Lover's Bridge

Lover's Bridge, Pt. 04

A Sheriff Ryan Caldwell story

Apologies for taking so long to get this series out. I've been quite busy lately with two other projects, including my fourth e-book, "Son of Baalak," which is now live. I also wanted to get this mostly completed before I submitted the first part.

Many thanks to QuantumMechanic1957 for beta-reading this. In my opinion, his suggestions have helped make this a much better story. Also, many thanks to those who have offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories. This story was inspired, in part, by several streaming series with the same basic opening.

And now, the disclaimers:

For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper... In addition:

Characters in this story may participate in one or more of the following: Smoking, consumption of adult (meaning, alcoholic) beverages, utterance of profanities.

All sexual activity is between consenting adults 18 years of age or older.

Statements or views uttered by the fictional characters in this story do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of the author.

Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. (Yes, I DO moderate comments) And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...

Ryan Caldwell made his first appearance in my seven-part series, "

A Father's Justice

." He was also featured in "

Tip of the Spear

," and in "

Justice Ch. 04: Old Scores

." The town of Hard Rock, Texas, to the best of my knowledge, does not exist.

Roland Waters first appeared in my story "

Roland and Susan

."

...

End of "Lover's Bridge, Pt. 03":

"Did you look at this?" Jean-Pierre demanded.

"No, I did not."

"I think we underestimated this Sheriff Caldwell. According to this, he was a highly sought-after mercenary for nine years before taking over as Sheriff in Hard Rock," Jean-Pierre said. "In fact, he is very dangerous and considered persona non grata in France and several other countries."

"Why was this not caught when we did our initial planning?" Thierry exclaimed, matching his boss's anger.

"I do not know," Jean-Pierre replied. "Apparently, corporate planners made assumptions without doing their due diligence." His tone suggested that the corporate planners would regret that laziness intensely soon.

"Perhaps we should back off then. At least temporarily. We can get the woman any time we want."

"No," Jean-Pierre said. "We stick to the basic plan. But we'll need reinforcements. I will take care of that. I will need you to make sure they can enter the United States legally. Can you do that?"

"Of course," Thierry said. "Get me the names and I'll see to it."

...

And now, "Lover's Bridge, Pt. 04"

8:45 am, Saturday, September 24, 2022:

Ryan had just returned from Sally's shop with his morning coffee and walked into his office after gathering the overnight reports. He usually would not have come in over the weekend. Still, the Dupont case was far too important, and he expected Director Smith to arrive. Because of that, he also asked Ray and Deputy Sanders to come in. He hated messing with their weekend, but it couldn't be helped.

Beverly surprised him when she agreed to have Azalea over for dinner sometime soon. She was still steamed at the French-Canadian woman for coming on to her husband but felt better knowing that Ryan had turned her down. He was reading the reports when there was a knock on his door.

"Enter," he called out.

"Sheriff, Deputy Director Smith from the FBI is here to see you," Elaine announced, trying to act as if she routinely announced such visitors everyday... and almost succeeding.

"Send him in, please," Ryan said. "Have Detective Hale and Deputy Sanders come to my office, if you would."

"Of course, Sheriff," she replied, stepping back to let Smith in. Ryan stood and offered his hand with a smile.

"I see married life is agreeing with you, Ryan," Smith said with a smile. "You look like you've put on a pound or two since I saw you last."

"Beverly keeps me well-fed," Ryan replied with a chuckle.

"Bet that's not all she does," Smith joked, prompting Ryan to chuckle.

"So, how long are you gonna be in town?" Ryan asked.

"Not sure. Probably a day or two, depending on how everything goes," Smith said.

"Beverly would kick my ass if I didn't offer to let you stay with us," Ryan replied. "You know we have a couple of spare rooms, and you're welcome to one of them. Hell, I'd even let you take one with its own bathroom."

"I appreciate that, Ryan. I may take you up on that. Promise me you won't keep me awake all night, though."

"No promises, but I can give you a pair of ear plugs if it'll help," Ryan joked. Just then, Ray Hale and Deputy Sanders showed up, and Ryan made the introductions. "Have a seat, please. Coffee?"

"Sure," Ray replied. Sanders echoed the sentiment, as did Smith. Ryan poured each a cup from his Keurig and prepared himself for what would come.

