Chapter 1

2:30 pm, March 11, 2022:

The young woman thrashed about on the bed as the man above her continued pounding into her, groaning and muttering something in French. She had no idea what he was saying, but she understood the hard cock skewering her most intimate place.

She had never felt anything so hard ... and so big in her entire life. Not even her loving husband of eight years made her feel this way. But Phillipe was different in many ways – strong, handsome, refined, and rich. She loved how he spoke in his heavily-accented voice, and just hearing him speak French made her wet.

And he certainly knew how to make a woman feel ... loved. Or at least appreciated. This was their seventh tryst, and it was just as magnificent as the previous six. She had never experienced so many orgasms in one night as she did with Phillipe.

The fact that he was married meant nothing to the woman – she was married as well. But her dull, boring husband would rather spend his time out hunting than doing anything else. He was a good provider and husband and would be an excellent father to the children they would have one day. But he was a dud in bed. And he always smelled like something he had just skinned.

But her boss Phillipe was so different. Not only was he French, but he was also suave and self-confident. And he had a cock that never seemed to go soft. She didn’t love him but loved what he did to her. And the fact that he paid her very well helped.

Just before this “liaison,” as he called it, he took her to a tattoo parlor, where she had a fleur-de-lis placed just above her ass. It was what the younger kids called a “tramp stamp,” and included a number – 47. She had no idea what the number meant and really didn’t care.

All she knew was that it would give her husband fits when he saw it. She snickered at that. Suddenly, Phillipe stiffened, and she thought that perhaps he was having an orgasm, but the look of shock on his face and the way he squawked told her otherwise. He twitched, then fell on top of her, and the woman saw the angry face above them.

“Ah tol’ ya what would happen if ah ever caught ya cheating on me,” the angry man growled in his deep Texas accent.

“Please, it’s not what it looks like. I only love you, and it was only one time. You have to believe me. Please...” She never finished her sentence as the man placed the taser against her neck and pressed the trigger...

...

7:30 am, September 20, 2022:

It was a brisk September morning when Sheriff Ryan Caldwell entered the Boardwalk Coffee House and Cafe for his usual cup of coffee. Sally Richards, the owner of this little slice of heaven, smiled as she handed him a large steaming cup of coffee fixed just the way he liked it.

“You’re spoiling me, you know that, Sally?” Ryan asked with a smile.

“That’s what I’m here for, Sheriff,” Sally replied. “You sure you don’t want some biscuits and gravy to go with that coffee?”

“I’d love some, but you know how Bev loads me up for breakfast every morning,” Ryan shot back. Sally laughed at that.

“I reckon some things never change, do they?” she asked.

“Reckon not,” Ryan answered. He left the shop and returned to the Sheriff’s Department, tipping his hat as he greeted the others on the boardwalk. It had been just about a year since the murder of Commissioner Higgins, and things were just about back to normal.

He stopped at the spot where John Hastings, the old Vietnam War vet known to everyone as “Sarge,” customarily parked. He wasn’t there this morning, and Ryan thought the spot looked ... abandoned ... without his presence. Ryan knew John was in the hospital for a respiratory illness and made a mental note to stop in and see him.

Ryan reached the Sheriff’s Department and stopped to light up a cigarette. Looking around the town and the people, he realized how blessed he was to be here. He loved his job and, to a degree, loved the people here. Since he had become sheriff, he saw them all as part of an extended family, one which he was sent to protect.

Finishing his cigarette, Ryan walked into the office and greeted everyone he saw.

“Good morning, Sheriff,” Sgt. Elaine Bledsoe said as she handed him the OAR – the Overnight Activity Reports.

“Morning, Elaine,” Ryan replied. “Anything interesting going on?”

“Not yet, but the day’s still young,” she said. Ryan returned to his office, closed the door, and reviewed the reports. It had been a reasonably quiet night, which made Ryan happy. An hour after he arrived, there was a knock at his door.

“Enter,” Ryan called out. Elaine popped her head into the office.

“Sheriff, I just got a call from Sheriff Hanes. He’d like you to meet him over on Eastland Bridge,” Elaine said. Darnell Hanes had been the sheriff of the adjoining county for over ten years. Ryan met him several times and found him to be a good man.

“Oh? Did he say what for?” Ryan asked.

“He says he needs your assistance in a case. A body was found there this morning.”

