Bound to Forever - Book ll

The Stakeout

Simon's Point of View: 

The following day, Laswell and I landed safely back in Wyoming, but my work wasn't over yet. I was avoiding going home as I knew it was empty due to Kiera and the children being at the safehouse in Red Lodge, and it killed me. I knew I needed decent rest, but I felt like a bloodhound on a strong scent that I refused to give up on just yet. 

Fueling myself with a Red Bull (it's a first, trust me), I drove to meet Finley at a rest stop between Cody and Belfry. He had called me earlier stating that he needed to urgently meet up with me, and by the tone of his voice, I assumed he had found something very interesting. 

What he was about to tell me was not in my assumptions. 

Ritchensen was murdered, and perhaps he had it coming to him, but I hated the fact that I never got to get solid answers to the questions I had for him. 

Finley sighed as he showed me the photos of Ritchensen's deceased body, "It's clear that the South Americans are from Venezuela." I commented. 

"How do you know that?" He asked, anxiously twirling his brass wedding ring on the table. 

"That's a Venezuelan butterfly cut. Makes you asphyxiate and bleed out simultaneously, so you effectively drown in your own blood."

"Jesus," Finley shook his head, tucking his phone back into the breast pocket of his Tweed suit. "Must've had someone in Venezuela. Maybe someone he was working with..." 

"Or for," I added. "Whoever it is, it's someone who's not happy with how messy this whole operation has gotten. Someone with enough resources to take out the person we thought was the boss." 

"A wise man once told me: you don't put down a junkyard dog unless you know you have a just-as-nasty backup hound. You think they sent enforcement from Venezuela to keep the product moving on time?" 

"It's possible. When was the last time you were on a stakeout?" 

"Steve's [Ritchensen] compound." 

"A change in leadership can result in mistakes. If it does, I want to be watching when it happens." 

"We'll need a car. Everyone in town knows mine, and your Hellcat isn't quite subtle." 

"My unmarked patrol car is." 

"Unfortunately, everyone sees a Ford Explorer and lines it with a cop, even if it's not. It'll draw attention." 

"I'll just pay a visit to the impound lot." 

Finley nodded, sighing when his phone began blaring that obnoxious ringtone I assumed he chose to get his attention rather quickly... as well as increase his blood pressure. "It's the station. The dung has officially hit the fan." 

"The dung," I scoffed, holding back a laugh. "Just curse, Finley, bloody hell." 

* 

Finley entered the station to chaos. By the looks of it, Chief Langston ordered volunteering citizens to answer the ongoing phone calls while Deputies Stevenson and Dixon were working endlessly under Langston's supervision. 

"Everything we're working on, including Ramirez [Former police chief], is to be put on the back burner until we gain control of this situation." Langston ordered Finley, the grip on his walking cane tight. 

"Where was he found?" Finley asked, his best poker face on display. 

"Office. His secretary found him this morning."

"I assume county forensics are already there?" 

Langston nodded. 

"Did they find anything?"