package I passed on to the DOJ."

"Do you know how Sheikh Abdullah got that information?" Smith asked.

"No, I don't," Ryan said. "And I didn't feel it was my place to ask. I put it

together with everything else I got later and forwarded it to you."

"So, you're the source of the dossier?" Jones asked.

"Yes," Ryan said. "After that attack, I came here and bought a place, but

I paid to have Knight kept under surveillance. It took me three years, but

after I got what I thought would be enough information to have him

arrested and taken down, Mike forwarded the whole package to your
office. As you know, the dossier includes overseas monetary transfers to

individuals for the purpose of taking me out."

"You think he deliberately targeted you because of your ex-wife and

daughter?" Jones asked. Ryan nodded his head.

"Yeah," Ryan said.

"But why?" Smith asked. "He already married your ex-wife. Why would

he go after you like that?"

"Because he's a vindictive son of a bitch," Ryan said. "Because he's an

asshole. I don't know and frankly, don't care. Perhaps he thought he

could kill two birds with one stone."

"You know Knight was reportedly mugged the day before we got your

dossier?" Smith asked.

"I heard something happened to him," Ryan said.

"You know anything about that?" Jones asked.

"Just what I heard on the news today," Ryan said.

"I see," Jones said.

"Is that all?" Ryan asked.

"For now, Mr. Caldwell," Smith said. "If we need anything more, we'll be

in touch." They said their goodbyes and left. Ryan turned to Mike.

"Do you know what happened to Jake?" Mike asked.

"I know he got what was coming to him," Ryan said. "Call it a father's

justice and leave it at that, okay?"

"Okay," Mike said. Ryan took his leave of Mike and headed back home.

He heard nothing more from the federal agents and stayed in touch with

Lisa, Sarah and Bob as the legal cases wound their way through the

court system. Jake's attorneys were quite busy, making sure everything

had slowed down to a near-crawl.

Finally, after about six months from the time he reached out to the

contractor, the renovation on his house was complete, and, not

surprisingly, it cost a bit more than the contractor originally said. But it

was worth it, as far as Ryan was concerned. The old exterior boards

were replaced with siding, some additional insulation was added and

some of the frame had to be replaced.

On top of that, the interior walls were repaired and painted, and new

carpet was put in throughout the house. He had most of the plumbing

redone, and the electrical system upgraded. The 50-year-old swamp

cooler was taken out and replaced with a modern central air and heat

system. The bathrooms and kitchen were remodeled and all new

appliances were installed.

He had even built window boxes for the front-facing windows and had

potted flowers put in. The old garage was torn down and a new one was

built, with a door leading into the kitchen. Feeling adventurous, he built a

white picket fence around the front yard and replaced the gate.

The front and back yards were completely landscaped, with new topsoil

brought in, and hydro-seeded. Trees were brought in and planted to help

shade the house and the yard. By now, the yard was lush and green,

and Ryan realized he would need to buy a lawn tractor to keep it up. He

even had a swimming pool installed in the back yard, thinking little Ryan

might like that if he ever came to visit.

He also bought all new furniture for the place, replacing his old twin bed

with a king-sized one, and furnished the other three bedrooms just in

case Sarah, Bob and Lisa came to visit.

"You have quite a place here, Mr. Caldwell," the contractor said,

admiring his work. "The foundation is in good shape, and most of the

frame is holding up quite well. If you ever decide to sell the place, you'll

make a killing."
"Thanks," Ryan said. "But I think I'll keep it." After the contractor left, he

looked at the house and took a photo. In his mind's eye, the house

seemed to smile at him, and he smiled back.

He went inside and admired his newly-remodeled house. Smiling, he

prepared to send a picture to Sarah, Bob and Lisa, when his phone

rang. It was Sarah's number, so he answered.

"Daddy," she cried. "You need to get back, quick. Please hurry."

"What's wrong, princess?" he asked. "Are you sick again?"

"No," she cried. "It's Mom. She's been shot. The doctors don't know if

she'll make it."

"I'll be there as fast as I can," he said, ending the call.

...

End of "A Father's Justice, Pt. 02":

"You have quite a place here, Mr. Caldwell," the contractor said,

admiring his work. "The foundation is in good shape, and most of the

frame is holding up quite well. If you ever decide to sell the place, you'll

make a killing."
"Thanks," Ryan said. "But I think I'll keep it." After the contractor left, he

looked at the house and took a photo. In his mind's eye, the house

seemed to smile at him, and he smiled back.

He went inside and admired his newly-remodeled house. Smiling, he

prepared to send a picture to Sarah, Bob and Lisa, when his phone

rang. It was Sarah's number, so he answered.

"Daddy," she cried. "You need to get back, quick. Please hurry."

"What's wrong, princess?" he asked. "Are you sick again?"

"No," she cried. "It's Mom. She's been shot. The doctors don't know if

she'll make it."

"I'll be there as fast as I can," he said, ending the call.

...

Ryan called his lawyer and the private investigator he had looking into

Jake, then arranged for a flight back to Central City. Once there, he

rented a car and flew to the hospital.

After asking the information desk, he donned the face mask he was

given and made his way to the surgical waiting area where he found

Sarah and Bob with an older man he didn't recognize. Sarah spotted him

and ran to him, crying.

"Daddy, you made it," she cried.

"I got here as fast as I could," he said, hugging her tightly. "How's your

mother?"

"They're still working on her," the older man said. "I'm sorry, I'm Elmer

Jenkins, Chairman of the Board of Knight Petroleum," he added,

extending his hand. "You must be Lisa's ex-husband, Ryan."

"I am," Ryan said, shaking Elmer's hand. He had met Elmer once before,

but only briefly, and that had been nearly 20 years ago at a company

Christmas event. "What happened?"

"Lisa left the office and was getting ready to get in her car, when another

car came around," Elmer said. "There were two people in the car and

one of them fired two shots out the window. One shot hit Lisa in the

shoulder and the other struck her in the head. They drove off and

haven't been seen since."

"They were staking her out, then," Ryan said. Elmer nodded his head.

"It would appear so," he said. "I still don't know how they got into the

parking lot. That particular lot is for executives only and requires either a

card key or a security code entered at the gate."

"Do the police have any leads?" Ryan asked.

"None, even though we have video surveillance," Elmer said. "The

license plate was obscured."

"Can you get me a copy of that video?" Ryan asked. Elmer nodded his

head.

"I believe so," he said. "But I don't know what you can do. The police

have it as well, and they haven't been able to make any headway."

"I have resources that might be able to find something," Ryan said. "Get

me that video. Immediately, if not sooner."

"Alright," Elmer said, surprised by the commanding way Ryan spoke to

him. "I will. I'll head out now." Ryan nodded his head in

acknowledgment.

"What about your mother?" Ryan asked Sarah as Elmer left. "Any word

on her condition?"

"They removed the bullet from her shoulder, and they've been working

on her head wound," Sarah said. "It's been hours now. That's all I know."

"Where's little Ryan?" he asked.

"At home," Bob said. "My mother is staying with him right now." Ryan

nodded his head again and stepped away, pulling out his cell phone. He

referred to a card in his wallet and placed a call.

"Yeah," said the man at the other end when he answered. He sounded

as if he had been asleep.

"Jorge, it's me, Ryan Caldwell," Ryan said. Jorge Trujillo was one of the

investigators Ryan hired over three years ago to perform surveillance on

Jake. In Ryan's mind, Jorge was one of, if not the, best investigator in

the business, and was equipped with some of the most high-tech gear

one could imagine an investigator using.

"Are you in town now?" Jorge asked. "What's going on? You were pretty

cryptic when you called earlier."

"Yeah. Listen, Lisa's been shot," Ryan said.

"What?" Jorge asked. "When? By whom?"

"The when is a few hours ago," Ryan said. "The by whom is what I need

you to help me find out. I have a pretty good idea, but you have tools I

don't. If I get you video, do you think you can get me a name?"

"Possibly," Jorge said. "You think Jake is behind this?"

"I'd almost bet on it," Ryan said.

"Damn," Jorge said. "When will you have this video?"

"Soon," Ryan said. "Someone is bringing it back to me now."

"Okay," Jorge said. "Time is of the essence in situations like this. I'll

come get it right now. Where are you?"

"At the hospital, in the surgical ward," Ryan said. "Call me when you're

here and I'll come get you."

"Got it," he said. "I just need to get cleaned up and dressed."

"Sounds good," Ryan said. They ended the call, and Ryan dialed

another number from his card, hoping his old friend was somewhat

sober and still in the area. It only took two rings for him to answer.

"Yeah?" Bill Johnson growled.

"So, you really are alive," Ryan said. Bill Johnson was the old Army

buddy who recruited Ryan for "private" security work nearly 13 years

ago.

"Who the fuck is this?" Bill demanded.

"Is that any way to talk to an old friend? Especially one who saved your

ass over in Africa?" Ryan asked.

"Ryan Caldwell?" Bill asked. "Is that really you? I haven't seen you in

what, three years?"

"Try three and a half," Ryan said. "How are you getting along?"
"Doing alright, I guess," Bill said. "Retired after that mess in the Middle

East. Seems no one's interested in hiring someone missing part of a

leg."

"Yeah, I hear ya," Ryan said. "Listen, you think you can let me bend your

ear for a bit later today or tomorrow? I could use your help with

something."

"Sure," Bill said. "Got a case of beer sitting here just begging to be

opened."

"Okay, I'll call you later," Ryan said.

"You got it," Bill said. "Bye." They ended the call and Ryan went back to

Bob and Sarah. Elmer had just returned and handed him a DVD in a

plastic case.

"That shows the entire incident, from the time those two entered the

parking lot," he said.

"Good," Ryan said. "Thanks."

"The nurse came out a couple minutes ago, said the doctor would be out

shortly to let us know what's going on," Bob said. Ryan nodded his head.

A couple minutes later, the double door to the surgical suite opened, and

a doctor in a white smock walked over to them.

"Are you folks here for Lisa Knight?" he asked.

"We are," Sarah said. The doctor motioned for them to go into one of the

small conference rooms next to the waiting area. When they were all in

the room, the doctor closed the door.

"I'm Dr. Brown," he said. "I just wanted to let you know we've removed

the bullets from Ms. Knight and she's in recovery right now."

"How is she, doc?" Ryan asked.

"She's in a medically-induced coma right now," he said. "We want to give

her a chance to heal before we try to revive her."

"Is she gonna make it?" Ryan asked.

"I'm not going to sugar-coat this," Dr. Brown said. "We almost lost her a

couple times in the operating room. Her vitals are stable right now, but

she's still in critical condition. The next 24 to 48 hours will be crucial."

"Will she recover fully?" Elmer asked.

"It's impossible to say right now," the doctor said. "We won't know until

she regains consciousness."

"Is there anything we can do for her?" Bob asked.

"Right now, I'd say the best thing you can do is pray for her, if you

believe in that sort of thing," Dr. Brown said. Bob nodded his head in

understanding.

"When do you think we can see her?" Sarah asked.

"Probably not for a couple days yet," the doctor said. "After we move her

to ICU, you can come and stay with her."

"Do you have the bullets you took out her?" Ryan asked.

"Yes, we do, but they're going to the police," the doctor said.

"I'd like to see them, if you don't mind," Ryan said.

"Like I said, they're in evidence bags right now and will be delivered to

the police for analysis," Dr. Brown said.

"I wasn't making a request, doctor," Ryan said. "I won't take them out of

the evidence bags. I just want to see them." The doctor looked at Ryan,

shocked at his tone of voice. After a few moments, he nodded his head.

"Alright," he finally said. "Give me a minute and I'll bring them out."

"Thank you," Ryan said as the doctor left the room. He came back a

minute later with two bags, each carrying the remnants of a lead bullet.
He handed the bags to Ryan, who looked at them closely with his one

good eye.

"Small caliber round, probably a .32," Ryan said. "Not really much

stopping power. I can still see some paint embedded in the lead. Looks

like it ricocheted off something before it hit her, probably her car." He

handed the bags back to Dr. Brown. "Thank you," he told the doctor,

who took the bags and left the conference room.

"What do you make of that?" Elmer asked.

"Whoever did this is no professional," Ryan said. "I have a feeling we'll

never see the gun that was used. Probably a throw-away pistol that's

already been disassembled and disposed of by now. I'll know more once

the video's been looked at." Just then, his phone rang. He saw it was

Jorge, so he excused himself and took the call.

"I'm in the front lobby," Jorge said.

"I'll be right down," Ryan said before ending the call. He turned back to

the others. "I have to go to the lobby, then I'll be off to see a friend of

mine."

"Do you have a place to stay?" Bob asked.

"Not yet," Ryan said. "I came straight here from the airport."
"Why don't you stay with us?" he asked. "I know little Ryan would love to

see you."

"That sounds good, but I don't want to impose on you," Ryan said.

"It's no imposition," Sarah said. "We'd love to have you. Please?"

"Alright," Ryan said. Bob gave him the address and wrote directions on a

small piece of paper. Ryan tucked it in his pocket. "I don't know exactly

when I'll be there."

"That's alright," Sarah said. "We'll probably be up anyway."

"Okay," Ryan said. Elmer handed him his business card.

"If there's anything I can do, please let me know," he said. "Feel free to

call me any time."

"Thank you," Ryan said, shaking Elmer's hand. He gave Sarah a hug

and shook Bob's hand before leaving. He went to the lobby and saw

Jorge in the waiting area. Jorge stood up as he came over.

"Here's the video of the shooting," Ryan said.

"Good," Jorge said. "I'll get started on this right away. I'll call you the

second I know something. How's Lisa, by the way?"

"She's out of surgery and in recovery," Ryan said. "They're keeping her

in a medically-induced coma right now. The next day or two are critical."

"I'll keep her in my prayers," Jorge said. Ryan nodded his head.

"Thanks," he said. "I appreciate that."

"Any time, old friend," Jorge said. "I'd better get on this. Expect to hear

from me soon."

"Sounds good," Ryan said. After Jorge left, he pulled his phone out and

called Bill.

"You got a few minutes?" he asked his friend.

"Let me check my busy social calendar," Bill said. "Why, yes, I just

happen to have an opening. Come on over." Bill gave him directions and

they ended the call.

...

After finding the small trailer, Ryan stopped the car, got out and knocked

on the door. Bill opened the door and let him in.

"Damn," Bill said after they shook hands. "You've gotten better-looking

over the years," he added, pointing to the eye patch and the long jagged

scar.
"And I see you're getting around okay," Ryan said, laughing. Bill laughed

with him. He handed Ryan a beer and they sat in the front room of the

12x60 mobile home.

"Nice place you have here," Ryan said. Bill shrugged his shoulders.

"It'll do," he said. "It's paid for and it keeps me off the street. What's

going on in your world?" He listened as Ryan brought him up to speed

over the events of the last three years.

"Damn," Bill said when Ryan finished. "I heard that Jake was in a

wheelchair. They said it was muggers. I shoulda known you had a hand

in that. You think he's the one behind your ex getting shot?"

"I'm pretty certain of it," Ryan said. "I just can't prove it yet."

"You getting soft in your old age or something?" Bill asked.

"What do ya mean?" Ryan asked.

"I remember a time when you woulda just snapped his neck and left him

to rot," Bill said. Ryan laughed.

"I thought about it," he said. "But I figured it'd be better if he became

Bubba's bitch for the rest of his life. Besides, I have no desire to go to

jail, not even for killing a piece of shit like him."

"So, how did you work around this?" Bill asked, pointing at Ryan's eye

patch. "That had to play hell with your depth perception."

"It did," Ryan admitted. "But you know, I didn't just sit around with my

thumb up my ass for three years in Texas. I set up a workout area in my

garage, and got some help from a mixed martial arts teacher in town.

Wasn't easy, but it helped."

"Just curious, why didn't you just send that dossier of yours off once you

had all the information?" Bill asked.

"I wanted to personally confront Jake one time before the feds came

after him," Ryan said. "I'd been gaming that out for a few months when

my son-in-law showed up."

"So, Sarah's sickness gave you the opportunity you were looking for to

face Jake personally?" Bill asked.

"Yeah, something like that," Ryan said.

"What about your ex?" Bill asked. "Why do you care what happens to

her? Are you thinking about getting back with her or something?" Ryan

shook his head.

"No," he said. "That ship sailed a long time ago. I'm concerned about

Sarah and little Ryan. He needs his grandma, and she still needs her

mom."

"Little Ryan?" Bill said. Ryan pulled out his phone and showed Bill a

picture of his grandson.

"Handsome young man," Bill said. "So, what're you planning to do?"

"That depends," Ryan said. "I have someone going over video of the

shooting. I'm hoping he can identify the son of a bitch who pulled the

trigger."

"What then?" Bill asked.

"I plan to hunt him down and ask a few friendly questions," Ryan said.

"You need some backup?" Bill asked.

"I could use some, preferably from someone I can trust," Ryan said.

"Count me in, if that's okay with you," Bill said.

"I can't think of anyone I trust more," Ryan said. "And I'll pay you for your

time."

"Oh no you won't," Bill said. "I'm the one who got you into the business,

and you saved my ass a few times. I owe you this."

"As I recall, you saved my ass a time or two," Ryan said.

"What're friends for?" Bill asked, raising his beer. Ryan smiled, and

touched his beer to Bill's before taking a long drink. They spent the next

couple hours catching up. Finally, Ryan got up and shook his friend's

hand.

"I'd better get back to Sarah," he said. "I'll be in touch, probably

tomorrow."

"Sounds good," Bill said. "By the way, when was the last time you got

laid?"

"Been a while," Ryan said. "Why?"

"Well, I thought maybe you and I could go to this little place I know in

town one of these days," Bill said. "The girls are good-looking, clean and

a lot of fun, if you know what I mean."

"Sounds like fun. Let's see how things go," Ryan said.

"I'm holding you to that," Bill said. "Talk to you soon." Ryan left and went

back to Sarah and Bob's place. When he got there, he knocked on the

door. Bob answered and let him in.

"You don't have to knock," Bob said. "You're family, remember?"

"Thanks," Ryan said, walking into the house. He looked around at all the

pictures and knick-knacks in the room. The place seemed cozy, friendly.

Little Ryan came up to him, holding his arms out.

"Hold, Grandpa, please," the little boy begged. Ryan picked him up and

held him in his arms. For a moment, he was reminded of how he used to

hold Sarah when she was little.

"Listen, I have to get into the office early, so I'm going to hit the hay,"

Bob said. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Ryan said in response.

"Hi, Daddy," Sarah said when she came into the room. "I see little Ryan

found you. You can sit in the rocker with him if you want."

"Thanks," Ryan said, sitting down in the rocking chair next to the couch.

As he rocked, little Ryan put his arms around his neck and was asleep in

practically no time.

"I'll take him if you want," Sarah said.

"That's alright," Ryan said. "Let him stay for a bit if he wants." He looked

at his daughter and saw a tear form in her eye.

"I remember when you used to rock me to sleep like that," she said.
"Me, too," Ryan said. "Those were the happiest days of my life."

"Have you eaten yet?" she asked.

"No, I haven't," Ryan said.

"Why don't we get Ryan to bed and I'll get you something," she said. "I

hope you don't mind leftover goulash."

"Not at all," he said, standing up, little Ryan still in his arms, sound

asleep. They went to his room and Ryan laid him down, then covered

him up. Sarah kissed him on the cheek and turned to her father.

"He's my little angel," she said. "I don't know what I'd do without him."

"I know the feeling," Ryan said. They went downstairs and Sarah dished

out some goulash and put it in the microwave. She set it on the dinner

table with some silverware.

"What would you like to drink?" she asked. "I've got some Coke if that's

alright."

"That's perfect," Ryan said. She poured a glass of Coke and sat it on the

table in front of him before taking a seat across from him.

"I'm sorry I haven't asked before now, but how are you doing?" Ryan

asked after taking a bite.

"I'm doing much better, thanks," she said. "I've started back to work.

They put me on a reduced schedule, but at least I'm back in the game."

"What is it you do?" he asked.

"I'm a veterinarian," she said.

"Good," he said. "You always did have a soft spot for animals."

"I love working with them," she said. "Can we talk for a bit?" she asked

after a few moments.

"Sure," Ryan said. "What do you want to talk about?"

"When you were here last, you said you did a lot of travel overseas," she

said. "What were you doing, if you don't mind my asking. I know you said

you were a private security consultant."

"Not at all," Ryan said. "That's a fancy name for a hired gun. In short, I

was a mercenary."

"My God," she said. "That sounds dangerous."

"It could be," he said.

"Where did you go?" she asked.

"I was all over," he said. "Africa, South America, the Middle East.

Wherever there was someone causing trouble, basically."

"What do you do now?" she asked.

"Right now, I'm living off what I made those nine years," he said.

"You did that because of what Mom and I did to you?" she asked. He

shrugged his shoulders.

"Pretty much," he said. "I had nothing left here, so when I was offered

the job, I took it."

"But Mom said she left you everything in the divorce," Sarah said. "She

didn't even ask for support."

"It's true that your mother let me keep the house and the bank account

and it's true she never asked for any support," Ryan said. "But in reality,

she took everything that meant anything to me. Namely, the two of you.

The rest was just stuff, and that can all be replaced. I couldn't replace

you."

"I remember what you said the day we left," Sarah said, a tear falling

down her cheek. "You must've hated us for that."

"I did," Ryan said. "For a very long time. In fact, the two of you were

basically dead to me for over ten years. As far as I was concerned, I had

no family -- nothing. And nothing to live for. After this," he said, pointing
to his scar and patch, "all I could think of was getting revenge." Sarah

wiped her face as tears flowed down her face.

"You said you forgave me, though, remember?" she said.

"Yes, after I read your old letters," Ryan said. "Tell me, how was your life

with Jake? I remember reading in the paper he wanted to adopt you."

"Yeah, well, he was told he'd have to get your permission first.

Personally, I think he just said that for the article. Anyway, life with Jake

seemed exciting at first," she said. "He took us to the south of France,

then I went to that school in the northeast. I came home a few times

every year on break and during holidays. Jake always gave me

expensive gifts. A car, cell phone, computer, you name it. Everything top

of the line and brand new. He always made sure to tell me that you

could never afford to give me what he did. But it just wasn't the same."

"What do you mean?" Ryan asked.

"Jake isn't an easy man to be with," she said. "He's great at buying

things, but he's not exactly father material, if you know what I mean. We

never really bonded, and after a while, I saw right through him. I got to

the point I couldn't stand to be around him anymore. Or Mom."

"Did he ever molest you?" Ryan asked.

"No, but he was very creepy," she said. "He would make little comments

now and then, and I didn't like the way he looked at me."

"I read that in your letters," Ryan said.

"I used to daydream about you coming back and kicking his ass," she

said. Ryan chuckled at that. "It was you who put him in a wheelchair,

wasn't it? Bob never told me what happened that day." He looked at her

for a few moments before responding.

"Yeah, it was me," he said.

"I'm glad you did that," she said. "Served the bastard right."

"Well, you won't get any argument from me," Ryan said.

"You think he's responsible for what happened to Mom, don't you?" she

asked.

"Yes," he said. "I just can't prove it yet. But I will."

"What will you do then?" she asked.

"I don't know yet," he said. "But I did make a promise and I fully intend to

see it through, one way or another."

"I probably don't want to know what that promise is, do I?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"No," he said.

"Do you think you and Mom will ever get back together?" she asked.

"No," he said. "She betrayed me once in the worst way a woman can

betray someone she claims to love. I won't let that happen again.

Besides, I've changed over the years. I'm not the same man I was 12

years ago. And I'm not looking to get into another relationship."

"Will you promise me something, Dad?" she asked.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Will you promise to at least be there for her? As a friend if nothing

else?" she asked.

"I'll try," he said after a few moments. "It won't be easy, though. She hurt

me worse than you can ever imagine."

"I understand," she said.

"Will you promise me something?" he asked.

"What's that?" she asked in response.

"Promise me you'll never do to Bob what your mother did to us?" he

asked.

"I'll never hurt him, Dad. Ever," she said. "He's stuck with me for life."
"Good," Ryan said. "Remember, you'll never be too old for me to put you

over my knee."

"I believe that," she said with a smile. "I'd better get to bed now. I'll be up

early making breakfast. Good night."

"Good night, princess," he said. He finished his meal, then stepped

outside for a cigarette, using the butt can Bob had placed on the deck,

then went to bed.

The next morning, he awoke to the smell of bacon. He did his morning

routine, showered, dressed and went downstairs.

"Bob's already left for work," Sarah said as she put the food on the table.

"After breakfast, I'll take little Ryan to my mom's then I'll head over to the

hospital."

"Sounds good," Ryan said as he poured his coffee. "I hope to hear

something from Jorge on the video I gave him yesterday."

"You really think that will lead to something?" she asked.

"I think so," Ryan said. "If anybody can glean anything from it, he can."

They sat down to eat, and Ryan's phone buzzed the second he finished.

He looked, and saw it was Jorge.

"Good morning," he said when he answered. "You're up early. You got

something for me?"

"Yeah, I do," Jorge said. "Can you get to my office this morning?"

"Absolutely," Ryan said. "Just finished breakfast. I'll be right over."

"See ya when you get here," Jorge said, ending the call.

"What'd I tell ya?" Ryan asked Sarah.

"He found something?" she asked.

"Sure did," Ryan said. "I'm heading over there now. Call me if you get

any news on your mother, okay?"

"I will, Dad," she said. "Love you."

"Love you, too," he said. He gave little Ryan a hug, then headed out. He

got to Jorge's office and went inside.

"So, what'd you find?" Ryan asked.

"I can tell you who pulled the trigger," Jorge said. "I can't identify the

driver, though."

"Well, that's a start," Ryan said. "Who is he?"

"A street punk who goes by the name, 'Tyrone J.' Thinks it gives him

standing with the other street punks, I guess," Jorge said. "His real name

is Timothy J. Scroggins. Dropped out of high school and hangs with a

bunch of real bad apples."

"Sounds like you've run across him before," Ryan said.

"Yeah, I busted him a few times when I was on the force," Jorge said.

"Drugs, mostly. He's got an arrest record that goes back 10, 12 years.

Never been convicted of anything, though. I know he lives in his

mother's basement, so he shouldn't be too hard to find. If you watch the

video, you can see the car pull up to the gate and the driver punching a

code on the keypad."

"Someone on the inside had to give them that code, then," Ryan said.

"My thoughts exactly," Jorge said.

"Something I don't get," Ryan said. "The police have this same video.

Why haven't they arrested this clown yet?"

"Truthfully?" Jorge asked.

"Yeah, truthfully," Ryan said.

"In case you haven't been watching the news lately, there's been a lot of

riots across the country these last few months," Jorge said. "Mayor and
the city council are afraid it'll start up here, so they've been slowly

reducing the police budget and turning a blind eye to petty criminals like

Scroggins. I've heard that up to 20 percent of the force has quit because

of it, which means they don't have the manpower to investigate anything

like this." Ryan shook his head.

"That sucks," he said.

"Yeah, it does," Jorge said in agreement. "So, what do you want to do?"

"I wanna talk to this Tyrone clown and see what he has to say," Ryan

said. "Preferably while his mother's not at home."

"Well, she works during the day, and he normally isn't out and about until

sometime in the afternoon," Jorge said.

"Perfect," Ryan said.

"Want me to come with you?" Jorge asked.

"If you want," Ryan said. "But I can guarantee you I won't play by the

rules."

"I kinda figured that," Jorge said.

"There's one other person I'd like to bring with us," Ryan said. "An old

buddy of mine I used to serve with."

"Okay," Jorge said. "You're calling the shots." Ryan nodded his head,

pulled out his phone and called Bill.

"Hey," Bill said. "What's up?"

"Wanna come visit our trigger man with me?" Ryan asked.

"Hell yeah," Bill said. "Mind if I bring my AR?"

"Why not," Ryan said. "We'll be by in about a half hour. Make sure you

grab some duct tape and zip ties."

"Will do, boss. See ya then," Bill said. After ending the call, Ryan

motioned for Jorge to follow him. They got in Ryan's rented vehicle and

drove to Bill's trailer. Ryan honked his horn as soon as he pulled up, and

watched as Bill came out of the trailer with his rifle and a backpack.

"Holy fuck," Jorge said. "Are you seriously going to let him carry that

thing around?"

"He knows what he's doing," Ryan said. "Trust me." Bill opened a back

door and got in. Ryan saw the AR had a bump stock attached to it.

"Is that thing legal?" he asked his friend.

"You mean the stock?" Bill asked. "Probably not. I don't care though.

That's my 'Mob Control Device.' You know, just in case they make it up

this way."

"Well, there's only one guy we're going after, so I doubt you'll need it,"

Ryan said.

"Better safe than sorry, I say," Bill said with a chuckle. Ryan smiled and

pulled out.

"So, where are we going?" Ryan asked.

"Fifth and Emerson," Jorge said. "Just get back on the main road to town

and I'll tell you when to turn."

"Okay," Ryan said. He knew the basic area, since the block wasn't too

far from where he and Lisa used to live. They finally made it to

Tyrone/Timmy's address and sat in the car a just across the street.

Jorge looked at his watch.

"His mother should be gone to work by now, assuming she still has the

same schedule," he said. "How do you want to play this?"

"You and I will go to the front door, Jorge," he said. "Bill will circle around

and enter through the back. You bring your lock pick kit?" he asked Bill.

"Never leave home without it," Bill said from the back seat.
"Good," Ryan said. "Don't forget your backpack."

"Not a problem, boss," Bill said.

"Okay," Ryan said. "Bill, why you get out first and we'll give you some

time to make it around back. And for God's sake, try to keep that rifle

concealed. I don't want nosy neighbors freaking out and calling the cops.

Remember, the idea is to get Timmy between us."

"Got it," Bill said, opening the door. As they watched, Bill quickly worked

his way to the back door. They didn't see any movement from the other

houses, so they got out and walked calmly to the front door. Looking in

the window, they could see clear through the house and noticed that Bill

had made it to the door. Ryan knocked on the door, then rang the bell.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," they heard Timmy shout from inside. He

opened the door, wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans that hung

below his waistline, revealing the top of his boxers. It was a look that

disgusted Ryan to no end.

"Yeah," Timmy said. "Whaddya want?"

"We want some answers, Timmy," Ryan said. "Or is it Tie-Rone," he

added, mispronouncing Timmy's street name on purpose.

"Get the fuck outta here, cracker, before I bus' you up," Timmy sneered.

Ryan chuckled and looked at Jorge.

"You hear the racist shit comin' outta this boy's mouth, Jorge?" he

asked. "Maybe we outta wash his mouth out with soap." Jorge chuckled

at that. Ryan turned back to Timmy.

"Boy," he said. "Have you looked in the mirror lately? You're about three

shades whiter than I am." Ryan saw Timmy start to pull a switchblade

out of his jeans. He shook his head.

"Unless you're real hungry and wanna eat that toadsticker, boy, you'd

best leave it the fuck alone," Ryan said. Timmy hesitated for a moment.

"Unless you want a bullet in the back of yer head, you'd best do as yer

told," Bill said from behind Timmy. Scared and surprised, Timmy let go

of the blade and put his hands at his side.

"Why don't you do the neighborly thing and invite us inside," Ryan said.

"Uh, yeah, okay," Timmy said. "Come on in." He stepped back so Ryan

and Jorge could enter the room. "Are you like, police or something?"

Timmy asked.

"Something," Ryan said. "We have questions. You have answers. And

yer gonna give 'em to us."

"Maybe I outta just have my home boys cap yo' ass," Timmy said, trying

to act tough. Ryan chuckled and turned to Bill.

"A tough guy, huh? How many little wannabe tough guys like this you

reckon we've killed over the last 12 years?" he asked.

"I don't know, boss," Bill said. "I've lost count. Offhand, I'd say about

400."

"400, huh?" Ryan asked rhetorically. "That sounds about right. So, Tie-

Rone, how'd you like to be number 401?"

"Look," Timmy said, clearly scared, "I don't know shit. And I don't know

who you guys are. What the fuck is this about?"

"Sit down, Timmy," Ryan said. Timmy sat down on the couch. Ryan sat

next to him as Jorge stood in front of him. Bill stood to the opposite side,

his AR pointed in Timmy's general direction. "Who we are doesn't

matter. The fact that there's three of us to your one, and the fact that one

of us has a very itchy trigger finger because he hasn't killed anyone in

three years, should be all that matters to you right now. Like I said, we

have questions. You have answers. So, we're going to ask you some

questions. Then you're going to give us the answers. You do that, and

you live. Got it?"

Timmy looked at the three men and nodded his head.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you," Ryan said.

"Yes," Timmy said.

"Good," Ryan said. "Now, tell us what you know about a woman who

was shot over at Knight Petroleum a couple days ago."

"I don't know nothing 'bout no woman getting' shot at Knight Petroleum,"

Timmy said. Jorge pulled out an enlarged photo and set it on the coffee

table so Timmy could see it. They could clearly see Timmy's face and

his arm out the window of the car, holding a small pistol sideways.

"Bullshit, Timmy," he said. "We have video. That's you with your head

half out the window, and that's your hand holding a pistol."

"Tell me, Tie-Rone," Ryan said. "Where the fuck did you learn to hold a

gun? Watching the movies? You know, if anyone working for me ever

held a sidearm like that, I'd shoot 'em myself." Bill chuckled.

"Okay, so it was me," Timmy said. "So fucking what?"

"Someone paid you and gave you that gun," Ryan said. "I wanna know

know who and I wanna know right fucking now."

"Or what?" Timmy asked.

"Or else, I'm gonna have to start slicing you into tiny little pieces," Ryan

said. "Surely, you wouldn't want to get blood all over your mother's

house, would you?"

"Okay, okay," Timmy said. "I'll tell you what you wanna know."

"Good answer," Ryan said.

"Okay, so, this dude comes up to me one day and says someone he

knows has a job for me," Timmy said.

"This dude," Ryan said. "He have a name?"

"He never told me," Timmy said.

"What'd he look like?" Ryan asked.

"An older dude, I don't know," Timmy said. "He had an expensive suit,

wore sunglasses and a hat of some kind."

"What'd the hat look like?" Ryan asked. "Was it like mine?"

"No," Timmy said. Ryan pulled out his phone and brought up a web site

that sold all kinds of hats. He showed it to Timmy.

"What'd the hat look like?" he asked. Timmy looked and pointed at one

style. Ryan read the caption: Ivy and Flat Caps. "What color was it?"

Ryan asked.
"Grey, with some red stripes," Timmy said.

"What else did you notice about this guy?" Ryan asked. "Did he have a

beard or a mustache? Did he have an accent?"

"Yeah, he had a big cheesy mustache, kinda like that guy on television,

John something-or-another," Timmy said. "I don't know his whole name.

My mom watches Fox News all the time and I saw him there."

"Okay, what else?" Ryan asked.

"He had a slight accent, I think it was either British or Australian, I don't

know," Timmy said. Using his phone, Ryan went to the Knight Petroleum

website and looked through the pages that highlighted the executives

and members of the board. He found an older man sporting a big

mustache and wire frame glasses. He showed the picture to Timmy.

"This look like the guy?" he asked.

"Yeah, that kinda looks like him," Timmy said. Ryan read the bio

associated with the picture. The man was identified as Colin Blackstone,

and, the bio noted, he came to the United States from London when he

was 15 years old. That would explain the accent, Ryan thought.

"What happened then?" Ryan asked.

"Well, he took me to the lockup downtown and had me talk to some guy

they were holding," Timmy said.

"Was this guy in a wheelchair?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah, he was," Timmy said. Ryan pulled up a picture of Jake and

showed it to Timmy.

"Is this the guy?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah, that's him," Timmy said.