“A body, huh? Wonderful,” Ryan sighed. “All right. I’ll head on out. Might as well dispatch Ron and Detective Hale. Have them meet me out there.” He shook his head. “I jinxed myself.”

“Yes, sir,” Elaine said before leaving. Ryan grabbed his hat and coffee, then went, wondering why Darnell couldn’t handle this case alone. The county line ran through the middle of the bridge, known locally as “Lover’s Bridge.”

It was called that because a young couple once committed suicide by jumping off the bridge which spanned a deep ravine. These days, the road was rarely used except by local ranchers. The old bridge had been there for years, and there had been talk that it would soon be replaced with something safer.

Ryan arrived and saw flashing lights at the midpoint of the bridge. He pulled his truck over and walked the rest of the way. Darnell, a sizeable beefy man with something of a gut, met him, and the two shook hands.

“Thanks for coming out, Sheriff,” Darnell said.

“No problem, Sheriff,” Ryan said. “What’ve you got here?” he asked, looking at the folded blue tarp on the bridge. He could tell there was a body underneath.

“Two bodies, Sheriff.”

“Two? I only see one here,” Ryan stated, looking at the folded tarp. Darnell shook his head.

“Nope. There’s two. Placed right on the county line. You might want to brace yourself. This is pretty gruesome.” He pulled back the folded tarp with a gloved hand, and Ryan was shocked at what lay before him. He had seen a lot during his years as a mercenary, but nothing quite like this.

There were, indeed, two bodies in the tarp. Or, to be more precise, halves of two bodies. The top half was definitely male but appeared to have been mutilated. His eyes were missing, and Ryan could see from how his abdomen lay that he had been disemboweled. A thin red line around his neck suggested he had either been garroted or someone did a thorough job slitting his throat.

From the exposed genitalia shaved bare, Ryan could see the lower half once belonged to a female. The legs were dark and well-toned, and the feet looked cared for and manicured. She was probably a beautiful woman, Ryan thought. He looked up at Darnell, who seemed to have trouble keeping his breakfast down.

“Sheriff, I’d be much obliged if you could take the lead on this,” Darnell whispered. “After the last round of budget cuts, I just don’t have the resources to handle this, and the county commissioners have auditors all over my ass. Hell, I can’t even take a shit without reporting the toilet paper I use. Of course, I’ll give you whatever support I can.”

“Why not just call the state on this?” Ryan asked. Darnell snorted at that.

“That’d be all I need. Bad enough, I have auditors crawling in and out of my ass all day.”

“All right, Sheriff,” Ryan said. “I’ll start the preliminaries on this, but God alone knows where it will go from there.”

“Thank you, Sheriff,” Darnell said. “I appreciate the hell out of this.”

“When were these bodies found?” Ryan asked.

“Farmer Johnson noticed the tarp this morning about two hours ago and called the office.” Ryan nodded, then looked to see Detective Hale and Ron’s forensics van arrive at the bridge. He waved them over, and Ron drove the van to the center point of the bridge.

Two sheriff’s cruisers had accompanied them, along with a small group of reporters. Terrific, Ryan thought. He got up, walked to the cruisers, and met Deputy Sanders.

“Keep those jackals outta here,” Ryan ordered.

“Got it, Sheriff,” Sanders replied. Ryan returned to the scene and saw Detective Hale looking over the bodies.

“You ever see anything like this, Ray?” Ryan asked the big black man, who came to Hard Rock from the Big Apple, where he had served as a detective in the NYPD.

“Not in real life,” Ray said.

“What do you mean?” Ryan asked, confused.

“You know how I like to binge-watch cop shows online. I’ve seen this type of thing in a few of those programs. Never thought I’d see anything like it in real life,” Ray said. Ryan looked at Ron, who was now examining the two sets of remains.

“Well?” Ryan asked.

“The man’s fingerprints have been burned with acid, so I doubt if I’ll be able to identify him that way. His right forefinger is also missing. The victim’s teeth have all been removed, so we can forget dental records. Hopefully, there’s a DNA record somewhere that can be used to identify him.”

“Any idea how long he’s been dead?” Ryan asked.

“None. See the blemishes on the skin?”

“Yeah, I saw that on both of them. Frozen?”

“I see you’ve been listening, Sheriff,” Ron smiled. “I can’t say how long they’ve been frozen, but I might be able to give you a ballpark once I get them back to the lab. I’ll also try to lift some fingerprints off this tarp, but something tells me I won’t find any.” Ray looked up at Darnell.

