Chapter 6

The next morning, Ryan woke to the smell of bacon coming up from the kitchen. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock – 7:00 am. Crap, he thought. Beverly liked to get up early to feed her chickens. He glanced at her side of the bed and noticed she was already gone. He didn’t even know she was up.

He stumbled out of the bed, took a quick shower and dressed in his usual clothes. That’s when he saw the note on the dresser.

“My dearest Ryan,” it began. “I got up early to go tend to the chickens. I have some deliveries to make this morning, so I’ll be gone till about 12:00. I knew you were exhausted from last night, so I let you sleep. Sarah said she would make all y’all some breakfast. I know you planned to take the kids home today. If you have to leave before I get back, just call. I’ll be okay. Love you so much!”

The note was signed, “Your soon-to-be happy wife, Beverly.” He smiled and shook his head. She was so devoted to those chickens, he thought. How could she have done what she did last night and still get up so early to tend to them, he wondered.

He heard the television playing as he made his way downstairs. Buster saw him coming down, and motioned for him to come in the front room. Little Ryan was sitting on the couch with Buster and Ian, so he picked the youngster up and set him on his lap as he took a seat. The boy’s eyes were glued to the television, like everyone else in the room.

“Check this out, man,” Buster said, turning the volume up a bit.

“Shares of Knight Petroleum took a hit this morning as news broke of a possible attack on a southeastern New Mexico retreat owned by the company,” the anchor said. “State law enforcement officials are working with agents of the FBI to determine what actually took place. We take you live to a press conference in progress at the camp.” The scene shifted to a report taken at the site of the camp. Agent Smith’s bleary-eyed face took up the screen.

“We are still collecting evidence in an effort to determine what took place here overnight,” he said.

“How many were killed or injured in the attack?” one reporter shouted.

“We are not releasing any of that information until the next of kin have been notified,” Smith said.

“Were there any survivors or witnesses?” another reporter asked. Smith shook his head.

“No,” he said. “None that have come forward at any rate. No survivors have been located in the camp.”

“Is it possible drugs may have been involved?” asked a third reporter.

“We are examining all possible scenarios,” Smith said.

“What about terrorism?” another reporter shouted out.

“As I indicated before, we are looking into all possibilities,” Smith said.

“Could this be related to the ongoing investigation of the former CEO, Jacob Knight or the shooting of interim CEO Lisa Knight?” another reporter asked.

“We have not ruled out either of those possibilities,” Smith said.

“If so, how would this impact either of those investigations?” the first reporter asked.

“You’ll have to direct that question to the federal prosecutor in charge of those cases,” Smith said. “I’m here to investigate a possible crime, not speculate on the impact of an ongoing case where litigation is either pending or ongoing.”

“Damn, that Smith fella is one cool cucumber,” Buster said. Everyone agreed.

“Can you tell us anything about how this was reported?” one reporter asked. “This is a fairly remote area and from what we can tell, the nearest neighbor is several miles away.” Smith turned to a local deputy sheriff, who stepped to the podium.

“Actually, the nearest neighbor is about 12 miles away,” the deputy said. “He happened to be outside when he thought he heard gunfire from this general direction. He called 911 and it took officers up to an hour and a half to determine this was the site of the incident.”

“Why so long?” one reporter asked.

“Well, look around,” the deputy said. “There’s very few roads going in and out of here, not very many people. There’s a lot of territory to cover out here. This ain’t the big city, you know.”

“Agent Smith, have you been in touch with any of the executives at Knight Petroleum?” a reporter asked.

“I have not, no,” he said. “We attempted to make contact but were told they were not available.”

“Don’t you find that a bit odd?” the second reporter asked.

“We find a lot of things about this ... incident odd,” he said in reply. “That will be all for now. We’ll be in touch when we have something new to share. Thank you.” He stepped down, and the scene shifted to a reporter on the scene, speaking into a microphone.

“And we just heard from FBI Special Agent John Smith, who basically said they are looking into a number of possible scenarios, and have no real information to share at this time,” the young woman said. “It is interesting to note that earlier, two damaged SUVs with what appeared to be Mexican license plates were spotted being removed as well as the damaged fuselage of a Lear jet registered to Knight Petroleum. We were able to confirm the aircraft is one of a small fleet used to ferry executives and VIP clients. Back to you, George.”

“Thank you, Sherry,” the male news reader said when the scene shifted back to the studio. “We now go live to Central City, where reporters are waiting to hear from a media spokesperson at Knight Petroleum.” The scene shifted once again to a briefing room. A podium sat in front of a curtain that displayed the Knight Petroleum logo. As they watched, an attractive brunette took her place behind the podium and consulted her notes.