"What'd he tell you?" Ryan asked.

"Well, he wanted to know if I would like to make $10,000," Timmy said. "I

said, sure. So he told me to follow the first dude's instructions and if I did

a good job, he might have more work for me. Then the other guy takes

me down to the river and parks behind this other car. He told me to get

in the back seat on the driver's side and I would find instructions. I did

what he said and found a briefcase with some money, a picture of some

woman and a gun. The instructions said I was to do as the driver said

and put a couple rounds in the woman, then I'd get the rest of the

money.

"So we drove to this gate, and the driver punches in a code or something

and it opened up. We went into the parking lot and waited for about a
half-hour. Then this woman comes out and just as she was getting into

her car, the driver tells me to get ready. I did, and we drove by her. I put

the gun out the window and got off a couple shots real quick, then the

driver takes off through the gate. I saw the woman go down, but I didn't

know how bad she was hurt.

"We went back to the river where the other dude was waiting. He told me

to take the gun apart and toss it in the river, so I did. Then he gave me

another briefcase and told me to get lost. Said he'd be in touch if he had

another job," Timmy said.

"Did you ever get a look at the driver?" Ryan asked. Timmy shook his

head.

"No, never," he said. "He wore a baseball cap, sunglasses and a face

mask. I never got a look at his face."

"Where's the money now?" Ryan asked.

"Downstairs, under my bed," Timmy said.

"I'll go take a look," Jorge said. After he left, Ryan turned back to Timmy.

"You know how to write, boy?" he asked.

"Yeah, I ain't stupid, you know," Timmy said.

"Right," Ryan said. "You're going to write down what you just told me,

got it?" Timmy nodded his head. Ryan picked up a notepad sitting on an

end table and a pen. He placed the pad in front of Timmy and handed

him the pen. "Start writing," he told Timmy. He watched as Timmy wrote

down what he told Ryan.

Jorge came back up, carrying two briefcases. He set them down and

opened them up so Ryan and Bill could see the contents. One case still

held the photo of Lisa and a printed document with the directions Timmy

was to follow. Both cases held a large amount of cash.

"Is all the money still here?" Ryan asked Timmy.

"Most of it," Timmy said. "I bought some weed and stuff for my bros."

"You about finished with that?" he asked. Timmy nodded his head and

handed Ryan the paper. Ryan looked it over. It was hard to read, with

the numerous misspellings and lack of punctuation, but he could see

that Timmy had written down pretty much what he had told them. He

handed the confession to Jorge, who looked it over. When he finished

reading it, he folded it up and put it in his folder, then turned to Timmy.

"Alright, stand up and turn around, hands behind your back," he said.
"What?" Timmy asked. "You said if I told you everything I'd live. I told

you everything I know."

"You'll live," Jorge said. "I never introduced myself. I happen to be a

reserve deputy sheriff and I'm placing you under arrest for the attempted

murder of Lisa Knight." He pulled out his handcuffs and put them on

Timmy as he read his Miranda rights. "Do you understand those rights

as I have explained them?" he asked Timmy when he was finished.

"Yeah," Timmy said, his face downcast.

"Good," Jorge said. "Now, we're gonna take you down and you're going

to have a chat with some very nice policemen about what you did,

understand?"

"I understand," Timmy said.

"And remember," Ryan said. "You never saw me or my partner. Got it?

You mention one word and I promise you, mine will be the last face you

ever see on this earth."

"I got it," Timmy said.

"Let's go," Jorge said. They left through the front door and quickly made

it to Ryan's car. Bill and Jorge got in the back, squeezing Timmy in the

middle. When they got to the police station, Ryan turned to face Timmy.
"This is where you get off, Timmy," he said.

"That woman," Timmy said. "Who was she to you? Why do you care

what happened to her?"

"That woman was my daughter's mother," Ryan said. He looked at the

cross dangling from Timmy's neck. "You believe in God, boy?"

"Yes, sir, I do," Timmy said quietly.

"Then you'd better pray to your God that the woman you shot lives,"

Ryan said. "If she dies, so help me God, I'll do everything in my power to

make sure you die, too. Got it?"

"I got it," Timmy said. "I'm sorry, man. Really, I am."

"Just remember, you never saw the two us," Ryan said, indicating

himself and Bill.

"Never," Timmy said.

"I'll take care of Timmy from here," Jorge said.

"Need a ride back?" Ryan asked.

"No, thanks anyway," Jorge said. "My office is just up the street a couple

blocks."
"We have one more stop to make," Ryan said. "I'll be in touch. Thanks

for everything."

"Just wait till you get my bill," Jorge said with a laugh. They watched as

Jorge escorted Timmy to the police station, then pulled out.

"Where to now?" Bill asked.

"Knight Petroleum," Ryan said. When they arrived, Ryan pulled out his

phone and placed a call.

"Elmer Jenkins," the man at the other end said when he answered the

call.

"Mr. Jenkins, this is Ryan Caldwell. We met at the hospital," Ryan said.

"Of course, Mr. Caldwell," Elmer said. "I remember. What can I do for

you?"

"I have some information regarding the attempt on her life, and I need to

talk to you about it," Ryan said.

"Good," Elmer said. "When would you like to meet."

"Right now," Ryan said. "It involves a member of your board."

"Well then, I guess we had better meet. The sooner the better. Please

come on up," he said.

"Thank you, Mr. Jenkins," Ryan said. "I'll be right up." He ended the call

and looked at Bill. "Is it just me, or did he sound a bit... off?" Ryan asked.

"What are you saying?" Bill asked.

"I have a feeling there's a lot more going on here," Ryan said. "You have

your phone on you?"

"Of course," Bill said. "Also have my backup in the bag. Why?"

"Can you record calls on your phone?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah," Bill said.

"Good," Ryan said. "I'm going to call your phone. I want you to listen and

record everything that's said. If you sense anything going wrong, I want

you to call Jorge, then call the FBI."

"You think this is a trap?" Bill asked.

"Sure smells like one to me," Ryan said. "I'm going to keep the keys to

the car here, just in case you have to make a hasty retreat."

"Okay," Bill said. "You think they'd actually try to take you here? In their

own executive suites?"

"They tried to murder Lisa in their executive parking lot, didn't they?"

Ryan asked.
"I see your point," Bill said.

"I'm going in now," Ryan said. "Keep your eyes and ears open, okay?"

"Will do, boss," Bill said. Ryan dialed Bill's phone and waited for him to

answer. Bill started the recording as Ryan got out of the car. Bill watched

as Ryan made his way to the front of the building. He went inside and

consulted the board in the front lobby, looking for Elmer Jenkins. He

found what he was looking for and walked to the line of elevators,

noticing that only one went to the floor Jenkins was on.

"Excuse me, sir," a man at the front desk said, getting Ryan's attention.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm here to see Elmer Jenkins," Ryan said. "He's expecting me." The

man looked miffed as he took in the tall, lanky cowboy with the scarred

face and eye patch.

"And you are?" the man asked, his voice dripping with condescension.

"Ryan Caldwell," Ryan said.

"One moment, please," the man said, picking up a phone. Ryan heard

him talking to someone for a moment. He put the phone back down and

handed Ryan a blank white card. "You'll need this to access the

elevator," he said.
"Thanks," Ryan said, taking the card. He walked to the elevator and held

the card in front of the reader. The doors slid open and Ryan stepped

inside. After the doors closed, the elevator automatically began its

ascent.

When the elevator stopped, the doors opened. Ryan looked around,

halfway expecting to see security guards. Instead, he saw a rather

attractive blonde receptionist sitting alone at a large desk. She looked up

as he walked toward her.

"Ryan Caldwell to see Elmer Jenkins," he said.

"Good day, Mr. Caldwell," she said with a smile. "Mr. Jenkins is

expecting you. Please follow me." He followed her through a set of

double doors and down a hallway to a large office. After opening the

door, she announced Ryan's presence.

"Ah, Mr. Caldwell, please come in," Elmer said. Ryan walked in and

looked around. He saw no guards but stayed on the alert. "Have a seat,"

Elmer said as the receptionist left. Ryan sat, and finding the chair was

on wheels, turned so that he could keep an eye on the door.

"Always vigilant, eh, Mr. Caldwell?" Elmer said with a smile. "I guess

that's helped keep you alive all these years, isn't it? You know, I've kept

an eye on you for quite a while now. Impressive record. Bronze Star,
Silver Star, Purple Heart, Combat Infantryman Badge. You're

commendations are rather impressive. It's really a shame you decided to

go private after all that. You would've made quite an asset to our team."

"Sorry to disappoint," Ryan said. Elmer shrugged his shoulders.

"No problem," Elmer said. "I guess I can understand why you did what

you did. No doubt you were hurting after what Jake did to you and your

family."

"So you know about that?" Ryan asked.

"Of course," Elmer said. "I didn't get to be the Chairman of the Board by

just sitting on my ass, you know. I know everything that goes in in this

company. It's my job to know. Just like I knew about those moles you

recruited. Oh, don't look so surprised. That took balls, by the way. They

found exactly what I wanted them to find. Oh yes, it's all legit. But thanks

to Lisa, most of that has been mitigated by now. We might have to pay a

fine or suffer a slap on the wrist by the SEC, but that's minor. That's just

regular business for us.

"What you don't know is that Jake wasn't the only one to sample what

your ex-wife has to offer. Or I should say, had to offer," he said.

"What are you talking about?" Ryan asked. Elmer opened a desk drawer

and pulled out a DVD. He tossed it to Ryan who caught it in mid-air.

"Those are just the highlights, if you will," Elmer said with a smirk. "Or

lowlights if you prefer."

"Did you..." Ryan began.

"Of course," Elmer said. "Along with most everyone else on the board.

Women included. Lisa was quite the wild child. Always the life of the

party. Espeially at our annual summer retreats. She and some of the

board even thought about including your daughter after she came of

age. Of course, most of that stopped after she married Jake. It's one

thing to cuckold an outsider like you, a lowly mechanic, but it's

something else again to do it to the CEO behind his back."

"Then why have her shot?" Ryan asked quietly, his stomach in knots by

these new revelations. He wanted to choke the life out of this guy, but he

knew he'd never get out of the building alive if he did. "You already had

control of her."

"I don't think you quite understand the big picture," Elmer said. "Take a

look out there," he added, motioning to the city far below. "Know what

you see down there? Commerce, my boy. Commerce and trade, all

made possible by us and other companies like us. You see, oil is the
engine that drives the economies of every nation on earth. Hundreds of

millions of people, all working because of the energy industry. Without it,

you'd be poor, dumb, blind and naked. You wouldn't even have the

buttons on that shirt you're wearing."

"What's that got to do with shooting Lisa or trying to kill me?" Ryan said.

"Let me explain it this way," Elmer said. "You're a mechanic. You

understand how engines work. Everything has to be just right for that

engine to work. If something breaks, the engine doesn't work and the car

doesn't run like it should. As a mechanic, it's your job to find the part that

doesn't work and replace it. The world is a lot like that. You see, we're all

parts of a great global engine. When everything fits like it should and

everyone does as they should, things work.

"But when one of those parts stops working like it should, it needs to be

taken out and replaced," Elmer said. "Jake screwed up. He was

replaced, and you, unwittingly, helped make that happen. Lisa also

screwed up. Some of her ideas were a bit too progressive for some

people's tastes.

"You see, there are some who think companies like ours are evil and

need to be destroyed. Some even want to take us all back to the Stone
Age where we live in caves, wear animal skins and eat whatever we can

catch or gather. Humanity just doesn't work like that, my boy.

"I will admit, though, having a woman at the helm, at least for a while,

gave us more capital than we anticipated, especially with some on

Capitol Hill. That, believe it or not, means more than money in some

circles."

"So you wanted her killed because she's something of an

environmentalist," Ryan said. "What, you have a problem with clean air

and clean water?"

"Not at all," Elmer said. "I'll match our environmental record with anyone.

Truth is, the folks who think they can replace oil with wind and solar

power are living in a dream world. It'll never happen, at least not in my

lifetime. Probably not in your grandson's lifetime."

"So, why have her killed?" Ryan asked.

"Well, it was mostly a business decision, but we came to an agreement

with Jake," Elmer said. "He had a lot to lose with the divorce and the

charges against you. So we came to a gentleman's agreement, if you

will."

"And Colin Blackstone helped arrange it," Ryan said.

"He played his role, and did so remarkably well," Elmer said.

"Unfortunately, a family emergency forced him to leave the country in

something of a hurry."

"Sorry to hear that," Ryan said.

"I'll pass that on. It was rather unfortunate," Elmer said.

"I'm sure it was," Ryan said.

"Let me give you a bit of friendly advise, Mr. Caldwell," Elmer said,

leaning forward in a vain attempt to intimidate Ryan. "A smart soldier like

you knows when it's time to charge and when it's time to back up and

regroup. This is a fight you can't win, and you know it. So, why don't you

just go back to that nice little hacienda of yours in Texas. You got

enough money to live comfortably the rest of your life. Enjoy your golden

years. Who knows. Maybe you'll meet a nice woman. And don't piss in

my soup again. I'd hate to see something happen to that cute daughter

of yours, and that nice little grandson."

"Well, Mr. Jenkins, I thought you were a smarter man than that," Ryan

said.

"What are you talking about?" Elmer said.

"You should know the worst thing you can do is threaten a man's family,"

Ryan said. "I'll take your advise under consideration, but you need to

know one thing. You fuck with my family -- you even think about fucking

with my family, and I'll give you a war the likes of which you won't fucking

believe. And you know I can do it." Elmer looked hard at Ryan for a few

moments before smiling.

"Fair enough, Ryan," he said. "And I'll make sure that if Lisa gets through

this, she'll be well taken care of for the rest of her life." He stood and

extended a hand. Ryan looked at it for a few moments, then took Elmer's

hand in his. As they shook, Elmer squeezed his hand. Ryan knew what

he was trying to do and squeezed harder. Elmer looked at Ryan and for

a moment, felt as though he was looking into the face of death itself. He

recalled the line spoken by Marc Antony in Shakespeare's Julius

Caesar: "Cry havoc! And let slip the dogs of war."

Ryan saw the discomfort on Elmer's face and released his hand. Elmer

looked at him and felt fear for the first time in many years. Perhaps, he

thought, they made a huge mistake going after this man and his family.

"Well, then," Elmer said. "I take it we have an agreement."

"Reckon so," Ryan said coldly, not wanting to give Elmer so much as a

hint of what he was thinking.

"Good," Elmer said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." Ryan

nodded his head.

"Me too," he said. "Y'all have a nice day, y'hear?" he said, touching the

brim of his beat-up Stetson. He turned and left the office, leaving Elmer

to wonder if perhaps he had just made a big mistake crossing swords

with the man he once dismissed as an uneducated grease monkey.

After he left the building, he took the phone out of his pocket.

"You catch all that?" he asked Bill.

"Sure did," Bill said in response. Ryan ended the call, and turned off his

phone. He got in the car and looked at his friend.

"What do ya think?" he asked.

"Shit's gotten pretty deep," Bill said. Ryan nodded his head.

"I agree," he said, taking the battery out of his phone.

"What are ya doing?" Bill asked.

"I get the feeling they knew everything I've been doing for the last six

months," he said. "You know anyone who's an expert with phones?"

"Yeah, I know someone," Bill said. "Best damn hacker in the business.

Got his own storefront down on Main Street. You think your phone's

been bugged or something?"

"Something," Ryan said. "Let's go. I wanna talk to your friend." They

pulled out and Ryan followed Bill's directions to a strip mall on Main

Street. They saw a small store advertising computer and phone repair

and parked in front of it.

"Let me see your phone real quick," Ryan said. Bill handed him his

phone. "You got that call recorded and saved on here?" he asked.

"Yeah, why?" Bill asked in response.

"I wanna send it off to someone," Ryan said. "Here's his email address,"

he added, handing Bill the card he got from FBI Special Agent Smith.

"You want to send this to the FBI?" Bill asked, confused.

"Absolutely," Ryan said. "Then I wanna talk to him."

"Okay," Bill said as he put the email together. He sent it to the address

on the card and handed Ryan the phone. Ryan made the call and waited

for Smith to answer.

"Smith," the man on the other end said when he answered.

"Agent Smith, this is Ryan Caldwell," Ryan said.

"Caldwell," Smith said. "I was just thinking about you."

"Look, I just sent you a recorded phone call," Ryan said. "It's a recording

of a meeting I just had with Elmer Jenkins."

"The Chairman of the Board of Knight Petroleum?" Smith asked.

"One and the same," Ryan said.

"I think you'll find it... interesting," Ryan said. "I don't know if it can be

used as evidence, but maybe you can get it to whoever's prosecuting

Jake Knight. My name isn't on the email, by the way."

"I see something just came in," Smith said. "Alright, I'll check it out. Did

he threaten you?"

"You could say that," Ryan said. "He said a few other things you might

find enlightening."

"I see," Smith said. "You're not going to do anything stupid are you? I am

aware of your background, you know."

"I won't do anything unless I'm forced to," Ryan said.

"Uh huh," Smith said. "Leave this to the pros, Mr. Caldwell. This isn't

some third-world country, you know."

"I know," Ryan said. "And I promise to let the pros do their job. One last

thing."

"What's that?" Smith asked.

"Jenkins threatened my family," Ryan said. "I want round-the-clock

protection on them. Starting today. That includes my son-in-law's

parents. Will you do that?"

"I can make some calls," Smith said. "I'll get it taken care of. Anything

else?"

"That's it for now," Ryan said.

"Alright," Smith said, not completely convinced Ryan would back off.

"We'll be in touch. Bye." The call ended, Ryan handed Bill's phone back

and got out of the car. They walked into the store and Bill introduced him

to the young, long-haired man behind the counter. He didn't look to be

more than 18 or 19 years old.

"Ryan, this is Greg Hamilton, the best in the business," Bill said. "Greg,

this is my good friend, Ryan Caldwell." The young man extended his

hand and shook Ryan's hand.

"Good to meet you, Mr. Caldwell," Greg said. "What can I do for you?"
"I'd like my phone checked out," Ryan said as he put the battery back in

and unlocked it.

"Is it giving you trouble?" Greg asked.

"I think it's been bugged or something," Ryan said. "Can you tell if it

has?"

"Yeah," Greg said, shrugging his shoulders. "Let me take a look." Ryan

handed the phone and watched as Greg's fingers flew over the screen.

"Holy fuck," Greg said when he was finished.

"What's wrong?" Ryan asked.

"Oh, your phone has been hacked alright," Greg said. "It's probably been

cloned as well. It's full of spyware and there's a hidden app that's

designed to record and transcribe your calls."

"What?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah," Greg said. "Some companies use an app like this if they suspect

someone of corporate espionage or something. It records everything you

do -- texts, emails, photos, videos, calls -- literally everything. Then it

transcribes the calls into a text file and uploads it all to the cloud."

"The cloud?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah, the Internet," Greg said. "Or to be more precise, to a server

somewhere on the Internet."

"Well, can you unclone it?" Ryan asked. "Can you get rid of all that

stuff?"

"Yeah," Greg said. "The app has the server address and the credentials.

The server address and the username is easy to see, but the password

is encrypted. I can get through that, though. I might even be able to

delete whatever they've copied. It's gonna take me a while, though.

There's a lot to do and I'll need to get in touch with your carrier to see if

it's been cloned. They can block the cloned device if it has. Can I hang

on to it overnight?"

"Yeah," Ryan said. He pulled a roll of cash out of a money belt around

his waist and peeled off ten $100 bills. "Think this will cover it?" Greg

nodded his head and took the bills.

"Yeah, it'll more than cover it," he said. "If you come back by in the

morning, I'll have it ready for you, clean as the day it was made."

"Thanks," Ryan said, shaking Greg's hand. They said their goodbyes

and left.

"You think Lisa set that all up?" Bill asked.

"She's the one who gave it to me the last time I was in town," Ryan said.

"I remember she told me she had already set it up for my area code and

had already programmed some numbers in it for me. At this point, I don't

know what to believe."

"So, what are ya gonna do now?" Bill asked.

"Elmer made a good point," Ryan said. "A smart soldier knows when it's

time to back up and regroup. I think maybe that's exactly what we should

do."

"You're going back home, then?" Bill asked.

"For now," Ryan said. "I'll need to talk to Jorge first. I'll do that tomorrow.

I'll talk to the kids tonight. I'll let Elmer think he's got the upper hand, at

least for a while. That'll also give the feds time to do their work."

"Want me to reach out to the old team?" Bill asked. "You know they'd do

anything for you."

"Yeah, do that," Ryan said. "I'll be in touch, probably after I've gotten

back home. Once I've had a chance to wrap my head around all this shit,

I'll set up a meeting, probably at my place."

"Okay," Bill said. "Let's do it, then." Ryan started the car and took his old

friend home, then went back to Sarah and Bill's house. He saw Sarah's
car in the driveway and parked behind it. Walking in the house, he saw

her in the kitchen.

"Hey, princess," he said. "How's it going?"

"Not too bad," she said. "Bob's still at work and little Ryan is at his folk's

house. I'm just trying to head start on everything before tonight."

"How's your mother?" he asked.

"No improvement from yesterday," she said. "The doctor said they'll

probably keep her under for another couple weeks. Hopefully, the

swelling will go down by then. Is everything alright with you?"

"Not really," Ryan said. "I need to talk with you for a few minutes. This

whole thing is a lot worse than I originally thought."

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Turns out your mother's attack was planned and carried out by her own

board of directors. They paid some punk $10,000 to take her out," he

said.

"What?" Sarah asked, shocked.

"Yeah," Ryan said. "We got the punk. He confessed and we turned him

over to the police. I also met with Elmer Jenkins today," he said. "He

gave me this," he added, tossing the DVD on the coffee table.

"What's that?" she asked.

"He called it 'highlights' of her time as Jake's company-paid whore,"

Ryan said. "Did you know anything about that?"

"No, I didn't," she said. "Have you looked at the DVD?" she asked. Ryan

shook his head.

"Not yet," he said. "I don't know that I want to."

"Maybe we should, just to get an idea of what she was up to," Sarah

said.

"I'm not sure that's something you ought to see," Ryan told her.

"Dad, please, I'm an adult," she said. "I know all about sex. Remember,

I'm married and I've given birth. And it may shock you to know that I've

even watched some porn in my day."

"This is your mother we're talking about, though," Ryan said.

"I know," she said. "But maybe it'll help us both understand her frame of

mind at the time. Go ahead and set it up and I'll grab us some tea." She

walked into the kitchen and Ryan reluctantly put the DVD in the player

and turned on the television. She came back with two glasses and set

them on the coffee table. They sat down on the couch and Ryan started

the video. They were both shocked at what they saw.

The first thing they saw was a much younger Lisa, completely naked,

lying on her back with her legs spread wide, her shaved pussy dripping

on the table where she lay. She held a sign that read, "You are here,"

with an arrow pointing to her wet pussy. They heard laughter from off-

camera and several people came into view. They were naked as well.

Ryan recognized Jake and a younger Elmer and noticed there was a mix

of men and women -- probably the board of directors at the time this was

recorded. A couple of the men were black and very well-endowed. He

noted the timestamp in the lower corner, which suggested the video was

made about eight months before she hit him with divorce papers.

"Let's get this show on the road," Elmer hollered out as the others

laughed. "Who's taking the minutes of this meeting?" he asked.

"I am," said a voice that seemed to come from behind the camera. Elmer

looked at the camera and smiled.

"Take good notes, kid," he said. "There may be a test on this after the

meeting." That prompted more laughter. He turned back to Lisa. "As the

Chairman of the Board, it is my duty to go first," he announced, stroking

his cock, which was quite hard by now. "Are you ready, Mrs. Caldwell?"

he asked Lisa.
"Oh, God, yes, sir, I'm more than ready," she giggled. "Fuck me," she

begged. Elmer licked her snatch, then stood up and slid his hard prick

inside her. The man holding the camera moved to get a close-up view of

the action. As they watched, Elmer fucked her hard as everyone else

gathered around and cheered. They could hear Lisa moaning as Elmer

pounded her on the table.

After a few minutes, they heard Elmer grunt as he ejaculated inside Lisa.

He pulled out of her and the camera zoomed in on her pussy so

everyone could see his semen dripping out of her.

"Next!" Elmer declared. A large black man got between her legs and

positioned his large cock at her opening.

"It's my turn," he said. "I gotta have some of this white pussy. You ready

for a real man's dick?" he asked.

"Yeah, Vern," she moaned. "Shove that monster cock in my pussy and

fuck my brains out."

"Here goes," he said, pushing inside her until his balls slapped against

her ass. She cried out as he rammed her hard.

"God, yes, fuck me, dammit," she cried. "Fill me up. Fuck me." Another

man stood next to her head and put his cock at her mouth. She opened
her mouth and began sucking as Vern fucked her hard. After he finished,

one of the women came around and cleaned out the mess between her

legs with her tongue.

"Eww," Sarah groaned as she watched the woman on the video. When

she finished, Lisa got up and another man slid on the table underneath

her, his hard prick jutting up. Lisa straddled him and sat down on his

cock, letting him impale her. She leaned forward so her ass was in the

air.

"Make me airtight," she moaned. Another black man came behind her,

spit on his cock, then guided it into Lisa's ass. She moaned loudly as he

did so and adjusted herself to accommodate both pricks. A third man

came in front of her and pointed his cock at her face. She opened her

mouth and took the whole thing down her throat.

As they watched, the three men fucked her furiously until they, too,

dumped their loads inside her.

Lisa took on every man in the room, with some, including Jake, fucking

her more than once. She even went down on the women, licking their

pussies to orgasm while the men cheered. At one point, she took two

large cocks into her gaping pussy at the same time while sucking a third.
When the gangbang was finally over, she sat on the table, her body

covered with cum and cum leaking out of her pussy and ass.

"God, that was wonderful," she said. "I'd better get cleaned up, though. I

don't want Ryan to suspect anything."

"Don't bother with that," Elmer said. "Just let that stupid grease monkey

you're married to clean you up himself if he wants." Everyone laughed at

that.

"Maybe when that cute daughter of yours turns 18, you can bring her in

to join the fun," Vern said to everyone's approval. "I'd love to pop that

little white cherry." Lisa chuckled but didn't say no.

"WHAT?!" Sarah screamed. "That bitch! That no-good fucking bitch!

Turn it off, Dad, NOW! I've seen enough." Ryan stopped the video and

turned the television off. He held his daughter as she cried on his

shoulder. "I can't believe she'd want me to do something like that," she

said as she sobbed. "I hate her. I fucking HATE her! I hope she fucking

DIES!"

Ryan said nothing as he held his daughter. He wrapped his arms around

her and rocked her as she sobbed. For a moment, she was a little girl

again. He comforted her as best he could, but his emotions were just as
roiled as hers. He knew she had cheated on him, but he had no idea of

the depth of her depravity.

Finally, Sarah collected herself and sat on the couch, wiping her face.

She looked at her father, sadness in her eyes.

"How could she do that to us?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said.

"No wonder you hated her so much," she said.

"I had no idea it was this bad, though," Ryan said. "I'm sorry. Perhaps

you shouldn't have watched it."

"No, I had to," she said.

"What are you going to do now?" he asked her. She shook her head.

"I don't know, Dad," she said. "I know this was over ten years ago, but

it's like it just happened."

"I know how you feel," he said. "But I'm afraid it's even worse than we

originally thought."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You remember your mother gave me a cell phone when I was here six

months ago?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said.

"Turns out that phone is loaded down with all kinds of spyware," he said.

"I don't know if she put it on or if someone else did. On top of that,

Jenkins threatened you and little Ryan. Suggested that something bad

would happen to you and little Ryan if I didn't back off."

"Oh my God," she said. "You're not going to back off, though, are you?

Please tell me you're not."

"No," Ryan said. "But he needs to think I am. You guys will have federal

protection. I've already arranged for that. I need to make plans, but I

can't do it here. I need to go home and set things in motion from there."

"When are you leaving?" she asked.

"Tomorrow," he said. "I have a couple things to do in the morning, and

then I'll heading back."

"What about Mom?" she asked.

"I don't plan on seeing her again," Ryan said. "You do what you feel you

have to do."

"Okay," she said. "Wait a minute. I have Mom's things here. I got them

when I went to the hospital. Maybe her phone is still in her purse. Let me
go look." She went upstairs and came back down a couple minutes later

with a phone that looked much like his, except hers was in a pink case.

She turned it on and they noticed it was locked. Ryan thought for a

moment and had Sarah punch in her mother's birthday. Sarah put in the

month and date of Lisa's birthday and the phone opened right up.

"My dad, the hacker," Sarah said with a smile. Ryan laughed at that.

"Looks like the last thing she had opened was her messenger," Sarah

said, looking at the phone. They read the last few messages, which were

between Lisa and Elmer.

"You heading out to Starbucks now?" Elmer asked.

"I'm leaving now," she wrote back. "You want anything?"

"Yeah, I'd love a latte if you don't mind," he wrote back.

"No problem," she said. "Be back in a few."

"So, it looks like Elmer knew she was leaving the office," Ryan said.

They noted the time, which was just a few minutes before Lisa was

gunned down.

"You think Elmer knew that guy was waiting for her?" Sarah asked.
"I do," Ryan said. "I'll take that with me tomorrow. I'll have a chance to

go through it in more detail after I leave." Just then, Bob came in the

door.

"Hey, guys, I'm home," he announced. His jovial spirit quickly went away

as he looked at the two of them. "What's going on?" he asked.

"There's been some developments," Ryan said. "I think you should sit

down." Bob put his briefcase down and sat on the couch next to Sarah.

Ryan spent the next half hour filling Bob in on the events of the day.

"Crap," Bob said when he was finished. "So, what are you gonna do

now?"

"I'm going home tomorrow," Ryan said. "There should be federal agents

showing up here any time now. They'll be here to protect the three of

you. Agents will also be sent to your parents house," he added, looking

at Bob, who nodded his head.

"Thanks for thinking of them," he said. "I'd better call and let them know."

He left the room and called his parents to advise them of the situation.

He came back out a few minutes later. "We decided that it might be best

if little Ryan stay there for a day or two," he said. "Don't worry, Dad's a

former Marine. He knows how to handle himself and he's armed.

"Good," Ryan said. They settled down for a quick dinner, which was a

somber affair. Afterward, they settled in the living room. Ryan pulled the

DVD from the player and turned the television on. Just then, there was

knock at the door. Bob looked through the front window and saw two

men in dark suits and sunglasses. He opened the door slightly.

"Can I help you?" he asked. The two men pulled out their credentials

and identified themselves.

"Agent Gillespie, FBI," one man said. "This is Agent Williams. Are you

Robert Greene?"

"I am," Bob said. "Please call me Bob."

"Very well, Bob," Gillespie said. "We've been assigned to protect you

and your family. May we come in?"

"Sure, come on in," Bob said. They came into the house and looked

around. Williams went upstairs while Gillespie walked around the lower

floor.

"Do you have any firearms?" Gillespie asked Bob. Bob shook his head.

"No," he said. "I'm a statistical analyst for the Commerce Department,

and they don't issue us firearms."

"Yes, we know where you work, Mr. Greene," Gillespie said. Williams

came back downstairs.

"Second story is clear," he said. "There's no one else here."

"I understand you have a young child," Gillespie said.

"Yes, we do, but he's at my parents' house," Bob said. "Will be tonight

and probably tomorrow." Gillespie nodded his head.

"Very well," he said. "Agents have been dispatched there as well."

"Can I get you two something to drink?" Sarah asked. "Coffee, tea,

Coke?"

"Coffee would be wonderful, ma'am," Gillespie said. "Extra hot, strong

and black."

"Coming right up," she said, going to the kitchen. Gillespie looked at

Ryan.

"You Caldwell?" he asked. Ryan nodded his head.

"I am," Ryan said.

"Special Agent Smith wants you to know that he's gone through the

audio you sent him and has forwarded it to the federal prosecutor,"

Gillespie said. "He expressed his gratitude for your assistance."

"I appreciate that," Ryan said.

"He also wanted me to remind you that you're not in Africa or the Middle

East," Gillespie said. Ryan smiled and nodded his head.

"Thank him for me, will you?" Ryan asked. Gillespie nodded his head

slightly.

"There's a spare bedroom right upstairs if you need to get some sleep,"

Bob said. "You're welcome to it if you want."

"Thank you, Mr. Greene, but we won't be sleeping," Gillespie said. "Will

we, Agent Williams?"

"No, we don't sleep," Williams said, grimly.

"Right," Bob said. "Well, please make yourself at home." Sarah came

back with two cups of coffee. She handed one to Williams, who

accepted it with a slight smile and a nod. Then she handed another to

Gillespie, who took a sip.

"Extra hot, strong and black just as you wanted," she said.

"Thank you, ma'am," Gillespie said. "It's perfect."

"I'll station myself on the back porch," Williams said. Gillespie nodded his

head.
"I'll be right out front," Gillespie said. "If you need anything, please let me

know."

"We will," Bob said. "Thank you again."

"No problem," Gillespie said. "It's our job." They went out the doors and

took their stations, leaving Sarah, Bob and Ryan looking at each other.

"Nice, aren't they?" Bob asked.

"They're just doing their job," Ryan said.

"So, you're going home tomorrow?" Bob asked.

"I am," Ryan said. "I'll be leaving in the morning, right after breakfast."

"I understand," Bob said. Ryan looked at his daughter.

"Are you gonna be alright, princess?" he asked. She nodded her head.

"I'll be okay, Dad," she said. "I'm just so pissed at Mom right now, I could

scream."

"I understand," he said. "It does get better with time. Trust me, I've been

there."

"At least I know the whole truth," she said. "God, what was she

thinking?"
"She wasn't," Ryan said. "At least, not with her brain. I'd better get to

bed. See y'all in the morning."

"Good night," Sarah and Bob said as he made his way upstairs.

The next morning, Ryan woke up, showered, dressed and went

downstairs, following the smell of bacon and fresh coffee. Sarah put

some bacon and eggs on a plate for him as he poured a cup of coffee.

"Careful with that coffee, Dad," she said. "I made it extra hot for our

guests."

"Thanks for the warning," he said. Bob and the two agents were already

at the table when he sat down. He watched as the agents ate their

breakfast, and couldn't help but notice that they seemed to chew almost

at the same time.

"Quiet last night?" he asked.

"Yes," Gillespie said. "But it's still early. They could strike at any time.

You're still leaving this morning?"

"I am," Ryan said.

"Good," Gillespie said. "No offense, but having you here puts them in

even more danger."

"None taken," Ryan said. "And I agree with you 100 percent." Gillespie

nodded his head, seemingly satisfied with Ryan's answer. After they

finished, Ryan put his plate in the sink and headed upstairs to grab his

gear. He came back down a few minutes later and hugged Bob and

Sarah.

"You two be careful, you hear me?" he asked.

"We will, Daddy," Sarah said. Bob nodded his head in agreement.

"Good," Ryan said. He turned to his daughter. "I want you to know that

I'll support whatever you decide to do about your mother. Understand?"

She smiled and nodded her head.

"Thanks, Dad," she said. "I'll look after her, but I don't support what she

did. And I'll make damn sure she knows after she's awake. I know I

made you promise to try to be there for her, but I'll support whatever you

decide as well."

"Thanks, princess," he said. "Give my grandson a hug for me, willya?

Tell him I love him, too."

"I will Dad," she said. "Bye. Let us know when you get home."

"I will," he said. He shook the agents' hands and left for Greg's shop.

The young man met him at the counter.

"How'd it go?" he asked Greg.