“You say a local farmer reported this?”

“Yes, Abel Johnson. Has a place just over that ridge,” Darnell said. “He was running his dog and found ... this. He was more than a little shaken. I sent him home with a deputy to get a statement.”

“I’d like to speak with him,” Ray said.

“Sure. You can follow me if you want.”

“Thanks, Sheriff.” Ray turned back to Ryan. “I’ll go see this Abel Johnson, then I’ll be back.”

“I get the feeling you’re going to need some help with this,” Ryan said. “I’ll assign Deputy Sanders to you for the duration.”

“Thanks, Sheriff, that’ll be a big help. He can start by going through all of our missing persons reports for the last eight months,” Ray said.

“All right. You have this, Ron?” Ryan asked.

“Got it, boss.”

“I guess I’d better go tell the press something,” Ryan hissed before standing up.

“I really appreciate you taking lead on this, Sheriff,” Darnell repeated as the two men shook hands.

“No problem, Darnell,” Ryan said. “We’ll be in touch.” With a sigh, Ryan walked to the police tape at the end of the bridge, where the reporters stood waiting. He stopped when he reached Sanders. “I want you to work with Detective Hale on this, Deputy. Start by reviewing all the missing persons’ reports for the last twelve months. Might have to go back longer; they appear to have been frozen. Now I got to talk to reporters. The least favorite part of this job. And hope that the other halves of those bodies don’t show up in too public a place,” he sighed.

“Got it, Sheriff,” Sanders said.

“Sheriff! What can you tell us?” one of the reporters shouted. Ryan walked to the police tape and faced the reporters.

“Right now, there’s not much I can report to you,” Ryan said. “We have found what appears to be the remains of two unidentified individuals. They are being taken to our forensic lab now for further processing. When I have more to share with you, I will. That’s all.”

“But Sheriff! Can’t you tell us more than that?” the reporter yelled as Ryan walked away. He turned, shook his head no, then climbed into his truck and followed Darnell and Ray to the Johnson ranch hoping to glean some information. Unfortunately, the old man wasn’t much help and looked like he could use a stiff drink ... or three. Ryan cautioned him not to speak to the press, and they left.

...

“How was your day, sweetheart?” Beverly asked when Ryan sat at the dinner table that evening, eyeing the meatloaf she had just taken out of the oven.

“It was a day,” Ryan said with an exasperated tone. He didn’t like bringing his work home, but he had always found that talking with his wife always seemed to help put things into perspective.

“That bad, huh?” Beverly asked. Ryan sighed as he took a hunk of his wife’s meatloaf. He loved her meatloaf, especially when she added bits of jalapeno pepper and jack cheese.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“You know, I’ve seen some God-awful things in my life, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like this,” he finally said.

“Is it about what I heard on the news about Eastland Bridge?” Beverly asked. Ryan nodded his head.

“What did you hear?” he asked warily.

“Oh, just that a body was found out there,” she replied as she took a bit of her meatloaf.

“Not one, but two,” Ryan said. “Whoever did it must’ve been really mad about something.”

“Pretty gross, huh?”

“You could say that,” Ryan told her in a tone that made her shake her head.

“I remember one time, years ago, when we had cattle,” Beverly said. “One of our cows was pregnant and about ready to give birth. Horace and I went into the corral one night to check up on her. We were about ready to call the vet. We were too late, though. I’ll never forget what I saw.”

“What was that?” Ryan asked.

“The heifer gave birth all right. But in the process, she got turned inside out. I’ve never seen such a mess in my whole life. The calf survived, but I ended up bottle-feeding it. I swear it thought I was its mother or something.” Ryan chuckled at the mental image of his willowy blonde bride bottle-feeding a baby calf. “Was it that gross?” Ryan said nothing briefly as he tried to imagine what Beverly had experienced.

“Yeah, I think it was,” he finally told her.

“It must’ve been pretty bad, then. You know I’m here for you, though, right? If you want to talk, or...”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Ryan said with a smile. “Yes, it was, and I’ve seen some pretty bad things in my day. But knowing you’re here makes it much better.”

“That’s because I love you, Ryan Caldwell,” Beverly said.

“And I love you more, Beverly Caldwell,” Ryan smiled. That night, Beverly did her best to make Ryan forget his troubles – and she succeeded marvelously.

...

8:15 am, September 21, 2022:

Ryan and Ray met with Ron to learn what he had gleaned from the remains recovered from the bridge.

