by Joe Field
“That would be perfect. I’ll send you additional details once you both have confirmed. Have a nice day.”
Cooper looked down at his phone. Well, that was totally random.
Cooper called Soojin.
“Hey, cowboy. How’s Austin so far?”
“Hey there, ninja. It’s going pretty well. Except, I keep thinking about that car that was following me yesterday.”
“I’m sure it was nothing, just your paranoia setting in. Have you seen any sign of it today?”
“No, not yet. How are things going back in Minnesota?”
“Governor Knutson is giving me flexibility to make calls about Gabby during the work day, but we are busy gearing up for the next legislative session.”
“Yeah, I bet. Say, speaking of Governor Knutson, I just got off the phone with the office of North Dakota’s governor. He invited both of us to dinner in Bismarck this Sunday night. He asked for you to come, because he wants to give you a gift to present to Knutson.”
“I’m sure it’s one of those silly gag gifts, like the time Wisconsin’s governor gave Knutson a Green Bay Packers jersey after they beat us.” Cooper could almost see her rolling her eyes. “Kind of strange for it to happen out of the blue though, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, it’s a bit weird. The secretary did say he wanted to thank us for the work we’ve done looking for Gabby.”
“Well, we haven’t found her yet,” said Soojin.
“Maybe he wants to offer additional resources, or maybe it was something Senator Hanson set up for us.”
“That could be.” She paused. “Okay, count me in. How much longer will you be down in Texas?”
“I’m about to go talk to one of Nash’s old coworkers from when he was with the Texas Rangers. If he is willing to talk I could be out of here soon. Hope to be back up home late on Thursday night.”
“Sounds good, keep me posted.”
“Will do.”
Cooper set his phone down and saw it was 4:30 pm. Maybe he could get lucky and catch Ranger Greene before he headed out for the day. Cooper grabbed one more piece of licorice for the walk and chewed on it as he got out of his car. He made his way up to the visitor center, an unassuming brick building. In the main lobby, a white man who appeared to be over three-hundred pounds was attempting to pull off a Fu Manchu-style mustache. He sat at the receptionist counter watching the clock on the wall.
Soojin would kill me if I rocked the Fu Manchu, Cooper thought.
“Excuse me,” Cooper said.
The man slowly turned his gaze away from the clock. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, I’d like to see Ranger Clayton Greene, please?”
He started typing something on his computer. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Nothing official. I just needed to talk to him about an ongoing case that he may be able to shed some light on.”
The man kept typing on his computer, not looking up. His fingers were too large for some of the keys, so he kept deleting his accidental key strikes and re-typing. “Who are you with?”
“Minnesota Public Radio.”
The man looked up for a moment like Cooper was crazy, then looked back down and started typing more. “Can you show me your identification and credentials?”
Cooper slid his driver’s license and press credentials to the man.
“Just have a seat over there and I’ll see if he is available.” The man motioned to a small sitting area.
“Thank you so much.”
So much for Southern hospitality.
Cooper sat down and found himself also staring at the clock. It was now 4:40 pm, and he knew that each minute closer to five meant less of a chance that he would get a meeting today.
At 4:50, Mr. Fu Manchu called out to Cooper. “He’ll be down in five minutes. You can have your ID back now.”
“Sounds good, thanks for your help.” Cooper walked over and grabbed his ID.
If Chuck Norris walks through the door, I’m going to die.
A side lobby door opened, but Norris did not walk out. Instead, a confident black man stepped into the lobby looking like a poster boy for the Rangers. He wore the traditional white cowboy hat and a pristine white dress shirt with an orange tie and silver tie clip. The Ranger badge was pinned prominently over his heart, and he had on dress slacks with a pistol on his belt loop. The sound of his footsteps in his cowboy boots echoed across the lobby. He was over six feet tall with a solid build.
A real-life Texas Ranger. Hot dang.
“Mr. Smith?” he asked as Cooper walked over to meet him.