"Worked on it most of the night, but it's clean and good as new," Greg

said. "I took the liberty of calling your provider, and they verified it had

been cloned. The other device has been blocked, so you should be good

to go. I also managed to get into the server where everything was being

stored. They has a shitload of stuff sitting there. Anyway, I was able to

delete it and I wreaked a bit of havoc on the server while I was at it. I

think you'll find the phone is a lot faster than before as well, now that all

that crap is off. I've also turned off the GPS feature, so they won't be

able to track it as easy."

"You did do a lot," Ryan said. "Thanks," he added, handing Greg an

extra $500 from his belt.

"You don't have to do that," Greg said. Ryan shook his head.

"You worked hard, you deserve it," Ryan said. "Take the little lady out to

dinner or something on me." Greg smiled as he pocketed the extra cash.

"Thanks," he said. "If there's anything else I can do for you, let me

know."

"Will do," Ryan said. He turned and left the store, but gave Jorge a call

before he pulled out of the parking lot.

"What's up?" Jorge asked when he answered.

"I'm heading to the airport," Ryan said. "You got a couple minutes?"

"I do," Jorge said. "You heading back home?"

"I am, at least for now," Ryan said. "How'd it go with ol' Tie-Rone?" Jorge

laughed at Ryan's deliberate mispronunciation.

"He's in federal custody right now, and singing like a canary," Jorge said.

"The prosecutor took the case over. He's filing charges against Timmy,

and he's also looking at charges against Elmer Jenkins and others. He

got the audio you sent Agent Smith, by the way."

"That's good," Ryan said. He brought Jorge up to date on what

transpired after he dropped him off with Timmy.

"Look, you be careful out there," Jorge said. "I'll stay on the case as long

as you need, but you should know that you've stirred up a hornet's nest.

They will be coming after you and quite possibly your family. It's only a

matter of time."

"I tend to agree," Ryan said. "That's why I'm going back home, at least

for now. I need to regroup and I can't do that here. By the way, what do I

owe you?"
"I'll send you a bill," Jorge said. "Be careful and let me know when you

get home."

"Will do," Ryan said, ending the call. He pulled out and drove to the

airport. After returning the rental vehicle in, he made his way to the

terminal and, a couple hours later, was flying back to Texas. As he sat in

his seat, he read through the texts and emails on Lisa's phone.

The plane landed and Ryan got off. After grabbing his duffel bag, he

walked to his truck and headed home. Home, sweet home, he thought.

He was almost there, when he saw a lone figure walking alongside the

road, carrying a suitcase.

As he got closer, he could tell it was a woman. Then he recognized who

it was -- Beverly Simons, the 45-year-old widow who lived just down the

road from him. He wondered what she was doing out here on the hot

road like this, so he pulled up and stopped next to her.

"Ms. Simons," he asked. She turned a tear-streaked face to him. "Are

you okay, ma'am?" She shook her head as tears flooded down her face.

"Come on, get inside. It's too hot to be out there like that."

"Are you sure, Mr. Caldwell?" she asked. "I don't want to impose."
"I'm sure," he said. He got out, put her suitcase in the back seat and

opened the front door for her. He closed the door after she got in. He

climbed back into the driver's seat and looked at her.

"What's wrong?" he asked. As if on cue, she began sobbing

uncontrollably. He held her in his arms as she cried.

"I've lost it all," she cried. "Everything." He held her as she wailed.

Wonderful, he thought. Another crisis...

End of "A Father's Justice, Pt. 03":

The plane landed and Ryan got off. After grabbing his duffel bag, he

walked to his truck and headed home. Home, sweet home, he thought.

He was almost there, when he saw a lone figure walking alongside the

road, carrying a suitcase.

As he got closer, he could tell it was a woman. Then he recognized who

it was -- Beverly Simons, the 45-year-old widow who lived just down the

road from him. He wondered what she was doing out here on the hot

road like this, so he pulled up and stopped next to her.

"Ms. Simons," he asked. She turned a tear-streaked face to him. "Are

you okay, ma'am?" She shook her head as tears flooded down her face.

"Come on, get inside. It's too hot to be out there like that."
"Are you sure, Mr. Caldwell?" she asked. "I don't want to impose."

"I'm sure," he said. He got out, put her suitcase in the back seat and

opened the front door for her. He closed the door after she got in. He

climbed back into the driver's seat and looked at her.

"What's wrong?" he asked. As if on cue, she began sobbing

uncontrollably. He held her in his arms as she cried.

"I've lost it all," she cried. "Everything." He held her as she wailed.

Wonderful, he thought. Another crisis...

...

And now, A Father's Justice, Pt. 04:

"What do you mean, you've lost everything?" he asked the woman

crying in his front seat.

"The house, my car, all my furniture, everything," she wailed through her

tears. "Even my chickens." She started crying even harder, her face

turning beet red. "My defenseless chickens. They'll die if I'm not there to

feed them." He knew she kept chickens and sold eggs to families in town

to supplement what she got from her husband's Social Security and he

knew they meant a lot to her.

"How did this happen?" he asked. "Did someone come and take your

property?"

"The sheriff was out this morning and said if I didn't have the money I

owed the bank I had to leave," she said as she sobbed.

"So where were you going?" he asked.

"Down to the creek," she said. "I have no where else to go, so I thought

everything would be better if I just went there and died," she said. That

brought on another crying jag. Saddened by her plight, he held her for a

few minutes.

"Why didn't you say something?" he asked.

"I don't want to be a burden," she said. "My poor Wallace would be so

ashamed of me if he knew about this." He knew Wallace was her

deceased husband. He had never met the man, but heard good things

about him from folks in town.

"It's no burden," he said. "How much do you owe?"

"Too much," she said. "About $170,000. I had all my bills consolidated

through the bank and I've done everything I could to make ends meet.

I've even stopped eating every other day to save money, but it's not
enough. Every time I think things are gonna work out, they turn to shit.

I'd be better off dead."

"Nonsense," Ryan said. "Where do you bank?"

"First National Bank in town," she said. "There's nothing you can do. All

they want is their money."

"That's where I bank as well," Ryan said. "Let me make a call." He pulled

out his wallet and found the business card he was looking for, then

grabbed his phone.

"First National Bank," a receptionist said when she answered the phone.

"I'd like to speak with Jay Goldsmith, please," Ryan said.

"Let me see if Mr. Goldsmith is available," the receptionist said. "May I

ask who's calling?"

"Tell him it's Ryan Caldwell, and if wants to keep my business, he'll

become available," Ryan said.

"Oh, yes sir, Mr. Caldwell. Just one moment, please," she said. A few

seconds later, Jay was on the phone.

"Mr. Caldwell," he said, sounding excited. "Good to hear from you, sir.

What can I do for you today?"

"You can tell me what's going on with Beverly Simons," Ryan said.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Caldwell, privacy regulations prohibit me from divulging

that kind of information," he said.

"You'll be a lot sorrier when I pull my account from your bank," Ryan

said.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Caldwell, but those are the rules, and I have to follow

them," Jay said. "Besides, why are you involved?"

"She's sitting in my truck right now, crying her eyes out, telling me she's

going to commit suicide because you had the sheriff come and evict her

from her home," Ryan said. "Tell me, Mr. Goldsmith, what kind of a piece

of shit kicks a widow out of her own house with nothing but the clothes

on her back just because she's down on her luck?"

"Mr. Caldwell, please understand," Jay began. "I don't like it any more

than you do. We've done everything we legally can to help her out, but

this has been coming for quite some time. My hands are tied. Her

account needs to be cleared."

"So if her bill gets paid, you'll release her house back to her?" Ryan

asked.
"Well, yes," Jay said. "But there's other issues. Her debt to income ratio

is very high. I'm afraid this will only happen again later on."

"You let me worry about that, Jay," Ryan said. "Tell you what. I'm coming

into town and we're gonna get this mess straightened out. Get her

paperwork ready and make sure that piece of crap sheriff is there to

return her keys. What's the deadline?"

"Well, five o'clock today, closing time," Jay said. Ryan looked at his

watch.

"It's 11:30 right now," Ryan said. "I'm turning around and I'll be there in

just a little bit. And you'd better be there. Got it?"

"Why, yes sir, Mr. Caldwell," Jay said. "I'll be right here. And thank you,

Mr. Caldwell. From the bottom of my heart."

"You're welcome," Ryan said. He ended the call and looked at Beverly.

Her eyes were wide and she looked shocked. "Come on, Ms. Simons,

let's go get your house back." She broke into a wide smile and threw her

arms around his neck.

"Thank you, Mr. Caldwell," she said. "That's the kindest thing anyone's

ever done for me."

"It's my pleasure," he said. "And please, call me Ryan. Mr. Caldwell was

my father." She laughed for the first time in a very long time.

"Please call me Beverly. Or Bev. That's what all my friends call me," she

said, wiping tears from her eyes. Ryan whipped his truck around,

spraying gravel, and headed back to town.

"So, Bev," he said. "What happened, if you don't mind my asking?"

"The last several years haven't been easy on us," she said. "Wallace

was a hard worker and always took care of things. But he started having

medical problems. He got diabetes, but he wouldn't adjust his diet like

the doctor said. I tried to get him to eat right, but he wouldn't hear it. It

got so bad they ended up amputating his feet. After that, he started

having problems with his kidneys and had to go through dialysis. It got

so he couldn't take care of the crops, so he sold the fields and the

equipment.

"That helped some, but then he started having other medical problems.

It was one thing after another after another. We took a loan on the house

to help pay for everything. He went on Social Security and had a major

heart attack about seven or eight months later. He never survived," he

said.
"It took up pretty much everything we had to pay for his final expenses

and his funeral," she said. "I got some of his Social Security, and sold

eggs to make ends meet. It wasn't easy, but I managed. I still had the

mortgage and everything to pay for, and my monthly expenses took up

pretty much everything coming in. Then this damn coronavirus hit. Half

the town's out of work now and my egg sales have nearly dried up. Jay

did everything he could, extending credit and all, but it just wasn't

enough. Then my car broke down and I had to get it fixed. That took up

nearly a month's income. Now this."

"You say your husband was on Social Security?" Ryan asked. "He

must've been about what, 25 years older than you?"

"Yeah," she said. "I've known him all my life. He was a friend of my

parents. They died in a car crash and he took me in. They were dirt poor

all their lives and didn't have anything, really. They didn't even own the

trailer we lived in. Wallace let me stay with him after they died. I didn't

want to be a freeloader, so I helped him on the farm. I cooked, took care

of the house and all the animals while he tended the fields. He offered to

send me to school, but I told him no."

"Why?" Ryan asked.

"All I ever wanted to be was a wife and a mother," she said. "Don't need

no college education for that."

"Reckon not," Ryan said.

"Anyway, Wallace and I fell in love," she said. "I always had a bit of a

crush on him, so it was pretty easy for me. We got married, had a boy

and I thought we'd be together forever. Then he died."

"I've heard good things about him," Ryan said.

"He was a good man," she said. "He worked hard, helped his neighbors

when they needed it, took good care of me and our boy, Jason. He

never got drunk, was never abusive and was always there for us."

"Sounds like you two were very happy," he said.

"We were," she said. "We were crazy in love with each other." She

started crying again. "Now I've lost everything we worked so hard for."

"You haven't lost it yet," Ryan said. "We're here," he added as he pulled

into the bank parking lot. "Might want to clean up a bit," he said, handing

her a clean handkerchief. She wiped her face and checked her makeup

in the mirror on the passenger side visor.

"You ready?" he asked. She looked at him and nodded her head.

"Good," he said, smiling. "Let's git 'er done." She chuckled and got out of
the truck. They walked into the bank and Ryan headed straight for the

elevator. They got in and Ryan punched the button for the fourth floor

where Jay's office was located. An attractive receptionist met them as

they got off the elevator.

"Mr. Goldsmith is expecting you, Mr. Caldwell," she said. "Please, go

right in." Beverly looked at Ryan and wondered who this man was and

how did he command so much deference. She didn't know anything

about the man who bought the old Winters place, and thought he was

just a lonely drifter, living in that old, run-down house. He certainly didn't

look like anyone special in that battered old hat, jeans and plain western

shirt. And what happened to his face, she asked herself.

"Thank you," Ryan said, walking to a set of double doors. He opened the

door and motioned for Beverly to go in first, then closed the door after

walking through. Jay stood up from behind his desk and extended a

hand. Ryan shook it and nodded at Sheriff Coltrane, who also stood up

to shake his hand.

"Let's get this done, shall we?" Ryan asked. Jay nodded his head. "What

does Ms. Simons owe, total?" Jay wrote a number on a piece of paper

and handed it to him -- $175,253.84. Ryan looked at Jay.

"And if this is paid, you'll release everything back to her?" he asked.

"Yes," Jay said. "But like I said before," he began before Ryan cut him

off.

"Yeah, I know," Ryan said. "Income to debt ratio. But if her debts are

paid, that shouldn't be a problem, should it? I was led to understand this

is the sum total of what she owes for everything."

"That's true," Jay said. "But she still has monthly expenses to consider.

Bills, utilities, gas, food, what have you. What she has coming in now

barely covers that."

"Okay," Ryan said. "Let me worry about that. What do we have to do?"

Jay positioned a card reader on his desk.

"Just insert your debit card and punch in your code," he said. After Ryan

did that, he continued. "Now punch in the amount you want to transfer,"

Jay added. Ryan did some quick math in his head and punched in

$1,750,000.84. It was just under one percent of what he had deposited

in Jay's bank, but he felt Beverly deserved a break.

"Are you absolutely sure about this?" Jay asked, his eyes wide.

"Absolutely," Ryan said. "That should mitigate any concerns over income

to debt ratios, don't you think? Even after whatever taxes she might have

to pay, that should last her a good long time."

"Yes, it will," Jay said. He turned to Beverly. "Ms. Simons, if you could,

please, insert your ATM card so we can complete this?" Beverly nodded

her head, pulled out her card and inserted it in the reader. As they

watched, Jay clicked a few buttons on his computer and watched.

"The transfer has been made," he said. "Let me just make one more

transfer. Hang on." They watched as he typed something on his

computer. He hit enter and watched for a few moments more. Then he

punched a button on his phone and his receptionist answered.

"Yes?" the receptionist answered.

"Mrs. Barber, would you please come into my office?" he asked. "And

bring your notary stamp, if you would please."

"Right away, sir," she said. A few moments later, she came into the

office. Jay looked at Sheriff Coltrane.

"Sheriff, would you please witness my signature on this?" he asked.

"I'd be honored to," the sheriff said, standing up. They signed all the

papers and Mrs. Barber notarized them when they were done. She

made copies and brought them back to Jay, who handed a copy of the

paperwork to Beverly.
"Ms. Simons, here's paperwork showing all your debts to this bank are

paid in full," he said. "You'll get the deed to your property and the title on

your car in the next few days." He turned to the sheriff and handed him

another set of paperwork. "Sheriff, if you would please, run this over to

the courthouse and get it filed, effective immediately."

"It'll be my pleasure," the big man said, taking the paperwork. "While I'm

at it, I'll get the paper to drop that public notice. Don't want folks to get

the wrong idea."

"Do that," Jay said. It was common for the local paper to publish public

notices on legal matters like foreclosures, divorces and auctions. Sheriff

Coltrane stood before Jake, the papers in his hands.

"Mr. Caldwell," he said. "I want you to know that it plum broke my heart

to do what I did earlier. I take no pleasure out of that. Please accept my

apologies."

"Accepted," Ryan said. "But I think she's the one you need to apologize

to."

"You're right," the sheriff said. He considered Ryan a bit before

continuing. "I don't know if you're a church-going man or not, Mr.

Caldwell, but I get the feeling it was God's will for you two to meet out
there like you did." He glanced at Beverly before continuing. "You do

know he's single, like you, right, Ms. Simons?" She shook her head.

"I didn't know," she said. Sheriff Coltrane smiled as he nodded his head.

He fished a set of keys out of his pocket and handed them to her.

"I'll get a deputy over to your place and have him take off all the locks,"

he said. "You take good care of this man now, you hear me?" She

smiled as she took the keys.

"Thank you, sheriff," she said. "I will." He turned back to Ryan.

"That was the damndest thing I ever did see," he told Ryan. "You're a

good man, Mr. Caldwell, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"I appreciate that sheriff," Ryan said.

"You let me know if there's anything I can ever do for ya, okay?" the

sheriff said.

"Well, there is one thing," Ryan said.

"What's that?" Sheriff Coltrane asked.

"No publicity," Ryan said. "I know how something like this can get out in

a small town, and I don't want any publicity."

"You got it," the sheriff said. "Y'all have a nice day now, y'hear?" he

asked, touching his gray Stetson before he left.

"Here's your new balance, Ms. Simons," Jay said, handing Beverly a

small slip of paper. Her eyes grew wide as she looked at the balance.

She turned to Ryan.

"I can't accept all this," she said. "I'll never be able to repay you." Ryan

smiled.

"Don't even think about it," Ryan said. "And yes, you can accept it." He

turned to Jay. "I trust you'll have one of your financial advisers work with

her to create a budget and manage this so it lasts her for a while."

"I'll take care of it myself," Jay said. "Just curious, why did you do this?"

"I don't mind helping someone who's making an honest effort," Ryan

said. "Besides, I know what it's like to lose everything that means

anything to you. A wise old man gave me a second chance once, so I

figured I'd pay it forward."

"I understand," Jay said. He turned to Beverly. "Give me a call this week

and we'll set up an appointment, okay Ms. Simons?" he asked. She

nodded her head.

"I will," she said. "Thank you so much." They said their goodbyes and

walked out of the bank. Beverly was stunned by what Ryan had done

and wondered what he wanted in return. He opened the door of his truck

and helped her inside, then climbed in behind the wheel.

"When was the last time you had a decent meal?" he asked.

"It's been quite a while," she said. "Why?"

"I don't know about you, but I could eat something," he said. "Why don't

you let me treat you to a nice lunch?"

"Are you sure?" she asked. "After everything you've already done?"

"It's only lunch," he said. "Besides, it'll take a while for the deputy to get

out to your place."

"Okay," she said. "It's just been a while since a handsome man asked

me out."

"Maybe we should see about getting your eyes checked while we're at

it," Ryan said, indicating his scar. Beverly smiled.

"Call it a woman's intuition," she said. "But I suspect under that rough

exterior is a kind, handsome man." Ryan chuckled as he started truck.

They left the bank and pulled into a steak house along the main drag.

They went inside and was escorted to a booth in the back.

"This is the first time I've ever been here," she said. "Looks expensive."

"I've eaten here a time or two," he said. "They make real nice sirloin. You

should try it."

"Maybe I will," she said. "It's been a long time since I've had a steak."

They placed their order and waited for the food to arrive.

"So," Beverly said. "I've told you my story. What's yours? What did you

mean about knowing what it's like to lose everything?"

"I was married once as well," he said. "A long time ago. Thought I had a

good life. Then it all went down the toilet."

"What did you do?" she asked.

"I was a mechanic," he said. "A certified ASE Master Mechanic. Had

dreams of opening my own shop one day."

"A mechanic?" she asked. "Do you still work on cars?"

"Not for a long time," he said.

"What happened, if you don't mind my asking," she said.

"I don't mind," he said. "Was married for about 17 years to my high

school sweetheart. Had a good job, a nice home, a family. Wife came

home one day and announced she was divorcing me. Said she didn't
want to be married to a grease monkey who wasn't going anywhere.

Seems she found greener pastures with a rich oil tycoon."

"Oh my God," Beverly said. "That must've been horrible."

"It was," he said. "And to add insult to injury, my daughter announced

she was going with my wife."

"I'm so sorry," she said.

"Not your fault," he said. "That day, they both died to me. So did my

dreams."

"That had to have hurt so much," she said. "I can't even begin to imagine

what that felt like."

"Sure you can," Ryan said. "I felt pretty much the same way you did

when I picked you up this morning."

"But you still had your house, right?" she asked. "You still had your job

and your dream of opening your own shop."

"Without Lisa and Sarah, none of that meant anything anymore," he

said.

"So what did you do?" she asked.

"Cried in my beer. Even thought about killing myself a time or two," he

said. "I even put a gun in my mouth once. I couldn't pull the trigger,

though."

"Oh my God," she said.

"Ran into an old friend of mine at a bar one night after the divorce went

through," Ryan said. "He offered me a job and I took it. Traveled a lot

outside the country for the next nine years."

"What were you doing?" she asked. "Where did you go?"

"I was what you might call a private security consultant," he said.

"Wherever there were bad guys with attitude screwing with good guys

just trying to make an honest living, that's where I went. Africa, South

and Central America, Middle East. You name it."

"So, you were kinda like an equalizer," she said.

"I never thought of it that way," he said. "But, yeah, I guess you could

say that's what I did."

"And I take it you got paid good money to do this," she said.

"I did," he said. "A whole lot more than I ever made as a mechanic. And I

had a friend who helped me make even more money off the money I

earned."
"Is that how this happened?" she asked, indicating the eye patch and the

scar on Ryan's face. He nodded his head.

"Yeah," he said. "It was my last job. The sheikh I worked for made it

possible for me to retire from the business."

"That's the wise old man you talked about earlier?" she asked.

"It was," Ryan said. "He suggested I go someplace quiet and find

peace."

"So you came here," she said. Ryan nodded his head.

"Yep," he said. "And it's been home to me ever since."

"I always wondered why someone would buy that old run-down house,"

she said. "I remember playing with the kids who used to live there a long

time ago. The place was pretty run down even then. So what are you

doing now?"

"Right now, I'm just dealing with family issues," he said.

"I thought you said your family was dead to you," she said.

"They were," Ryan said. "Turns out my daughter married some analyst

who somehow managed to track me down. She had a rare blood

disease and needed a bone marrow transplant. So I helped her out. And

of course, I ran into her mother."

"Let me guess," Beverly said. "They want you and your ex-wife to be

friends or something, right?" Ryan chuckled.

"Something like that," he said.

"Are you?" she asked.

"What, reconcile with her?" he asked. He shook his head. "No," he finally

said. "It's a bit complicated."

"No it's not, Ryan," she said. "She ripped your heart out with her

betrayal. I can understand you'd want to help your daughter. She's your

flesh and blood. But I could never imagine being friends with the person

who destroyed you like that."

"You're very wise, Beverly Simons," he said. "Besides, I've just learned a

few things about my ex."

"Oh?" she asked.

"I just got back from seeing the family," he said. "She was shot in the

head."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said. "DO they know who did it?"
"We know," he said. "We also have an idea about why."

"Wait a minute," she said. "I saw something on the news about a female

oil company CEO who was gunned down. Was that her?"

"Yeah it was," he said.

"Wow," she said. "So what happens now?"

"I don't know," he said.

"If there's anything I can do, please let me know," she said. He smiled.

"I don't know what you can do, but thanks anyway," he said. They

finished their meal and headed out.

"I hate to impose after everything you've already done," she said. "But

would you mind if we stop at the Piggly Wiggly? I have to pick up a few

things."

"Not at all," he said. "I need to grab a few things myself." They stopped

at the store and he walked with her, pushing the cart as she filled it up

with groceries. Her eyes popped out when she saw him grab a packet of

hot dogs and some TV dinners.

"You eat those things?" she asked.

"Yeah, why?" he asked.

"You'd be better off eating the cardboard that crap comes in," she said.

"So I've heard," he said. They paid for their food and Ryan loaded it in

the truck. They got back in and headed out. By the time they got to her

place, the gate was unlocked and open. He pulled in the driveway and

parked in front of her two-story ranch house, then helped her carry

everything inside.

"Well, I'd better get on home," he said. She stopped him at the door and

wrapped her arms around him before giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you for everything," she said. "I don't know what I would've done

if you hadn't picked me up." He smiled as he looked into her pretty face.

"It was my pleasure," he said. "If there's anything else you need, please

let me know."

"I will, thanks," she said. "Would it be alright if I come by every so often?"

"Any time," he said. "Let me give you my number." He wrote his cell

number on a slip of paper she gave him and handed it back to her. "It's

been a long time since I've taken a woman out, but maybe we can go

catch a movie or something if that's all right with you."

"It would be more than alright with me," she said with a smile. He left her

house feeling like a teenager who had just arranged his first date. When
he got home, he put the few groceries he had away and took his duffel

bag upstairs. His phone began buzzing, so he took it out of his pocket,

and noticed it was Sarah. That's when he realized he forgot to call when

his plane landed. He answered the phone.

"Hello," he said.

"Thank God you're alright," Sarah said. "I've been worried sick. What

happened?"

"Oh, I ran into a widow on my way home and helped her for a bit," he

said. "I'm sorry I didn't call, I just got home. Any news?"

"No, not really," she said. "We were just worried that something

happened to you."

"I just had lunch with an attractive widow, then took her to the store,"

Ryan said.

"You mean, you actually took a woman out to lunch?" she asked. "What

about all this stuff about no more relationships and living like a miserable

hermit for the rest of your life?"

"Well, maybe I spoke too soon about that," he said.

"Someday, you're going to have to tell me about this attractive widow,"

she said.
"I just might do that," he said. "The FBI guys still there with you?"

"Yeah," she said. "Gillespie is playing cops and robbers with little Ryan if

you can believe that."

"Now that's something I'd like to see," Ryan said. "Listen, you guys be

very careful, you hear me?"

"We will, Dad," she said. "Anyway, I have to go make dinner now. I'll call

if I hear anything."

"Do that," Ryan said. The call ended, Ryan went downstairs and made a

fresh pitcher of sweet tea, then went on the front porch. He sat down in

his rocking chair, lit a cigarette and pulled out Lisa's phone.

The first thing he did was check to see if there was tracking software on

it, the way Greg showed him earlier. He didn't see anything, but turned

off the GPS anyway just in case. He didn't think anyone would be

monitoring it in any case, since she was in a coma, but he thought he'd

rather be safe than sorry.

He spent the next couple hours going through her emails and texts trying

to find something that would give him a clue about what was going on.

Most of it was dry, business-oriented stuff that didn't mean a lot to him.

There were emails about things like audits and profit-and-loss sheets,
and a few emails about minimizing the damage from Jake's pending

trials, but not much of anything that helped him out in any real

meaningful way.

Then he came across an email that mentioned a retreat.

"I bet you can't wait for this year's retreat," Elmer had written. He looked

through the thread, and read her reply.

"It'll be the first retreat I've been on without Jake," she said. "I can't wait

to get out of town for a bit to recharge."

Ryan thought about that exchange and remembered Elmer mentioning a

retreat to him. What was it he had said? He thought hard and

remembered Elmer telling him how Lisa had gone wild at their annual

summer retreats. He figured out how to do a search on her email and

started one using the word, "retreat." He watched as the app searched

on his keyword, the arrow continually spinning. He set the phone down

and pulled his out, dialing Jorge's number.

"Hey, Ryan," Jorge said when he answered. "You made it home, I see."

"Yes, I did," Ryan said. "Look, I need you to see if you can find

something for me."

"What's that?" Jorge asked.

"It seems the executives of Knight hold an annual retreat somewhere out

of town," Ryan said. "Can you do some digging and see if you can find

out where that might be? I'm thinking they own some property

somewhere rural where they can go without being spied on by nosy

neighbors."

"I'll do some searches and see what I can come up with," he said. "It'll

take me some time."

"No problem," Ryan said. "Let me know as soon as you find something."

They ended the call and Ryan had another idea. He called Bob's cell

phone. His son-in-law answered on the first ring.

"What's up, Ryan?" he asked.

"Tell me something, Bob," Ryan said. "I'm curious to know how you

found me out here."

"Well, it took some work," Bob said. He went on to talk about county

records and macros and downloading spreadsheets, causing Ryan's

eyes to glaze over.

"Bottom line, you found me by digging through county tax and property

records, right?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah, you could say that," Bob said. "Why?"

"You think you could do the same thing, only this time search for

property owned by Jacob Knight or Knight Petroleum?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah, I don't see why not," Bob said. "I already have the macros

programmed, I'd just have to change the search parameters."

"How long do you think that could take?" Ryan asked.

"I don't know," Bob said. "A couple days, maybe a bit more. I've already

done the really hard work looking for you."

"Do it," Ryan said. "Coordinate with Jorge Trujillo if you would, please."

"Yeah, sure," Bob said. "When do you need this?"

"Immediately, if not sooner," Ryan said.

"Alright, I'll get right on it," Bob said. Ryan gave him Jorge's number,

then ended the call. He looked at Lisa's phone and saw the search had

finally completed, and had displayed all emails mentioning the word,

"retreat." He began to read through them and realized the retreats were

nothing more than three or four-day long parties filled with alcohol, illicit

sex and drugs. A plan began to form in his mind as he read the emails.

After reading the emails, he turned her phone off and yanked the

battery. After smoking one last cigarette, he went inside, consumed a

microwaved TV dinner, then went to bed.

He was out back at his homemade pistol range the next afternoon,

shooting targets with his .45 caliber pistol when he heard someone call

from behind him. He cleared his pistol and turned to see Beverly in a t-

shirt and a pair of short shorts, holding a basket.

"Well, hello, neighbor," he said, taking in the lovely sight before him.

Beverly looked at least ten years younger in those shorts, which

exposed a lot of well-toned leg.

"Hello yourself," she said. "Target practicing, I see."

"Yeah, I like to keep in practice," he said.

"You seem to do quite well, given you only have one good eye," she

said. "Mind if I try?"

"Not at all," he said, handing her his ear protection. She put it on, then

loaded a magazine and slid it into the handle. He was impressed that

she knew how to handle the pistol. She took her stance and holding the

pistol with both hands, fired nine rounds into the paper target he had

placed up. She cleared the pistol and they looked at the target. One

round went high and to the right, but the rest formed an impressive

group in the middle of the target.

"Nice shooting," he said. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"Wallace taught me to shoot when I was old enough to hold a gun," she

said.

"He kept guns in the house?" Ryan asked.

"Of course," she said. "We had to sell them though. All except for my old

.410 shotgun. I use that to keep the coyotes away from the chickens."

"I'm impressed," he said.

"I take it you have a few guns as well," she said.

"Yeah, one or two," he said. "What's in the basket, if you don't mind my

asking."

"Not at all," she said. "I made up some lasagna and thought maybe we

could have dinner tonight. Unless you have something else planned."

"I could go for some lasagna," he said. "C'mon up to the house, it's

about supper time anyway." He grabbed the basket and they walked to

the house.

"I really like what you've done to the place," she said. "It doesn't look

quite as sad as it used to."

"Thanks. It's been good to me, so I figured I'd fix it up a bit," he said. He

opened the back door and motioned for her to enter, checking out her
legs as she went ahead of him. He noticed there was maybe a quarter

inch of denim between her legs as she climbed the stairs into the house.

Wallace was a lucky man to have this, he thought to himself.

"I see you remodeled the inside as well," she said. "Very nice, but it

seems a bit... spartan," she added, taking in the bare walls.

"Well, I didn't see any need to clutter the walls," he said.

"Maybe you need to make some new memories in here," she said.

"Some happy memories."

"Maybe," he said wistfully. He put the basket on the kitchen counter and

she began emptying it, placing the dish of lasagna on a potholder he had

next to the microwave. He pulled out a couple plates and some

silverware, placing them on the table. Then he grabbed a couple

glasses.

"I hope you don't mind sweet tea," he said. "It's either that or Coke."

"Sweet tea is perfect," she said. He put ice in the glasses from the

refrigerator door and poured them each a glass of tea. He grabbed a

couple potholders from a drawer and carried the lasagna to the table.

Beverly took the potholder it sat on and placed it on the table for him. He

grabbed a spatula and dished them out a helping of lasagna.

"I hope you like it," she said. "It's been a while since I cooked anything

like this. I like to use a lot of mushrooms and cheese."

"I love lasagna," he said. "Especially when it's full of mushrooms and

dripping with cheese." He took a bite and savored the flavor. "My God,

Beverly, this is the absolute best lasagna I've ever had." She smiled as

her face turned red from embarrassment.

"Thank you, you're too kind," she said.

"Not at all," he said. "I could eat like this every day. You cook like this for

Wallace?"

"Yes," she said. "I loved cooking for him. I also enjoyed making this for

you." He looked at her and took in her features, her soft eyes, her

dimples, her blonde hair arranged in a ponytail.

"Thank you very much," he said. "This sure beats the hell outta TV

dinners, let me tell you." She chuckled.

"I'm glad you like it," she said.

"So, how was your day?" he asked.

"Well, I went into town and got some feed for the chickens," she said.

"The good stuff this time. It sure felt good. I felt, I don't know, alive, for
the first time in a very long time. I can't tell you how long it's been since I

felt this good."

"You shoulda called, I would've helped you," Ryan said. "Those bags of

feed had to have been heavy."

"Nonsense," she said. "I'm a farm girl. I've been slinging bags of feed

since I was little girl."

"I can believe that," he said. They ate their meals and engaged in small

talk. Ryan found himself getting more comfortable with this woman, and

he felt really good for the first time in ages. After they ate, he cleared the

dishes, rinsing them off in the sink and placing them in the dishwasher.

Beverly covered the lasagna and placed it on the stove as it was still too

warm to put in the refrigerator. He refreshed their glasses with tea and

began heading for the front porch.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Old habit. I generally like to enjoy a smoke on the

porch after I eat."

"Wallace and I did that too," she said. "Would you mind if I joined you?"

"Not at all," he said. They went on the porch and Ryan handed her a

cigarette, holding the lighter for her. He pulled out another and lit up,

taking his usual seat. She sat down with him.

"I really enjoy this time of the day," he said. "Not too hot, not too cold."

"Me too," she said. "It's been a long time since I've been able to just

relax and take it all in."

"I understand that," he said. "So tell me, how long were you married?"

"I guess about 23 years," she said. "I was 19 and he was 44. We were

so in love."

"You said you two had a son," Ryan said. "Where is he now?"

"He's in the Naval Academy at Annapolis," she said. "Got a

congressional appointment. He's in his second year. Wants to be a

Marine pilot."

"I'll bet you're proud of him," Ryan said.

"I am," she said. "Very proud. He's the first one in our family to ever

make it to college, let alone the Naval Academy."

"I've seen those Marine pilots in action before," Ryan said. "They know

their stuff."

"Were you ever in the service?" she asked.

"Army," he said. "Infantry. Served in Iraq and Afghanistan."

"Wow," she said. "That's impressive." He shrugged his shoulders. "Can I

ask you a personal question?"

"Please," he said.

"Are you in a relationship now? Is there someone special in your life? I

mean, besides your daughter and grandson," she said. He shook his

head.

"No," he said. "I swore off relationships after Lisa and Sarah dumped

me."

"That was over ten years ago," she said, shocked.

"Well, I haven't exactly been an angel," he said. "I've been with a few

women, but not for more than a couple hours at most."

"I see," she said.

"What about you?" he asked.

"No, there hasn't been anyone in my life either," she said. "To everyone

here, I'm Wallace Simons' widow. The egg lady."

"I'm surprised," he said.

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

"Well, you're beautiful, still relatively young, and you sure can rock a pair

of shorts, if you don't mind me saying so," he said. She smiled.

"You think so?" she said. "Wallace loved it when I wore these. Said it

reminded him of those girls in the Lil Abner cartoons."

"I can understand that," he said.

"Truth is, I haven't been able to relax or think of anything besides bills for

the last few years," she said. She got out of her chair and stood before

him. "You know, it's been nearly six years since I've been with a man.

And I've only been with one other man my whole life." She unbuttoned

her cutoffs. "I know we just met, but I feel a connection to you. I hope

you don't think I'm being too forward, but I need you inside me. Please."

As he watched, she lifted her t-shirt over her head and tossed it on her

chair, revealing a perky set of breasts. She unzipped her shorts and let

them fall to her feet. She stepped out of them and placed them on the

chair with her t-shirt. She stood before him, naked except for a pair of

tennis shoes. He felt his manhood come alive as he took in her smooth

body and shaved pussy.

