Lover's Bridge Pt. 03

"Mr. Holder," Ryan said. "I'm truly sorry for your loss. I never got a chance to meet your son, but if he's anything like his brother Don..."

"Dan was a good man, Sheriff," Ken said, his eyes flashing angrily. "He didn't deserve what he got."

"No sir, he didn't," Ryan agreed.

"Would you care for a cup of coffee, Sheriff?" JoAnne asked to calm things down.

"That would be wonderful, Mrs. Holder," Ryan said. "Please."

"Black?" she asked.

"That would be perfect," Ryan told her.

"Might as well have a seat, Sheriff," Ken said as his wife went into the kitchen to pour the coffee. "I know yer jes' doin' yer job. It jes' ain't right."

"I agree, Mr. Holder. No man should ever have to bury his own child," Ryan said, hoping to connect with Ken.

"You have kids, Sheriff?" Ken asked.

"Yes, sir, I do. I have a daughter. And a grandson."

"Then you know what I'm feeling. I woulda done anything to protect mah boy."

"I know exactly how you feel, Mr. Holder. More than you can know," Ryan told him. Ken eyed him closely, not saying anything. It was... unnerving. Almost as if he could see Ryan's past in his face. Ken finally nodded his head and sat back.

"I believe you, Sheriff," the older man finally said. JoAnne returned with the coffee and handed a cup to Ryan before sitting down.

"Thank you," Ryan told her as he took a tentative sip.

"Don said the people at the morgue think Dan took his own life," JoAnne said, a tear falling down her cheek.

"There's been some new information come to light since then, ma'am. I don't think that's the case," Ryan said. He saw Ken breathe a sigh of relief, then saw his face turn red with anger. He heard JoAnne give a tiny gasp and start whispering a prayer.

"You think mah boy was murdered, Sheriff?" he asked tensely.

"Yes, sir, I do," Ryan replied.

"Any idea who might've done it?" Ken asked in response.

"No, we're still putting the pieces together."

"You think it had something to do with that body out there on Eastland Bridge?" JoAnne asked suddenly.

"It's possible, ma'am," Ryan said. They were putting two and two together with disturbing quickness. "Like I said, we're still working on it. I do have a couple of questions for you that might help us."

"Anything, Sheriff," JoAnne said. "We'll do whatever it takes to bring justice for our son."

"Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate that." Ryan took a deep breath before continuing. This would not be very easy - at all. "Do either of you know if your son was ever involved in any kind of illegal activity?"

"What do you mean, illegal?" Ken asked, his face turning even redder than before. "Are you talking about drugs?"

"Yes, unfortunately," Ryan replied. He filed that away in his mind. Ken had hit the first guess spot on all the possible illegal activities Dan might have been involved with. Maybe just a sorry comment on the times.

"Absolutely not! Dan hated drugs. He told us he saw what that shit did to people. Wanted nothing to do with it," Ken exclaimed. "Why are you asking? Were drugs involved?"

"We found evidence suggesting that drugs may have been involved," Ryan phrased it carefully.

"Well, I can tell you that Dan had nothing to do with them," Ken stated emphatically.

"You think his wife might've been involved with them?" Ryan probed.

"I don't know. She seemed so nice and sweet. It's hard to believe. But I know Dan would have nothing to do with drugs. Or anything else illegal," he added quickly. "We raised him better than that," Ken stated.

"What about his wife? When was the last time you spoke with her?" Ryan asked.

"Oh gosh, I don't know," JoAnne breathed, suddenly perplexed. "It's been quite a while now. Maybe five or six months, at least. Dan told us she was going out of town with her boss and would be gone for a while. I think that was in early March. We haven't seen or heard from her since."

Then embarrassment seemed to set in. Being the matriarch of such an extensive family was more than a full-time job; it had to be a direct emotional blow to realize that she might have missed something important.

"That's because she was killed along with her boss," Ryan explained, causing Ken and JoAnne to gasp in shock. "That hasn't been made public yet, so please don't say anything."

"Wait a minute, Sheriff," Ken interjected. "Yer saying Carmelita was killed with that Frenchman she worked for?"

"Yes, sir, I am."

"Do you think the killer was after the boss and she was just in the way, Sheriff?" Ken asked sharply.

Ryan used his best non-committal shrug. "We are still sorting through possible motives. There are a number of pieces missing in this particular puzzle."

"And they were both found on that bridge?" JoAnne pressed.

