A Father's Justice Pt. 07

"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."