"So, what's so secret you couldn't tell us over the phone yesterday?" Ryan asked Smith.

"This whole situation with Worldwide Imports and Exports," Smith said as he opened his briefcase. "By the way, Ryan. I spoke with my contact at the French Consulate in Washington on my way here this morning. It seems someone passed on a copy of their dossier on you."

"Dossier? On me?" Ryan asked, only mildly surprised.

"Yes. I hope you're not planning on visiting the Louvre any time soon. You're officially persona non grata in France."

"Well, it hasn't exactly made it to my bucket list. I don't speak French and can't stand snails," Ryan replied sarcastically.

"Don't knock 'em till you've tried 'em," Smith said half-jokingly.

"So, what have we stumbled into, Director?" Ray asked to get the meeting back on track.

"Right to business, I see. Good," Smith said. "Worldwide Imports and Exports has been the target of an investigation involving multiple agencies from at least four countries for the last five years. That includes Interpol, the Surete du Quebec, the RCMP, the FBI, and others. We've gathered evidence on many crimes, including human trafficking, drugs, guns, and murder.

"Things have heated up considerably over the last two years. Thanks in large part to Mrs. Dupont, we gathered enough to move in on one of their remote facilities. We didn't shut them down completely, but they were hurt. Then her husband left, supposedly visiting customers south of the border."

"Wait, are you saying she was working with you?" Ryan asked.

"Yes," Smith replied.

"I thought she was no longer with the Surete," Ryan said, shocked.

"That's what we wanted everyone to think," Smith said. "We gave her a cover we thought would pass inspection. She's still with the Surete, but as far as anyone is concerned, she's no longer on active duty. She's been quietly feeding us information. I suspect Worldwide Imports caught wind of it, and that's why he was killed."

"So she's been holding out on us," Ryan hissed. "Dammit! I've spoken with her more than once. Why wouldn't she say anything about that?"

"She had to keep it quiet, Ryan," Smith insisted defensively. "She's undercover. You know the ramifications of that. If she had told you the truth, it could've put her own life in even more danger than it already is. Which is probably considerable, at this point," he added.

"Alright, I'll grant you that," Ryan allowed, a bit grudgingly.

"She's got two former mercenaries in her house right now, Director," Ray stated. "Are they part of this... operation?"

"You mean Roland Waters and Bill Matthews," Smith stated. "Yes, they're part of this. We had to keep up appearances and have SOME kind of plausible deniability, so we enlisted their help. In exchange, they receive monetary compensation, and their records were expunged."

"Son of a bitch," Ryan hissed.

"What about that aircraft we have locked up at the airport? I checked, and it's registered to RW Enterprises," Sanders added. Smith nodded his head with a slight smile.

"That was a nice touch. Technically, that's a 'company' jet, if you know what I mean," Smith replied, using air quotes on the word "company."

"CIA?" Ryan asked as if his hopes for a quiet law enforcement career and early retirement were going up in smoke as he spoke.

"They weren't using it at the time," Smith shrugged. "And the pilot you have on 'house arrest' is a 'company' man as well. He's not complaining, though. He's enjoying his little vacation, knowing that it's on your dime and he won't have to suffer through the federal expense report crap."

"I'll bet he is," Ryan snorted. "Azalea - Mrs. Dupont - told me yesterday that some of the people involved with Worldwide are protected by diplomatic immunity." Ryan shot him a heated look. "What's being done about that?"

"Mrs. Dupont was in the process of identifying those individuals. She's given us the names of at least 15 people she confirmed are involved. The State Department is working with the French government to have their immunity revoked. It's not an easy process," Smith said wearily.

"Can't we just waive their immunity if they're involved in a crime?" Sanders asked, shock on his face.

"It doesn't work that way," Smith responded, shaking his head. "Immunity can only be revoked by the diplomat's home government. Friendly governments often cooperate if the crimes are serious enough; and the evidence compelling enough. Even if they don't cooperate, we can have the individual expelled and hope the home country's government pursues prosecution." He glanced at Ryan. "It happens, sometimes," he added without much conviction.

"What do you suggest we do?" Ryan asked. "I have three bodies in my morgue, a town on edge, and a family torn up with grief."