“I can tell you that both victims had been frozen for at least six months,” Ron began. “In fact, part of the woman’s legs were still frozen. I got DNA samples from both victims and sent them out for analysis and possible identification.

“From the wound on his neck, I’d say the male victim appears to have been garroted, possibly with something thin, like a piano wire. Additionally, his body was completely eviscerated. All of his internal organs have been removed. Well, all of them except for his brain, which, I’m happy to say, appeared normal for a man in his forties.”

“Anything else?” Ray asked.

“Yes, I found marks on the man’s body that look like they were made with one of those hand-held tasers,” Ron said, turning the male torso to give Ryan and Ray a good look. “I found several of these marks on the male but none on the female. But, I did find this,” Ron added, turning the female torso over to show that a patch of skin the size of a mason jar lid had been shaved off above her buttocks.

“Identifying mark removed?” Ray asked, looking closer.

“That would be my guess,” Ron said. “I took a photo and enlarged it for you. Based on traces of ink still in the flesh, I’m guessing it was a tattoo. From the location, I’d say it’s what the kids refer to as a ‘tramp stamp.’ Don’t ask me to tell you what it was. I have no idea. At any rate, this seems to have been removed shortly after her death,” Ron said. “Rather than after being frozen.”

“There are two tattoo shops in town,” Ryan said. “At least that’s something. Maybe one of them will remember this tattoo.”

“Maybe, if she got it in town,” Ray said.

“You up for a field trip?” Ryan asked.

“Why not?” Ray replied.

“How long before we get something back from the lab?” Ryan asked.

“I put a rush on it, which means it’ll probably take about two or three weeks,” Ron said.

“Two or three weeks. Wonderful,” Ryan sarcastically hissed. “We’d better get going if we’re gonna find our killer,” he added, taking the photo from Ron.

The first tattoo shop was a bust, but Ray and Ryan struck pay-dirt when they visited the second shop, which just happened to be in the same strip mall as the adult store they raided a year ago in connection with Bertram’s murder.

“Is it just me, or is there something about this particular strip mall?” Ray asked when they parked. Ryan chuckled at that.

“Who knows? Hopefully, they didn’t build it over some old burial ground, cemetery, or something,” Ryan responded. They entered the shop and saw a tall, well-built woman with long dark hair caring for a customer at the counter. After the customer left, she looked at Ryan and Ray.

“And what may I do for you fine young men?” she asked with a smile that lit up her face.

“I’m Sheriff Ryan Caldwell, and this is Detective Ray Hale,” Ryan said as Ray held out his credentials.

“Well, you can call me Leah,” the woman said in a sultry voice. Ryan and Ray took inventory of the woman before them. She was what could be considered “goth,” her long dark hair hanging straight over her shoulders, her curvaceous body covered with leathery material that clung to her like a second skin. What skin was exposed by her outfit was covered with brilliantly-colored tattoos.

“Leah, we’d like to ask you about a tattoo we believe you may have done about six months ago.”

“Six months? That’s a long time ago, Sheriff. I’m not sure I remember back that far,” the woman said.

“She had a tattoo above her buttocks. I’m told it’s called a ‘tramp stamp’,” Ray said.

“Well, that’s different,” Leah said. “Most women around here think it’s daring enough just to get a tattoo, and it’s usually a little rose or kitten on an ankle or someplace only a really close friend will see if you catch my meaning.” Ryan nodded noncommittally, and she continued. “I certainly remember that one.” She pointed to one of the hundreds of designs on the wall, an ornate Fleur-de-lis.

“Do you have any records of that?” Ray asked.

“The man who ordered the tattoo gave me the design and paid with cash. And he wanted an addition. As I recall, he gave me a handsome tip for my ... discretion.”

“Did he give you a name?” Ray asked.

“No, he didn’t, as I recall. But he had a very distinctive French accent,” Leah said. And he insisted that it be placed precisely like he showed me and exactly where,” she replied. “It was on his wife. I assumed they were married since they both wore wedding rings.”

“And where was this tattoo placed, exactly?”

“Right here,” Leah said, pointing to a spot just above her heart-shaped ass. “You could call it a ‘tramp stamp,’ but it was the strangest one I had ever seen – or done.”

“What else can you tell us about it?” Ryan asked.

“He wanted the number 47 tattooed around it. Really fancy, and I do good work. I have no idea what it meant, and I didn’t ask.”

