Tip Of The Spear, Pt. 04
A Sheriff Ryan Caldwell story
I would like to thank QuantumMechanic1957 for giving this a beta read, as well as those who have offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories.
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...
...
End of "Tip Of The Spear, Pt. 03"
"You did good today, sweetheart," she said.
"Then why do I feel like such a damn hypocrite?" he asked.
"You mean, with what happened with Knight?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said. "And now, here I am talking about not putting up with vigilantes."
"Well, you weren't exactly wearing a badge then, you know. Besides, you had a Special Agent with the FBI who could very easily have arrested all of us. And Sheriff Coltrane even escorted us to the state line. Remember? You did the right thing then, and you did the right thing today," she said.
"I guess you're right," he said.
"You know I'm right," she said. "Now, why don't you get out of that uniform and have dinner. I made meatloaf. Full of cheese and mushrooms. And Mrs. Anderson gave me a pecan pie. Then I intend to take you upstairs and fuck your brains out. How's that for dessert?"
"Now that sounds like the best offer I've had all day," he said with a smile.
...
And now, "Tip of the Spear, Pt. 04"
Ryan got his coffee as he always did and made his way to the office on Tuesday. He couldn't help but notice that the mood in town had become more somber since news of Bertram's murder broke just eight days ago. Even Sarge, the old Vietnam vet who spoke with everyone, was quiet these days. He finished his morning cigarette and went into the station.
He did his usual morning routine, checking the overnight activity reports and such, and filled out his daily paperwork. Elaine Bledsoe, the day shift desk sergeant, tapped on his door.
"Sheriff, Commissioner Higgins' son, Brian, is here to see you," she said.
"Please, send him in," Ryan said. He looked up to see a younger version of Bertram in a blue Air Force uniform, his captain's bars gleaming on his shoulders. The rows of ribbons on his chest indicated he had seen his share of action. Ryan stood and shook Brian's hand.
"How are you holding up, Captain Higgins?" Ryan asked.
"Getting by, Sheriff. Thank you for asking," Brian said. "And please, call me Brian. I'm heading back to base, and I wanted to drop this off for you." He handed Ryan an envelope addressed to him in Bertram's handwriting. "It was in my father's private safe deposit box at the bank. Mom never knew he had it. He wrote one for me and another for my uncle. I really think you should read it. It explains quite a lot."
"Pretty graphic?" Ryan asked.
"A bit too graphic in places," the young man said. "I never knew any of this was going on."
"None of us did," Ryan said.
"Dad was real big on the teachings in the Bible. Used to take us all to church on Sundays when I was a kid. Says we're supposed to honor our father and mother. After reading that, I don't see how I can possibly do that anymore. Honor my mother that is. Not after all the pain and humiliation she put him through."
"I'm sure the woman in that cell downstairs isn't the same woman you remember growing up," Ryan said.
"No, she's not," Brian said quietly. "Listen, I have to get to the airport. Could you do me a favor and let me know when the trial starts? I'd like to be here for that if I can."
"Of course," Ryan said. "And if there's anything I can do, call. You hear?"
"I hear ya, Sheriff," Brian said. "Thank you for everything." They said their goodbyes, and Ryan watched him leave. He opened the envelope and read the lengthy statement Bertram left for him. From what the commissioner wrote, things were worse in the Higgins household than he ever could've imagined.
Bertram minced no words detailing the horrible abuse Trudy put him through. At first, it was a general disrespect followed by her non-stop cheating with as many men as she could get into her bed. He installed security cameras to document her cheating more than once, but she always found them and disabled them before they recorded her activities, tossing their destroyed remains in the middle of the floor. The physical part of the abuse started shortly after Ginger and Jeremy appeared on the scene, Bertram said.
Ryan wondered why Bertram didn't just divorce his wife. Bertram explained that Trudy threatened him financially and politically. While the prenuptial agreement protected the family farm, it did nothing for his political reputation. And in these parts, people were still a bit old-fashioned when it came to elected leaders having a stable family.