"Parts of them were," Ryan said. He decided not to go into graphic detail, hoping to spare them that much. "From what we've been able to put together so far, she was involved with her boss, and both of them were killed at the same time."

"Involved? Are you saying they were having an affair?" Ken asked angrily.

"It certainly looks that way, Mr. Holder. I'm sorry," Ryan replied.

"That no-good...," Ken began before JoAnne stopped him.

"Do you think Dan had something to do with that?" JoAnne asked slowly, her face dark. Whether she was grappling with a cheating daughter-in-law or the possibility of her son getting revenge for it, Ryan couldn't tell. He noted Ken's face getting darker at that particular revelation.

"I don't know, I'm thinking he didn't actually kill them, but we believe he may have been present when it happened. We don't know if he was involved in anything else, or if he was, to what extent. But I do believe he was killed to muddy the waters and make it look like a crime of passion," Ryan explained.

"Oh my God," JoAnne hissed.

"Son of a bitch," Ken gasped, echoing his wife's shock. "Is there anything we can do to help, Sheriff?"

"Keep an eye out. If you run across anything or remember something you think might help, anything that Dan might have mentioned about Carmelita and her boss and what they did, no matter how small, please let me know," Ryan answered.

"We will, Sheriff," Ken said.

"Thank you, Mr. Holder. I appreciate that," Ryan said.

"When do you think we can get Dan's body back?" JoAnne asked anxiously. "We'd like to give him a decent burial."

"As soon as the medical examiner is finished, ma'am," Ryan told her. "Please let me know when you plan to have the funeral. I'd like to pay my respects to the family," he added, handing JoAnne one of his cards.

"Thank you, Sheriff," she said, putting the card between her and Ken on the table. "We'd appreciate that a bunch." They exchanged farewells, and Ryan left the Holder residence feeling sadness and relief. This was a part of the job that Russell Coltrane had never prepared him for.

His radio squawked as he drove back to the office, and he recognized the call sign - it was Deputy Jones, a relatively new hire who had just finished his probationary period with Deputy Sanders. He wondered what the deputy wanted and answered the call.

"Sheriff, that Toyota you wanted us to keep an eye out for just met a Lear Jet over at the airport. Picked up a passenger, and it's headed back to town," Jones said. "Want me to pull him over?"

"Negative," Ryan replied forcefully. "I'll take it from here. Did you get the numbers off that jet?"

"Affirmative," Jones replied.

"Check it out. I want to know who owns that craft, where it came from - everything."

"Copy that," Jones said. Ryan acknowledged the call and wondered who Roland had flown in - and why. Then it dawned on him. "Oh shit," he exclaimed quietly. He recalled Roland worked closely with a man who was a genius with planning and was also damn good at surveillance. What was his name again? Bill something...

Then he remembered. Bill Matthews. He wasn't as proficient with firearms as the others, but he had an uncanny knack for assessing situations quickly. He remembered Roland saying he trusted Bill's guesses more than most people's "facts." As Ryan recalled, Bill had gotten into trouble with the law more than once as a child. Roland used to say he was what people called an "excitable boy."

If Roland brought him here, that meant he planned to do something. But what? Did Roland have more information on Phillipe's murder that he hadn't shared? Were he and Azalea planning an operation of some kind? Ryan immediately headed north toward Azalea's home. On the way, he made a quick call to Elaine.

When he got to Azalea's home, he saw Roland's rental car in the driveway. A quick check showed that the hood was still warm, so Ryan knew he hadn't been there very long. As before, the door opened before he could knock.

Azalea had a look of grim determination on her face as she glared at Ryan. Roland stepped behind her as Ryan considered his options. The situation was tense, but he didn't think a shootout was imminent.

"What's going on?" Ryan finally asked.

"Perhaps you should come inside," Azalea said quietly. They stepped back as Ryan entered the house.

"So, you're having me followed?" Roland asked coldly.

"I'm keeping an eye on you," Ryan responded. "Wouldn't you if you were in my shoes? Who did you meet today? I heard you were at the airport."

"Yes, a friend of mine flew in. You've met him - Bill Matthews," Roland said. He turned his head toward the hall. "It's okay, Bill. Come on out." A more petite man with wire-rimmed glasses came into the room.

"Matthews?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah," Bill replied. "Is that really you, Ryan?"

"Yes, it's me. What's going on here? Are you three planning something?" Ryan asked.

"You know how good Bill is at surveillance and planning," Roland said.

"Yes, and I know that when the two of you get together, bad things tend to happen. And people usually end up dead," Ryan snapped. "I won't have that here in my town. Do you copy?"