"Make love to me, Ryan Caldwell," she said. "Please. I need you so

bad." He stood up, picked her up in his arms and carried her inside. He

was surprised as how little she weighed. He carried her upstairs, her
arms around his neck, and gently placed her on his king-sized bed. She

smiled and got on her knees in front of him and helped him disrobe.

Once he was naked, she took his hard cock in her hands and enveloped

him in her mouth, causing him to gasp. As he watched, she sucked his

entire penis in her mouth, moaning as she did so. Before long, he

exploded in her mouth. She swallowed everything he had to offer, then

laid back on the bed with a smile.

One good turn deserves another, he thought, so he went down on her

smooth, sweet pussy, kissing and licking her creamy center. Soon, she

wrapped her legs around him and coated his face with her juice.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I should've warned you. Sometimes I get a little

juicy when I climax." He smiled and kissed his way up her lithe body.

"That's okay," he said. "You can do that to me any time you want." He

positioned himself between her outstretched legs and positioned himself

to enter her.

"Do it," she moaned. "Please, baby, do it. Make me your woman. Fuck

me." They both gasped as he entered her. He couldn't remember feeling

anything so good before. Soon, he was all the way inside her. He began

stroking in and out and she matched his thrusts. He felt as if he could do

this all night long and he never wanted it to end.

"Yes," she moaned. "Oh God, yes. You feel so damn good inside me.

Fuck me. Don't ever stop fucking me," she whispered in his ear.

"You feel so warm, so tight," he said back. "I could do this all night."

"Me too, baby," she said. "Oh God, I need this. Fuck me, lover. Fuck me.

Cum inside my pussy. Please. Fill me up." He couldn't help but respond

to her and soon, he exploded inside her. She ground herself into him,

raking his back with her nails as her orgasm hit. They both growled as

they climaxed together, and held each other tight, enjoying the moment.

For Ryan, this was much better than anything he had ever experienced

before, even with Lisa.

After they calmed down, they stared into each other's faces for a few

minutes. They kissed each other deeply, their tongues wrestling for

control.

"My God, that was wonderful," she said when they finally broke their

kiss.

"It was better than that," he told her.

"Your ex was one stupid bitch to cheat on this," she said. "I'll never do

that to you." He smiled as he considered the possibilities.

"Yeah, she was," he said. "And I'd never do that to you, either."
"I know," she said. They spent the next couple hours making love to

each other, in as many positions as they could think of. Drained, they lay

in each other's arms, each lost in their own thoughts.

"I know you said you've given up on relationships, but do you think we

can at least be partners?" she asked. "Maybe friends with benefits?"

"Maybe I was a bit too hasty about giving up relationships," he said. "But

yeah, we can certainly be partners." She got up on one knee and

wrapped a finger around his.

"Then it's a deal," she said. "An exclusive partnership?"

"Sure," he said. "Exclusive. Who knows where this can lead." She smiled

and kissed him deeply. She got off the bed when they broke their kiss.

"I've got to get back home," she said. "I'm usually up very early to feed

the chickens and gather the eggs."

"Need any help?" he asked.

"I got it," she said. "Maybe next time you can spend the night at my

place and then you can get up at 5:00 in the morning with me." He

laughed at that. "You think I'm kidding, don't you?" she asked.

"You really get up that early?" he asked.

"Yep," she said. "Been doing that since I was a little girl. That's what it's

like on a farm, you know."

"Damn," he said. "You're one impressive lady, you know that?"

"I'm glad you think so, cowboy," she said, giving him a kiss. "You're

pretty impressive yourself." They dressed, then headed downstairs. "You

might as well hang onto that lasagna, maybe you can finish it off

tomorrow or something," she said, making her way to the door. "I'll get

the dish later. Don't worry, I know where you live, remember?"

They held each other for several minutes at the door.

"I never thought I'd feel this way again," he told her. "Thank you. You're

a wonderful woman, Beverly Simons."

"And you're a damn good man, Ryan Caldwell," she said. "My man.

Remember that, partner." He smiled and they kissed each other good

night. He watched as she went to her car and drove off. He smoked a

cigarette on the porch, thinking about what had just happened. Was

Sheriff Coltrane right? Was Beverly be the woman he was meant to be

with? For the first time in ages, he felt content -- happy, even. He

finished his cigarette and went back to bed.

The next two weeks flew by for Ryan. After that first night with Beverly,

he began spending every other night at her house, waking up at 5:00

after a rousing night of lovemaking. He even helped her with her

chickens, and his respect for her grew with each passing day.

He realized just how hard she worked. And it turned out those bags of

feed could get pretty heavy. How did she lug those around all these

years by herself, he wondered. Not only did she tend to her chickens,

she kept her house neat as a pin, cooked meals fit for a king and still

had enough energy left over to make him feel like a new man at night.

On top of all that, she found that her egg business was starting to take

off again. So most of her days were spent delivering eggs and taking

orders for more.

On the nights he stayed home, he found himself waking up at 5:00

anyway, so he would start his days with a workout and a run. The rest of

the time, he spent going through years of Lisa's emails, trying to glean

what he could from them.

He also stayed in touch with Jorge, Bob and Sarah. Bob and Jorge were

pretty sure they had the location of the Knight retreat nailed down.

"It looks like it's only a couple hours or so north of where you are, in New

Mexico," Jorge said.

"Seriously?" Ryan asked.

"Yep," he said. "I'll send you a Google Map link and you can check it out

for yourself." He did, and Ryan printed out a large map of the area so he

could study it closer.

Sarah informed him that Lisa was finally brought out of her medically-

induced coma. As the doctor feared, the damage to her brain was fairly

extensive. She had lost a lot of her motor control and could barely

speak.

She was now confined to a wheelchair most of the day, and was

undergoing physical therapy. But, the doctor said, it was highly unlikely

she would ever be able to walk more than a few steps at a time. She

was also going through speech therapy, and, they said, it was possible

she might be able to fully communicate on her own -- some day.

The FBI agents were still watching over Bob, Sarah and his parents, but

the higher-ups were beginning to think the danger had probably passed

and were considering the possibility of pulling the protection details.

The court case against Jake was proceeding slowly, and from what he

could glean from his FBI contacts, the investigations against Knight and

Elmer Jenkins were bogged down in minutiae and legal motions.

A couple weeks later, Ryan decided it was time to let Beverly know what

was going on, so he explained the entire situation to her one night over

dinner. He even told her about the nine years he spent as a mercenary.

She sat silently as he laid it all out for her. When he finished, she

nodded her head and thought for a moment before responding.

"Thank you, Ryan," she said. "I appreciate that you trust me enough to

tell me the whole truth. I can understand why you held back before. I

would probably have done the same. The truth is, I suspected something

like this before."

"Really?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "You may dress the part, but it's obvious you're not just

some dumb redneck. I see the way you carry yourself, the way you

handle yourself and the way you take everything in -- almost as if you're

planning some kind of defense. Almost as if you're expecting an attack.

I've seen that faraway look you get in your eye sometimes, almost as if

you're a thousand miles away. And I've heard you cry out in your sleep."

He looked at her, shocked.

"Who's Dawson, by the way? I've heard you call out, saying something

like, 'Dawson! No!' What's that all about?"

"He was a comrade of mine," Ryan said. "We were in Africa. A grenade

was tossed into our camp. The rest of us scattered for cover, but not

Dawson. He threw himself on the grenade just as it went off. He saved

us all."

"But he didn't make it, did he?" Beverly asked. Ryan shook his head,

remembering that night.

"No," he said, a tear falling down his cheek. "We were surrounded and

weren't able to get him out of there. We used his body to give the rest of

us cover. He had a wife and three kids. I'm the one who had to tell her

that he wasn't coming back."

"Oh my God," she said. "That must've been terrible."

"I've lived with the guilt of that ever since," he said quietly. "I keep

thinking that should've been me. He had a family to live for. I had

nothing." She came to him and held him in her arms as he wept bitter

tears.

"It's okay," she said. "That's all in the past. It's over. I'm here with you

now. I am curious, though. Why tell me all this now?"

"Because I'm falling for you, Beverly," he said. "I don't want there to be

any secrets between us."

"Guess what, cowboy?" she asked. "I'm falling for you, too. I'm your

partner in all this, remember?" He nodded his head. "And where you go,

I go. That's just the way it is. You hear me, soldier?" He smiled as he

nodded his head.

"I hear you," he said. "Loud and clear."

"Good," she said. "So, what are you planning to do about this retreat?

Are you thinking about going after it?"

"I don't know," he said. "I'm tempted. I have a lot to work out yet."

"Just don't do anything stupid," she said. "I've just found you and I don't

think I could stand to lose you, too." He smiled.

"No problem," he said.

A week later, he got the call he feared might come. He had just finished

dinner at Beverly's house when his phone rang.

"Ryan?" Bob said when he called. Ryan could tell Bob was upset.

"What's going on, son?" Ryan asked.

"They took Sarah and little Ryan," Bob said, hysterical.

"Who took them?" Ryan asked.

"Elmer's boys," Bob said. "I came home from work and the two FBI

agents were dead in our living room and Sarah and Ryan were gone.

They left a note saying to call off the authorities or Sarah would be the

center of their next retreat. I've called the FBI, but I don't know if they're

doing anything. They won't tell me anything."

"Okay, son," Ryan said. "I'll take it from here."

A Father's Justice, Pt. 05

End of "A Father's Justice, Pt. 04":

A week later, he got the call he feared might come. He had just finished

dinner at Beverly's house when his phone rang.

"Ryan?" Bob said when he called. Ryan could tell Bob was upset.

"What's going on, son?" Ryan asked.

"They took Sarah and little Ryan," Bob said, hysterical.

"Who took them?" Ryan asked.

"Elmer's boys," Bob said. "I came home from work and the two FBI

agents were dead in our living room and Sarah and Ryan were gone.

They left a note saying to call off the authorities or Sarah would be the
center of their next retreat. I've called the FBI, but I don't know if they're

doing anything. They won't tell me anything."

"Okay, son," Ryan said. "I'll take it from here."

...

And now, "A Father's Justice, Pt. 05":

"What's wrong?" Beverly asked when Ryan ended the call.

"They've taken Sarah and little Ryan," Ryan said.

"Oh my God," Beverly said.

"Listen, I have to get home, make some calls," Ryan said. "Do what you

normally do. Don't say anything to anyone."

"Okay, dear," she said. "I just have a few things to do here. I'll come right

over when I'm finished. We'll get through this, don't worry."

"Okay," Ryan said. He gave Beverly a kiss and left for home. Once

there, he called Bill.

"Hey, how's it hangin?" Bill asked.

"Not good, they've taken Sarah and little Ryan," Ryan said.

"Oh shit," Bill said. "Any idea where they're going?"

"Yeah," Ryan said. "I haven't verified it but I have a pretty good idea.

Look, I need you to reach out to the old team, get 'em here as fast as

you can. Got it?"

"Got it, old friend," Bill said. "I'll be in touch." They ended the call and

Ryan dialed Jorge's number.

"Evening," Jorge said. "What's the word?"

"I just heard from Bob. Elmer's boys grabbed Sarah and little Ryan,"

Ryan said. "Also killed the two FBI guys protecting them."

"Crap," Jorge said.

"My thoughts exactly," Ryan said. "I've reached out to Bill. He's making

some calls. I want you to reach out to both Bob and Bill. I'd like you on

the team if that's possible."

"You think they're going to the retreat?" Jorge asked.

"I do," Ryan said.

"Okay, I'll reach out to them and call you back," he said. "I've got

something that might come in handy." They ended the call, and Ryan

went into his home office, where he had a map of the retreat on a board.

He studied the map and began making plans. A few minutes later,

Beverly came through the front door and stood next to Ryan.
"What are you planning?" she asked.

"I need to take a look at that camp," he said.

"What?" she asked. "Are you going there tonight? Alone?"

"I need to know if our intel is correct and I need to know if they've taken

Sarah and Ryan there," Ryan said. "I can't do that from here. It's only

about two and a half hours by car. I can cross Hwy 62 here, take this

road into New Mexico and be north of their camp. If this is correct, I can

be right here," he said, pointing to a spot on the map, "and I should be

able to look right down into their retreat without them knowing a thing."

"What if someone like a neighbor spots you?" she asked.

"From the satellite photo I got off the Internet, it doesn't look like there's

anyone living within 10 miles of the place, so I don't think that'll be an

issue," he said.

"Why don't you just call the FBI and let them deal with this?" she asked.

"Right," Ryan said. "Because the FBI did such a terrific job protecting my

family. Look, Bev, these people are dangerous and they don't play by

the rules. Neither do I. They might expect the FBI, but they're not

expecting me. Besides, they have my family and I made Elmer Jenkins a

promise. This has to end now."

"You have to do this?" she asked.

"I do, sweetheart," he said. "It's my family they've got. Don't worry. I'm

just going to do some recon. Two and a half hours there, maybe a half

hour or so on site, then two and a half hours back. It's 8:00 now. If you

don't hear from me by, say, 11:30 or so, call this number." He handed

her Agent Smith's card. "Tell him where I am. He'll take it from there."

"All right," she said. He handed her a .45 caliber pistol.

"You hang on to that," he said. "If anyone other than me gets through

that door, you know what to do. Aim center mass and fire."

"Okay," she said nervously. He took her to a closet in the hallway,

opened the door and pulled a hidden rope. The floor opened up,

revealing a set of stairs.

"Then you get yourself in here, close this behind you and get the hell

out. It opens up out by the pistol range," he said. "Got it?" She nodded

her head.

"I got it," she said.

"Good," he said. "I just need to grab a few things and I'm gone." He went

back to his office and grabbed the backpack he put together earlier.
Beverly went into the kitchen and came back with his thermos, full of

fresh, hot coffee. He smiled as she handed it to him.

"Remember I love you," she said, kissing him deeply.

"I love you, too," he said, returning her kiss. "Don't worry, this is just a

recon. I'll call you when I'm on my way back. Don't call me. If Bill, Bob or

Jorge calls, tell them to text me. I'll call them back."

"What if the people who took your daughter call? What do I tell them?"

she asked.

"Tell them I'm out drinking a beer or something," he said. "Take a

message, text me and I'll call them back."

"Okay," she said. They kissed one more time and Ryan headed out. She

watched the truck go down the driveway, tears in her eyes. "Please

God," she prayed. "Keep my man safe and bring him back to me."

Ryan filled up both of his truck's fuel tanks in town, as well as the two

five-gallon cans he kept for emergencies. He knew there was a station

where the road crossed the highway, and he planned to top off his tanks

there, but he didn't want to take any chances. He headed on through

town and made it to the highway, where he topped off his tanks and

refilled his thermos. Now it was on into New Mexico.

He carefully followed the road and finally got to his destination. He put

the truck into four-wheel drive and followed the dirt road for about 100

yards before shutting down. He grabbed his backpack and applied

camouflage paint to his face. He took the night vision binoculars and

carefully made his way to the rocks overlooking the camp.

Attaching the binoculars to his head, he looked and found a Lear Jet

parked at one end of a dirt runway, indicating that the board, along with

Sarah and little Ryan, were already there. He scanned the camp itself,

and noticed it was surrounded with a high chain link fence. Probably

electrified, he told himself, observing what looked like signs attached

here and there to the fence. He suspected the place was surrounded

with sensors to detect possible intruders.

There was one gate, manned by two guards, and he counted 12 other

guards walking the grounds. There could be more, he thought. Perhaps

they were already inside one of the log buildings. He studied their

movements and made notes on his pad.

As he watched, he saw a woman and a young boy being led into one of

the buildings by an armed guard and a bigger man he thought looked

like Elmer. No doubt, this was Sarah and Ryan. He made note of the

building on his pad.

He spotted several other unarmed individuals wandering between the

buildings without a care in the world. They seemed to be slightly drunk

and he could hear them laughing and joking, although he couldn't make

out what they were saying. Perhaps these were other members of the

board, there for the festivities.

He made notes on the terrain and the general layout of the area, then

slowly made his way back to the truck. Consulting his watch, he realized

he had been there for just over 30 minutes. He put everything away and

wiped the camo paint off his face. He reconnected his smartphone to the

truck's Bluetooth so he could use it hands-free, then eased the truck

back up to the road, keeping his headlights off.

When he got to the road, he turned and sped off, keeping his lights off

for at least a mile. Fortunately, there was enough moonlight that he

could see the road quite clearly. After he felt that he was in the clear, he

called Beverly.

"Are you okay?" she asked as soon as she picked up.

"I'm fine," he said. "I'm on my way back."

"So you got what you needed?" she asked.

"Oh yeah," he said. "No problem. Any news on your end?"

"Yeah, I got a call from Jorge, he said to let you know they're on their

way and you can call his cell when it's safe," she said. They, Ryan

wondered. Who the hell is "they?" He dialed Jorge's cell. Bob answered

the phone.

"Hey, Ryan," he said.

"Hey yourself," Ryan said. "What's going on?"

"Well, Jorge, Bill and I are on our way to your place," Bob said.

"What?" Ryan asked. "All three of you?"

"Yeah," Bob said.

"Look, son, this isn't a camping trip, you know," Ryan said.

"I know, Ryan," Bob said. "But they've got my family and I'm not just

going to sit around waiting for someone else." Ryan knew how Bob must

be feeling, so he chose not to argue the point, at least not on the phone.

"We'll talk about this later," Ryan said. "Let me talk to Bill." He could hear

the phone changing hands.

"Yeah, boss," Bill said.

"You get in touch with the old team?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah, some of them, anyway," Bill said. "I spoke to Ian, Buster, Cap

and Jim. They're on their way to your place now. Should be there about

noon or so."

"Okay," Ryan said. "When do you think you'll be there?"

"The way Jorge's driving, I'd say about 5 pm or so," Bob said. Damn,

Ryan thought. Jorge must be driving like a bat out of hell.

"Alright, I'll see you then," Ryan said. "Be safe." He ended the call and

kept driving. He pulled up in front of his house, grabbed his gear and

went inside, where Beverly was waiting for him. She ran to him and

threw her arms around his neck.

"Thank God you made it home," she said. "I was so worried about you."

He hugged her back and returned her kiss.

"Nothing to be worried about," he said. "It was just a recon."

"Are they at the retreat, like you thought?" she asked.

"They are," he said. "And they have Sarah and little Ryan there."

"What are you going to do now?" she asked.

"Some friends are on their way," he said. "I intend to go get them."

"What?" she asked, shocked. "Are you nuts?"

"Probably," he said. "I warned Elmer Jenkins what would happen if he

messed with my family. You should probably stay here tonight, just to be

safe."

"Okay," she said quietly. "But I have to tend to the chickens in the

morning."

"I'll go with you," he said. "Just in case. Do you have any deliveries

tomorrow morning?"

"I have a few, but they're close by," she said.

"Maybe I'd better go with you," he said.

"Thanks, but that won't be necessary," she said. "I don't think they'll

come after me. But I'll take my shotgun just in case."

"Take your phone as well," he said. "Keep a sharp eye out. If you see

anything that looks off, you call me immediately."

"I will, promise," she said. They slept fitfully for a few hours, then got

back up. Beverly made breakfast as Ryan showered and dressed. After

they ate, they drove back to her house and tended to the chickens.

Beverly gathered the eggs she was set to deliver and her .410 shotgun.

"Can you do me a favor, please?" he asked, pulling a $100 bill out of his

pocket.
"Sure," she said.

"Would you mind stopping at Jerry's store on your way back and picking

up a couple 12-packs? And about 10 cigars?" he asked. Jerry's was a

small country store that catered to the folks in this area.

"Are we having a party?" she asked. He smiled and shook his head.

"No," he said. "It's something of a tradition."

"Okay," she said.

"Thanks. And remember, call me if you see anything out of the ordinary,"

he told her.

"I will, promise," she said. "I'll let you know when I'm done and on my

way back." They kissed and he watched as she drove off. He headed

back to his place and studied his map. After a while, his phone rang. He

looked at the screen and saw it was from an unknown number. He

thought about letting it go to voicemail, but decided against it.

"Hello," he said when he answered.

"Ah, Mr. Caldwell," said a voice Ryan recognized as belonging to Elmer

Jenkins. "Just the man I'm looking for."

"What do you want, Jenkins?" Ryan asked.

"What I want is for you to get the feds off my ass," he said.

"I don't run the FBI," Ryan said. "And besides, why would I want to do

that?"

"Because I just happen to have your daughter and grandson, that's

why," Elmer said.

"I don't believe you," Ryan said, even though he knew otherwise. "Let

me talk to them."

"Okay," Elmer said. Ryan could hear movement, then Sarah came on

the phone.

"Daddy?" she asked.

"Are you okay?" Ryan asked. "What about little Ryan?"

"I'm okay but they've drugged Ryan and he's asleep right now," she said.

"You hang in there, princess," he said. "I'll get you home soon."

"Not so fast," Elmer said. "You have 24 hours to get the feds off my back

or your beautiful princess here will get mailed back to you in little

pieces."

"You remember what I told you, Jenkins?" Ryan asked. Elmer laughed.
"What are you gonna do?" he asked. "You're an old, washed-up, one-

eyed merc. You'd better make the best case you can to your FBI

buddies and you'd better do it fast."

"Just so you know, Jenkins," Ryan said. "I always live up to my

promises. So I hope pain is something you enjoy, because I'm coming

for you."

"You and what army?" Elmer said, laughing. "Twenty-four hours, old

man. Make it happen." Ryan started to say something but Elmer had

already ended the call. He checked his watch and saw it was nearly

11:00 am. He remembered Bill saying the rest of the crew would be

there about noon, so he headed upstairs.

He pulled a trunk out of his closet and opened it up. He hadn't used any

of this stuff in about four years, and he wasn't sure if the old uniforms

would even fit him anymore. He pulled out a set of folded desert

camouflage and a pair of worn combat boots.

Stripping off his clothes, he donned a black t-shirt and the camouflage

trousers. Removing his cowboy boots, he put the combat boots on and

laced them up, then bloused the trousers over the boots. He was

surprised that the old trousers still fit.

He grabbed his web belt and some other gear, then pulled the old desert

camouflage hat and jacket out of the trunk. He slammed the lid shut,

then headed downstairs. He tossed the jacket and hat on a chair in his

downstairs office and inspected his equipment. A few minutes later, his

phone rang. He looked, and saw the call was from Beverly.

"Hey," he said when he answered. "Everything alright?"

"Everything's fine," she said. "I hope Coors is okay, because that's what

I got. And I got your cigars. So I'm on my way back."

"Thanks for letting me know," he said. "And I really appreciate you

getting that stuff. I'll see you when you get home."

"My pleasure," she said. "Love you!"

"Love you, too," he said, ending the call. A few minutes later, she pulled

up, so he went out to help her bring everything inside. She looked

shocked when she saw him in his camouflage.

"Are you going off to fight a war or something?" she asked.

"Something," he said as he helped her carry everything in the house. "I

made Elmer a promise, and I intend to keep it."

"What promise was that?" she asked.

"I promised him a war he couldn't believe if he messed with my family,"

Ryan said. "And that's exactly what I'm going to give him."

"What if you get hurt?" she asked.

"Then I get hurt," he said. "It happens."

"No," she said. "I won't let that happen. I can't lose you, too. Not like

this."

"He's got my daughter and my grandson," Ryan said. "Besides, I won't

be alone. My team is on the way."

"You mean, the other mercenaries you used to work with, right?" she

asked.

"Some of them, yes," he said. Just then, they heard the tell-tale sound of

a helicopter coming over the house. Ryan looked out back and saw an

olive drab Vietnam-era vintage Huey land in the area he normally used

as a shooting range.

"Well I'll be damned," he said, laughing.

"What is it?" Beverly asked, scared. "Is Elmer coming after us or

something?"
"Nope," he said. "That's the cavalry. Would you mind rustling up some

lunch? The boys are gonna be a bit hungry, I think."

"Sure," she said. "I can whip up some egg salad sandwiches if that's

okay."

"Sounds perfect," he said, giving her a kiss. "I'll be right back." He

grabbed his camo hat and went out to meet his old comrades, who were

already getting off the old helicopter.

"Jim, you old dog," Ryan said as he approached the man piloting the

chopper. "How're doing? Where'd you get this?"

"Been working on it for the last three years or so," Jim said. "Whaddya

think?"

"I'm impressed," Ryan said. "Does this thing have any bite to it?"

"Does it ever," Jim said, walking around the front of the craft. Ryan

noticed a black emblem on the front -- a raised fist with the middle finger

extended. Ryan laughed.

"Nice touch," Ryan said, pointing to the emblem. Jim laughed.

"Matches my mood most of the time," he said. "Check this out," he said,

opening a side door. He pulled back a tarp to reveal an M134 Minigun.

"Think that'll do the trick?" Jim asked.

"Reckon so," Ryan said. The M134 is a six-barrel rotary machine gun

capable of firing 2,000 to 6,000 rounds of 7.62 mm NATO bullets per

minute. Jim had a rig that allowed the gun to be fired from the side door.

"I wanted to get some rockets, but they just weren't in the budget," Jim

said.

"So, you put this thing together by yourself?" Ryan asked.

"Pretty much," Jim said. "Took me a while to scrounge all the parts. I had

to retool a few things, and the engine took a bit of work. But it's basically

as good as new."

"How much is this going to set me back?" Ryan asked. Jim shook his

head.

"Just cover my fuel, give me a beer or two and we'll call it even," Jim

said. "We're comrades. You saved my ass plenty, so I figure I owe you."

Ryan nodded his head and shook Jim's hand.

"Thank you, old friend," Ryan said. The four men grabbed their gear and

Ryan led them back to the house.

"Guys, this is my girlfriend, Beverly Simons," Ryan said as they entered

the kitchen. "Beverly, this is Jim Talbot, Ian White, formerly of the SAS,

Charles Torres -- we call him Buster -- and Mark Hammond. We just call
him Cap. That's short for 'blasting cap' since he's so good with

explosives."

"Girl friend?" Cap asked. "I thought you gave up on women."

"I did, until I met Beverly," Ryan said. He gave them a quick tour of the

place and let them be to set their gear down and use the bathroom.

"So, I'm your girlfriend now?" Beverly asked quietly when he returned to

the kitchen.

"Yeah, you could say that," Ryan said, noticing the smile on her face.

"Do you have a problem with that?" She smiled as she shook her head.

"Not at all, sir," she said, giving him a kiss.

"None of that, now," Buster bellowed in a good-natured tone as he

entered the kitchen, causing them all to laugh. Beverly finished making

the sandwiches and sat them on the kitchen counter, then poured each

a glass of sweet tea.

"I hope y'all like egg salad and sweet tea," she said.

"Love egg salad, ma'am," Cap said as he took a bite out of his sandwich.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said.

"Ryan, you'd better hang on to that woman," Cap said. "Anyone who can

make egg salad this good is a keeper."

"I intend to," Ryan said. They spent the next half hour or so eating their

sandwiches and catching up. When they finished eating, Ryan spoke

again.

"Bill won't be here for a while, so I might as well bring y'all up to date on

the situation," he said. "When Bill gets here, we'll go over the plan." He

spent the next hour or so telling them all the story of what had transpired

since the day Bob came into his life.

"Bloody hell," Ian said when Ryan finished.

"I agree," Ryan told him.

"You screwed up letting Jake live, you know that, don't you?" Buster

asked.

"Perhaps," Ryan said. "I actually considered killing the bastard, but I

thought better of it. If I had, I would probably have ended up in jail."

"You're right," Cap said. "And there would've been two witnesses to it."

"How'd you manage that with just the one eye?" Ian asked.

"Wasn't easy, but I've been working out," Ryan said.

"So you can function in the field, then?" Ian asked.

"I manage," Ryan said. They heard a vehicle pull in front of the house.

Ryan looked and saw it was a dark SUV. He noticed Agent Smith getting

out of the car.

"Hide those weapons," he said. "I'll take care of this." He walked out the

door and stood on his porch as Agent Smith walked up to him.

"So, you heard what happened?" Ryan asked.

"I did," Agent Smith said. "I figured you'd be putting something together."

"And you thought you'd try to stop me, is that it?" Ryan asked. "I did it

your way, and look at what that's gotten us."

"You don't understand, Ryan," Smith said. "You don't mind if I call you

Ryan, do you?"

"Not at all," Ryan said.

"Roger Gillespie, one of the agents protecting your daughter, was a

good friend of mine," Smith said. "He was the best man at my wedding

and I was his best man. His little boy is my godson."

"So, what is the bureau doing?" Ryan asked.

"Not a goddamn thing," Smith said. "It's all politics. They're all trying to

dig their thumbs out of their collective asses hoping they can save face

with the politicos in Washington. Knight Petroleum is very powerful in

certain circles. There's even talk the president might issue a blanket

pardon if anyone's convicted."

"So, what do you want from me?" Ryan asked.

"I want to join you," Smith said. "I figured you're planning something and

I want to help."

"I'm not out to arrest anyone," Ryan said. "I don't believe in taking

prisoners. You understand that, right?"

"I figured that," Smith said.

"But can you live with it?" Ryan asked.

"This isn't my first rodeo, you know," Smith said. "I spent time in the

SEALs before I joined the Bureau. So, to answer your question, yes, I

can live with it."

"Doesn't sit too well with that badge," Ryan said.

"Right now, I'm not an agent," Smith said. "Like you, I want justice."

Ryan regarded him for a moment before answering. It was possible

Smith was simply trying to worm his way in only to arrest them all later.
But the look on Smith's face and the fire in his eyes said something

different.

"Okay," Ryan said. "Welcome to the party," he added, extending a hand.

Smith grasped his hand and they shook. Just then, a dark panel van

came up the driveway and stopped in front of his house. Ryan looked at

his watch -- 5:00 pm, on the dot. As he watched, Bob, Jorge and Bill

climbed out and made their way to the porch, where Ryan made

introductions.

"Ryan, I want to come with you," Bob said. "I know I haven't seen a lot of

combat like you, but I want to do my part. It's my family, after all."

"You have any military training at all, son?" Ryan asked.

"I was in the Army Reserves for four years," he said. "My unit got

deployed to Iraq for about eight months."

"Reserves," Ryan said. "What'd you do in Iraq?"

"I spent some time as a door gunner on a helo," Bob said. "I don't know

if that will be any help to you, though."

"Door gunner?" Ryan asked. "You ever operate an M134 Minigun?" Bob

chuckled.
"Yeah," Bob said. "Don't tell me you've actually got one of those." Ryan

smiled.

"Today's your lucky day, son," he said. "Not only do we have an M134,

we also have a Huey to carry it."

"No shit?" Bob asked.

"No shit, son," Ryan said. "C'mon inside. We have some planning to do."

Ryan motioned for them to enter the house, and closed the door behind

him when they were all inside. After introductions, Ryan sat everyone

down and asked Beverly to dole out the beer. After everyone had a beer

he stepped forward.

"We got some planning to do, fellas," he said. "But first, we have a little

tradition. Ian, will you do the honors?" Ian stood up and raised his beer.

"'Ere's to Dawson, and all the other blokes who never made it back

'ome," he said. Everyone raised their beer.

"Dawson," the veteran mercenaries repeated before taking a long swig

from their beers. Beverly, Bob and Smith joined in. When they finished,

Smith raised his beer.

"To my friend, Roger Gillespie, who gave his life protecting Sarah and

her son," he said. Everyone raised their beer.

"To Gillespie," they all said, taking another long drink.

"Normally, we'd break our bottles on the ground," Ryan said. "But since

this is a fairly new carpet, we'll just have to forego that part of the

tradition." Everyone laughed. "There's been a slight change in plan. Jim,

meet your new door gunner," he said, putting a hand on Bob's shoulder.

"You ever fire a minigun?" Jim said. Bob nodded his head.

"I have, in Iraq," he said.

"Alright, then. When we're done here, you can join me and we'll get it

mounted up for you, alright?" Jim asked.

"Yeah," Bob said. Beverly came to Ryan and took him by the arm.

"I want to come, too," she said. Everyone stopped what they were doing

and looked at her, shocked.

"Sweetheart, this isn't a pleasure trip," Ryan said. "You could get

seriously hurt."

"But we're partners," she said. "Where you go, I go, remember?"

"Ryan's right, Beverly," Smith said. "Besides, what would you do?"

"Actually, I could use her help in the comm post," Bill said. "Have you

seen the inside of that thing? Jorge's got so many damn monitors and
things, there's no way I can watch it all by myself." Ryan thought it over

for a few moments. Bill was a good man, but his prosthetic leg would

hinder his movement in the field, and having someone with him to watch

the monitors would free up Jorge. He looked at Bill.

"You'll train her and make sure she has protection, right?" he asked.

"Absolutely, boss," Bill said. Ryan nodded his head.

"Okay, after we plan the op, you get her out there and start training her,"

Ryan said.

"Will do, boss," Bill said. Ryan looked at Beverly.

"Promise me you'll be careful," he said.

"I will, Ryan," she said. "Thank you for letting me be part of this. I'm sorry

if I embarrassed you or made you upset." He took her in his arms and

smiled into her face.

"I'm not embarrassed or upset," he said. "I couldn't be more proud of you

right now. Besides, it'll give us something to tell the grandkids one day."

She smiled back up at him.

"Really?" she asked. "You mean that?"

"Of course," he said. "Now, c'mon, let's go plan this out." They all went

into Ryan's office where he had the map and the layout of the camp.

They spent the next two hours planning out the operation. When they

ironed out the plan of attack, Bill handed everyone what looked like a

GoPro camera that attached to their body armor and a communication

unit with an earbud at the end of a spiral wire. Each unit had a number

stenciled on it. Ryan's was numbered "1."

"Okay," Bill said. "Call sign, as always, is Whiskey Delta. Ryan, of

course, is Whiskey Delta One. Everyone else's numbers are on their

comm units. We'll be monitoring your actions in the CP. That's

'command post' for those of you not familiar with the term," he added,

looking at Beverly.

"What does Whiskey Delta mean?" she asked.

"War Dogs," Jim said. "It's from the old line, 'cry havoc! And let slip the

dogs of war.' That's Shakespeare, you know."

"So, that means Ryan is the number one war dog?" she asked

innocently. Everyone else snickered. She looked around, not

understanding what was so funny.

"Something like that," Buster said.

"Alright," Ryan said. "We leave at 2300, or 11:00 pm. That'll put us on

target at 0130. It's still light enough out to get everything set up, so let's

go." Bill and Jorge handed everyone a set of night vision goggles. Bob

went with Jim to the helicopter to get the minigun set up and Bill took

Beverly to the CP to start her training. Just then, a sheriff's patrol car

pulled up in front of the house.

"Crap," Ryan said quietly as he watched Sheriff Coltrane get out of his

vehicle. Ryan looked at Agent Smith. "I'll need you to help deal with

this," he said. Smith nodded his head and put on his best official face.

"Sheriff Coltrane," Ryan said with a smile on his face. "What can I do for

you, sir?"

"I was driving by and saw all the activity, and that chopper out back and

was just curious," the sheriff said. "You got some kind of a party going

on here, or what?" Agent Smith pulled out his credentials and showed

them to the sheriff.

"Special Agent Smith, FBI," he said, identifying himself. "Are you THE

Sheriff Coltrane?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, I am," the sheriff said, puffing himself up.

"I've heard good things about you, sheriff," Smith said.

"I'm happy to oblige the FBI whenever I can," the sheriff said.

"Good," Smith said with a smile. "I'm glad to hear it. Listen, Mr. Caldwell

is helping us with a very special operation and I'd consider it a personal

favor if you could help us out."