“How long ago was this done?” Ray asked.

“I think it was about six months ago or thereabouts. I’d have to dig through my receipts to verify that, though,” Leah told him.

“Could you do that, please?” Ryan asked.

“Sure,” she said, pulling a book from under the counter. She spent a few minutes looking through it before showing them a copy of the receipt. Sure enough, the tattoo was paid for in cash. Ray and Ryan took note of the date – March 11, 2022. There was no name on the receipt.

“Can you give us a copy of that, please?” Ray asked.

“Of course. I’ll be happy to,” Leah said as she walked to her small copy machine. “Anything else?” she asked as she handed the receipt to Ray.

“What can you tell us about the woman?” Ray asked. Leah thought for a few moments before responding.

“I can tell you she was a looker. About my height, a little skinnier than me. I’d say she wore a really skimpy B-cup bra. Very nicely put together. Hell, I’d do her in a heartbeat,” Leah chuckled. “But I hadn’t seen her around here before. Him either. I guessed they were just traveling through and decided to do it on a whim.” Ryan ignored the side comment and honed in on the description.

“Would you be willing to see a sketch artist, maybe help us get a good description of her?” Ryan asked.

“I’ll do one better than that,” Leah said. “I’ve got video from my surveillance system. And I keep all of my videos for two years – just in case. You never know when some asshole will try to sue you these days. And I take a picture of every finished tattoo. I’m sure I have it.”

“That would be perfect,” Ray said with a bright smile. Breaks like this didn’t happen every day.

“Give me a few minutes, and I’ll get you a copy,” Leah said. “Would you care to step into my office?”

“Of course,” Ray said. The two men followed Leah, taking note of her swaying ass as she walked. They entered her small office and watched her rifling through a row of DVDs on a shelf.

“Here it is,” she said, pulling one from the shelf. She put the disk into her computer and brought up the video, fast-forwarding it to the point where the two customers entered the shop. They could clearly see the faces of both the man and the woman. Leah fast-forwarded it to the point where the two left the shop.

“Can you make a copy of that entire encounter?” Ray asked. “Starting from right before they come into the shop?”

“Sure,” Leah said. She handed them a DVD a few mouse clicks after confirming the video had been copied. “By the way, the system captures audio as well as video. Can’t be too careful, you know.”

She pulled up an image gallery, clicked some more, and finally, a picture of the tattoo showed on the screen – a Fleur-de-lis nestled in numerals 4 and 7. She tapped again, and the printer whirred and spit out a sheet. “Here you go.”

“No, you certainly can’t be too careful these days. Thank you for your cooperation,” Ray said.

“You’re welcome,” Leah said. “This woman – did she do something? Is she missing or something?”

“Only half of her is missing,” Ray said, causing Leah to blanch. To him, that was a sign that she wasn’t deeper involved in this case as a random merchant. From her talk, she might have been in a ménage a trois with her customers but didn’t want to admit it. It was hard to fake that pasty expression, so she probably hadn’t met up with them later. He would listen closely to the audio. “And I would appreciate it if you didn’t spread that around or talk to the press.”

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

“Tell me, was there anything strange about either of them? Did she seem uncomfortable or scared to you?” Ryan asked. Leah thought for a moment before answering, then shook her head.

“No, as I recall, they seemed quite comfortable. Happy, even. Like two lovers,” Leah said. “Wait a minute,” she said, her face lighting up as she remembered something.

“What?” Ray asked.

“I remembered something else. It’ll be on the video. As you know, the law requires that a person be 18 or older to get a tattoo without parental consent. I remember the woman looked to be pretty young, and I wanted to verify her age – just to cover myself. I verified she was over 18, but I remember her name didn’t seem French to me. Holden or something like that. The guy she was with had a very strong French accent.”

“Are you sure about the accent?” Ray asked.

“Absolutely. I spent five years in Paris. I know a French accent when I hear one.”

“Holder?” Ryan asked.

“Yes, that was it. Holder,” Leah said. “I know it’s not much, but...”

“That’s perfect, miss,” Ryan said. “You’ve been a great help. Thank you very much.” They left the shop and got into Ryan’s truck.

“You’re friends with some of the Holders, aren’t you?” Ray asked.

“Yeah, I’ve been out hunting with Don several times. It’s a pretty large clan. Old Ma and Pa Holder had nine kids – three girls and six boys.”

“Damn,” Ray exclaimed, shaking his head.