"Nothing, at least for the moment. Let your medical examiner do what's necessary, then release the bodies. I'd appreciate copies of the autopsies and your case files for our records. I think it would be a good idea to chat with Mrs. Dupont and her associates, but not here," Smith said, considering the options. "Perhaps in a more relaxed and less obvious setting. Like dinner, at your place. The sooner, the better." He managed a half smile. "Not that I'm trying to be forward or anything. Old friends and all that."

"Maybe tonight, then?" Ryan asked, mentally bracing himself to sprint THAT on Beverly.

"Works for me," Smith said.

"Have you ever... met... Mrs. Dupont?" Ryan asked Smith.

"No, I haven't, but I've heard... things. Why?" Smith responded suspiciously.

"Let's just say she's a bit... different," Ryan said.

"You can say that again," Ray chimed in.

"I'd better make some calls, then," Ryan said, reaching for the phone.

...

10:15 am September 24, 2022

"What's going on?" Roland asked after Azalea hung up her phone.

"We have been invited to dinner at Sheriff Caldwell's house tonight," Azalea answered absently.

"We? As in... all three of us?" Roland replied, confused.

"Yes. All three of us. He expects us there at 6:30 pm." Her tone was not completely bland; there was a vague curiosity about her.

"Did he say why?" Bill asked.

"No. He did not give a reason," Azalea told him. "But it is what I might do if I knew more than I was letting on."

"What the hell? I could go for a home-cooked meal," Roland said. "No offense, Azalea, but I'm a little tired of take-out."

"No offense taken. Okay," Azalea sighed. "I suppose I could eat some good food as well."

...

"Damn!" Jean-Pierre shouted as he slammed the phone down. "Damn. Damn. DAMN!"

"What is the problem?" Thierry asked, shocked at Jean-Pierre's outburst.

"I haven't been able to enlist anyone," Jean-Pierre grumbled. "They all seem to know about this Sheriff Caldwell, and none of them are willing to go against him. Even after I offered to double their pay."

"How is that possible?" Thierry practically spit. "How is it they know about him, but your planners did not?"

"I do not know. But they have all been informed somehow. It looks like we may have to rely on in-house resources. I wanted to avoid that. I can only hope they are up to the task."

"Of course they are. They have been trained by the best. You know that," Thierry reassured him.

"Perhaps. But I'm not sure about they are prepared to go against Caldwell. Have you looked at this man's dossier?"

"No, I have not. You have the full dossier?"

"Yes. You should read it. This Caldwell character is not someone we can subject to intimidation."

"Then perhaps we should target someone close to him. His wife, perhaps. Or his children. We've done it before with marked success," Thierry suggested darkly.

"According to the dossier, that was tried... once. It hasn't been corroborated, and it isn't generally well-known, but our intelligence services believe Caldwell responded by destroying the entire board of directors of Knight Petroleum in a raid that lasted only minutes."

"Destroyed? You mean..."

"Yes, killed," Jean-Pierre growled. "Or as these colonials say, 'Terminated with extreme prejudice'; including all of their security and support staff. While leaving NO significant evidence behind."

"And their FBI did nothing?" Thierry exclaimed, astonished.

"Their FBI claimed the raid was carried out by a drug cartel from south of the border," Jean-Pierre said. "And that subsequent investigation led nowhere."

"But you don't believe that, do you?" Thierry asked.

"No. And neither does the DGSE," Jean-Pierre replied, referring to the French foreign intelligence service, equivalent to the British MI6 and the American CIA. "I have seen photos of the damage to the Knight compound. If he is willing and capable of mounting a raid like that inside his own country, right under the nose of local law enforcement, imagine what he could do to us." He paused for effect before continuing. "And there's more."

"More?"

"Yes. Azalea Dupont has enlisted the aid of two mercenaries, and they are staying with her."

"Who?" Thierry asked.

"Roland Waters, and his planner, Bill Matthews."

"The Thompson Gunner," Thierry sighed quietly. He knew about Waters, having prepared a dossier on the man himself. Roland was not only proficient with the.45 caliber weapon, but he was also known for his brutality. "Damn. Perhaps we should back down for a while. Let things cool off."

"NO! We proceed. We will have to be careful, though. The dossier on Caldwell says he is married to a chicken farmer named Beverly. She delivers eggs from her farm every morning. We will shadow her, and when the time is right..."

"We strike," Thierry said.