"What can I do?" the sheriff asked.

"We'll be leaving here about 1100 hours, and I'd appreciate it if you

could clear the road for us, say, from here to the state line. Can you do

that, sheriff?" he asked.

"Of course, I can," Sheriff Coltrane said. "Is this one of them black

operations?"

"Something like that. The most secret operation you can imagine,

sheriff," Smith said. "Lives are in the balance here, so I'd appreciate it if

you said nothing about this to anyone. I do mean nothing. In fact, it

would be best if you just forgot we were even here."

"Consider it done, Agent Smith," he said. "Uh, just how secret is this?"

"This is so secret that only a very few people even know it's happening,"

Smith said. "That's why I'm counting on you to help us keep it that way.

Truth is, I've probably broken federal law just telling you it's going to
happen. You realize that it's treason if this gets out, and you know the

penalty for that." Coltrane gulped as he considered what Smith said.

"You've got my solemn word, Agent Smith," he said. "No one will ever

hear about this from me."

"Thanks, Sheriff," Ryan said. "We'll let you know when we're ready to

go." Ryan and Smith went back into the house and walked into the

office.

"You know, I'm probably going to hell for this," Smith said. Ryan

chuckled.

"I don't think so," Ryan said. "At least not without a good fight." Ryan

donned his web gear and pulled out his fighting knife. It was the largest

knife Smith had ever seen. Ryan picked up a piece of paper and deftly

cut it in two.

"Damn," Smith said. "Now that's a knife."

"Is that your service pistol?" Ryan asked, pointing to the pistol in Smith's

shoulder holster.

"Yes it is, why?" Smith asked.

"Leave it," Ryan said, walking to the open gun cabinet in the office.

"Along with all your ammo."

"But what will I use?" Smith asked. Ryan handed him a much older .45

caliber M1911 pistol and several fully-loaded magazines, already in

carrying pouches.

"This," Ryan said.

"Where'd you get this from?" Smith asked.

"You don't really want to know," Ryan said. "Last I heard, it came up

from Mexico." Smith checked the pistol and observed the serial number

has been filed off. He checked the action and inspected the magazines.

"Mexico, huh?" Ryan asked.

"That's what I heard," Ryan said. "I think it was one of the guns in that

Fast and Furious scandal a while back, but I'm not 100 percent sure."

"Uh huh," Smith said, placing the pistol in his shoulder holster. Ryan

tossed Smith a can of camo paint. Smith caught it and put it in his jacket

pocket.

"Put that on when we get to the state line," Ryan said. "You have gloves,

I hope?"

"Gloves?" Smith asked. "Why?"

"Fingerprints," Ryan said. "I don't want to leave anything that might lead

back to us, just in case."

"Good thinking," Smith said. "Yeah, I have a pair of gloves."

"Leave 'em," Ryan said. "Use these," he added, tossing him a pair of

black gloves. "I don't want any GSR on your gloves if we can help it."

"What about my jacket?" Smith asked.

"Leave that as well," Ryan said. "Use one of mine if you have to. We're

about the same size." Smith looked in Ryan's cabinet and found a dark

green lightweight jacket. He put it on and Ryan tossed him a camo

floppy hat and a kevlar vest. Smith put it on and Ryan checked him over.

He nodded his head when he was done.

"You'll do," Ryan said.

"Gee, thanks," Smith said sarcastically. Ryan smiled and looked at his

watch.

"About time to go," he said. He keyed the microphone on his vest. "Time

to go," he said quietly. "Whiskey Delta 7, give us a 15 minute head start,

then head out."

"Roger that," Jim said in response. According to the plan, Smith, Jorge,

Ryan, Bill and Beverly would ride in the van while everyone else would
take the helicopter. Smith walked out as Ryan turned off the lights and

locked the doors.

Smith went to the van, where Jorge, Bill and Beverly were waiting and

Ryan went to the sheriff's car.

"Just so you know, Sheriff, we won't be using our main headlights," Ryan

said. "We'll have our parking lights on until we hit the state line."

"How will you see?" Sheriff Coltrane asked, confused. Ryan held up a

pair of night vision goggles. "Damn," the sheriff said. "You people really

know what you're doing, don't ya?"

"I like to think so," Ryan said. "And remember what we said earlier.

Besides, you promised me if I ever needed anything to ask."

"I remember," the sheriff said.

"Route us around the town, if you would," Ryan said. "I don't want folks

wondering what's going on."

"Good idea," the sheriff said. "We can take that new bypass. It's faster

and it'll save y'all some time."

"Okay," Ryan said. "Watch for my colleague's signal and we'll follow you.

I want to stop at the station at the junction of Highway 62 for gas." He

shook the sheriff's hand and got in the van, where he saw Beverly and
Bill sitting in front of a large collection of monitors and communication

equipment built into what had to be a custom setup. Beverly was

wearing a kevlar vest and a helmet sat on the console in front of her.

"You ready, dear?" he asked. She nodded her head, nervous. "Don't

worry. You'll do just fine."

"That's what I've been telling her," Bill said.

"Let's roll," Ryan shouted. Jorge waved and motioned to the sheriff, who

waved back before turning his car around. They headed out and as they

got on the blacktop, Bill turned back to the consoles, showing Beverly

more features of the system.

"You got a police scanner in here?" Ryan asked.

"Of course," Bill said.

"Turn it on," Ryan ordered. "I want to make sure our sheriff doesn't make

any unwanted calls."

"Got it, boss," Bill said, turning on the scanner. They heard nothing but

normal late-night chatter, with the sheriff saying he was going to patrol

the bypass on out to the state line.

"10-4," the dispatcher said. They listened, but Sheriff Coltrane remained

true to his word and mentioned nothing of the van behind him. They
sped on into the night, and pulled over at the gas station by the junction

to Highway 62. Jorge jumped out and filled the tank.

"If you need to hit the bathroom, this is your chance," Ryan said.

"I gotta go -- bad," Beverly said.

"Me too," Bill said.

"Okay," Ryan said. "Make it fast." A few minutes later, they were back

and headed north into New Mexico. Jorge waved at Sheriff Coltrane as

he crossed the state line. He secured his night vision goggles and turned

off his lights. Ryan looked at Beverly and took her hand. She was

trembling. He squeezed her hand and smiled.

"It's alright, dear," he said. "Piece of cake." She nodded her head.

"Piece of cake, right," she said. "Maybe for you. I'm scared to death."

"That's normal. Take a deep breath," Ryan said. "Then hold it." She

followed his direction. "Now, slowly let it out." She obeyed as he

watched. "Just do that a couple more times. You're doing just fine."

"You really did this for a living?" she asked.

"Yeah, I did," Ryan said. "So did Bill here."

"How did you do it all those years?" she asked.

"One day at a time," Ryan said. "Isn't that right, Bill?" He nodded his

head.

"Yup," he said.

"Didn't you ever get scared?" she asked.

"All the time," Ryan said. Bill nodded his head.

"Then why did you do it?" she asked.

"It's what we were paid to do," Ryan told her. "The fear helps keep us

alert." Soon, they were on the road overlooking the camp and Jorge

pulled off onto the road leading to the main gate.

"Stop here," Ryan said quietly. Jorge pulled off the road so the brush

would help conceal the van. Ryan knew they were about 50 yards from

the front gate. He pulled out two crossbows and handed one to Smith.

"You any good with this?" he asked. Smith nodded his head. "Good. Let

go." Ryan rummaged around and grabbed two remote charges Cap had

handed him earlier, then he, Smith and Jorge quietly climbed out of the

van, making sure not to make any noise that might alert the guards.

Ryan handed a crossbow to Smith and they crept up the road until they

were just a few yards from the gate. Two guards sat at the gate, and

Ryan could tell they were asleep in their chairs. He motioned for Smith
to take out the one on the right side of the road. They took careful aim

and fired.

The bolts shot out as the bows made a "thwip" sound. The two guards

fell over, dead. Ryan and Smith handed the bows to Jorge.

"Get these back to the van, then get back up here as fast as you can,"

Ryan whispered. Jorge nodded his head and left with the two bows.

They crept up to the gate and saw no one else. Ryan looked in the small

guard shack and saw an array of indicators on a console. No doubt, he

thought, warning lights for sensors in the brush surrounding the camp.

He pulled out his knife and cut all the cables he could see. Noticing the

large gnarly dogwood trees on either side of the narrow road, Ryan

placed a charge at the base of each one and turned the detonators on

as Cap instructed.

Confident they still hadn't been spotted, he slowly lifted the gate so the

van could get in when the time came. They looked in the compound and

noticed two large black SUVs parked in front of one of the buildings.

Ryan motioned to Smith.

"Those weren't there yesterday," he whispered. Smith nodded and

looked at the vehicles.

"Mexican plates," Smith whispered. "From Chihuahua. Any idea who

they might belong to?"

"None," Ryan whispered. By then, Jorge had made it back. Ryan pointed

to the building where he saw Sarah and Ryan taken the previous day.

"That's our target," he whispered. Jorge and Smith nodded their heads.

Ryan keyed his microphone and issued the command.

"Go, go, go," he said. He heard the blades of the chopper overhead and

saw the aircraft descend to a point about 10 feet off the ground by the

Lear jet. He saw three ropes come out of the craft and three men

descending, reminding him of a passage from an old Jethro Tull song:

"Like spiders down ropes to free-fall;

A thirty round clip for a visiting card;

Admit one to the embassy ball."

After the men made their way down, they crept up to the buildings,

remaining in the shadows. The chopper lifted and all hell broke loose as

the minigun opened up, shearing the nose off the Lear jet. Suddenly,

guards came out of the buildings, and walked straight into a wall of hot

lead from the AK-47s carried by Ian, Cap and Buster.

The three men scampered to their designated buildings, kicking in doors,

firing as they went. Ryan heard Beverly on the radio, giving instructions

to the men.

"Whiskey Delta four, bogey at 10 o'clock," she said, which was followed

by a short burst of fire. As she gave directions, the chopper turned its fire

on the vehicles, smashing the engines. Ryan was impressed that Bob

thought enough not to target the gas tanks. Still, the possibility the

vehicles could still catch fire weighed on his mind. The last thing he

wanted was a fireball alerting local law enforcement.

He looked at Jorge and Smith and gave the signal to move. As he did

so, he spotted Elmer and a guard going into the building. They sprinted

to the building, firing at guards as they came toward them. Ryan flipped

his night vision goggles up as they approached the building.

Just as he was ready to kick the door in, it opened and a large man

stood there shocked. Ryan wasted no time, putting a bullet in his head.

They rushed inside and saw Elmer with one arm around Sarah's upper

body. He held a knife to her throat.

"Watch the door," Ryan told Jorge. Jorge wordlessly turned to the door

to provide cover. They could hear the staccato noise of the AK-47s and

the sound of the minigun. A few scattered shots could be heard, along
with shouts and screaming, but those died off soon enough. Ryan and

Smith spread out, their pistols at the ready.

"Come any closer and I'll cut your pretty little daughter's head off," Elmer

threatened, pissing Ryan off even more. Sarah was crying as she

struggled to get free.

"Boy, didn't anyone ever tell you never to bring a knife to a gunfight?"

Ryan asked. He watched and waited for an opening as Elmer tried to

position himself. Ryan knew he only had one shot at this. Soon enough,

Elmer's leg presented itself. Ryan aimed low and fired, hitting Elmer's

lower leg. He screamed and dropped the knife.

Sarah, now free, ran toward Ryan and Smith as Elmer screamed in pain

on the floor.

"Daddy," she cried, her arms outstretched.

"Where's little Ryan?" Ryan asked his daughter.

"In the next room," she said. "They've got him drugged up on

something."

"Get him and get them the hell outta here," Ryan told Smith. "Go!" Smith

holstered his pistol and ran into the other room, where the little boy was
laying on a bed, unconscious. He picked the boy up and carried him out

into the main room, Sarah close by.

"Come on, Ryan, we have to go," Smith said.

"Get them outta here," Ryan said. "I'll be along directly. GO!" Smith

looked at Elmer, nodded his head, then spoke into his microphone.

"Whiskey Delta CP, objectives secured," he said. "Get in here, now!"

"Roger that," Bill said. Smith escorted Sarah out of the building. Jorge

looked at Ryan.

"Go, Jorge," Ryan said. "Cover them. I'll be there shortly." Jorge nodded

his head and left with Smith. When they were gone, Ryan approached

Elmer, kicking the knife away. Elmer looked at Ryan, fear etched in his

face.

"Please, Ryan," he begged. "Don't kill me. I have money. Lots of it. It's

yours. All of it. Just please don't kill me. I'm begging you."

"Not so full of piss and vinegar now, are you? I don't want your money,

asshole," Ryan said. "I have enough of my own." He delivered a swift

kick to Elmer's balls, causing him to scream in pain. "That's for fucking

my wife and destroying my marriage." He kicked Elmer again, twice.

"That's for kidnapping my daughter and grandson." He delivered another

kick to Elmer's groin. "And that's just because you're a scum-sucking,

maggot-infested piece of shit and I hate your guts. Remember what I

promised you, boy?"

Elmer nodded his head.

"Well, whaddya think?" Ryan asked. "You like this little war? You having

fun now? Huh? ANSWER ME, GODDAMMIT!"

"Please, stop," Elmer whined.

"Grow the fuck up," Ryan snarled. "You brought this on yourself." He put

his pistol away and drew his large knife, causing Elmer's eyes to go

wide.

"You believe in God?" Ryan asked, seeing the St. Christopher's medal

around Elmer's neck. Elmer nodded his head. "Good. Because you're

going to meet him. Real soon," Ryan said, causing Elmer to piss his

trousers. Ryan chuckled as he saw that. He got behind Elmer and

grabbed his head, bringing the knife to Elmer's throat.

...

A few minutes later, Ryan walked to the van, having cleaned his knife on

Elmer's trousers. He saw Smith by the open back door, motioning for
him to hurry. He double-timed to the van, took one last look around to

make sure everyone was secure, then stepped inside.

As the van passed the gate, he grabbed the remote from his pocket,

lifted the protective cover and pressed the button. Two muffled

explosions could be heard, followed by the sound of falling trees. He

glanced back and saw they effectively blocked the gate. That should

slow down anyone trying to get in or out, he thought.

"Whiskey Delta Seven," he said in his microphone. "Sitrep."

"Everyone present and accounted for," Jim said in reply. "All buildings

secured. One casualty." Ryan's heart dropped.

"Who?" he asked brusquely.

"Gunner," Jim said. Ryan knew he was referring to Bob. "Cap says it's

just a minor flesh wound. He's alright." Ryan breathed a sigh of relief.

Still, it hurt to hear that his son-in-law was injured. "He did good, boss,"

Jim said, making Ryan feel better. More than that, really. He was proud

of the young man.

"Roger that, Whiskey Delta Seven," Ryan said. "Get back to base.

Maintain radio silence." He heard the click of a keyed microphone in

acknowledgment, and took his comm unit off. He turned to Beverly, who

was shaking.

"You alright?" he asked. She nodded her head.

"Did I do okay?" she asked.

"You did better than that," he said. "You were perfect. We couldn't have

done this without you." He held her until she stopped trembling. He

looked at Sarah and Ryan. She was holding the boy in her arms, crying.

He let go of Beverly and went to his daughter.

"Are you alright?" he asked. She nodded her head and cried.

"Yes, thanks to you. Again," she cried. He held her as she sobbed and

comforted her as best he could. "I'm worried about little Ryan," she said

in between her sobs. Beverly came to them and looked at the boy, then

put her ear by his mouth.

"He's breathing," she said. "So maybe he's just asleep. What did they

give him?"

"I don't know," she said. "They kept him doped up the whole time we

were there."
"We'll have Cap take a look when we get home," Ryan said. He looked

at his daughter's tear-streaked face. "Did they do anything to you?" he

asked.

"No, but they were planning something bad," she said. "I overheard them

talking about a gang bang, then selling me off to some Mexican cartel if

you didn't come through."

"You don't have to worry about them anymore," Ryan said. He sat on the

bench, holding his two women as Jorge drove home. He considered

telling her about Bob, but decided to wait until they got home. He looked

around at the others and realized they were decompressing in their own

way, so he said nothing.

Bob turned the police scanner back on after they crossed the state line,

and heard some chatter indicating local LEOs were on the way out of

Carlsbad.

"ETA 90 minutes," they heard one officer say. Of course, Ryan knew that

didn't necessarily mean other officers weren't closer. He hoped they

would be home by the time the locals arrived on the scene.

"Jorge, go ahead and turn the lights back on," he said. "And watch your

speed. The last thing we need is to get pulled over by DPS."

"Got it," Jorge said in response. This particular road wasn't traveled

much, but that didn't mean a state trooper wasn't sitting in a speed trap

waiting for an unsuspecting car. Border Patrol agents were also known

to troll some of these roads. It seemed that all of them were holding their

breath the whole way back, but they finally pulled into his driveway.

When Jorge stopped, Ryan exhaled.

"Home, sweet home," he said. They climbed out of the van and made

their way inside. Ryan carried his grandson upstairs and laid him down

on one of the beds. He covered the boy and kissed him on the top of his

head. He went downstairs and noticed that Beverly had unlocked the

back door, letting the others inside.

Cap had Bob's uninjured arm around his shoulder and guided him to a

chair in the kitchen. Ryan could see the torn shirt and the sleeve was

drenched in blood. His heart ached for the boy. He put a hand on Bob's

good arm.

"It's just a scratch," Cap said. "A bullet ricocheted off the door panel and

struck him. He'll need a couple stitches but he's okay otherwise." Ryan

nodded his head, bent down and kissed the boy on the top of his head.

He grabbed the second 12-pack of beer and the cigars off the counter

and began handing them out.

Sarah took one look in the kitchen and saw Bob sitting there as Cap

cleaned his wound. She cried out and ran to him as everyone watched.

"Oh my God," she cried. "You've been hurt. I didn't know you were

there."

"Who do you think was making all that racket outside, shooting up

everything in sight?" Cap asked.

"That was you?" she asked. Bob nodded his head, a weak smile on his

face. She wrapped her arms around him and smothered him with kisses.

"Why? Why were you there?"

"I couldn't just sit home and wait," he said. "If anything happened to you

or little Ryan and all I did was sit at home, I could never live with myself."

"Oh, sweetheart," she said. "I love you so much. You're now officially my

new hero." He chuckled as she said that. "Just wait till I get you home. I'll

show you how much I appreciate what you did." He smiled at the thought

of that.

"Why don't you let me finish up here, and I'll go check on your son," Cap

said. Sarah nodded her head, kissed Bob one more time and went into

the front room, where everyone had already opened their beer and lit

their cigars.
"You know," Cap said quietly after she left, "the old man really thinks the

world of you." Bob looked at him, shocked. "So do the others. You

earned their respect tonight."

"How?" Bob asked.

"Well, you stood up and fought for your family," Cap said. "And you shed

some of your own blood in the process. That means a lot to hard guys

like Ryan, Bill, Buster and Ian."

"And the rest of you?" Bob asked.

"You've earned all our respect, Bob. Excuse me, Gunner. That's your

new name now, at least among us," Cap said. Bob smiled.

"I like that," he said. "Gunner. Yeah, I can live with that."

"You know what else might be nice?" Cap asked, as he stitched Bob's

arm.

"What?" Bob asked.

"If you started calling Ryan, 'Dad.' He thinks of you as the son he never

had," Cap said.

"Really?" Bob asked. Cap nodded his head as he cleaned up and

bandaged Bob's arm.

"I can see it in his face," Cap said. "The way he looks at you, the way he

talks to you. He was like that with Dawson, too."

"Who was this Dawson guy?" Bob asked.

"He was on our team for a few years," Cap said. "Had a wife and three

kids at home. They got into a bit of a pickle, so he joined up to earn his

way out of debt. Ended up throwing himself on a grenade without even

thinking about it. Ryan tried to stop him, but it was too late. He's carried

the guilt of that ever since. Always thought it should've been him instead

of Dawson."

"Damn," Bob said. "I never knew that."

"There's a lot about that old guy you don't know," Cap said. "Maybe it's

time you got to know him a little bit better." Bob nodded his head.

"Maybe you're right," he said. Cap finished with the bandage, packed his

gear and stood up.

"I'd better go check on your son now," Cap said. "Take it easy with that

arm for a few days. It may itch after a while. I'll give you some antiseptic

cream for it."

"Thanks," Bob said. Cap nodded his head and went upstairs. Ryan came

to the table and sat down. He opened a beer and handed it to Bob, then

offered him a cigar.

"You know, this'll probably be the only time Beverly will let you smoke

one of those in here, so enjoy it while you can," he said with a smile.

"Thanks... Dad," Bob said. "You don't mind if I call you that, do you?"

Ryan fought back a tear and shook his head.

"Not at all, son," he said. "In fact, I'd be a bit irritated if you didn't." Bob

chuckled.

"I've seen you when you get irritated," Bob said. Ryan smiled and shook

his head.

"No, you've seen me get plum pissed the fuck off," Ryan said. "Still... Jim

tells me you did real good out there. According to him, you stood right up

in the door of that chopper after you got hit and just kept firing. Tell me,

why DID you come out here?"

"Like I told Sarah, I just couldn't sit at home knowing she and Ryan were

in danger," Bob said. "I could never live with myself if something

happened to them and all I did was sit on my ass at home waiting to

hear from someone." Ryan nodded his head.

"I can respect that," Ryan said. "You're a man -- a father and a husband.

You wanted a father's justice. And you got it. And I couldn't be more

proud to call you son." Bob looked at him, shocked. Ryan smiled,

nodded his head and stood up.

"Well, I have one little thing to deal with here tonight," Ryan said. "Why

don't you come in and join us for a bit. You're about to see history

unfold." Bob grabbed his beer and his cigar and followed Ryan into the

front room.

Ryan held up his beer and tapped on the bottle with his knife to get

everyone's attention. Everyone stopped what they were doing and

looked at him. He set his beer down, put the knife back in its scabbard,

then took the cigar out of his mouth and handed it to Jim. He motioned

for Beverly to join him. She went to him and looked up at him, wondering

what he planned to do.

As everyone watched in stunned silence, he got down on one knee, took

her hand and looked up at her.

"Beverly," he began. "I never thought I would ever be able to love

another woman again. But you came along and made me feel whole

again. And for that, I will always and forevermore love you with
everything in my heart. So, in front of all these witnesses, I'm asking, will

you marry me and make me the happiest man on earth?"

"Oh my God, Ryan," she said, tears falling down her face. "Yes, my dear

Ryan, I'll marry you. I love you so much." He stood back up as everyone

cheered and clapped. They embraced each other right there in front of

everyone.

"Get a room, willya?" Buster shouted out, causing everyone to laugh.

"Got one, upstairs," Ryan said to more laughter.

"Oh God, the whole place is gonna be rockin' tonight," Buster said. That

prompted more laughter. Ryan and Beverly hugged and kissed each

other again.

"So, when's the wedding?" Smith shouted.

"Well, I have a few loose ends to tie up, then well git 'er done," Ryan

said. "If that's okay with the lady of the house," he added.

"Damn, not even married yet and he's already pussy-whipped," Ian

shouted. They all laughed again.

"Well, you know what they say," Ryan said. "It's okay to be hen-pecked if

ya don't mind the hen doing the pecking."

"It's more than alright," Beverly said. She looked around before

continuing. "Just so y'all know, Ryan definitely wears the pants in this

family. I'll have you know this wonderful man saved my life once. I

thought I had lost everything, but then he came along and made it all

right."

"That's what my dad does best," Sarah said, hugging Beverly. "And if it's

alright with you guys, I'd like to start calling you 'Mom' as of right now.

After all, you risked your life for me and little Ryan and that's something

my birth mother never, ever did." Beverly held Sarah in her arms and the

two women shed a few tears together.

"Of course it is, dear," she said. Suddenly they heard a telephone ring.

"Hold on," Smith shouted. "It's for me. Everyone, be quiet." They all

quieted down as Smith answered his phone.

"Yeah, Smith," he said. They only heard his side of the conversation.

"Uh huh. What's that? In New Mexico? Really? That sounds awful. Okay,

call Jones and have him meet me there. I'll be there as soon as I can.

Right. Bye." He ended the call and looked at the group.

"What was that all about?" Ryan asked.

"The local LEOs in New Mexico called the FBI field office in El Paso,"

Ryan said. "They want me to investigate an attack on a corporate

retreat. Said the place looks like a war zone. No survivors. Y'all wouldn't

happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"Us?" Jim asked. "Oh, hell no," he added to laughter.

"That's what I thought," Smith said. "Anyway, I'd better get cleaned up

and get going. You wouldn't mind brewing a pot of coffee, would you?"

"I'd be happy to," Beverly said. While she was making coffee, Ryan

spoke up.

"There's two more bedrooms upstairs, guys, and that couch isn't too

bad. Might as well settle in for the night," he said. Everyone split up and

found a place to sleep. Ryan met Smith at the front door as he prepared

to leave.

"You have everything?" he asked.

"Yeah," Smith said. "Good thing you made me keep my service pistol

and badge here."

"You gonna be alright?" Ryan asked. "You did put your career on the

line tonight."
"Let me worry about my career," Smith said. "It'll be alright. I'll call you

tomorrow, okay? You gonna be home?"

"I'll be flying back east with Sarah, Bob and Ryan, but you can still get

me on my phone," Ryan said. Smith nodded his head.

"Okay," he said. "I'll be in touch."

"Thanks again," Ryan said. "For everything."

"You're welcome," Smith said, shaking Ryan's hand. Weary, Ryan

closed the door and headed upstairs where his wife-to-be was waiting.

He knew they would only get a few hours sleep before she had to get up

and tend to her chickens.

"I need a break," he said to himself as he laid down next to Beverly.

"Goodnight, my husband-to-be," Beverly said as she kissed him on the

face. He returned her kiss and wrapped his arm around her. She felt so

soft and warm.

"Goodnight, my wife-to be," he responded before falling asleep.

End of "A Father's Justice, Pt. 05":

"You gonna be alright?" Ryan asked. "You did put your career on the

line tonight."
"Let me worry about my career," Smith said. "It'll be alright. I'll call you

tomorrow, okay? You gonna be home?"

"I'll be flying back east with Sarah, Bob and Ryan, but you can still get

me on my phone," Ryan said. Smith nodded his head.

"Okay," he said. "I'll be in touch."

"Thanks again," Ryan said. "For everything."

"You're welcome," Smith said, shaking Ryan's hand. Weary, Ryan

closed the door and headed upstairs where his wife-to-be was waiting.

He knew they would only get a few hours sleep before she had to get up

and tend to her chickens.

"I need a break," he said to himself as he laid down next to Beverly.

"Goodnight, my husband-to-be," Beverly said as she kissed him on the

face. He returned her kiss and wrapped his arm around her. She felt so

soft and warm.

"Goodnight, my wife-to be," he responded before falling asleep.

...

And now, "A Father's Justice, Pt. 06":

The next morning, Ryan woke to the smell of bacon coming up from the

kitchen. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock -- 7:00 am. Crap, he

thought. Beverly liked to get up early to feed her chickens. He glanced at

her side of the bed and noticed she was already gone. He didn't even

know she was up.

He stumbled out of the bed, took a quick shower and dressed in his

usual clothes. That's when he saw the note on the dresser.

"My dearest Ryan," it began. "I got up early to go tend to the chickens. I

have some deliveries to make this morning, so I'll be gone till about

12:00. I knew you were exhausted from last night, so I let you sleep.

Sarah said she would make all y'all some breakfast. I know you planned

to take the kids home today. If you have to leave before I get back, just

call. I'll be okay. Love you so much!"

The note was signed, "Your soon-to-be happy wife, Beverly." He smiled

and shook his head. She was so devoted to those chickens, he thought.

How could she have done what she did last night and still get up so early

to tend to them, he wondered.

He heard the television playing as he made his way downstairs. Buster

saw him coming down, and motioned for him to come in the front room.

Little Ryan was sitting on the couch with Buster and Ian, so he picked
the youngster up and set him on his lap as he took a seat. The boy's

eyes were glued to the television, like everyone else in the room.

"Check this out, man," Buster said, turning the volume up a bit.

"Shares of Knight Petroleum took a hit this morning as news broke of a

possible attack on a southeastern New Mexico retreat owned by the

company," the anchor said. "State law enforcement officials are working

with agents of the FBI to determine what actually took place. We take

you live to a press conference in progress at the camp." The scene

shifted to a report taken at the site of the camp. Agent Smith's bleary-

eyed face took up the screen.

"We are still collecting evidence in an effort to determine what took place

here overnight," he said.

"How many were killed or injured in the attack?" one reporter shouted.

"We are not releasing any of that information until the next of kin have

been notified," Smith said.

"Were there any survivors or witnesses?" another reporter asked. Smith

shook his head.

"No," he said. "None that have come forward at any rate. No survivors

have been located in the camp."

"Is it possible drugs may have been involved?" asked a third reporter.

"We are examining all possible scenarios," Smith said.

"What about terrorism?" another reporter shouted out.

"As I indicated before, we are looking into all possibilities," Smith said.

"Could this be related to the ongoing investigation of the former CEO,

Jacob Knight or the shooting of interim CEO Lisa Knight?" another

reporter asked.

"We have not ruled out either of those possibilities," Smith said.

"If so, how would this impact either of those investigations?" the first

reporter asked.

"You'll have to direct that question to the federal prosecutor in charge of

those cases," Smith said. "I'm here to investigate a possible crime, not

speculate on the impact of an ongoing case where litigation is either

pending or ongoing."

"Damn, that Smith fella is one cool cucumber," Buster said. Everyone

agreed.

"Can you tell us anything about how this was reported?" one reporter

asked. "This is a fairly remote area and from what we can tell, the
nearest neighbor is several miles away." Smith turned to a local deputy

sheriff, who stepped to the podium.

"Actually, the nearest neighbor is about 12 miles away," the deputy said.

"He happened to be outside when he thought he heard gunfire from this

general direction. He called 911 and it took officers up to an hour and a

half to determine this was the site of the incident."

"Why so long?" one reporter asked.

"Well, look around," the deputy said. "There's very few roads going in

and out of here, not very many people. There's a lot of territory to cover

out here. This ain't the big city, you know."

"Agent Smith, have you been in touch with any of the executives at

Knight Petroleum?" a reporter asked.

"I have not, no," he said. "We attempted to make contact but were told

they were not available."

"Don't you find that a bit odd?" the second reporter asked.

"We find a lot of things about this... incident odd," he said in reply. "That

will be all for now. We'll be in touch when we have something new to

share. Thank you." He stepped down, and the scene shifted to a reporter

on the scene, speaking into a microphone.

"And we just heard from FBI Special Agent John Smith, who basically

said they are looking into a number of possible scenarios, and have no

real information to share at this time," the young woman said. "It is

interesting to note that earlier, two damaged SUVs with what appeared

to be Mexican license plates were spotted being removed as well as the

damaged fuselage of a Lear jet registered to Knight Petroleum. We were

able to confirm the aircraft is one of a small fleet used to ferry executives

and VIP clients. Back to you, George."

"Thank you, Sherry," the male news reader said when the scene shifted

back to the studio. "We now go live to Central City, where reporters are

waiting to hear from a media spokesperson at Knight Petroleum." The

scene shifted once again to a briefing room. A podium sat in front of a

curtain that displayed the Knight Petroleum logo. As they watched, an

attractive brunette took her place behind the podium and consulted her

notes.

Sarah, seeing that everyone was glued to the news on the television,

started bringing plates filled with scrambled eggs and bacon into the

living room. She set a place mat on the coffee table and put a smaller

plate of food for little Ryan on it.

"Sorry, hon," Bob said. "Do you need some help?"

"No, no, I got it," she said. "You boys keep your eyes on the news." The

men began eating as soon as they had food in front of them. Ryan sat

the young boy down in front of the coffee table so he could eat his

breakfast. As they watched, the brunette looked at the reporters in the

room and spoke.

"As you all know, reports emerged this morning that a retreat owned and

operated by Knight Petroleum allegedly came under attack by a person

or persons unknown," she said, reading from her script. "There have

been reports of casualties, but we are not releasing any names pending

notification of next of kin. Of course, our condolences go out to the

families of those individuals and we will do everything we can to

minimize the impact on the families of the victims. We are working with

federal and state officials in New Mexico to determine the facts of the

case. We will now take a few questions from members of the press."

All of the reporters raised their hands, and the brunette picked one in the

front row.

"A report from the scene said a damaged Lear jet registered to Knight

Petroleum was removed from the scene for analysis," the reporter

began. "As I understand from your own records, that jet is one of several

used by your company to ferry executives, members of the board and

VIPs. Were any of your executives or board members on that aircraft or

in the camp at the time? And if so, what is their disposition?"

"I am not privy to that information," the brunette said. "At this time, I do

not know who was on the aircraft. It's possible that it was empty and

simply made a stop there to refuel. Our flight crews do that sometimes,

and often make use of the facilities for overnight sleepovers. We also

keep a small staff stationed at the facility for maintenance and security."

"You don't know where your own executives or board members are?"

the reporter pressed.

"I didn't say that," the brunette said. "I simply said I do not know if any

executives were on the aircraft or at the facility. It's quite possible there

were no passengers."

"But the flight plan we uncovered showed the aircraft left here the day

before yesterday, and the plan said its destination was New Mexico,"

another reporter said. "Also, the manifest we obtained showed the

aircraft had nine passengers on board, the maximum number it could

safely carry. Can you explain that?"

"I cannot explain that," the brunette said. "I will have to check with

management to verify that allegation."

"Why haven't we heard from your board of directors, Mr. Elmer

Jenkins?" another reporter shouted out. "Or anyone else from the

board?"

"I cannot answer that," the brunette said, prompting groans from the

reporters. Another reporter stood up.

"There have been several reports in the last day or so from the UK that

say the body one of your board members, a Mr. Colin Blackstone, was

found dismembered and stuffed in a suitcase in Manchester, England,"

the reporter said. "How do you respond to that?"

"We just received those reports as well," the brunette said. "Mr.

Blackstone recently returned to England to deal with a family

emergency. We have nothing else to report other than we are working

with authorities there to solve the case. That will have to conclude

today's conference, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you very much." She

turned and left the podium, clearly agitated. Reporters shouted

questions as she left, but she never acknowledged them. Ryan turned to

Jorge and Bill.

"Blackstone," Ryan said. "That's the guy Timmy fingered as the one who

introduced him to Jake, remember?" Jorge nodded his head.

"What?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah," Ryan said. "Timmy was the one who shot Lisa. According to

him, this Blackstone fella approached him about the job, took him to

meet Jake, then set him up with the gun, the instructions and the

payment. I asked Elmer about it, and he told me Blackstone had to go

home for a family emergency."

"Bloody hell," Ian said.

"I agree," Ryan said. "But we've got another problem."

"What's that?" Buster asked.

"If Sheriff Coltrane saw that report, he'll be looking for answers," Ryan

said.

"That's the sheriff who came out last night and escorted us to the state

line?" Jorge asked. Ryan nodded his head.

"One and the same," Ryan said. "Agent Smith and I talked directly to

him. Russell T. Coltrane may come off as a down-home country sheriff,

but he's sharp. He'll put two and two together and I suspect he'll be out

soon."

"Then we should probably make ourselves scarce," Buster said.

"I agree, mate," Ian said.

"If Gunner can help me out, I can have the chopper ready to go in 15

minutes," Jim said.

"Bill and I should probably head out as well," Jorge said. "He got a good

look at me and my van." Ryan thought for a moment and nodded his

head.

"Alright," he finally said. "Let's roll." They all got up and put their things

together. Bob went out with Jim and helped get the chopper ready to fly.