"I hear ya, Ryan," Roland said carefully.

"I swear, I'll run all three of you in for obstructing justice if I have to. I don't want to, but I will if you force me."

"Sheriff, please. Hear me out," Azalea said, interposing between the two men.

"What?" Ryan barked.

"If I'm right, and I usually am, the people you seek will be out of your jurisdiction, and you won't be able to do anything about it," she stated firmly.

"What are you talking about?" Ryan asked.

"You said it yourself. That foot was meant as a warning. To me. Directly. I have been going through everything I can think of. I hate to say this, but I believe at least some of the perpetrators are foreign nationals and if I'm correct, are probably out of the country. Either that, or they are protected."

What do you mean, protected?" Ryan asked suspiciously.

"Diplomatic immunity," she said quietly. "The people who run Worldwide Imports and Exports have... friends... and operatives... in many places. Especially in the government and the embassies where the company operates. There is a French consulate fairly close - in Houston. You can look it up on Google if you wish."

"And you're just NOW telling me this?" he asked in exasperation.

"I am not 100 percent certain, but if they are involved, would it not be better if it could be discovered... discreetly?" Azalea asked. "Or would you prefer to have Texas Rangers charge the consulate with guns blazing?"

"If there are French assassins running around killing American citizens, which I personally doubt, then I could live with Rangers charging the Embassy," Ryan growled. "Hell, I just might join them." Azalea chuckled at that.

"Perhaps you would like to check in with your State Department first? Do you honestly believe they would tell you if something like that were true?" Azalea asked. Ryan considered her question for a moment and realized she had a point. If he asked such a question, chances are HE would be taken away - to a rubber room, possibly never to be seen or heard from again. He almost sighed out loud. Sometimes, being a mercenary was more straightforward than being a sheriff.

"No offense, Ryan, but she's right," Roland said. "Do you honestly think anyone will listen to a county sheriff with a claim like that? I think you know the answer to that." Ryan admitted to himself that Roland had a point.

"What are you planning?" Ryan asked.

"No can do, Ryan," Bill said. "You know how I am with OpSec. Besides, we haven't devised a plan yet," he admitted. "That's why I'm here."

"Talk all you want. But do nothing without consulting me first. I mean, absolutely fucking nothing. You hear me?" Ryan growled.

"We will do nothing without consulting you first, Sheriff," Azalea said. "You have my word as a former police officer."

"I'm afraid that may not be good enough, Mrs. Dupont," Ryan told her. "You see, I may be 'just' a sheriff, but I have friends as well. Something I'm sure none of you considered. I can end this little party of yours real quick. Or not. The choice is yours. Make it a good one."

Azalea, Roland, and Bill looked at each other for a few moments, then nodded their heads. Roland looked suddenly thoughtful as he remembered the Knight incident.

"You are correct, Sheriff," Azalea finally said. "We will keep you in the loop. The whole way." Bill looked shocked

and was about to protest, but Azalea cut him off. "The Sheriff is within his rights. He could very easily take us all in for obstruction. I would. In a second. We will work with him. Understand?"

"Yeah, I got it," Bill sighed.

"And don't think about leaving," Ryan said. "I've dispatched deputies to ensure your jet goes nowhere without my express permission." Bill and Roland both deflated noticeably at that. Just then, Roland's cell phone rang, and he answered the call, and his face fell even further.

"Deputies have surrounded the aircraft," he said after he ended the call. "The pilot has been escorted to a hotel where he is under guard until further notice. We're not going anywhere. Are you happy now, Ryan?"

"They're following my orders," Ryan told them. "This may be a small pond compared to what you're used to dealing with. But it's MY pond. Never forget that." He smiled coldly. "Wheel locks work just as well on aircraft tires as they do on truck tires."

"You have made your point, Sheriff," Azalea said. "We will... keep you in the loop. Satisfied?"

"For now," Ryan said. "Stay in touch. And remember... I've got my eyes on you three," he added, pointing two fingers at them to emphasize his statement. "Welcome to Hard Rock. Y'all have a good day, now. Y'hear?"

Ryan left, returned to his truck, and headed for the Sheriff's Department. He had thanked his predecessor when the job had practically fallen into his lap; now, he gave him a good-natured curse in his mind. Ron met him on the way to his office.

"What'cha got for me?" Ryan asked.

"Just heard from Worldwide Imports, Sheriff. Their security guy said he can talk to you for a few minutes."

"Mighty nice of him," Ryan growled. "When?"