“I’ve met several of them, and they all seem like good people. One of Don’s younger brothers, Dan, was in the service. Last I heard, he was coming home, but that was about eight or nine months ago. I’ve never heard anything more about him.”

“You think our victim may have been married to him?” Ray asked.

“Don’t know. Could be. Don’s probably at work right now. Wanna go talk to him?”

“Sure, why not? Then I’d like to look that video over.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ryan said. He drove to the county maintenance yard, where Don works as a mechanic. He parked, and they climbed out of the truck.

“Hey, Sheriff! What can I do ya for?” Bill Hanson, the shop foreman, asked when Ray and Ryan walked in.

“Hey, Bill. I’d like to speak with Don Holder. Is he in today?” Ryan asked.

“Sure, let me just call him in. Everything all right?”

“Yeah, I just have a couple of questions. I won’t keep him long,” Ryan promised. Bill called for Don over the intercom, and the three men saw Don amble to the office.

“Hey, Sheriff! Detective Hale! How y’all doin’?” Don asked as he wiped his hands with a red cloth.

“Doing okay, Don,” Ryan said. “Mind if we talk to ya for a minute or two?”

“Not at all. Let’s step into my office,” Don said with a grin. Ray and Ryan followed Don into a small conference room, and Don closed the door after they were inside. “What’s going on?” he asked, suddenly nervous.

“Don, I was just curious about something,” Ryan began. “Have you heard from your brother Dan lately?” Don’s face fell as he tried to answer. Ryan and Ray both sensed his reluctance to say anything.

“It’s okay,” Ray said, hoping to encourage Don to speak.

“Well, tell ya the truth, I haven’t spoken to him in a while. Maybe two months. We was supposed to go coyote hunting this weekend. I stopped at the pawn shop to see if they had any new rifles in, and saw a couple I knew Dan had.”

“Oh?” Ryan asked. “I know Dan was in the service. What’s he doing these days?”

“He works for the railroad, and he could be anywhere between San Antone and San Diego. But he usually says something if he’s going to be gone for more than a week or so,” Don said.

“These rifles ... what did you do about those?” Ray asked.

“I paid to get ‘em outta hock. I know Dan loved those guns. I figured he must’ve needed the money for bills or something.”

“He hunts about as much as you do, doesn’t he?” Ryan asked.

“Oh, he loves to go hunting,” Don said with a wide smile.

“Pretty good at field dressing and such?” Ryan pressed.

“That boy can field dress and case a coyote in no time flat,” Don bragged. Ryan and Ray looked at each other, eyebrows raised, and each knew what the other was thinking.

“He’s married, isn’t he?” Ryan asked.

“Yeah, he is. Good-looking woman, too. Met her in California. The whole family loves her,” Don said.

“Have you seen her lately?” Ray asked.

“Come to think of it, no, I haven’t. Reckon it’s been about five or six months since anyone’s seen her,” Don said. “You think she’s in trouble or something?”

“We don’t know,” Ryan said. “That’s what we’re trying to find out. Do you have a picture of her?”

“Sure do,” Don said, pulling out his phone. He scrolled through his pictures until he found one of Dan and his wife, then showed it to Ray and Ryan. The woman in the photo looked much like the woman they saw in the video at Leah’s tattoo shop.

“Could you send that picture to me, please?” Ryan asked.

“Yeah, hang on here. I’m still learning this newfangled gadget,” Don said.

“Let me,” Ray offered. Don handed the phone to Ray, who quickly sent the photo to Ryan and himself using the phone’s Bluetooth connection. He handed the phone back after verifying the transfer was successful. “Thank you,” Ray said.

“These darn gadgets get me so frustrated sometimes,” Don said with a nervous smile. Ray and Ryan chuckled at that.

“I know how you feel,” Ryan said. “Don, can you give us Dan’s address? We’d like to go see if he or his wife is there.”

“Sure, I’ll write it down. He’s got a doublewide on five acres out there on Sunset Ridge.” Don wrote the address on the back of a small card and handed it to Ryan.

“What’s his wife’s name?” Ryan followed up.

“Uh, Carmelita, I believe. Something Hispanic like that. Dan introduced her to the family when they returned from California, but she hasn’t been by much since then. Dan told us she’s kinda shy,” Don said. Ryan and Ray found it interesting that Don couldn’t recall his sister-in-law’s name. They had said the whole family loved her but seldom, if ever, saw her, but neither one said anything.