Ryan walked Jorge and Bill to the van.

"Do me a favor, would ya?" Ryan asked Jorge.

"Sure, anything," Jorge said.

"Can you let me know when Jake has his next court appearance?" Ryan

asked.

"I think he's set to be in court tomorrow," Jorge said. "I'll have Bill

double-check the docket on our way back and we'll let you know."

"You can do that from your van?" Ryan asked. Jorge smiled.

"Of course," he said. "That's why they call it 'mobile.' We can access the

Internet from anywhere these days. Welcome to the 21st century."

"Okay, okay," Ryan said. "Thanks."

"No problem," Jorge said. "We'll be in touch." They said their goodbyes

and Ryan watched as they drove off. He went back inside the house and

met Ian, Cap and Buster. They had each gathered their things and were

heading out. Ryan shook their hands.

"Thank you, guys," Ryan said. "I really appreciate all your help."

"No worries, mate," Ian said. "Just make sure to invite us to the

wedding."

"You got it," Ryan said. They walked out to the chopper and Ryan

watched as it lifted off, raising a huge cloud of dirt. After the dust settled,

he saw Bob making his way to the house.

"You think Elmer may have had that Blackstone guy murdered?" Sarah

asked as she cleaned up the dishes. Ryan nodded his head.

"I do," he said. "He was a loose end that had to be eliminated."

"What a mess," she said. "And to think Lisa was part of all that. What a

waste. She had us all fooled." Ryan noticed her use of her mother's

name. It was the first time he could remember her not calling Lisa,

"Mom."

"That she did," Ryan said. He looked at little Ryan, who was sitting on

the couch, watching television. "I'm glad to see Ryan's up and about."
"Me too," Sarah said. "He had me so worried last night. That Cap guy

checked him out last night and said he should be okay. Still, I wanna

scratch that bitch's eyes out for what they did to him." Ryan had no

argument, so he gave her a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

"I know how you feel," he said. "Look, I have to make some calls. I'll be

right out front."

"Okay, Dad," she said.

...

FBI Special Agent John Smith looked around at what was left of the

camp. It looked quite different in the light of day. He remembered the

events of the previous evening as he took in the carnage. He shuddered

when he saw Elmer's burnt head in the still-smoldering fireplace of the

building where he, Jorge and Ryan confronted Jenkins and considered

himself glad that Ryan insisted he leave the building when he did. He

knew of the old mercenary's reputation, but he never fully realized just

how vicious Ryan could really be.

He had seen things like this before during his time in the SEALs, but

never from anyone he had served with. As he watched, crime scene

investigators cataloged and bagged thousand of rounds of 7.62 mm

brass -- shells he knew came from the minigun Bob used last night.
A part of him felt sorry for the poor suckers at the receiving end of that

barrage. More than one pile of bloody body parts were recovered from

the compound and he knew the chances of them being positively

identified were slim. There just wasn't enough left to put back together.

Among the evidence collected were two cross-bow bolts removed from

the dead bodies of two security guards. He remembered shooting one of

those bolts last night, killing one of the guards.

"Any fingerprints on these?" he asked Jones as he looked at the bolts

that were now in separate evidence bags.

"No, none," Jones said. "Whoever used them knew what they were

doing." Smith grunted in response.

"Any video? Surely they had some surveillance set up," Smith said.

"They had a system set up, but all of the cables ran through the security

shack, and they were cut," Jones said. "So, no, there isn't any

surveillance footage." Smith nodded his head. Ryan was apparently

more clever and thorough than he originally thought.

"What about tire or shoe tracks?" Smith asked.

"Forget about it," Jones said. "When I got here the whole road was

jammed with all kinds of vehicles. They had to bring in a big ass truck to
get rid of the trees blocking the gate and there must've been a hundred

agents and LEOs stomping all over the place. Whatever tracks might've

been there are long gone."

Smith nodded his head as he took in what Jones said. He mentally

considered what was found in the camp.

The buildings contained the nude and nearly-nude bodies of a number of

people, some of whom were obviously shot as they engaged in sex. He

and Agent Jones had uncovered a huge cache of illicit drugs and

weapons. Cocaine, marijuana, meth and date rape drugs like Ecstasy

were found, making him wonder what really went on here.

They also found a treasure trove of DVDs and documents, all of which

were bagged and tagged for further examination back in El Paso.

Several computers were bagged and taken for further examination.

Agent Jones came up to him and handed him a document. He looked it

over, and saw it was a list of known casualties. Except for Colin

Blackstone, the list included the entire board of directors of Knight

Petroleum, along with the company's chief financial officer.

The list also included the four names of Mexican nationals, two of which

he recognized as known members of a vicious drug cartel that operated

across the border. Why were they here, he wondered. Eight unidentified
women were included on the list. Perhaps, he thought, they were

prostitutes who were either brought across the border or procured in one

of the local towns. Or both.

"I've already forwarded this to El Paso," Jones said. "They'll arrange all

the notifications. They'll also reach out to the Mexican consulate." Smith

nodded his head.

"Good," he said.

"What do you think, boss? A drug deal gone bad?" Jones asked. Smith

looked around before speaking.

"Possibly," Smith said, fully knowing the real story. "How would you call

it?" Jones thought for a bit before speaking.

"Just from the amount of drugs, the viciousness of the attack and the

presence of those Mexican nationals, I'd be tempted to say it was

drugs," Jones said. "Maybe a rival cartel did this and the Knight people

were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Hmm," Smith said. "Sounds logical to me." Smith's calm voice masked

the turmoil taking place inside him. He had served his country all his

adult life, first in the Navy as a SEAL team member, then as a Special
Agent in the FBI. Now, he was directly involved in covering up his own

illegal actions.

He thought about the situation as he looked around the compound. He

knew how easy it was for a case to fall apart. All it would take was a

partial fingerprint, a reflection in a cell phone photo or a tiny blob of DNA

from someone's spit. Was Ryan really that good, he wondered. Could he

really have pulled this off without leaving anything behind?

"Anything else?" he asked Jones. Jones shook his head.

"No, boss," he said. "That's pretty much it. Everything is on its way to El

Paso." Smith nodded his head. As he thought about the scene,

something niggled at the back of his mind. Ryan said he saw no vehicles

here earlier. He knew the jet carried maybe nine people, tops. The two

SUVs might have carried 10 or 12. What about the others?

From what he and Jones saw, it appeared that at least 15 people had

been staying here full time. Surely, Knight wouldn't have left them here

without transportation. And could someone really have heard the gunfire

from 12 miles away? Something didn't make sense here, and he was

determined to get to the bottom of it.

"Okay, lets get on outta here," he said. "I'm tired and I could use some

sleep."
"Sure, boss," Jones said.

...

Ryan finished making his calls and went back in the house. Sarah was

playing with little Ryan out by the pool, so he went into his office. He

knew he would have to get rid of any evidence from last night's raid, so

he disassembled the weapons he and Smith used, cleaned them

thoroughly and placed them in a box. He would have to get rid of them,

but how?

He picked up his desert camouflage and the gloves he wore, and

noticed the dried blood. His boots also had blood on them. He put it all in

a bag and carried them to an incinerator by his pistol range where he

burned most of his trash. He put the clothing in the unit, along with his

garbage and fired it up, hoping it would do the trick.

He took the box of pistol parts and dug a hole by the range, covering the

box with dirt. He knew he would have to eventually dump the parts

somewhere else, but at least this would get them out of the house.

He got back and had just cleaned up when he heard a car pull into his

driveway. He looked and saw it was Sheriff Coltrane. He looked around

to make sure there was nothing incriminating in the open, then opened

the door and went outside.

"Good morning, Sheriff," Ryan said as he stepped onto his porch. "What

can I do for you this morning?" Sheriff Coltrane came up to the porch

and offered his hand, which Ryan accepted. "Can I get you something?

Coffee? Tea?"

"No, but thanks for asking anyway, Mr. Caldwell," he said. "Mind if we

talk for a couple minutes?"

"Not at all, Sheriff," Ryan said. "Have a seat. Mind if I light up?"

"Your house," the sheriff said. "Mind if I join ya?"

"Help yourself," Ryan said, lighting up a cigarette.

"How's Beverly these days?" Sheriff Coltrane asked.

"Doing quite well, thanks for asking," Ryan said. "She's out delivering

eggs this morning."

"Yeah, I saw her over by the Jennings place," the sheriff said. "You two

getting along okay?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I asked her to marry me," Ryan said. "And she

said yes."

"Good for you," Sheriff Coltrane said. "Congratulations. I knew the two of

you would hit it off." he took a long drag off his cigarette before
continuing. "I see y'all got home safe and sound last night. Everything go

okay?"

"Yeah, it did, thanks," Ryan said. He knew the sheriff was toying with

him and waited for the other shoe to drop.

"You see the news this morning?" the sheriff asked. Here it comes, Ryan

thought.

"You mean about the incident in New Mexico last night?" Ryan asked.

"Yes, I did."

"Interesting, the FBI guy they interviewed was the same fella I talked to

last night," Sheriff Coltrane said. "I took a look at my map, and noticed

that camp's not too far from where I left you at the state line last night.

You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" Ryan

shrugged his shoulders. He looked at the sheriff and tried to read his

expression, but was unable to. He thought for a moment and made a

decision. He hoped it was the right one.

"They had my daughter and my grandson," Ryan said quietly. "They

were going to rape her then sell her off and do God knows what to the

boy if the feds didn't back down from prosecuting Knight Petroleum." He

looked at the sheriff, but was still unable to read his face. "Tell me,
sheriff, what would you have done if it was your daughter? Your

grandson?"

"Well, Ryan," the sheriff said. "May I call you Ryan?" Ryan nodded his

head. "I reckon if it were me, I'd move heaven and earth to get 'em

back." The sheriff looked at him hard before continuing. "You know,

Ryan, I may be a country sheriff, but I'm not stupid," he added, his west

Texas accent all but gone. Ryan looked at him, confused. "I figured it

was something like that. I understand the secrecy, but I just wished you

would've told me up front." Ryan nodded his head.

"So, what are ya gonna do now?" Ryan asked. Sheriff Coltrane shook

his head.

"Nothing I can do or say, even if I wanted to, which I don't," he said.

"That FBI fella swore me to secrecy, remember? Besides, there ain't no

law against riding in a van late at night. At least not in this county. Far as

I'm concerned, if you took that bunch out, you did us all a big favor."

Ryan chuckled, noticing the accent had returned. Who was this guy,

really, he asked himself.

"Speaking of the law," Sheriff Coltrane added. "You ever consider going

into law enforcement?" Ryan laughed.

"Seriously?" he asked. "I'm an old man, and I only have one eye." Sheriff

Coltrane laughed.

"Old?" he asked. "Son, I'm a lot older than you. Besides, I have to deal

with this," he said, lifting one trouser leg to reveal a prosthetic limb.

"So, why are you asking me?" Ryan said. "I've never done police work in

my life, and I'm too old to start out at the bottom."

"Fortunately, that's not a requirement to be sheriff in this county," the

sheriff said. "Sheriffs here are appointed by a county board, based on

recommendations from local citizens."

"That's all well and good, but where are you going?" Ryan asked.

"I'm planning to retire in a couple months," the sheriff said. "Been

thinking about who might be best to take my place."

"Surely you have deputies who would be far more qualified than me,"

Ryan said.

"Yeah, they're a good bunch of fellas alright," Sheriff Coltrane said. "Hell,

one of 'em even served on the LAPD before coming here. But none of

'em want the job. I already asked."

"Why me, then?" Ryan asked.

"Folks here like you," the sheriff said. "They all say you're a good man,

and I agree. Besides, you command respect. Trust me, it's a lot safer

than what you did before you moved here." Ryan looked at him,

shocked.

"Oh yeah," the sheriff said. "I know all about you. You're not the only one

with friends, you know. Does Beverly know?"

"Yes, she does," Ryan said.

"And she's okay with it?" Ryan nodded his head.

"Well, there ya go," the sheriff said.

"If I do this, will you at least help snap me in?" Ryan asked.

"Of course," Sheriff Coltrane said. "I wouldn't just throw you to the

wolves."

"I have a few loose ends to tie up and I'd have to talk with Beverly about

it first," Ryan said.

"I'd expect nothing less," the sheriff said.

"When do you need to know?" Ryan asked.

"Anytime in the next few days will work. Just don't wait too long, though,"

the sheriff said. "You let me know, and I'll put in my recommendation to

the board. By the way, when are you and Beverly getting married?"

"We haven't set a date yet," Ryan said.

"Well, I'd appreciate an invitation," the sheriff said. "Believe it or not, I

think the world of her. She's been through a lot."

"Consider it done," Ryan said. "By the way, why don't you come on in

and meet my daughter and grandson?"

"I'd love to," he said. "And please, call me Russell, willya?"

"Okay, Russell," Ryan said. They went inside and saw Bob, Sarah and

little Ryan in the kitchen. Sarah looked up as they walked in.

"Bob, Sarah, this is Sheriff Russell Coltrane," Ryan said. "Russell, this is

my daughter, Sarah, her husband, Bob and my grandson, Ryan."

Russell smiled as he gave Sarah a hug, then shook Bob's hand. He

knelt down to say hello to little Ryan, but the youngster held on to

Sarah's leg.

"It's okay, young feller," Russell said. "I'm a friend of your granddad's."

Little Ryan looked up at Sarah then at Ryan, who smiled and nodded his

head. Slowly, he let loose of Sarah's leg and held out his hand. Russell
smiled and took the boy's hand in his and gently shook. Russell stood up

and looked at Sarah.

"That's quite a young fella you got there," he said. Sarah smiled

nervously as she thanked him.

"It's alright, sweetheart," Ryan said. "He knows." Russell nodded his

head.

"Are you alright?" Russell asked her.

"Yes, we're doing fine, thanks," she said.

"I'm glad to hear that," Russell said.

"Are you going to," she began before Russell shook his head.

"Arrest your father?" he asked, finishing her question. She nodded her

head. He shook his head before speaking. "No, I'm not. Hell, I'd have

done the same thing if it were my daughter. In fact, I'd like your dad to

take over when I retire."

"Really?" she asked, shocked.

"I can't think of anyone better to protect the folks in these parts," Russell

said.
"Wow," she said, smiling. "My dad, the sheriff." Ryan shrugged his

shoulders.

"Are you gonna do it, Dad?" Bob asked.

"Well, I need to talk it over with Beverly first and I have a couple loose

ends to deal with, but I think so," Ryan said.

"Well, congratulations, Sheriff," Bob said, holding out his hand. Ryan

smiled as he shook Bob's hand.

"Well, folks," Russell said. "I've got to be going. Good meetin' y'all."

"Good meeting you, Sheriff," Bob said. Ryan walked Russell to the door

just as Beverly drove up. They met in the driveway.

"Hey, Beverly," Russell said.

"Hello, Sheriff," she said. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine dear," Ryan said. "He knows." She looked at Russell,

wondering if he was taking her husband away.

"It's alright, darlin'," Russell said.

"So you're not going to arrest Ryan?" she asked.

"Arrest him?" Russell asked. "Hell no. I plan to make him sheriff." She

looked at him shocked.

"Seriously?" she asked.

"Well, the final decision is up to the county board, of course, but if I have

my way, yes," Russell said.

"I haven't said yes yet," Ryan said. "I told him I needed to talk to you

first."

"Thank you for that," she said. "Personally, though, I think it'd be a great

idea. It'd get you out of the house anyway," she added with a smile.

Russell laughed before continuing.

"By the way, I hear congratulations are in order," he said. "You're daddy

would be so proud."

"Thank you," she said. Suddenly her face changed. "Oh my God, that

reminds me."

"What?" Ryan asked.

"Who's gonna walk me down the aisle?" she asked. Ryan looked at her

for a moment, then they both turned to Russell. Beverly spoke up first.

"Sheriff, I hate to ask, but would you..."

"What? Walk you down the aisle? Why, I'd be proud to, Beverly," Russell

said. "That is, if Ryan doesn't mind."

"Not at all," Ryan said. "In fact, I can't think of anyone better."

"Well then," Russell said. "It's settled." Beverly wrapped her arms around

him and kissed him on the cheek."

"Thank you so much," she said.

"You're welcome," he said. "But only if you start calling me Russell."

"I will, Sher, er, Russell," she said.

"Well, I'd better be getting," Russell said, opening his car door. "Y'all

have a good day, y'hear?"

"Will do, Russell," Ryan said. "And I'll call when I get back. I wanna talk

to you a bit about this before I make a final decision."

"Sounds good, Ryan," Russell said. "See ya then." They waved as

Russell drove off. Ryan helped her carry her things into the house and

poured her a glass of tea.

"So, what happened?" she asked when he handed her the tea.

"Did you hear the news this morning?" Ryan asked.

"I heard something about it on the radio," she said. "They're suggesting it

was a drug cartel or something."

"Well, as I suspected, Russell saw the report and put the pieces

together," Ryan said. "He came out to talk to me about it. I thought for a

moment he was going to arrest me, but he didn't. Said Smith swore him

to secrecy. He also said he knows about my past. He had every right to

put me in cuffs and haul me off, but he didn't. Instead, he says he wants

me to take over his job when he retires."

"I guess someone's looking out for you," Beverly said.

"Reckon so," he said. "So, how'd it go with you today?"

"Went very well," she said. "I picked up a couple more customers today."

"Good," Ryan said. "By the way, I've got reservations to fly the kids back

set for this afternoon. I didn't want to leave until you got back."

"I appreciate that," she said. "I'm sorry I didn't wake you up this morning,

but I figured you'd be plum tuckered out. I know I was."

"Thanks, I appreciate that, but you still should've woken me up," he said.

"I'd have gladly helped you out."

"I know, but I wanted you to get some sleep," she said. "Speaking of

sleep, I'm wiped. I hope you don't mind if I go home and crash."

"I don't mind a bit," he said. "You deserve a good night's sleep."
"Thanks," she said, standing up. He took her in his arms and kissed her

deeply.

"I love you so much," he said. She smiled and kissed him back.

"I love you more," she said. "Call me tonight, okay? I wanna make sure

you got there okay."

"I will," he said. "You run on home now. I'll call you this evening. Maybe

when I get back you can model those little shorts for me again."

"Maybe I'll make a new pair, just for you," she said with a wicked gleam

in her eye. They held each other for a bit, looking in each other's eyes.

"Okay guys," Sarah called from the kitchen. "There's young eyeballs

here." Ryan and Beverly smiled and turned to Sarah who was holding

little Ryan. The boy looked at Beverly, somewhat frightened. Beverly

walked over to the young boy and ran her hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry, we've never really met," Beverly said.

"Are you grandpa's friend?" little Ryan asked.

"Yes, she is," Sarah told him. "In fact, she's gonna be your new

grandma." The boy looked at Beverly for a moment, confused.

"Are you really gonna be my new grandma?" he asked. Beverly smiled

and nodded her head.

"Yes, I am," she said. "Is that okay with you?" The boy thought for a

moment before answering.

"Are you gonna help grandpa find his eye?" he asked.

"If he wants me to, yes," Beverly said. Ryan looked as if he was deep in

thought. Then he looked up at her.

"Okay then," he said. "You can be my new grandma." Beverly smiled

and took the boy in her arms.

"Thank you," she said. "That means so much to me."

"You're welcome," he said. Beverly stood up and looked at Sarah.

"He's a lovely boy," she said. "Reminds me of my own son. Well, if you

don't mind, I'm going to run home and get some much needed sleep."

"Sure, Mom, you've earned it," Sarah said, hugging her. Beverly's eyes

watered as she heard Sarah call her "Mom." They broke apart and

Beverly headed for the door.

"Don't forget to call," she said as she opened the door.

"I won't, dear," Ryan said. He walked to her and gave her one more kiss.

"Have a good sleep, okay?"

"Don't worry, I'll be asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow," she said.

He watched as she walked to her car. He waved when she left and saw

her wave back.

"She's gonna be good for you, Dad," Sarah said from the kitchen. "I just

know it."

"I know," Ryan said. "Well, are y'all about ready to leave? The plane

leaves at 2:00."

"Just about," Bob said. "I'm just finishing up."

"Well hurry up, we need to get going," Ryan said.

"On my way," Bob hollered back. Ryan shook his head.

"Kids," he said jokingly. "Take a bullet and they think they can get away

with anything." Sarah laughed.

"It's good to see you joke, Dad," she said. He smiled as he gave her a

hug. Bob came back downstairs carrying a suitcase.

"Okay, I'm ready," Bob said. "Let's hit the road." Sarah chuckled as Ryan

shot her a sarcastic look. He checked the doors and grabbed his duffel
bag, then followed Sarah and Bob out the door. His phone buzzed when

he parked the truck, letting him know he got a message. He pulled his

phone out and saw he got a text from Agent Smith.

"Long day," the message said. "Watch tonight's news. Interesting

developments. Call me after. Gotta get some sleep. Too old for this shit."

Ryan chuckled and put his phone away. He was curious to see what

Smith had to say.

They headed into the terminal, checked in and headed for the security

area. His phone buzzed again, and he saw it was a call from Bill.

"Yeah," he said when he answered.

"Verified that Jake has a court appearance at 8:00 tomorrow morning,"

Bill said. "Also took a look and found they're going to be doing

maintenance on the video surveillance system all day tomorrow. I think

they're gearing up for possible protests and such."

"Interesting," Ryan said. "That's good to know."

"I thought so as well," Bill said. "So, how'd it go with the sheriff?"

"He figured it out," Ryan said.

"What? And you're still walking around free?" Bill asked.

"Yeah," Ryan said. "In fact, he wants me to take over as sheriff."

"Damn," Bill said. "Talk about luck."

"Tell me about it," Ryan said. "Anyway, we're getting ready to board the

flight now. I'll call you later. Oh, Smith texted me, said to watch the news

tonight. Maybe you can catch it while you're on the road."

"Yeah, sure, will do," Bill said. "That's pretty much all they've been

talking about today. Knight Petroleum is taking a beating on the market."

"Couldn't happen to a nicer bunch of assholes," Ryan said. "Talk to ya

later."

"Okay, boss, talk to you later," Bill said, ending the call. They finally

settled into their seats and were sound asleep by the time the aircraft

reached its altitude. When the plane landed, they disembarked, grabbed

their luggage and headed for the car rental where Ryan got a

nondescript sedan.

After they arrived at Bob and Sarah's home, Ryan and Bob put

everything away. Fortunately, most of the mess left behind by the

abduction had already been cleaned up, but the house still smelled of

bleach and antiseptic. Sarah opened the windows to air the place out.
Bob grabbed a couple beers, handing one to Ryan. They sat in the front

room and turned on the news.

They listened as the anchor read off a few local reports, but their eyes

were soon glued to what was hailed as "breaking news."

"This just in to Eyewitness News," the anchor said. "Federal authorities

have released the names of those killed in a raid on a New Mexico

retreat owned and operated by Knight Petroleum. According to officials,

the casualty list includes six of the seven members of the company's

board of directors, including Elmer Jenkins, the chairman of the board.

"That follows reports from the UK that say another board member, Colin

Blackstone, was found dead in Manchester," the anchor said. "In

addition, the chief financial officer of Knight Petroleum was found dead

in New Mexico. We now turn to Brenda Carpenter, reporting from El

Paso. Brenda..." The scene shifted to an attractive blonde standing

outside a tall building, presumably in El Paso, Texas.

"Yes, Jerry, thank you," she said. "We spoke to federal officials earlier,

and they informed us that in addition to the Knight executives, at least

four Mexican nationals were among those killed in New Mexico.

Additionally, a large cache of drugs and guns were found at the facility,

leading investigators to suspect involvement of a drug cartel." Suddenly,

Smith's face appeared on the screen, his eyes covered with a pair of

extremely dark glasses.

"We are still going through all the evidence that's been collected," Smith

said. "But at this point, we believe the compound was targeted by a drug

cartel."

"Can you confirm reports that claim the site was used for illicit sex

parties and human trafficking?" one reporter asked.

"The evidence we have seen so far would suggest that is the case,"

Smith said.

"There have also been reports that two of your agents were killed in

Central City," another reporter said. "From what we were told, they were

protecting the daughter of Lisa Knight, the interim Knight CEO who was

gunned down in a company parking lot. Can you confirm that report and

is it related to this incident?"

"I have been authorized to confirm that information," Smith said. "At this

point, I think it's fairly safe to conclude that everything regarding the

incidents involving Knight is related at some level." The scene shifted yet

again, going back to the blonde reporter.

"Agent Smith tells us the agency is sifting through a mountain of

evidence that suggests executives were involved in a myriad of crimes.

It seems we're just seeing the tip of the iceberg. Back to you, Jerry," she

said.

"Thank you, Brenda," Jerry said. "For more, we turn to Andrew Conrad,

live at the federal courthouse where disgraced former CEO Jacob Knight

is set to appear yet again tomorrow morning. Andrew?"

"Yes, Jerry, indeed, Mr. Knight, who is confined to a wheelchair as the

result of a mugging, is set to appear here tomorrow morning," Andrew

said. "I spoke to Marvin Morrison, the federal prosecutor in charge of the

case." The video changed scene and they saw a tall, thin man with curly

hair talking with the reporter.

"The evidence we've seen so far suggests to us that the executives of

Knight Petroleum spent more time committing crimes and covering them

up than they spent producing oil and gas," Marvin said. "And something

tells me this is just the beginning."

"Will there be more charges filed?" Andrew asked. Marvin looked intense

as he answered.

"Absolutely," he said. "And I expect there will more on top of that."

"Will you be speaking with the surviving executives?" Andrew asked.

"Yes," Marvin said. "We've already started those discussions, and we've

widened the investigation to include lower-level managers."

"The defense has been quite effective in blocking your motions so far,"

Andrew said. "What is your strategy for that?"

"Well, Andrew," Marvin said. "You're right that the defense has been

effective in putting up roadblocks. But I think that will all change

tomorrow."

"What kind of charges can we expect to see?" Andrew asked.

"Shocking charges," Marvin said. "That's all I'll say about that right now.

You'll get a better idea tomorrow morning."

"So, Jerry," Andrew said after Marvin walked off, "it looks like we might

see some fireworks tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, Andrew," Jerry said. "We'll be watching." He turned to face

another camera. "The allegations against Knight Petroleum have also

had a serious impact on the market today as shares have dropped,

causing concern among investors. We now turn to Eyewitness News

financial analyst Tyler Morgan. Tyler, what do you see happening?"

"Well, Jerry," Tyler said, having suddenly appeared in the shot, "I think

Knight Petroleum may be on its last leg, so to speak. If something isn't

done soon, the company will fold, and that could have global

repercussions."

"Do you know of anything in the works?" Jerry asked.

"I've heard rumors, but nothing I can conclusively report at this time,"

Tyler said.

"I know if something does happen, you'll be the first to let us know,

Tyler," Jerry said. "Thank you." He turned back to the camera. "Up next,

man's best friend goes on a little joyride. Stay tuned to Eyewitness

News." Bob turned the TV off as the station went to a commercial.

"You're the analyst, Bob," Ryan said. "What do you think?"

"I think Knight Petroleum is screwed, blued and tattooed," Bob said. "I'll

be surprised if they're still in business a month from now." Ryan nodded

his head in agreement.

"I think you're right," he said. He pulled out his phone and called Smith,

who answered on the first ring.

"Yeah, Smith," he said.

"Just saw the news," Ryan said. "Is all that shit true?"
"You wouldn't believe the shit we found at that camp," Smith said. "I

have a feeling if we hadn't acted when we did, someone else would've."

"What did you find?" Ryan asked.

"Unbelievable shit, Ryan," Smith said. "More drugs than you can shake a

stick at, DVDs of drug-crazed orgies, possibly including underage girls,

ties to drug cartels, evidence of human trafficking, you name it. I also

think I know why the agency turned a blind eye to Gillespie's murder."

"Damn," Ryan said. "Don't tell me they had a mole in the agency."

"Yup," he said. "Someone fairly high up in the food chain. He's already

been brought in for questioning."

"Any evidence linking Lisa to all this crap?" Ryan asked.

"Nothing yet," Smith said. "It's possible they managed to keep it from

her, but I don't see how she could've not known something was going

on. Maybe she was blinded by Jake's money and too involved in her

own work to notice. I don't know. So, what's the word on your end?"

"Well, Sheriff Coltrane put it together after the report this morning," Ryan

said. "Came out to see me after the guys left."

"Oh?" Smith asked. "And he didn't take you in?"

"No," Ryan said. "In fact, he wants me to take over as sheriff when he

retires." Smith laughed.

"Damn, son, you get all the breaks," he said. "You gonna do it?"

"I'm considering it," Ryan said. "I got a couple things to take care of first."

"Well, I just might be knocking on your door looking for a job when this is

all over," Smith said.

"You planning to retire or something?" Ryan asked.

"I'm thinking about it," Smith said. "The agency just isn't what it used to

be."

"Maybe they need a good man like you to become director and make it

all right," Ryan said.

"Maybe. I don't know. It's all political these days. How's Beverly and your

kids doing?" Smith asked.

"They're doing alright," Ryan said. "By the way, you coming to the

wedding?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Smith said. "Anyway, I'll be in touch. You

watch your six, you hear me?"

"Will do," Ryan said. "Bye." They ended the call and Ryan left the room

to call Beverly. A little while later, he returned with a smile on his face.

Sarah noticed, and sat next to him on the couch as he wrestled with little

Ryan.

"Talk to Mom already?" Sarah asked. Ryan knew she meant Beverly. He

nodded his head.

"Yeah," he said, as he tickled the young boy in his lap. "How did you

know?"

"Well, you left the room to call, and then you come back with a shit-

eating grin on your face," she said. "It's good to see you in love again. I

remember you used to be that way with Lisa." Ryan looked at her and

saw a tear form in her eye. He stopped tickling Ryan long enough to

wrap an arm around his daughter. She broke down crying.

"I'm so sorry, Daddy," she cried. "I treated you like shit when I was a kid

and you still saved my life -- twice. I don't deserve a father like you."

"It's okay, princess," he whispered in her ear. "You were young, dumb

and impressionable when that happened. They took advantage of that.

But you smelled the coffee and woke up. You've made something of

yourself. I'm proud of what you've done with your life. You have a

wonderful family and I'll always be here for you."

"Thank you, Daddy," she said, sniffling. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he said.

"I'd better go make dinner," she said. After she left for the kitchen, Ryan

turned his attention back to his grandson, who squealed with delight as

the older man tickled him some more. That night as he slept, Ryan

dreamed of pretty blonde farm girls in Daisy Duke shorts and white t-

shirts.

...

The courtroom filled up quickly the next morning, as reporters, potential

witnesses, and observers filed inside. No one paid any attention to the

tall man who sat in the back row. Wearing a dark baseball cap, dark

glasses and a bandanna that covered the lower half of his face, he

looked much like several others in the room. Because of social

distancing guidelines, everyone was seated at least six feet apart.

As the man watched, Jake was wheeled into the room, a chain locked

around his waist. The attorneys entered and took their places and the

bailiff ordered everyone to stand as the judge entered the room. They all

sat back down when the judge nodded his head, having already taken

his place behind the high bench.

He watched the lawyers make arguments, counter arguments and

motions, followed by counter motions. The judge took it all in and said

very little. To the man in the back row, it sounded like something out of

an old Charlie Brown cartoon -- gibberish that included very little real

words, at least to him. He did understand the judge's last order,

however.

"Motion to continue granted," the judge said. Marvin stood to argue, but

the judge pounded his gavel. "Court adjourned until tomorrow morning at

9:00," he said. "That is all." Marvin, frustrated, tossed his paperwork on

the table in front of him as Jake sneered. The guards came to wheel him

away and no one noticed the man had already left the room.

Likewise, no one paid any attention when the man stood at the junction

of two hallways, watching the interaction between Jake and his guards.

"Goddammit, I need to take a shit," Jake declared. One guard shook his

head and motioned for the other to check out the restroom. The second

guard went inside, glanced around, looked under the large stall at the

end and seeing no one, walked back out. No one noticed the tall

baseball cap-wearing man walking out of the building.

"It's clear," the second guard said. Jake looked at the first guard.
"Get these off me before I shit my pants, willya?" Jake demanded. "I'm in

a fucking wheelchair for crying out loud. I'm not going anywhere. Just

give me some privacy for a couple minutes."

"All right, all right," the first guard said, unlocking the chains. "Make it

fast, though."

"Yeah, yeah," Jake said as he wheeled himself inside the restroom. After

the door closed, Jake made his way to the large handicap stall at the

end of the restroom. He moved his chair to open the stall door and

wheeled himself inside. He closed the stall door and was surprised to

see a tall man wearing a baseball cap, dark glasses and bandanna

standing in the corner. He wondered why the man wore an old apron,

latex gloves and blue show coverings.

Something inside Jake snapped as he realized who it was before him.

He also remembered what the man had said to him once: "If you ever

raise a hand to Lisa, or if you ever do anything to hurt anyone in my

family, I swear to God I will hunt you down like the dog you are and I will

cut your stupid fucking head off and feed it to the pigs."

The blood drained from Jake's face and his eyes grew wide in terror as

he realized he was about to die. He tried to say something but couldn't.

The pressure in his chest suddenly built up and he could no longer

breathe. As the man watched, Jake raised a hand to his chest, and tried

with all his might to breathe, just one last breath.

But it never came. Jake slumped over in his wheelchair, unconscious.

The man lifted his glasses and examined Jake with his one good eye

without touching him. The man had seen enough death to know Jake

had gone to his eternal reward. Or punishment, as the case might be.

He looked at his face in the mirror, the glass eye in his scarred left eye

socket reminding him of something out of an old science fiction movie.

He put the dark glasses back on and turned around. Bending low, he

jumped up to the ledge at the bottom of the high window, and climbed up

onto the ledge. He opened the window slightly to check out the littered

alley.

Seeing nothing, he climbed out, quietly closed the window and jumped

effortlessly to the ground. Following a pre-arranged path, he disposed of

the apron, hat, booties, glasses and gloves in storm drains along the

way.

...

About fifteen minutes later, the guards at the door to the restroom

decided they had given Jake enough time to finish his business.
"I swear to God, he does this every fucking time we're here," one guard

said. "Go in there and get him the fuck out here."

"Okay," the second guard said. A few seconds later, the guard came

back out. "Call 911, we need an ambulance here right now," he said.

"What?" the first guard said. He keyed his microphone and made the call

as he went inside. When he got to the stall, he saw Jake's lifeless body

on the floor. His eyes were wide open and the guard knew he was dead.

Nevertheless, he checked for a pulse. Looking around, he saw no

evidence that anyone else had been in the stall, leading him to believe

Jake had probably suffered a heart attack.

"Couldn't happen to a more deserving asshole," he said to no one in

particular. When the paramedics arrived, he went to the security room to

see if anything out of the ordinary had been reported. If anyone had

been anywhere near this part of the building, it would have been

captured by the video surveillance system.

Unfortunately, for him, however, the security system was down and

there had been no video captured from that part of the building. Updates

and maintenance, he was told, all in preparation for potential riots that

might happen that night. Or the next. Crap, he thought. He went back to
the restroom and saw them bringing Jake's body out on a gurney,

covered in a white sheet.

"He didn't make it," one paramedic said. "We're taking him to the coroner

for an autopsy, but we're pretty certain he had a heart attack." The guard

nodded his head in understanding.

...

Ryan got into his rented sedan, noticing he still had a few minutes left on

the parking meter. He put his patch back on, donned his old Stetson,

then lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, offering a silent prayer of

thanks that he didn't have to lay hands on Jake. When he finished, he

realized he still had a couple stops to make before going back to Bob

and Sarah's house.