“Mr. Greene?”
“Yes, you wanted to meet me?”
Cooper held out his hand. “Nice to meet you. I was hoping to ask you just a few quick questions.”
Greene looked up at the clock. “Well, visitor hours are over, but I have to walk out to my truck, so why don’t you take a walk with me.”
“Sounds great.”
Greene motioned for Cooper to follow him to the back door, waving to Mr. Fu Manchu on his way out. “So, you’re a reporter down here from Minnesota?”
“Yes, but I’ve been working in North Dakota on a kidnapping case that involves your old partner—I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”
Greene directed Cooper through another set of doors, and then they were outside. “Yes, we got a call from the police department up in Williston, North Dakota about Nash. We turned over his file to them to aid in the investigation. Unless Nash turns up in Texas—” Greene stopped and looked directly at Cooper—“which he won’t, we are washing our hands of him. Just as we did a few years back when he was cut from the force.”
“Why don’t you think he would come to Texas?”
“This is all off the record, right?”
“Sure.”
Greene stopped walking. “Okay, well before I tell you anything, you need to tell me something. Why are you so interested in this kidnapping? You trying to get a big story?”
“No, sir. I actually know the woman who is missing. She was in our wedding party a few months back, and she is close to my wife.”
Greene nodded and began walking again. “I suppose that is a good enough reason for your interest.”
“Yes, and so far the other law enforcement agencies working on it have come up short. It’s been almost two weeks since she disappeared, and the likelihood of finding her—”
“The chance of her being alive at this point is statistically small, I know.” They arrived at Greene’s truck, a brand new silver-colored Dodge Ram pickup. Greene ceremoniously patted it on the hood.
“Nice truck,” said Cooper. “Is it brand new?”
“Sure is, they are the first Texas Ranger concept trucks. Take a look.” Greene opened the driver’s side door.
Cooper came around the door and peered in. The interior sported a custom brown leather interior with horse saddle designs. The center console showcased a large Texas Rangers badge sewn into the leather. Cooper took a deep breath.
“I love the smell of a new vehicle. You can’t beat it, and the interior design on this is awesome.”
Greene smiled. “You got that right. Okay, so I’ll fill you in on a few things—but again this is all off the record and is intended only to be used to help find your friend. Got it?”
“Works for me. Want a cigarette?” Cooper showed Greene the label on his cigarettes.
Greene waved him off. “Don’t you know those things will kill you?”
“That’s what my wife tells me.” Cooper put the pack back in his pocket without lighting one.
Greene leaned against the side of the truck and looked off into the distance. “The reason I don’t think he is in Texas is because Nash knows all the law enforcement tricks. He literally knows every move authorities have made since he took the woman. One of the first things police like to do when there is a kidnapping is talk to the family and friends of the kidnapper to see if he has reached out to them in any way. Perhaps he contacted a relati
ve asking for help, or to borrow a friend’s car, but Nash knows all that. He wouldn’t do it.”
“Yeah, I actually got your name from his brother, Jasper, up in Amarillo. He said he hasn’t heard from Declan, but that you would be a good person to talk to. He even called you Lefty and said he used to know you.”
Greene’s eyes lit with recognition. “Jasper, that’s right. I haven’t thought of him in years. Lefty is my nickname; it seems like a rite of passage around here to get a nickname. So, like I said, I’m not surprised he didn’t reach out to his brother or any other family. The reason I don’t think he is in Texas is he is not going to go anywhere that he has already been before.”
“How come?” Cooper leaned against the truck as well.
“Police tend to look at all the places someone has been before to see if there are any possible connections that could suggest he would return there. Nash knows all that, so he won’t be hiding out in any of the states he has spent time in.”
“Well, you were his partner—where has he been?”