Bertram went on to explain that he suspected Trudy was not acting alone and began hacking into her email and private communication. He got help from a county IT person and was finally able to get into Trudy's secure email system. It was then he learned that Trudy was in contact with Nancy Garrison, Sen. Legstrom's wife.
Ryan had heard that name before but couldn't quite place it. He set the letter down and did a search on the Internet. That's when he saw that Garrison and a number of her accomplices had been executed under the provisions of the Enhanced Patriot Act. For all practical purposes, she had been labeled a traitor. What the hell was Trudy involved with, Ryan asked himself.
Bertram went on to say that his wife was also in contact with a mysterious person who only went by the initials "AG." Nothing he saw gave any indication of who that person might be or where he or she was located.
The commissioner's lengthy statement became more shrill and angry in tone as he began to realize that he would probably not last much longer. He confessed his desire to kill Trudy and admitted that he had stood over her slumbering body, gun in hand, more than once. The only thing that stopped him from putting a bullet in her head was his own belief that he would end up in Hell for murdering the woman who caused him so much pain and heartache.
"I don't have much time left," Bertram wrote toward the end. "Just know that when you find my body, the person responsible is none other than my so-called 'loving wife,' Trudy."
The bottom of the printed statement had two words, written in ink above his signature: "Avenge Me!" Ryan set the letter down and called Ray, who happened to just report in.
"Hale," the former NYPD detective said when he answered.
"Ray, good to see you decided to come to work today," Ryan said.
"Hah hah," Ray said jokingly.
"Got something here you might be interested in," Ryan said. "Why don't you come up to my office, and we can discuss it over a smoke."
"On my way," Ray said. When Ray showed up, Ryan handed him Bertram's letter and headed for the smoking area. Ray read as he followed Ryan out the door and continued reading as he smoked his cigarette. He shook his head when he finished.
"Damn," he exclaimed.
"My thoughts exactly," Ryan said. "Is that something you can use?"
"Absolutely," Ray said. "It gives me a timeline to work with. The evidence I've seen so far fits everything he mentioned. What I don't fully understand is how this 'AG' fits into the picture."
"Maybe Ron found something on Higgins' hard drive," Ryan said.
"Maybe," Ray said. "I think we need to get Jackson back out here. Help us put this all into context."
"I agree," Ryan said. "You ever talk to this Sheila Robertson?"
"Yeah," Ray said. "She swears there was nothing going on between her and Higgins. She's engaged to a Border Patrol Agent working out of El Paso. They're planning to get married pretty soon. She said Higgins was overjoyed to hear that she found someone to settle down with. His wife, on the other hand, didn't seem to care."
"Because she already had it in her head her husband was screwing Sheila," Ryan said. "And nothing he said or did made any difference. But how do we draw a line from her thinking her husband is having an affair to her becoming involved in a murder plot and a threat to national security?"
"Good question," Ray said.
"So, your trip to California give you some insight into the Rodgers kids?" Ryan asked.
"Yeah," Ray said. "Samuel Colt Rodgers is a bitter, lonely old man, living on a piece of crap dirt farm outside Clovis. Wife left him and the kids when they were toddlers. Ran off with a doctor. Never looked back, not even to send the kids a birthday or Christmas card. Rodgers raised them, then caught them screwing behind the barn and kicked them out of his house.
"He told me he hasn't heard from them since they left, although he does get some mail for them from time to time. Mostly ads and junk. Says he still loves them and misses them, though," Ray said. "Also did a local records check. Nothing came up. Even if they did have a juvenile record, though, it probably would've been expunged by now."
"You said a counselor is set to meet with Jeremy Rodgers. Tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah, tomorrow," Ray said.
"Maybe you should have this counselor interview the other two as well," Ryan said. "None of them seem too tightly wrapped to me."
"I agree," Ray said. "I'll get it set up." Just then, Ryan's phone buzzed. He saw it was a call from Ron, so he answered it.
"Caldwell," he said when he answered.
"Sheriff, I found something I think you and Detective Hale should see," Ron said. "I also think DA Olmstead should see this as well."