A half-hour later, he pulled into the parking lot of the rehab facility where

Lisa had been taken. He knew from Sarah that she would be here for

some time undergoing therapy. He also knew that Lisa's ability to speak

would be severely diminished, and she had limited control of her arms

and legs. However, he also knew that she would understand what he

had to tell her. He grabbed the DVD laying on the seat and got out of the

car.
He went inside and was directed to her room. She perked up when she

saw him and opened her mouth to say something, but he shook his

head.

"Don't say anything, Lisa," he said. "Just listen." She looked crestfallen

and nodded her head slightly. He rolled a chair next to her head and

took a look at her. She had once been so beautiful and full of life. That

was all gone now.

"You know, you almost had me fooled," he said, prompting her to look at

him, surprised. "I almost fell for it. But you know the old saying -- almost

only counts in pitching pennies, horseshoes and throwing grenades. For

a moment, I found myself starting to believe what you were telling me. I

have to admit, the food was a nice touch. Nearly worked. And the phone

-- that was nice. Did you know Elmer had it cloned and crammed full of

spyware?" She shook her head.

"Problem is, Lisa, I don't believe you," he said. "I'll never be able to

believe another word you say. That's what cheating and lying does." He

paused to let it sink in before continuing.

"When I heard you were shot, I rushed right over. What I learned after

that cut me to the core. That's when I learned your own board of

directors conspired with Jake to hire a hit man to take you out." Her eyes
opened wide. "I take it you didn't know they were out to get you, did you?

Well, Elmer made a huge mistake. He threatened Sarah, Bob and little

Ryan. He also informed me of your activities. Not only did you cheat on

me with Jake, but with the whole goddamned board. And you were doing

it long before you said you took up with Jake." He tossed the DVD on top

of her covers.

"That's just in case you get bored," Ryan added. "According to Elmer,

that contains the highlights of your career as a company whore for

Knight Petroleum. Yeah, I know all about your executive 'retreats' in New

Mexico and how you were the life of the party." He saw a tear slide down

her face, but continued.

"Yeah, I've seen it," he said. "And so has Bob and Sarah." He paused to

let it sink in before continuing. "She's not too happy with you right now.

Especially since you planned to introduce her into your depraved

lifestyle." Lisa dropped her head as more tears fell.

"Elmer had Sarah and little Ryan kidnapped," Ryan added. "Did you

know anything about that?" She looked up, surprised, and shook her

head.

"They're safe now," he said. "No thanks to you. But it seems that Knight

Petroleum no longer has a board of directors. And I've been told by the
FBI that they've uncovered a mountain of evidence of crimes your

company has committed. Everything from trafficking to drugs, guns and

who knows what else. I don't know if you had a hand in any of that." She

shook her head and mouthed "no," but Ryan continued.

"So far, they haven't found any direct evidence linking you to those

crimes, but that doesn't mean they won't," Ryan said. "Even if they don't

charge you with crimes committed by Elmer, Jake and the board, you

may get charged as an accomplice. If I were you, I'd get an attorney to

cut a deal. Maybe they'll give you immunity if you turn state's evidence.

"At any rate, Knight Petroleum is all but history right now. You should

also know that a class action lawsuit has been filed against Jake and/or

his estate. Seems I'm only one of about 100 other men whose lives and

marriages he's destroyed.

"I'm not a lawyer, so don't ask me to explain it all, but my lawyer back

home also happens to be a member of the bar in this state, and he

found a loophole in the law that makes the suit possible," Ryan added. "I

wouldn't be planning any trips to the French Riviera any time soon if I

were you. By the time they're done, I don't think Jake will be worth a

plugged nickel. Even if his lawyers win the case, he'll go broke paying

the bill." She looked at him with tears falling down her face.
"I... I'm so sorry," she croaked. Ryan nodded his head.

"Yeah, well, that and a couple bucks might get you a cup of coffee

somewhere," he said, causing more tears to fall down her cheek. "But

right now, it don't mean shit to me. You once asked if we could be

friends. The answer to that is no. I can never be friends with a

backstabbing, lying, hypocritical cheat. Besides, I've met a wonderful

woman and we're going to get married soon." He pulled out his phone

and showed her a picture of him and Beverly embracing each other.

More tears fell as she sobbed.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Ryan asked. "Her name is Beverly, and she's

made me feel better and more alive than I've ever felt in my life. I

thought I would never love another woman again, until she came along.

You know, she helped rescue Sarah and little Ryan. Sarah has even

started calling her, 'Mom.' And little Ryan seems to love her as well. I

think she'll make a wonderful grandmother, don't you?" Lisa's body

jerked as she sobbed. He pulled his chair back and stood up.

"Chances are you won't be seeing me again," he said. "And I suspect

Sarah and Bob will also cut you out of their lives," he added as she wept.

"Sucks losing everything, doesn't it? But you know what they say --

karma's a bitch. And then you get the bill. Enjoy what's left of your

miserable existence. Goodbye." He put his hat back on and walked out
of the room. He could hear her wailing as he walked down the hallway

and he saw the nurses rush into her room. He didn't care, though, and

walked on out to his rented car.

End of "A Father's Justice, Pt. 06":

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Ryan asked. "Her name is Beverly, and she's

made me feel better and more alive than I've ever felt in my life. I

thought I would never love another woman again, until she came along.

You know, she helped rescue Sarah and little Ryan. Sarah has even

started calling her, 'Mom.' And little Ryan seems to love her as well. I

think she'll make a wonderful grandmother, don't you?" Lisa's body

jerked as she sobbed. He pulled his chair back and stood up.

"Chances are you won't be seeing me again," he said. "And I suspect

Sarah and Bob will also cut you out of their lives," he added as she wept.

"Sucks losing everything, doesn't it? But you know what they say --

karma's a bitch. And then you get the bill. Enjoy what's left of your

miserable existence. Goodbye." He put his hat back on and walked out

of the room. He could hear her wailing as he walked down the hallway

and he saw the nurses rush into her room. He didn't care, though, and

walked on out to his rented car.

...
And now, "A Father's Justice, Pt. 07":

He made one more stop, then headed back to Bob and Sarah's house.

He noticed Jorge's car out front and wondered what was going on.

Pocketing the small box he just picked up, he went inside where he was

met by Jorge, Bob and Sarah.

"Have you heard the news?" Sarah asked.

"No, what?" Ryan asked.

"They just announced that Jake Knight died of a heart attack," Bob said.

"A heart attack?" Ryan asked. "When did that happen?"

"According to the news, just after the hearing this morning," Bob said.

"Well, imagine that," Ryan said.

"Did you have anything to do with that?" Jorge asked. Ryan shook his

head.

"Never touched the man," Ryan said. Jorge looked at him suspiciously.

"I'm serious," Ryan said. "I never touched him. Not once."

"So, what were you doing?" Sarah asked. Ryan pulled the box out of his

pocket and opened it, revealing a very expensive wedding and

engagement set.
"I picked this up for Beverly and went to see Lisa," Ryan said,

purposefully leaving out his visit to the courtroom.

"That's beautiful," Sarah said.

"I hope she likes it," he said.

"Trust me, she will, Dad," Sarah said. "So, you went to see Lisa?"

"I did," Ryan said. "I gave her the DVD Elmer gave me and confronted

her about all the lying, cheating and backstabbing. I also told her about

what's happening with Knight and I told her about Beverly. I don't think

she took it too well."

"That's just too damn bad," Sarah said sarcastically. Ryan smiled and

nodded his head.

"No argument from me, princess," he said. Later, Sarah put dinner on

the table and they all sat down to eat. They had invited Jorge to stay, so

he joined them. After a nice dinner, they all went into the front room.

"There's going to be a special on Jake tonight," Bob said. "Thought it

might be interesting to see how they spin his life and career."

"Why not?" Ryan asked. Sarah brought in several glasses of sweet tea

and they watched the program, which had just started.

"This is one of my favorite shows," Bob said. "I enjoy his take on

business." Ryan grunted and nodded his head. How anyone could enjoy

something like that was beyond him. But, he decided, to each his own.

They turned their attention to the program.

"Good evening, and welcome to a special edition of the program," said a

relatively young man with curly dark hair. "Tonight, we will examine the

life of Jacob Knight, the disgraced former CEO of Knight Petroleum who

was accused of conspiring to murder his estranged wife and her former

husband. As you may know, Mr. Knight died earlier today from a heart

attack.

"Joining us tonight to discuss this is author and investigative journalist

Trevor Whitaker, who is set to publish a book about Knight, titled, 'From

Riches to (Oil) Rags: The Rise and Fall of Jacob Knight.' Welcome to the

program, Mr. Whitaker."

"Thank you for having me, Neil," said an older, well-dressed man in a

gray suit.

"I'm not one to speak ill of the dead, so I'd like to start by offering our

condolences to the family and friends of Jacob Knight. Our thoughts and

prayers are with you. Tell us, Trevor, what are your thoughts about all

this?" Neil asked.

"Like you, Neil, I don't wish to speak ill of the dead, either," Trevor said.

"But frankly, in this case, I'm not sure you're going to find anyone who

would really mind if you did."

"That doesn't sound too nice," Neil said. "Why would you say something

like that?"

"Well, to be honest, Mr. Knight was not the kind of man who engendered

good thoughts," Trevor said in response.

"Surely, he was somewhat well-liked, wasn't he?" Neil asked.

"On the contrary, Neil. In fact, from my research over the last several

years, he was not liked at all. By anyone. In fact, he was universally

despised and hated, even by members of his own small family," Trevor

said. "One source even told me -- and I'm quoting from my book -- 'look

up a-hole in the dictionary and you'll find a picture of Jacob Knight.' That

was from someone who worked closely with Knight for a number of

years."

"Ouch," Neil said. "So, why did your source stay with him so long?"

"Simply put, Knight paid him well," Trevor said. "And, the man was

frankly scared of what Knight would do if he ever left. You see, Knight
believed that you were either for him or against him. Turning on him was

not considered a wise career choice."

"I see," Neil said. "Getting to the case, Knight was accused of, among

many other things, conspiring to murder his now-estranged wife's ex-

husband. From what we learned, the divorce between her and her first

husband took place over 12 years ago and it seemed to be about as

amicable as a divorce can be, at least on paper. There was no demand

for support of any kind, even though there was a teenage daughter, no

demand for spousal support and in fact, she left him with all of the

marital assets. So, why would Knight suddenly desire to go after the

man? That doesn't make sense. He had the man's wife and daughter.

Why pay to have him killed after nine years?"

"To answer that question, you need to understand the man," Trevor said.

"Several years ago, I sat in Knight's office doing an interview for a

lengthy article about the company's rapid expansion and growth. On his

desk was a plate that read, 'Kill them all. Let God sort them out.' That

pretty much sums up Jacob Knight. That's how he did business, and it's

how he conducted his personal life. If he saw something he wanted, he

did whatever it took to get it. That includes businesses, property, even

women."

"Women?" Neil asked.

"Yes," Trevor said. "In that regard, Jacob Knight made a certain former

president look like a Boy Scout. If he saw a woman he wanted, he did

whatever it took to have her. I've spoken to quite a few men whose lives

and marriages he reportedly destroyed. For him, it was a sport, like big

game hunting."

"I see," Neil said. "So explain why he went after this man."

"Well, Neil, it turns out the former husband was working as a private

security contractor for a foreign oil company Knight wanted to absorb,"

Trevor said. "You have to understand, Knight's idea of business

negotiations went something like, 'nice business you have here, be a

shame if something happened to it.' He often used a carrot-and-stick

approach, offering what might look like a lucrative price while at the

same time presenting a show of force meant to intimidate the target."

"About four years ago, Knight went after that foreign competitor. It was

then that Knight learned the former husband, whose name has never

been mentioned publicly, thanks to an injunction, worked for this

company," Trevor said. "Knight apparently believed he could literally kill

two birds with one stone and went after the man with a team of

assassins, according to the court documents we've seen. Keep in mind

all this came from the man Knight originally targeted, so that explains the

judge's order."
"I see," Neil said. "I found it interesting that the original divorce

documents were sealed by this judge's order, and the brief summary we

were given as a result of an FOIA request had all the names and

addresses of the parties redacted. That's a bit odd, isn't it?"

"The federal prosecutor said he acted out of concern for the man's

safety," Trevor said. "The defense has gone after this like a shark

smelling blood in the water. They want this man's identity made public

and they want him to testify in open court. Given what has happened

recently, it's a good thing the judge has stuck to his guns."

"So, Knight went after him, what, just because he could?" Neil asked.

"Pretty much," Trevor said. "Knight didn't really need a reason to do

anything. All that mattered was what he wanted, period."

"So, what do you see happening now?" Neil asked.

"Just because the executives, including Knight, are now dead, doesn't

necessarily mean the case is over, even though the indictments against

those individuals have been rendered moot," Trevor said. "The man who

allegedly shot Lisa Knight has turned state's evidence in return for

leniency, but that doesn't mean he won't see any prison time. Also, the

feds are still looking into Knight's internal operations, and it's possible
Ms. Knight may be indicted as an accomplice. So, this could drag on for

some time to come."

"What about the company itself?" Neil asked.

"As you know, Neil, stock in the company has taken a huge hit," Trevor

said. "Shareholders are dumping it as fast as they can to minimize their

losses. If something isn't done soon, the company will probably go

under. I have heard a rumor that something is in the works, but that

hasn't been confirmed to me yet."

"I see," Neil said. "Very interesting. Thank you for being here, Trevor,

you've given us all a fresh look at the situation."

"Thank you, Neil," Trevor said.

"Up next, will the situation with Knight Petroleum affect your retirement

accounts, and if so, how? We'll address that with a well-known financial

advisor in just a few minutes. Stay tuned," Neil said before a commercial

cut in.

"Damn," Bob said. "I had no idea it was that bad."

"It was," Ryan said. "Well, guys, this has been fun, but I need to call

home and hit the hay."

"You still want me to keep tabs on things here?" Jorge asked.

"If you would, please," Ryan said. "I think the primary danger is over, but

you never know."

"I agree," Jorge said. "Alright, well, thanks for the dinner, guys, but I

need to head out. Talk to ya later." They all said their goodbyes and

Ryan went upstairs where he called Beverly and went to bed.

The next morning, he was up early, and after breakfast, gave a warm

farewell to Bob, Sarah and little Ryan. After saying his goodbyes, and

promising to keep them informed of his wedding plans, Ryan left and

headed for the airport.

On the way, he spotted a large church, and something told him he

needed to stop. He hadn't been to a church since Sarah's baptism, but

something just drew him to the place. He parked and went inside. He lit

a candle for his old departed comrades and took a seat in a back pew,

noticing that he was the only one inside the large sanctuary, except for a

priest at the altar. He felt compelled to get on his knees and as he did

so, he thought of Dawson and all the others who never made it back.

As he knelt, his head resting on his clasped hands, he mentally

confessed everything he had ever done since that day Lisa and Sarah

left. All his hatred, his anger, his disillusionment -- everything -- poured

out of his heart. He wept for his losses and gave thanks for what he now
had. When he finished, he looked up at the large crucifix above the altar

and considered what it meant.

As he sat back on the pew, a young Latino man in priestly robes sat next

to him.

"Is everything okay, my son?" he asked softly. Ryan smiled to himself.

He was old enough to be this man's father. He kept his tongue in check -

- something not normal for him -- and looked at the young priest. He

smiled as he nodded his head.

"It is now, padre," he said. "Thanks."

"Then may the peace of God which passes all understanding, go with

you, my son," the priest said, crossing himself.

"Thank you again," Ryan said. The priest stood up and Ryan joined him.

"If there is anything you need -- prayer, confession, counseling -- please

feel free to ask," the priest said.

"I think I'm good now, padre," Ryan said. "Thanks, anyway."

"I will pray for you anyway, my son," the priest said, nodding his head. "I

sense that you are starting a new chapter in your life and you will need

all the help you can get."

"Don't you need to know my name?" Ryan asked. The priest smiled as

he shook his head.

"God already knows, my son," he said. Ryan nodded his head.

"Reckon so," he said. "Thank you." The priest smiled, nodded his head

and walked to the large altar up front. Ryan grabbed his hat and left the

building. When he stepped into the bright sunlight, he inhaled deeply. He

felt like a new man. He laughed to himself, got in the car and went to the

airport.

...

He called Beverly when his plane landed, tossed his duffel bag in the

truck and headed home. As he drove, he felt better than he had in ages.

Everything seemed fresh -- new -- almost as if he had never looked at it

before.

He finally got home and saw Beverly waiting for him on the porch. His

eyes nearly popped out of his head when he took her in. She was

always lovely, he thought, but the shorts she had on were the tiniest he

had ever seen on a woman. They were even shorter than the ones she

had before and he noticed this pair had holes strategically placed in the

front. She also sported a cut-off t-shirt that barely covered the bottoms of

her B-cup breasts.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," he told her as he wrapped his arms

around her. They kissed each other, deeply, for several minutes. When

they broke the kiss, she stroked the front of his jeans, feeling his hard

cock.

"Lunch is out by the pool if you're hungry," she said with a wicked smile.

"Lead on," he said. As she walked in front of him, he noticed the shorts

left nothing to the imagination. When they got out back, he looked at the

pool, expecting to see a picnic basket or something. He walked around,

but still didn't see any lunch items.

"Where's lunch?" he asked.

"Right here," she said from behind him. He turned and saw her standing

on the deck, completely naked. "That is, if you want me," she said.

"Oh, God, yes," he said as he wrapped his arms around her. They made

love on the deck for some time, enjoying each other and the bright sun

at the same time. When they finished, he got up and grabbed his

trousers.

"I almost forgot," he said. "I got a little something for you." He pulled the

box out of his pocket and opened it up. Her eyes grew wide as she

looked at the set of rings.

"Those are beautiful," she said. He pulled the engagement ring out and

gently placed it on her finger. She smiled as a tear formed in her eye.

"I love it," she said. "And I love you."

"I love you too," he said. She studied his face for a bit before speaking

again.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "You seem, I don't know, a bit different."

"Actually, I am," he said. "I feel like a new man turning over a new leaf."

She smiled and kissed him again.

"I'm so glad," she said. "I think we've both had enough sadness to last a

lifetime, don't you?"

"Yeah," he said. "I agree completely. Oh, I got something else."

"What?" she asked. He went inside and pulled a box from his duffel bag.

He handed it to her and watched her open it. She pulled out a wrought-

iron chicken made to hang on the wall.

"I love it," she said. "What made you decide to get this?"

"I don't know," he said. "I saw it and I thought of you. I figured it's time

we started putting some things up on the walls, make the place feel like

a home again."
"I think that's a good idea," she said. "And I know exactly where to put

it." He smiled as she said that. Yeah, he thought. Home, sweet home.

For real this time.

After they dressed and put the chicken on the wall in the kitchen, he

called Russell.

"Hey, Ryan," Russell said. "You get everything squared away?"

"Yeah, I did, and I'd like to come talk to you about that job offer," Ryan

said.

"Perfect," Russell said. "Come on down and we'll talk."

"Be right there," Ryan said. After letting Beverly know, he cleaned up

and went into town, pulling up in front of the Sheriff's Office. He went

inside and noticed the deputies giving him the once-over.

"Sheriff Coltrane is expecting you, Mr. Caldwell," the uniformed deputy

said. "Right this way." He followed her to Russell's office. She opened

the door and escorted him inside, then left and closed the door. Russell

got up and shook his hand.

"Have a seat," he said. Ryan sat down and faced Russell. "So, you have

any questions?"
"Yeah," Ryan said. "I have one. What about my background? You

already seem to know what I did for nine years." Russell smiled.

"You mean, being a 'private security consultant' and all that?" Russell

asked, making air quotes as he said, "private security consultant."

"Yeah, that," Ryan said.

"Well, nine years training security people to deal with dangerous

situations is a lot of experience if you ask me," Russell said. "Plus your

service in the Army was quite exceptional. The county board agrees."

"What?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah," Russell said. "They seem to think you can teach our deputies a

thing or two."

"I never thought of that," Ryan said.

"Don't worry, son," Russell said. "I've already done a background check

on you. Standard procedure. They just want to make sure you're not an

axe murderer on the lam from the law. You've never been behind bars

and everything checks out. Hell, on paper, you're cleaner than some of

my deputies. So, if you're willing, you'll need to go through an interview

with the board. That's pretty much a formality, though. I would suggest

you maybe get some nicer clothes and a new hat."

"What about the beard?" Ryan asked. "Trust me, that hides a multitude

of sins." Russell smiled.

"So long as you keep it neat and trimmed, it's not a problem," he said.

"Besides, it gives you character." Ryan smiled.

"You got this all figured out, don't you?" he asked. Russell smiled.

"Comes with the territory, my boy," he said. "Once they give the okay,

we'll get you fitted out with a uniform and you'll spend some time

shadowing me. So, what do ya think?"

"What the hell," Ryan said. "The worse they can do is say no. Set it up."

"That's my boy," Russell said. "How about tomorrow morning bright and

early, say, 8:30?"

"Yeah, that sounds good," Ryan said. "I'll go down now and get some

new duds."

"There ya go," Russell said. "See you then."

From there, Ryan spent much of the afternoon, buying new clothes,

boots and a new hat. Beverly was shocked when he came in, arms

loaded with new clothes.

"Don't ever complain about me getting new clothes," she joked. "So,

when do you go before the board?"

"Tomorrow morning," he said.

"I'm glad to see you taking this on," she said. "It'll do you some good to

get integrated into the community. I'm so proud of you." He smiled and

kissed her.

That night, they watched the news and learned that the federal case

against Knight had expanded to include a number of the middle-level

managers. It seemed that more people were involved than originally

thought, but none of them apparently knew the full situation. The expose

on Jake also caused the company's stock prices to fall even further as

confidence in the company dwindled to practically nothing.

The next day, Ryan appeared before the county board with Russell. As

Russell indicated, the meeting was cordial and mostly informal. There

were only a few questions that Ryan had to think carefully about before

answering.

"Doesn't that eye patch give you problems with your depth perception?"

one of the board members asked.

"It did at first," Ryan said. "But I've learned to work through it."

"So you can drive and fire a sidearm without any problem?"

"None so far," Ryan said.

"Personally, I prefer to see someone with direct law enforcement

experience," another board member said. "You don't even have a

degree in law enforcement. If we do this, would you be willing to enroll in

an online course and get a two-year degree?"

"Absolutely," Ryan said.

"How much do you expect to get paid, Mr. Caldwell?" one female board

member asked.

"I hadn't really thought about it, ma'am," Ryan said. "To tell you the truth,

I really don't need the money."

"Yes, we checked your financials over at the bank," she said. "By the

way, that was a wonderful thing you did for Ms. Simons."

"Thank you," he said. "She needed help, so I thought I'd lend a hand."

"So, about the compensation, how much do you think you'd like to get

paid?" she asked.

"Frankly, I haven't given it any thought," he said. "Whatever you're

paying Sheriff Coltrane, I guess. Maybe you could donate it to the

homeless shelter downtown or the women's and children's center." She

smiled and nodded her head.

"I think we can arrange that," she said. "Don't you?" she added, looking

at the other board members. They looked at each other and nodded

their heads.

"Yeah, we can do that," one of the others said.

"Gentlemen, I think we've found our candidate, don't you?" the female

board member said. They discussed it among themselves before

answering.

"I agree," one of the board members said. "I say we vote on it."

"I second that," another board member added.

"Well then, let's take a vote," the female board member said. "All in favor

of appointing Mr. Ryan Caldwell as sheriff raise your hands." Everyone

raised their hands. "Those opposed?" No hands went up.

"Very well," she said. "Mr. Caldwell, welcome aboard and

congratulations."

"Thank you," Ryan said, accepting her hand.

"Sheriff, why don't you take Mr. Caldwell here down and get him a

uniform?" she asked. "We'll conduct the swearing in ceremony about

1:00 this afternoon."

"Will do," he said, standing up. They drove back to the sheriff's office

and Russell took Ryan into the back, where he found several shirts and

pairs of trousers that looked as though they would fit. Ryan was relieved

to see they had all been cleaned and pressed, and still hanging inside

their protective plastic coverings. Ryan tried them on and found they fit

perfectly. Russell also grabbed a new hat, a gray Stetson, and handed it

to him.

"That looks like a good fit," he said. Ryan tried it on and was surprised to

see it fit better than his old beat-up hat. Russell looked at him, nodding

his head in approval. "Looking good, son," he said. He grabbed a black

name tag from his desk drawer and attached it to Ryan's shirt.

Apparently, Ryan thought, he had it pre-made just for the occasion. After

attaching the name tag, Russell glanced at his watch. "About time for

your swearin' in," he said. "Let me make a quick call."

As Ryan watched, Russell pulled out his cell phone and dialed a

number. He was surprised to hear Beverly's voice answer. Russell

winked at Ryan, and put the phone on speaker.

"Beverly, I really need you to come down to my office, right away,"

Russell said, sounding serious.

"Is everything alright?" she said.

"Don't know," he said. "But it's serious and I need you down here as

soon as you can."

"Alright, Sheriff," she said, sounding scared. "I'll be there in just a few

minutes." Russell ended the call and put his phone away. He looked

back at Ryan and smiled.

"That was mean," Ryan said.

"Yeah, it was," Russell said. "But I had to make sure she'd get here,

y'know? Wouldn't be right for you to get sworn in without her here,

don'tcha think?" A few minutes later, Beverly came in through the front

door and was escorted to Russell's office.

"Is everything alright? What's going on?" she asked, frantic. Russell

smiled and sat her down.

"Everything's just fine, darlin'," he said. "I just thought you might like to

be here when they swear your man in." He turned to the door leading

down the hallway and called for Ryan. Beverly gasped when she saw

her husband-to-be come in wearing a uniform.

"Wow," she said. "I always did like a man in uniform," she told him. "So,

when is the swearing in?" she asked Russell. He glanced at his watch.
"Any time now," he said. A few moments later, they heard the front door

open and a group of well-dressed people came into the station. The

desk sergeant came into Russell's office to let them know they had

visitors.

"Thanks," Russell said. "Have everyone meet in the main conference

room if you would, please."

"Will do, Sheriff," she said, leaving the office. Russell looked at Ryan and

Beverly.

"You two ready for this?" he asked. Ryan looked nervous.

"Ready as I'll ever be, I reckon," Ryan said. They went down the hall and

entered the large room, which was full of people, including a number of

uniformed deputies. Ryan noticed an ice chest on the floor next to the

table and a store-bought cake that had been decorated for the

ceremony.

The deputies checked Ryan out as he walked in and he thought they

seemed to approve of Russell's choice. He sensed no animosity or

jealousy from any of them, which was a good thing.

The ceremony itself was short and sweet. The senior county board

commissioner administered the oath of office, and Russell pinned the

new badge on Ryan's chest. He handed something to Beverly, and

asked her to follow his lead.

She watched as Russell pinned three stars on Ryan's shirt collar -- the

rank insignia worn by the sheriff. She pinned the other set of stars on his

remaining collar and stood back to admire him.

"Congratulations, Sheriff," the commissioner said, shaking his hand.

"And may God have mercy on your soul," he added, causing everyone in

the room to laugh.

"Thank you, Commissioner," Ryan said.

"There's tea and coca-cola in the ice chest, and Ryan, excuse me,

Sheriff Caldwell, gets the honor of serving up cake," Russell said to

laughter. "Sorry, no beer, we're still on duty, you know." Ryan sliced the

large cake and served Beverly first, then the deputies. He gave Russell

a slice, then served the commissioners. He cut a small piece for himself

and noticed there was still about a third of the cake left.

"Why don't we save this for the fellas out on patrol?" he asked. Russell

agreed.

"Good idea," he said. The female desk sergeant smiled and put the cake

in a refrigerator for safe keeping. Ryan ate his cake, then made the
rounds, meeting the deputies he would soon be responsible for. They all

seemed nice, he thought, and they appeared to accept him as their new

sheriff.

After the ceremony, Beverly came to Ryan and took him in. He looked

so good in his uniform, she thought. Almost as if it was made just for

him.

"You look so good, sweetheart," she said. "I'm so proud of you." He

smiled and gave her a kiss.

"Why, thank you, little lady," he said, using a horrible John Wayne

impersonation that caused her to laugh.

"I'd better get back now, dear," she said. "I have to stop and pick up

some feed for the chickens, and get dinner started. I'll see you at home,

alright?"

"I'll be there," he said, giving her one more kiss. He watched as she

walked out the door. The deputies all congratulated her and seemed to

welcome her into their little family. Ryan turned to Russell.

"So, what now?" he asked.

"Now, I issue your sidearm and your gear," Russell said. They walked to

the armory, and Russell had him sign for a belt and a Smith and Wesson
M&P 9 mm pistol, a polymer-framed, striker-fired full-size pistol similar to

the Glock 17. All things considered, Ryan knew this was one of the best

9 mm handguns on the market, and he was surprised that a small

sheriff's department like this would issue them. He almost expected

them to carry six-shot revolvers.

"One last thing," Russell said, pulling a small box from his desk drawer.

He handed the box to Ryan, who opened it and saw a small bar that

sported a blue field with white stars on one side and three stripes, one

white stripe with a red stripe above and below it. On the white stripe was

written, "U.S. Army vet."

"What's this?" Ryan asked.

"It's a little something to show appreciation for your service," Russell

said. "All the vets get one here." Ryan had seen some of the deputies

sporting something similar and he noticed Russell had one as well that

said, "USMC vet."

"Thanks," Ryan said.

"You're welcome," Russell said.

"What now?" Ryan asked.

"Well, we start getting you up to speed tomorrow morning," Russell said.

"Be here at 8:00 am, sharp."

"See you then," Ryan said as he gathered his civilian clothes. The

deputies said their goodbyes as he walked out the door. When he got

home, he gave Beverly a kiss and headed upstairs. He looked at himself

in the mirror.

"There's a new sheriff in town," he said quietly to the image in the mirror.

The boys'll never believe this, he thought to himself. He smiled as he

imagined himself asking, "Do ya feel lucky, punk?" They enjoyed a quiet

meal and an evening of lovemaking.

"I'm glad I got to be a part of that ceremony today," Beverly said as she

snuggled her naked body against him.

"I am, too," Ryan said.

"Promise me you'll be careful out there?" she asked. He wrapped an arm

around her and kissed her as he took in her warmth.

"I'll be careful, little lady," he said. "I promise."

The next two weeks flew by for Ryan as Russell gave him a crash

course in law enforcement. Ryan watched as Russell briefed the

deputies on the day's duties and took in every nuance he could. This
was a good group, he thought to himself. Dedicated, motivated and

loyal. They knew their stuff.

Russell finished the briefing by turning to Ryan, asking, "Anything you'd

like to add, Sheriff?" Ryan knew this was Russell's way of making sure

they knew he would eventually be taking over.

"Be careful out there," Ryan said, causing the deputies to nod in

approval.

Russell took Ryan to the combat shooting range and was surprised

when Ryan breezed through it, hitting all the bad guys while avoiding the

"good guys." Actually, they were just cardboard cutouts, but it was a

useful exercise that helped officers learn to distinguish between the two

in a real-life situation.

From there, it was on to the defensive driving course, and Ryan got

through it easily. When he finished, Russell got into the passenger seat

and shook his head.

"Where'd you learn to drive like that?" he asked.

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Ryan said.

"No, I wouldn't," Russell said. During the time with Russell, Ryan was

like a sponge, soaking up everything he could from the man. Russell had
shown him how to use the radio and the computer in the patrol car and

walked him through simple traffic stops. Ryan had signed up for an

online program through the University of Texas and spent what free time

he had going through the courses assigned to him.

Meanwhile, Russell had taken him around town to meet the locals, all of

whom seemed to take to Ryan, after they recovered from the shock of

his eye patch and scar. While they were out one day, Ryan turned to

Russell.

"You seem to know an awful lot about me," Ryan said. "Would you mind

explaining that?"

"Not at all," Russell said. "I knew about you pretty much from the time

you came to town. Goldsmith got a hold of me after you made that huge

deposit in his bank, asked me to look into you. So I did. I reached out to

my contacts at the FBI and kept a loose tab on ya for a while. I'd seen ya

sitting out there on that porch of yours and I asked myself, I said, 'self,

why would a man have all that money in the bank, yet choose to live in

that piece of crap old house looking like a reject from an old Clint

Eastwood movie?' I figured you was either hidin' from something or

somebody or else you was a loose cannon getting' ready to cause

trouble."
"I just wanted piece and quiet," Ryan said. "I didn't want to call attention

to myself."

"With all that money in the bank?" Russell asked. "Where'd you get all

that, anyway?"

"A lot of it was money I made on the job," Ryan said. "Other was money

I earned from some well-placed investments, and quite a bit of it came

from an oil sheikh who appreciated what I did for him. He gave me a

second chance and said I should go someplace where I could find some

peace. So I came here. Figured no one would find me here."

"And all that money you gave Beverly," Russell said. "Were you

expecting something in return?"

"No, I wasn't," Ryan said. "I felt for her. Like I told Goldsmith, I know

what it's like to lose everything that means anything to you. When I saw

her out here on the road that day, I was reminded of what I went

through. What I nearly did."

"I understand," Russell said quietly. "It hurts like hell when someone

dumps you the way your wife did. Oh yeah, I saw the reports. Went

through something like that myself once, a long time ago. You know

you're not going to be able to help everyone like you did her."
"I know," Ryan said.

Ryan also spent time riding with the other deputies -- partly to learn the

job and partly to get to know them better. He enjoyed the time with them

and they seemed to appreciate his efforts. He also went on night patrol a

few times with Russell.

One night, they were on a back road known as a local "lover's lane."

They came up behind an old pickup that was rocking side to side. They

both knew what was going on, so Russell pulled up behind the truck and

flashed his lights briefly, causing the couple in the truck to look out the

back window in surprise. Russell looked at Ryan.

"You wanna do the honors?" he asked.

"Sure, why not?" Ryan answered. He got out of the car and approached

the drivers side, a flashlight in one hand and the other close to his pistol.

He tapped on the window with his flashlight. A nervous young man rolled

the window down. Ryan could see he was shirtless, and his trousers had

been rapidly pulled up, but not fastened. He looked at the girl in the cab

and saw she was covering herself with a blanket.

It was obvious to him that she was nude under the blanket and he saw a

pile of clothing on the floor at her feet. He also detected the smell of
sweat and sex from the cab. They were both shocked at Ryan's

appearance.

"Drivers license and registration, please," Ryan said. The young man

pulled out his license and grabbed the registration from the glove box.

"I'd like to see your ID as well, young lady," Ryan added. As he watched,

she pulled her license from her purse, which was on the floor. Ryan

examined the licenses and looked at their faces. He verified they were

both 18 -- probably high school students just out for a bit of nookie. He

handed the documents back and addressed the young man.

"Out of the truck, sir," he said. "You, get dressed," he told the girl. The

young man got out of the truck, fastening his trousers as he did so and

tightening his belt. Ryan motioned for him to stand by the bed of the

truck and looked at him closely. He could tell the youngster was "this

close" to pissing his pants.

"You love this girl, son?" Ryan asked quietly.

"Y...yes, sir, I do," he said. Ryan nodded his head.

"You planning on marrying this girl?" Ryan asked.

"I don't know," the young man said. "Maybe."

"So, you like her enough to fuck her out here in the middle of nowhere,

but not enough to marry her, is that right? Do your parents know? Do her

parents know?" Ryan asked.

"No, sir, they don't know," the man said, trembling.