Greene stroked his chin. “I seem to recall he used to make road trips for work out to California. He would stop in Albuquerque, Phoenix, and eventually Los Angeles. He worked with various law enforcement elements on some of our cases, the ones that had ties outside of Texas. Also, I highly doubt he could have left the country, especially if the girl is alive. With biometrics being what they are now, he would have a difficult time getting across a border, unless he was smuggled.”
“My guess is he went south or southeast from North Dakota,” said Cooper. “A massive snowstorm was making its way east from Montana on down to Colorado around the time he left. There is no way he could have gone in that direction. Also, we know he went south to a different city in North Dakota to get rid of his RV and steal a vehicle.”
“And you can assume he wouldn’t stay in North Dakota,” said Greene. “Or any of the states in the drive path from Texas on up, since he likely drove through those places on his trips to and from oil country.”
Cooper thought about this. “Great . . . so, that leaves pretty much any state on or east of the Mississippi River.” Cooper shook his head. “He could be anywhere.”
“At least you’ve cut your search down by half the country. It’s a start, but I think you’re looking at this all wrong.” Greene turned, resting his right arm on the truck bed so he was facing Cooper.
Cooper turned toward him. “How so?”
“I think you should focus on who he knew and talked to up in North Dakota. My guess is he used someone up there unwittingly to plan out this whole scenario. That’s one thing you have to know about Nash. He is a meticulous planner; he thinks about ten steps down the road. He does not leave things to chance. So, wherever he went, he had things lined up in advance. Knowing Nash, he wouldn’t make any specific arrangements himself—he would have used a cut out so he could avoid leaving a trace.”
Cooper slumped his shoulders. Great, so Nash knew Marshall, who is in the hospital, Nickels, who wants to kill me, and Doyle, who is God knows where.
“That makes sense,” said Cooper. “I think I’ll work on that when I get back up north. Now, I have another question for you. Your career seems like one of the most prestigious law enforcement jobs out there. So why did Nash quit the Rangers?”
Greene laughed. “He didn’t quit—he was fired!”
“Fired, huh. Why is that funny?”
Greene leaned in a little closer. “Okay, let me tell you one quick story, but this will have to be the end of our conversation. You see, my lady is cookin’ up some good stuff tonight, and I want to make it home while it’s still warm.”
“No problem. What’s the story?”
Greene smiled. “I can laugh about it now, but at the time it was a serious issue for our department. You see, Nash used the same tactic every time he interviewed a suspect. He would write up a list of seven things that could happen to the suspect if he or she didn’t cooperate. It was always seven things, not six or eight, it had to be seven. Part of his OCD or whatever he had. Anyway, he would write it out directly across the table from the person being interviewed in one of our interrogation rooms. Most suspects would just ignore him, but this one guy—” Greene shook his head. “This one guy called Nash a crazy cowboy. If there is one thing Nash hates more than being called a cowboy, it’s being called crazy. He was once engaged to a girl who jokingly called him crazy one day and he called off the wedding on the spot.”
“No kidding. That’s a little extreme,” said Cooper.
“Yeah, so anyway, this suspect calls Nash a crazy cowboy, and before you could even bat an eye, Nash whips out a knife from his belt and stabs it straight through the man’s right hand so it’s stuck to the table.” Greene chuckled. “The guy is screaming bloody murder, and Nash is just shouting at him saying, ‘Am I crazy now? Am I crazy now?’ until the guy passes out.”
“Wow, that’s . . . well, that’s crazy.” Cooper laughed.
“Of course the guy sues the department and there is this big lawsuit. Management let Nash go immediately to avoid losing their jobs, and the next thing you know he is gone. Went up to the middle of nowhere North Dakota to drill for oil.”
“Dang, that’s quite the story.”
“Like I said, I can laugh now, and maybe that kind of cowboy stuff used to fly back in the rowdy early days of the Rangers, but not today. The suspect ended up getting off of his charges and won a lawsuit against the Department of Public Safety. It cost the department and taxpayers millions of dollars. So, you can understand why everyone here has washed their hands of him.”