"Yes, but we will not harm her. We will only use her to secure Caldwell's cooperation," Jean-Pierre said with an evil grin. "I will get what we need to ensure her... compliance, if you know what I mean."

Listening to Jean-Pierre, Thierry was becoming concerned about Jean-Pierre's obsessive drive for vengeance and wondered if it was clouding his judgment and taking his mind off the company's interests. Yes, the Dupont woman had shot Jean-Pierre's brother in the line of duty, but it was in self-defense, and the man was involved in a brazen criminal act.

"Very well, but we must be extremely careful. I have heard that the Americans have opened negotiations to have diplomatic immunity revoked from several Consular employees," Thierry said.

"For what reason?"

"I have heard rumors but I do not have any details."

"Are you one of them?" Jean-Pierre asked.

"I do not know. I have not seen the list."

"We cannot let rumors slow us down. The job must be finished. Concentrate."

"Yes, of course," Thierry said quietly, unconvinced Jean-Pierre was taking the proper action. He would have backed off until the situation cooled down if it were up to him. But Jean-Pierre was known for quick, often times brash action.

"Good. Find out this woman's routine. Get back to me by the middle of the week."

"As you wish, monsieur," Thierry said before leaving the office. When the door closed, Jean-Pierre turned to look out the window, a grim smile on his face. He would have his vengeance, and if everything worked out, he would have his way with Azalea - and Caldwell's wife.

...

6:30 pm, Saturday, September 24, 2022

"Come on in," Ryan said as he opened the door to his house, inviting his three guests inside.

"That smells wonderful," Roland said. "What is it?"

"Pork chops," Ryan said. "With all the trimmings. Beverly's own recipe. It's so secret, I don't even know what she puts in them. All I know is they're delicious. Oh, I'd like to introduce you to Darrel Smith, Deputy Director of the FBI," he added.

"Mrs. Dupont, it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance," Smith said, extending a hand. Azalea looked at the extended hand, her face turning pale. Smith's initial smile faded when he realized she wouldn't accept his greeting.

"It is good to meet you as well, Deputy Director," Azalea said uncomfortably.

"She doesn't care much for human contact," Roland said, taking Smith's hand instead. "No offense."

"Of course not," Smith said. "I apologize if I've made you uncomfortable," he told Azalea.

"That is quite all right," she said automatically in response.

"Mr. Matthews, it's good to see you in the flesh, so to speak," Smith said, shaking Bill's hand.

"And you as well, Director," Bill said.

"You didn't say anything about meeting with an FBI director," Azalea told Ryan, with just a trace of irritation in her otherwise flat voice.

"There's a few things you didn't tell me, either," Ryan said evenly. "I reckon that makes us even. We'll discuss it after dinner. Please, step into the dining room. I believe Beverly has everything ready to go."

"Come on in, everyone," Beverly said when they entered what Ryan called the "formal" dining room, a wood-paneled room off the kitchen with windows overlooking the backyard. "Please, have a seat." Ryan introduced Beverly to everyone, then took his place at the head of the table, with Beverly sitting to his right.

"Dig in, everyone," Ryan said, motioning to the food. "There's plenty for everyone. Help yourselves. If you walk away hungry, it's your fault," he added, prompting laughter from all but Azalea.

"I really like what you've done with the place, Ryan," Smith said. "Last time I was here, the walls were almost completely bare."

"You can thank Beverly for that," Ryan replied. "She's turned this old house into a real home." He noticed Azalea looking around nervously as though not knowing how to eat her pork chop. "Is everything okay?" he asked her. "Do you need anything?"

"Um... Do you have any... red sauce?" she asked quietly, not looking up from her plate.

"Tabasco? I think we have some. Hold on, let me go look," Ryan said, getting up from the table. He returned a few moments later with an unopened jar of the hot red liquid, twisted the cap off, and handed it to her. Then he watched, shocked, as she practically drowned her meat in the sauce. She cut off a piece, ate it, and nodded her head.

"This is very good, Mrs. Caldwell," she said between bites.

"Thank you," Beverly responded, eyebrows raised, nearly adding, "I think..." They all stared as Azalea dug into her meal, not even taking a breath between bites. Watching Azalea inhale her food, Ryan was reminded of his time in the service. Somewhat embarrassed, they turned back to their meals.