"He said he can be available in... 20 minutes. Already have a Teams meeting set up. Will that work?"

"One of those on-line meetings? I s'pose so. Can you tell me where he's calling from?"

"I'm on it," Ron said.

"Then get to it. Oh, have Ray and Deputy Sanders come down if you would, please?"

"Will do, Sheriff," Ron answered.

"One last thing... Who the hell am I meeting?"

"His name is Jean-Pierre Gagnon," Ron said on his way down the hall.

"What's this about a meeting?" Ray asked as he and Deputy Sanders entered Ryan's office a few minutes later. Ryan had just finished booting up his computer and brought up Microsoft Teams.

"Security guy from Worldwide Imports agreed to meet with me. I wanted the two of you in on this."

"You're going to record this, I hope?" Ray asked.

"Damn right I am," Ryan hissed in reply. Just then, a pop-up informed Ryan that a Teams meeting was beginning. He opened the application, started the recording and the transcript, then addressed the blue-eyed, sandy-haired man on the screen.

"Good afternoon. You must be Jean-Pierre Gagnon," Ryan said.

"I am Jean-Pierre Gagnon, head of security for Worldwide Imports and Exports, North America. And you must be Sheriff, er, Ryan Caldwell, no?" the man asked in a heavy French accent. The transcription feature appeared to have some difficulty with the accent.

"I am Sheriff Caldwell. Detective Ray Hale and Deputy Sanders are here with me."

"What may we do for the Hard Rock, Texas, Sheriff's Department today?" Jean-Pierre asked pointedly.

"We're investigating the deaths of three people, Mr. Gagnon - two of your employees and the spouse of one employee, and we were hoping you could help us in our investigation," Ryan said.

"That sounds serious, Sheriff," Jean-Pierre said, his face a mask of shock and horror. Just how much of that might be contrived, Ryan couldn't judge through the screen. "And just whom might these employees be?"

"One is a Phillipe Dupont, and the other appears to be his assistant, Carmelita Holder. Her husband was also found dead," Ryan said.

"Dupont, you say? Hmm. Let me look," Jean-Pierre said. He appeared to consult something on his computer before continuing. "Ah yes, I see it here now. Monsieur Dupont was assigned to that area a year and a half ago. Were you aware that he is a French national?"

"No, I was not. His wife identified his remains, but we have yet to corroborate that identification. He had no papers on him, and we are still waiting for the results of a DNA test."

"I... see," Jean-Pierre said. "Obviously, you have not informed the French Consulate of this."

"No, I have not," Ryan said.

"Then I suggest you do so, Sheriff. Just to avoid an international incident."

"I will after I have some answers."

"So, what do you want from us, Sheriff?" he asked almost haughtily.

"I was hoping you could give us access to his files to help determine why he died."

"You sound as if he was murdered, Sheriff. Perhaps I could save you some trouble. Monsieur Dupont had a thing for the ladies, shall we say. Especially the married ones. You have spoken with his wife, yes?"

"Yes, I have," Ryan replied.

"Well, then, you have all you need. Perhaps one of the hundreds of men Monsieur Dupont cuckolded decided to extract... revenge. It has happened before, no?" Jean-Pierre added dismissively.

"It has. But I'm not convinced that is the case here," Ryan said. "That's why we need access to his files. I can obtain a warrant if necessary, but I had hoped your company would cooperate to save time and foster goodwill."

"For a country sheriff, you know how to, how do you say, 'lay it on thick,'" Jean-Pierre said with a smile that wasn't a smile and a chuckle that held no mirth. "In the interest of fostering goodwill, I will... consider... your request, Sheriff. Please keep me informed on the status of your investigation. Au revoir, Sheriff," he concluded, ending the conversation abruptly.

"That went well," Ray smirked.

"Reckon so," Ryan replied sarcastically.

...

Jean-Pierre looked at the man sitting across the desk from him. Something about this Texas sheriff troubled him deeply, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Thierry, reach out to your contacts at the Embassy and the Surete. Find out what you can about this Sheriff Ryan Caldwell. I want to know everything. And I want to know it immediately," he spit out impatiently in rapid French.

"Oui, monsieur," Thierry replied before leaving the office. Jean-Pierre turned his chair to gaze at the city below, but his mind wasn't on the view. He had just received word from his private investigator in Hard Rock that Azalea had brought in some help.

Worse yet, the help she had enlisted was none other than a mercenary with a reputation for brutality. But he was determined not to let that stop him from destroying the woman who killed his brother.