“I sure can. Say, I don’t want to hold you from your dinner, but I do appreciate your time.”
The men shook hands. “Best of luck on your search. I hope you get your friend back.” Greene jumped into his truck and rolled down the window.
“Hey, how many black Dodge Chargers would you say there are in Texas?” asked Cooper.
“That’s a random question—why do you want to know?”
“Just curious is all.”
“I’d say they are as common as armadillos around here.”
Cooper smiled. “Good to know, thanks.”
“Later, partner.” Greene rolled up his window and sped away.
Cooper chuckled to himself. As common as armadillos… You don’t hear that up in Minnesota very much.
Chapter 17
The Louisiana Bayou
Gabby could hear Nash swearing as he worked on the houseboat’s ignition. The engine wasn’t firing, and Nash was getting more and more upset with each failed attempt. Nash told Gabby earlier in the morning that it had been two weeks since they left Williston, and it was now time to leave for the next location. The only problem with his plan was the houseboat wouldn’t start and they were stuck in the middle of the bayou.
“I thought you knew what you were doing!” Gabby called out to Nash after another failed attempt.
He stopped and turned toward Gabby. “I do, but this piece of crap isn’t starting for some reason. Once I have it fixed we will be well on our way.” He turned back to try again.
“You’re going to flood it if you keep doing that.”
“It’ll be fine, I’ve almost got it.”
The engine started making a loud whining noise and then something sounded like it snapped. Then silence.
“No, no, no!”
“I told you.” Gabby smiled. This was the first time she had seen Nash visibly upset. His master plan was failing, and this might provide her with an opportunity to get away.
Nash had finally removed Gabby’s chain, so she was sitting in the houseboat’s living room chair. Nash stormed past her toward the back of the houseboat, cursing along the way. Gabby heard him open a compartment that must have been where the engine was located. He exhaled loudly and started banging on something. Once he was finished he came back into the living room and looked at Gabby.
“We have a slight problem.” Nash’s voice was shaky
.
“You think? What are we going to do now?”
“Hold on, let me check something.”
Nash went to the edge of the room and pulled a ladder down from the ceiling, which led to a trapdoor that opened up to the roof of the houseboat. He climbed all the way up, and Gabby heard his footsteps above her. She thought she could hear him untying straps, but couldn’t be sure. A few moments later she heard a splash outside the window of the houseboat. Then she saw two paddles come down through the trap door along with two life jackets.
Does he seriously think we are going to paddle out of here?
Nash climbed back down the ladder and picked up a paddle and life jacket, handing them to Gabby.
“Here, try this vest on and make sure it fits. There is a canoe out there we can use to get out of here. I just have to pack some supplies first.”
“How far will we go?” she asked.
“Further than I’d like, so we’ll have to leave soon. We won’t have the cover of darkness to protect us, but we will be quiet when we get back to town.”
“What town?”
“Don’t worry about that, just try on that jacket.”
Gabby set the paddle down and put on her life jacket, pulling it snug as she peered out the side window. She could barely see a canoe sitting next to the houseboat on top of the water, attached only by a single rope. Gabby turned and saw Nash was in the back of the boat getting supplies ready for the trip.
This may be my only chance to get away, and with it ensure Nash is stuck out here. The question is, can I find another boat or somebody else to guide me to safety?
Adrenaline rushed through her. She grabbed her paddle and snuck up to the front of the boat. She eased the door out slowly. She was on the deck area and could see the canoe sitting on the green, swampy water, connected to the middle section of the houseboat.
Gabby crept along the houseboat’s deck until she reached the rope tied to the canoe. If Nash came back to the living room she would be exposed, so she stayed low. The rope had an old weathered knot attached to a hook on the side of the houseboat. The knot looked like it had been glued into place by the forces of weather. She inspected the knot closer while keeping one eye up on the window to see if Nash was coming. She tried to recall her days as a scout leader for her local Girl Scouts program.