"Look son," Ryan said. "It's late and I really don't like the idea of

dragging you two down for public lewdness, so I'll say this just once. The

next time you feel the urge, show a little respect. Take her to a motel or

something. You know, someplace with four walls and clean sheets. It's

downright dangerous out here late at night, you know. People crossing

the border, wild animals, snakes, one-eyed sheriffs. You understand

what I'm saying?" The man nodded his head.

"Alright," Ryan said. "Get on outta here. And don't let me catch you on

this road again, you hear me?"

"Yes sir," the man said, scrambling to get in the truck. As he watched,

the man looked out the window. "Thank you, sheriff," he said. Ryan

nodded his head and the man drove off, no doubt relieved that he wasn't

going to jail. At least, not tonight. Ryan got back in the car and looked at

Russell, who sported a big shit-eating grin.

"Well?" he asked.
"Yeah, they were doing the dirty," Ryan said. "Girl was stark naked

under her blanket."

"And you let them go?" Russell asked.

"What the hell," Ryan said. "There weren't any drugs or alcohol. Just a

couple kids looking to get laid. I chewed his ass out, told him to never

show up here again, take her to a motel or something. I don't think he'll

give us any more trouble." Russell laughed.

"Welcome to law enforcement, Ryan," he said, putting the car in gear.

Ryan knew he would have a good story to tell Beverly that night.

During that period of time, Ryan and Beverly were also planning their

wedding. They finally decided to have the ceremony in his back yard.

While Ryan worked, Beverly arranged almost everything for the

ceremony. Ryan offered to help, but Beverly wouldn't hear of it. She

spoke to the pastor of the country church she attended when her first

husband was still alive, and he agreed to perform the ceremony, but only

after he met Ryan.

The meeting went well, with Ryan appearing at the church in his uniform.

They spoke for some time about this and that, and by the time the

meeting was over, the pastor felt a peace about uniting Beverly to the

tall, scarred man.

Ryan kept an eye on the news, but it seemed that other things had

managed to push Knight Petroleum off the front page. Everything,

including Jake's probate and the class action lawsuit, was now in the

hands of the court system and lawyers more adept at slowing things

down than anything else. Ryan wondered if it would ever get resolved.

He stayed in touch with Sarah, Bob, Bill and Jorge. They were all

pleased that he was now a sheriff and loved the pictures Beverly sent

them of him in his uniform.

"The fellas will never believe this shit," Bob wrote in response to the

pictures, causing Ryan to laugh.

Then one day, as Ryan and Russell were in the office working, Agent

Smith walked in the door. He smiled as he saw Ryan in his uniform.

"Damn," he said. "You look good in that uniform. It suits you."

"Thanks," Ryan said.

"Yeah, I'll make a lawman outta him yet," Russell said as he shook

Smith's hand. "So, what can we do for ya, Agent Smith?"

"You got a couple minutes?" Smith asked Ryan.

"Yeah, sure," Ryan said.

"Is there someplace we can talk?" Smith asked. Ryan looked at Russell

before responding.

"Yeah," Ryan said. "Right here. Sheriff Coltrane knows everything.

There's no secrets in this office." Smith looked at Russell, who nodded

his head.

"Alright," Smith said, sitting down. "A couple things bothered me about

that site in New Mexico. For one thing, there were only those two

vehicles there from Mexico and the Lear jet. I knew from the number of

bodies we found there was no way they all got there in that jet and those

two vehicles. I also doubted that anyone could have heard that gunfire

from 12 miles away. So I pulled the 911 call and had our folks analyze it.

They found the noise of a vehicle running in the background."

"So, someone made the call while they were on the road?" Ryan asked.

Smith nodded his head.

"Yeah, they had to," he said. "I did some digging and found a vehicle

registered to Knight Petroleum in New Mexico. The address matched the

one used for the camp. So we put out a nationwide APB and discovered

it in the long-term parking at Albuquerque International Sunport."

"Sunport?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah, that's the international airport there," Smith said. "Been called

that since the 1990s because they get about 280 days of sun every

year." Smith pulled out a photo and showed it to Ryan. "Surveillance

cameras there caught this man getting out of the vehicle." Ryan looked

and Smith saw recognition in the scarred man's face.

"You've seen this man before?" Smith asked.

"Only about 100 times in my nightmares," Ryan said. "He's the one who

fired the RPG that did this," he added, indicating his eye. "You know who

he is?"

"His name is James Weston," Smith said. "Formerly of the FBI. He left

the Bureau about five years ago to go work for Knight Petroleum. He's

one of Jacob Knight's top enforcers."

"Do you know where he is now?" Ryan asked.

"We put out an APB for him as well, but so far, nothing's turned up,"

Smith said. "I'm pretty sure he knows we're looking for him and he

knows how to avoid us."

"You think he had something to do with your agents being killed?" Ryan

asked.

"Don't know," Smith said. "But it wouldn't surprise me if he did."

"You think he's coming here?" Ryan asked.

"I'd almost guarantee it," Smith said. "You're the one who gave us all

that info, so I'm pretty certain he's going to come after you." He pulled

out some additional photos of Weston from his days at the FBI. "You

may want to warn your deputies." Ryan nodded his head and Russell

agreed.

"You gonna be around for a little while?" Ryan asked.

"I was thinking about it, maybe for a day or two," Smith said.

"Why don't you come out and bunk at my place then," Ryan said.

"Beverly would love to have some company and there's always plenty of

food."

"I'd like that," Smith said. "Thanks."

"It's settled then," Ryan said. "Let me just call her and let her know."

"I'll pick you up in the morning, Ryan," Russell said. "Sheriff gets his new

car tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan," Smith said. They left at the end of the work day,

with Smith following Ryan to his house. Beverly met Ryan with a deep

kiss and offered Smith her hand.

"Good to see you again, Agent Smith," she said. "I hope you like

meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy and green beans."

"Sounds wonderful," Smith said. They sat down to eat after Ryan

changed out of his uniform.

"I gotta say, Ryan," Smith said. "That uniform really looks good on you.

I'm impressed."

"Well, thanks," Ryan said. "I still have a lot to learn." Smith chuckled.

"You never stop learning in this business," he said.

"Any news on Knight Petroleum?" Ryan asked. "I haven't heard too

much in the news lately."

"That's because it's mostly in the hands of the lawyers and the

bureaucrats," Smith said. "DEA is looking into the drug connections. Lisa

and her lawyers are working with the prosecutor's office back east.

Looks like she was starting to get too close to Jake and Elmer's

operation."

"And that's why they tried to kill her?" Ryan asked.

"Looks that way," Smith said. "I'm sure she had to know some of what

was going on, though. She was there with Jake all those years, after all.

Still, he was pretty good as keeping things from her, or so she says."
"Think they'll prosecute her?" Ryan asked. Smith shook his head.

"I doubt it," Smith said. "She's turned state's evidence and I personally

don't think anyone will prosecute a woman in her condition."

"What about the shooting of those two agents?" Ryan asked.

"After the shitstorm caused by what happened in New Mexico, the

agency changed gears," Smith said. "But personally, I don't think they'll

get anywhere. Some heads rolled after that, let me tell you." Smith

looked at Ryan before continuing.

"I gotta say, I went over that camp with a fine-toothed comb, just like I

would any other crime scene," Smith said. "I don't know how you

managed to get in and out like that without leaving any direct evidence.

No fingerprints, DNA, nothing. Just a lot of brass and carnage. Even my

partner said it looked like a rival drug cartel. DEA said the same thing."

"I've had some experience with that sort of thing," Ryan said quietly.

"Uh huh," Smith said quietly. "You can't be doing that anymore, you

know. At least not while you're wearing that badge."

"I know," Ryan said. "I don't think it'll be necessary anyway."

"I hope not," Smith said.

"Me too," Ryan said.

The next day, Russell picked Ryan up in his patrol car. Ryan kissed

Beverly and advised her to be on the lookout.

"You call me right away if you see anything suspicious," he said.

"Don't worry, I will," she said. "Go on now. Go get them bad guys." Ryan

got in the car and Russell headed out, Smith close behind them. When

they got to the station, Russell pulled into the back, Smith parked close

by. Ryan saw the new four-wheel drive truck and looked at Russell.

"That mine?" he asked. Russell nodded his head.

"Sure is," he said. "I know how partial you are to trucks, and I know you

like the extra headroom."

"Thanks," Ryan said. They got out of the car and a man in a shirt and tie

came over to them. He handed Ryan a set of keys.

"I hope you like your new rig, Sheriff," he said. "Top of the line, all the

bells and whistles. It'll outrun pretty much anything, on or off the road."

"Thanks," Ryan said. "Looks nice."

"Nice job, Wilbur," Russell said. "You got the paperwork?"

"Sure do, Sheriff," the man said.

"Alright, take it on in and Sergeant Bledsoe will see to it," Russell said.

The man nodded his head and went inside.

"Damn," Smith said, looking the truck over. "New job, new truck, new

woman. You really did hit the jackpot." Ryan smiled.

"No argument there," he said. They went inside and headed for the

briefing room where the other deputies had already gathered. Russell,

Ryan and Smith went to the front of the room. Russell conducted the

briefing, then turned it over to Smith after introducing him. Smith pointed

to the large picture of Weston on the wall.

"The man in this picture is James Weston," Smith began. "He's wanted

by the FBI for questioning regarding crimes involving the Knight

Petroleum camp in New Mexico that was the scene of an attack. He's a

former FBI agent and we believe he's on his way here."

"Excuse me, Agent Smith," a deputy said after raising his hand. "Why

would he be coming here?" Smith looked at Ryan. Everyone else did as

well.

"He'll be looking for me," Ryan said. "Whatever you do, don't try to take

him on by yourself. If you see him, let me know immediately. Call for

backup. This man should be considered armed and extremely

dangerous." They all nodded their heads and studied the pictures
handed out by Sergeant Bledsoe. "Any questions?" Ryan asked. There

were none, so Ryan dismissed them with a warning: "Be careful out

there."

Everyone filed out of the briefing room and headed for their destinations

-- some, like Sgt. Bledsoe, to their desks, while others went out back to

their patrol cars. One went out front, where his car was parked. A couple

minutes later, Sgt. Bledsoe came back into Russell's office, where he,

Ryan and Smith were discussing the situation with Weston.

"Sheriff," she said. "There's a man out front. It looks like that Weston

guy. He's got a hostage and a gun." The three men sprang into action

and ran into the front office. Ryan looked out the window. Sure enough,

there was Weston, across the street. One arm was around the neck of a

small blonde woman -- Beverly. He held a small revolver in his other

hand.

"Caldwell!" Weston shouted. "I know you're in there! Come out here and

face me like a man!" Ryan looked at Russell.

"This is my problem, Sheriff," he said. "Let me handle it. Besides, it's

time I start pulling my weight around here." Russell thought for a

moment, then nodded his head.

"Alright, Ryan," he said quietly. "How do you want to play this?" Ryan

looked at the remaining deputies in the office.

"Clear the streets," he told them. "Get those civilians outta there. And

block off both ends of this street. Go!" They moved quickly out of the

door, and began herding the citizens away from danger. Sgt. Bledsoe

spoke into her radio, and four sheriff's patrol cars blocked each end of

the street. Ryan looked at the two men with him.

"Okay, Russell, I want you 10 yards to my right," he said. "Smith, you go

10 yards to my left. Follow my lead."

"Yes, sir," Russell said. He regarded Ryan for a moment. The tall

scarred man wasn't just in charge, he was in command, and Russell

knew there was a big difference.

They went out the door and Russell went 10 yards down the sidewalk as

instructed, pulling his sidearm. Smith went the opposite direction, pulling

out his weapon. Ryan stood there and looked Weston in the face. He

looked at Beverly, who was struggling as Weston held her tight. He

could tell she was frightened and looked her in the face. She settled

down and he nodded slightly.

He pulled out his pistol and sent a bullet into the chamber. Standing in

the open, he took aim at Weston.

"Boy, if you don't put that gun down and let that woman go right now,

you're gonna be in a heap of trouble," he said. "You hear me, boy? I'm

giving you to the count of three." The deputies that were close by looked

at Ryan, shocked. Some of them had never seen anyone do something

like this. Ryan wasn't even trying to take cover. Worse yet, he was

taunting this man using language that would piss anyone off in these

parts. As Ryan stood, his weapon trained on the man, Weston looked

back and forth nervously, between Smith, Ryan and Russell.

"This is between you and me, Caldwell," Weston said. "I missed you the

last time, but I won't this time. But maybe I'll fuck this pretty little woman

of yours first."

"One," Ryan called. Weston shook his head. Ryan looked at Beverly and

made a slight nod with his head, hoping she would get the message. He

had been teaching her self defense, and he had recently taught her how

to throw a man who grabbed her from behind.

"Two," Ryan called. He looked down at Weston's feet again. "What's the

matter, Weston? You gotta hide behind a woman?" he taunted. Weston's

face began to turn red. Then Ryan saw Beverly's hands go to the arm

around her neck. Good girl, he thought to himself.

"Three," Ryan called. Beverly bent down as far as she could, throwing

Weston off balance. Unable to complete the throw, she turned, kneeing

him in the groin before running away into the arms of a deputy. Pissed,

off balance and in pain, Weston stood back up and took aim at Ryan.

Ryan wasted no time and put a round square into Weston's left eye

socket. The bullet went through his head and out the back, taking a fair

amount of brain tissue and bone with it. Russell and Smith popped two

rounds into Weston's body at the same time.

The three men approached Weston's body, their weapons still trained on

him. As they reached him, Ryan kicked Weston's pistol away, observing

that it was an older style single action revolver. The hammer hadn't been

cocked yet. He looked at Russell before speaking.

"Is this where I'm supposed to read him his rights?" he asked, causing

Russell to laugh.

"I don't think that's going to be an issue," Russell said. He looked at

Weston's face before speaking again. "Were you aiming for his left

eyeball?" he asked Ryan.

"Of course," Ryan said. "An eye for an eye. Isn't that what the good book

says?"
"Yeah, but I don't think it was talking about your proficiency with

firearms," Russell said. Ryan turned and saw Sgt. Bledsoe coming

across the street.

"I called an ambulance, Sheriff," she said. Ryan nodded his head.

"Thank you, Sergeant," he said, motioning for her to follow him. He

walked toward Beverly who rushed into his arms, sobbing. He held her

as she cried.

"Are you okay?" he asked her. She nodded her head.

"I was so scared," she said.

"It's okay," he said. "You did good. We're partners, remember?" She

nodded her head. "Why don't you go inside with Sgt. Bledsoe. She'll look

after you and take your statement, okay? I'll be along directly."

"Okay," she said, shaking. Sgt. Bledsoe put an arm around her and led

her back across the street.

"It's okay, sweetie," he heard Bledsoe say. "He can't hurt you any more."

Ryan walked back to Weston's body.

"I thought you said this guy was former FBI?" Ryan asked Smith.
"Yeah, he was," Smith said. "I guess he got stupid in his old age or

something."

"Reckon so," Ryan said. By then, the ambulance arrived. A paramedic

checked Weston out, and shook his head. They placed his body on a

gurney, covered it up and loaded it into the back of the vehicle.

"Well, Sheriff," Russell said. "Looks like you get to call for cleanup. And

you get to handle the paperwork. You know there's going to be an

inquiry into the shooting, right?" Ryan nodded his head.

"I figured as much," Ryan said.

"Welcome to law enforcement," Russell said, slapping Ryan on the back.

"One thing's for certain, though."

"What's that?" Ryan asked.

"Everyone in town will feel a whole lot safer now. Anyone coming here

looking for trouble will know better than to mess with the sheriff in this

town," Russell said. They got back into the office and Ryan made some

calls as Sgt. Bledsoe took Beverly's statement. When they finished, the

sergeant brought Beverly over to him.

"Sheriff, I'm going to take Beverly over to her car now if that's alright?"

she asked. "She was delivering eggs to Mrs. Williams when the suspect
grabbed her." He knew Mrs. Williams lived close by on a small street a

few blocks from downtown, well within walking distance. He looked at

Beverly before answering.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

"I am now," she said. He gave her a hug, holding on to her tight.

"Alright, sweetie," he said. "Why don't you head on home now. I'll see

you this evening."

"I've got more eggs to deliver first," she said. He smiled and nodded his

head.

"Okay, babe," he said. "Be careful. If you're not up to it, call me and I'll

come help."

"I'll be alright," she said. He watched as the sergeant escort Beverly out

the door.

"I guess that wraps up this part of my case," Smith said. "I'll be heading

on back now, unless you need anything else."

"I think we're good to go," Ryan said. "Thanks again, for everything. You

will be here for the wedding, right?"

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away," Smith said. He shook Russell's

hand as well. "Good to see you again, Sheriff," he said. Russell nodded

his head.

"Same here, Agent Smith," Russell said. After Smith left, Russell turned

to Ryan. "Well? Getting the bad guy is just half the job. C'mon, we got

paperwork to do. Correction -- YOU have paperwork to do." Resigned to

the inevitable, Ryan went with Russell into the office.

That night, he held a trembling Beverly in his arms. Feeling her soft,

smooth skin against him, he was sorely tempted to ravish her body, but

he knew she needed to be held and comforted. There would be plenty of

time for love-making later.

"Hold me, please," she begged. He held her closer to him and took in

her scent. "That's the second time you've saved my life," she said. "Tell

me, is every day going to be like this?"

"No, sweetheart," he said. "I think we're done with that bunch. They

threw their best at us, but they failed." Still, he knew deep inside they

had gotten lucky. If Weston had cocked the hammer, things could've

ended up a lot different. He kept that to himself, not wanting to cause

Beverly any additional angst.

...
Two weeks after the shooting, Ryan sat at the big desk in his office.

Russell had already moved to a smaller desk, giving him access to what

would be his permanent working area. Having finished his daily reports,

he was working on an online course, trying to get far enough ahead so

he could take a week to spend on his honeymoon. Russell was gone for

the day, doing patrols and meeting with a real estate agent in hopes of

selling his house. There was a knock at the door. He looked up to see

Sgt. Bledsoe.

"Sheriff, there's a Texas Ranger here to see you," she said.

"Send him in, please," Ryan said. She backed off to allow the Ranger

into his office. Ryan took in the tall, lanky, square-jawed man who looked

like he just came out of an old western. He wore a battered Stetson, a

red shirt, blue jeans and cowboy boots -- with spurs -- and a floor-length

duster. Ryan could see the man's badge and the pistols on his hips. Was

he imagining things, or were those cap and ball revolvers, he wondered

to himself. He motioned for the Ranger to come inside the office and

accepted his hand.

"Have a seat. What can I do for you today, Ranger?" Ryan asked.
"Name's Peace," the Ranger said, sitting down. "Justice O. Peace. Just

wanted to let you know the inquiry's been finished. They found in your

favor."

"That's good to know, Ranger Peace," Ryan said, wondering what kind

of a name that was. The Ranger looked at him hard before continuing.

"That was quite some shootin'," Justice said. "Were you really aiming for

his left eyeball?" Ryan nodded his head.

"Yes," Ryan said. "How do you know that?"

"That's what you told Sheriff Coltrane, isn't it?" Justice asked.

"I don't recall that being in the report," Ryan said.

"It wasn't," Justice said. "It was an observation on my part. It's kinda

what I do. Tell me, was that because of..." he said, pointing at the patch

covering Ryan's left eye.

"I reckon so," Ryan said. Justice nodded his head.

"An eye for an eye, huh?" Justice asked. "He took out your eye in the

Middle East, so you returned the favor. I can understand that. Your idea

of biblical justice, huh?"

"How do you know that?" Ryan asked. Justice shrugged his shoulders.
"It's my job to know," he said. "I can tell a lot about a man by looking in

his eyes. Or in your case, eye." Justice stood up and looked out the

window. "Been a long time since I was in these parts. An awful lot has

changed over the years." Ryan wondered what he was talking about.

Sure, there had been improvements over the years and new

construction come in, but he had seen pictures of the town and knew it

was pretty much the same as it was 40 years ago.

"Just a nice quiet, peace-loving town," Ryan said. "And I get paid to keep

it that way." Justice turned and looked at him.

"Yes, you do," Justice said. "You know, when Sheriff Coltrane first

named you for this job, a lot of us, myself included, thought it was a

mistake. It doesn't happen often, but I'm man enough to admit when I'm

wrong." He extended his hand. Ryan stood up and accepted it.

"Thank you, Ranger, that means a lot coming from you," Ryan said.

Justice smiled and nodded his head.

"Well, it's certainly not every day I get to meet someone who can make a

man's heart go into vapor lock just by lookin' at him," Justice said. Ryan

was shocked. He was certain no one knew what happened that day at

the courthouse with Jake. "You know, you remind me an awful lot of an

old friend of mine. They once said he would charge the gates of hell with
a bucket of water," Justice said. "I just wanted to look you in the face and

see if you were that kind of man, and I believe you are."

"Well, I'm flattered, Ranger," Ryan said. "Listen, if there's anything me or

my department can do to help the Rangers, please feel free to ask."

Justice smiled grimly at Ryan as they shook hands.

"I'll remember that, Sheriff Caldwell," Justice said. "You take good care

of that woman of yours, you hear me?"

"I will, Ranger," Ryan said. Justice nodded his head.

"We'll be seeing ya," he said as he turned toward to door. "Y'all have a

nice day, now, y'hear?"

"Will do, Ranger," Ryan said. "You do the same." A chill went up Ryan's

back as he watched the Ranger walk through the office, tipping his hat

as he passed Sgt. Bledsoe. He sat back down to his computer and

looked up as he heard what he thought was the "clip-clop" sound of

hooves on the pavement outside. Looking outside, though, he saw

nothing. "Maybe I'm losing it," he thought to himself and turned back to

his work.

A few minutes later, there was a tapping at his door. He looked and saw

Sgt. Bledsoe.
"Yes, Sergeant, what can I do for you?" he asked.

"If you don't mind my asking, Sheriff, what did that Ranger want?" she

asked.

"Says the inquiry is finished and it was a good shoot," Ryan said. "I don't

know why they'd send a Ranger out to tell us that, though. Don't they

use email?"

"Who knows, these days?" she asked with a smile. "May I speak

candidly for a minute, Sheriff?"

"Always, Sergeant," Ryan said. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, the other deputies and I have been talking," she began. "At first,

we were a bit concerned when Sheriff Coltrane named you for this job. I

mean, with your lack of law enforcement experience and all."

"I can understand that," Ryan said. "I was concerned as well."

"Well, I think I can speak for everyone here when I say that we're all glad

you're with us," she said with a smile.

"Thank you, Elaine," he said, referring to her by her first name. "That

means a lot to me. Truth is, I'm glad to be here with all of you as well."

She smiled as he said that.

"That's all I had, Sheriff," she said. "I'd better get back to work now."

Ryan nodded his head.

"Yeah, me too," he said.

...

Two weeks later, he and Beverly received a notice from the county. The

board had put them up for a commendation, and the governor and state

attorney general were coming to present the awards.

Personally, Ryan didn't think he deserved an award. In his mind, he was

just doing his job. He was glad, however, that they decided to give

Beverly an award. Nevertheless, he dressed in his best uniform and

accompanied Beverly to the courthouse, where the presentation was to

be made.

As he listened to governor's speech, he thought it somewhat fitting that a

one-eyed sheriff would be given a commendation by a governor

restricted to a wheelchair. He watched and smiled with pride as the

attorney general placed an award around Beverly's slender neck. Then it

was his turn.

After the governor handed him the commendation letter, he turned to the

audience for a few short remarks, that concluded with: "And let this be
fair warning to those who would come here to make trouble. Don't mess

with Texas." Everyone applauded loudly, including Ryan and Beverly.

After the congratulations were over, Beverly whispered in his ear.

"I'm so hot for you, I'm ready to jump your bones right here, cowboy,"

she said.

"I've never made love to a genuine heroine before, so I'm ready," he said

back.

...

Two weeks later, Ryan was in his upstairs bedroom, getting into his

tuxedo. Today was the day he and Beverly had been waiting for -- the

day they would become husband and wife. Beverly, being the strong

woman she is, got through the incident with Weston just fine, despite the

initial shock.

As he got dressed, he looked out the window and saw a gleaming white

helicopter land on his pistol range. He saw a familiar logo on the side

and wondered what was going on. It was a logo he hadn't seen in about

four years. He knew Jim planned to ferry them to Las Vegas for their

honeymoon, but he wasn't expecting this. He was shocked when he saw

Jim climb out of the chopper in a fresh uniform. What the hell, he asked
himself. He ran downstairs and made it into kitchen just as Jim walked

in.

"Jim," he said. "What the hell?" Jim smiled and shook his hand.

"Like it?" Jim said, showing off his uniform with the gold wings and gold

stripes on his sleeve.

"Looks nice," Ryan said. "But..."

"Ah, looks like my boss just got here," Jim said.

"Boss?" Ryan asked. Jim pointed out the front window. Ryan looked and

saw a large white limousine pull in front of the house. Ryan ran outside

just as a door opened. Out stepped two fairly young Middle Eastern

men. One held the door open as a very familiar figure in a gleaming

white robe stepped out. He extended a hand, which was filled with the

hand of a very attractive Middle Eastern woman. Ryan went out the door

and met them at the gate.

"Sheikh Abdullah," Ryan said. "As-salaam alykum," he added, shaking

the man's offered hand. The man smiled and responded: "Wa alaykum

as-salaam, Ryan. It is good to see you as well, my old friend."

"I'm surprised," Ryan said. "I wasn't expecting you." The old man smiled

and nodded his head.

"I just concluded some business, and thought I would visit," he said. "It

is, how might you say it, icing on the cake. Please, if I may, let me

introduce my wife, Alia," he said, turning slightly to the small woman next

to him. Ryan knew the sheikh wasn't as much of a traditionalist as other

Middle Eastern men, but he didn't want to offend the man, or his wife.

So, he placed his right hand on the left side of his chest and bowed

slightly while greeting her. She smiled and did the same.

"And my oldest sons, Muhammad and Ibrahim," the sheikh said. Ryan

shook their hands and greeted them as well.

"I understand you spent some time in our country," Muhammad said.

"I did," Ryan said. "I worked for your father for a time, but I never met his

family."

"My sons were in college at the time," the sheikh said. "Harvard

Business School. Now they get to prove that I did not waste my money

educating them." Ryan chuckled at that.

"Please, come inside," Ryan said. He held the gate open for them and

ushered them inside. The house was already full of guests, but Ryan

found Bob and waved him over.

"Sheikh, this is my son-in-law, Robert Greene," Ryan said. Bob shook

the sheikh's hand, then Muhammad's and Ibrahim's. He nodded at Alia,

having noticed that Ryan did not shake her hand.

"So you are 'Gunner,' is that right?" the sheikh asked. Bob smiled

sheepishly and nodded his head.

"Yes, that's what I've been called," he said.

"It suits you," the sheikh said. "Jim told me all about you. I've been

following your career at the Commerce Department. That report you

wrote on making Amtrak profitable was quite interesting."

"You read that?" Bob asked, surprised.

"Oh, yes," the sheikh said. "Too bad your government will never adopt it,

though. It makes too much sense." They all laughed at that. "Personally,

I think your talents are wasted at the Commerce Department. Perhaps

it's time you spread your wings and take on new challenges."

"I don't know what else I'd do," Bob said.

"Perhaps you'd like to come work for me," the sheikh said.

"Work for you?" Bob asked. "Doing what?"

"Well, it's going to make the news soon anyway, so I might as well tell

you," the sheikh said. "As you know, Knight Petroleum is in the middle of

a shake-up. Stock plummeting, confidence falling, the whole

infrastructure is collapsing."

"Yes, I've been following that," Bob said.

"Well, I've just concluded a deal to take it over," the sheikh said. Bob

looked shocked. "Yes, we now have control of nearly 75 percent of the

available stock in the company and we concluded a deal. It just has to

be approved by your government, but that's a mere formality at this

point. We are now in the process of recruiting new leadership to take

over as soon as the transition is approved. Everyone on the old

management team is transitioning out and the new leadership will be in

place within a few days. I just need a new CFO, and I felt it was time to

inject some new blood. Would you be interested in the position?"

"Wow," Bob said, excited. "Yes, sir, I would. Very much."

"Excellent," the sheikh said. "Let's meet after the festivities and we can

discuss the details of the acquisition and your compensation package."

"That sounds terrific, sheikh, thanks," Bob said. The sheikh turned back

to Ryan and took an envelope from Muhammad. He handed it to Ryan.

"I hope you don't mind," the sheikh said. "A small wedding gift. I've

placed my executive helicopter and my pilot at your disposal for the

week, and I took the liberty of upgrading your reservation. You and your

lovely bride are now in the penthouse suite, at my insistence. And I've

given you just a little bit of walking around money."

"Thank you, sheikh, you didn't have to do that," Ryan said.

"I know, but I wanted to," the older man said. "Enjoy, please. After all,

how often do you get to visit Las Vegas?"

"Very true," Ryan said. "You have my heartfelt thanks."

"Speaking of which, where is your lovely bride?" the sheikh asked.

"She's upstairs with my daughter getting ready," Ryan said. "It's tradition

that the bride stay out of sight until the beginning of the wedding."

"Ah, I understand," the sheikh said. "Well, then, Mr. Greene, would you

please accompany us to our seats?"

"Absolutely," Bob said. "Then I have to get back. I'm Dad's best man."

The sheikh nodded in approval. Ryan watched as they walked out and

opened the envelope. His eyes grew wide when he saw a pre-paid Visa

card. A card attached to it said $100,000 was loaded on it. A small gift,

indeed. He knew this was chump change for the sheikh, however.
He looked around the house for a moment and thought about all he had

been through to get to this point in his life. The place was packed with

friends, both old and new. His old team -- Bill, Buster, Ian, Jim and Cap -

- were all there, along with Jorge, Jay Goldsmith, every deputy that

wasn't on duty and of course, Russell. A few members of the county

board of commissioners were there as well. He hoped they would have

enough food and drink for everyone. He was glad he had plenty of space

out back for everyone to park.

Quite a few friends of Beverly's were there as well, along with some of

their neighbors. There was one person missing, though. He looked out

front and saw a dark SUV pull into the driveway. After it stopped, he saw

Agent Smith get out, then open the passenger door for his wife. Ryan

smiled as he greeted his friend.

"I thought you guys weren't going to make it," Ryan said.

"Wouldn't miss this for the world," Smith said. He introduced his wife,

Gloria, and Buster walked them out to their seats. Ryan looked at his

watch and realized it was about time. He checked himself one last time

in a mirror, then headed out.

He stood at the outdoor altar with Bob, Ian and Cap. They all turned as

the Wedding March was played on the outdoor sound system. Everyone
got a smile as little Ryan walked down the aisle, spreading flower petals

in front of the procession.

Bob steadied Ryan as he watched his bride-to-be walk down the aisle on

Russell's arm, preceded by Sarah, Elaine Bledsoe and Trish Callaway,

one of Beverly's long-time friends. Beverly looked so beautiful to him that

he had to remind himself to breathe. When they reached the altar, the

pastor asked, "Who gives this woman to be married?"

"On behalf of the community of Hard Rock, Texas, I do," Russell said.

Everyone smiled at that. The ceremony was uplifting, and the whole

thing was captured and streamed live for the benefit of Beverly's son,

who couldn't get away from the Naval Academy. A few days before the

wedding, Ryan had finally gotten a chance to talk with him over Skype

and they hit it off just fine.

When it was finished, the pastor asked them to face the audience.

"And now, it is my distinct pleasure to introduce for the first time, Mr. and

Mrs. Ryan Caldwell," the pastor said, prompting applause from

everyone. The reception went well, as a local band played an eclectic

mix of country, bluegrass and rock music. There was plenty of food and

drink and everyone had a good time, reminiscing and dancing.

Everyone came up to wish the newly-married couple well and Ryan was

glad no one ruined the day by mentioning Lisa. Not that they needed to -

- Ryan already knew her situation thanks to Jorge, Sarah and others.

Having lost the vast majority of her wealth, she had been forced to sell

her mansion and was now in assisted living while undergoing therapy

that could last years. On top of that, she was still considered an

accomplice to much of what Jake, Elmer and the board had been doing.

The only thing that kept her out of jail was her cooperation and her

physical condition.

Timmy, the man who shot Lisa, was facing about 10 years in jail, thanks

to a plea deal his lawyers made with the federal prosecutor. A number of

mid and lower-echelon managers with Knight were also on their way to

jail for various crimes. Police in England still had not solved Blackstone's

murder, but were pursing all leads with the assistance of the FBI.

The class action lawsuit was still slowly working its way through the

system, and Ryan figured he would never see a dime from it. Still, he

was heartened to know that Knight's legacy would always be

remembered with infamy.

Authorities attributed the attack on the Knight compound to a drug cartel

operating south of the border and Smith was on his way to Washington,
D.C., where he would take a new deputy director position responsible for

cleaning up the agency.

All in all, Ryan thought, everything worked out well. He and Beverly still

hadn't worked out all the details regarding their two homes, but he knew

they would, eventually. Beverly's egg business was doing well and she

had mentioned expanding it and perhaps hiring in a couple of people,

turning her old house into an office space.

"I just want to say thanks for staying to look out for my chickens,"

Beverly told Sarah and Bob. "I just hope it isn't asking too much."

"Nonsense, Mom," Sarah said. "I'm a veterinarian, remember? It's a

pleasure. Besides, you two deserve some time together."

"Are you sure you guys can handle all this?" Ryan asked Bob, handing

him keys to the house.

"Don't worry, Dad," Bob told him. "Sarah and I will take care of this."

"And we'll help him, won't we boys?" Buster asked. Cap, Ian, Bill and

Jorge nodded their heads.

"Alright," Ryan said. "Thanks for everything."

"No problem, Dad," Bob said. "You guys go, have fun." Ryan turned to

Russell.
"You got everything under control?" he asked. Russell laughed.

"Oh, I think we can manage a week without you," he said, laughing. "Go

on, your chopper's waiting."

Ryan and Beverly said their goodbyes and ran through a gauntlet of

well-wishers tossing rice. They made it to the helicopter and Jim closed

the door as they climbed in. Jim had already loaded their luggage on the

helicopter and they were ready to go. Everyone could see, "Just

Married" written on one of the back windows after the door was closed.

"Sorry," Cap whispered to Sheikh Abdullah. "I couldn't help myself."

"No problem," the sheikh said. "It will give Jim something to do." They all

laughed. They waved as Ryan and Beverly waved from the chopper.

They watched as the aircraft lifted slowly, then turned and headed north.

"You think they'll join the mile high club in that thing?" Buster asked.

"It wouldn't be the first time it's happened," the sheikh said, smiling. "It is

much more comfortable than that rickety old thing Jim likes to tinker

with."

"Think Ryan finally found what he was looking for?" Ian asked. The

sheikh nodded his head.

"I think so," he said. Sarah looked at him, confused.

"What was he looking for?" she asked. The sheikh looked at the

chopper, now nearly out of sight.

"Peace," he said. "And a father's justice."

...

Fade to black...

Notes:

Apologies in advance if I got any of the greeting with the sheikh and his

wife wrong. I relied on Google for that, so if anything is incorrect, the

blame falls on Google...

As far as I know, there is no town in west Texas named Hard Rock. I

made that up for the purpose of this story.

I also know that sheriffs in most jurisdictions are elected, not appointed.

Remember, this is MY universe, where my rules apply...

For those who may be wondering, "Ranger" Justice O. Peace is from my

series "Justice." I suggest you read that series to learn about him.

On a final note, I want to thank everyone for the votes and kind words. I

hope you enjoyed this series as much as I enjoyed crafting it for you. I'm
sure there are those who want to say this or that wouldn't or couldn't

happen, but this is a work of fiction, and therefore isn't real.