Sarah, seeing that everyone was glued to the news on the television, started bringing plates filled with scrambled eggs and bacon into the living room. She set a place mat on the coffee table and put a smaller plate of food for little Ryan on it.

“Sorry, hon,” Bob said. “Do you need some help?”

“No, no, I got it,” she said. “You boys keep your eyes on the news.” The men began eating as soon as they had food in front of them. Ryan sat the young boy down in front of the coffee table so he could eat his breakfast. As they watched, the brunette looked at the reporters in the room and spoke.

“As you all know, reports emerged this morning that a retreat owned and operated by Knight Petroleum allegedly came under attack by a person or persons unknown,” she said, reading from her script. “There have been reports of casualties, but we are not releasing any names pending notification of next of kin. Of course, our condolences go out to the families of those individuals and we will do everything we can to minimize the impact on the families of the victims. We are working with federal and state officials in New Mexico to determine the facts of the case. We will now take a few questions from members of the press.”

All of the reporters raised their hands, and the brunette picked one in the front row.

“A report from the scene said a damaged Lear jet registered to Knight Petroleum was removed from the scene for analysis,” the reporter began. “As I understand from your own records, that jet is one of several used by your company to ferry executives, members of the board and VIPs. Were any of your executives or board members on that aircraft or in the camp at the time? And if so, what is their disposition?”

“I am not privy to that information,” the brunette said. “At this time, I do not know who was on the aircraft. It’s possible that it was empty and simply made a stop there to refuel. Our flight crews do that sometimes, and often make use of the facilities for overnight sleepovers. We also keep a small staff stationed at the facility for maintenance and security.”

“You don’t know where your own executives or board members are?” the reporter pressed.

“I didn’t say that,” the brunette said. “I simply said I do not know if any executives were on the aircraft or at the facility. It’s quite possible there were no passengers.”

“But the flight plan we uncovered showed the aircraft left here the day before yesterday, and the plan said its destination was New Mexico,” another reporter said. “Also, the manifest we obtained showed the aircraft had nine passengers on board, the maximum number it could safely carry. Can you explain that?”

“I cannot explain that,” the brunette said. “I will have to check with management to verify that allegation.”

“Why haven’t we heard from your board of directors, Mr. Elmer Jenkins?” another reporter shouted out. “Or anyone else from the board?”

“I cannot answer that,” the brunette said, prompting groans from the reporters. Another reporter stood up.

“There have been several reports in the last day or so from the UK that say the body one of your board members, a Mr. Colin Blackstone, was found dismembered and stuffed in a suitcase in Manchester, England,” the reporter said. “How do you respond to that?”

“We just received those reports as well,” the brunette said. “Mr. Blackstone recently returned to England to deal with a family emergency. We have nothing else to report other than we are working with authorities there to solve the case. That will have to conclude today’s conference, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you very much.” She turned and left the podium, clearly agitated. Reporters shouted questions as she left, but she never acknowledged them. Ryan turned to Jorge and Bill.

“Blackstone,” Ryan said. “That’s the guy Timmy fingered as the one who introduced him to Jake, remember?” Jorge nodded his head.

“What?” Sarah asked.

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “Timmy was the one who shot Lisa. According to him, this Blackstone fella approached him about the job, took him to meet Jake, then set him up with the gun, the instructions and the payment. I asked Elmer about it, and he told me Blackstone had to go home for a family emergency.”

“Bloody hell,” Ian said.

“I agree,” Ryan said. “But we’ve got another problem.”

“What’s that?” Buster asked.

“If Sheriff Coltrane saw that report, he’ll be looking for answers,” Ryan said.

“That’s the sheriff who came out last night and escorted us to the state line?” Jorge asked. Ryan nodded his head.

“One and the same,” Ryan said. “Agent Smith and I talked directly to him. Russell T. Coltrane may come off as a down-home country sheriff, but he’s sharp. He’ll put two and two together and I suspect he’ll be out soon.”

“Then we should probably make ourselves scarce,” Buster said.

“I agree, mate,” Ian said.

“If Gunner can help me out, I can have the chopper ready to go in 15 minutes,” Jim said.

“Bill and I should probably head out as well,” Jorge said. “He got a good look at me and my van.” Ryan thought for a moment and nodded his head.

“Alright,” he finally said. “Let’s roll.” They all got up and put their things together. Bob went out with Jim and helped get the chopper ready to fly. Ryan walked Jorge and Bill to the van.

“Do me a favor, would ya?” Ryan asked Jorge.

“Sure, anything,” Jorge said.

“Can you let me know when Jake has his next court appearance?” Ryan asked.

“I think he’s set to be in court tomorrow,” Jorge said. “I’ll have Bill double-check the docket on our way back and we’ll let you know.”

“You can do that from your van?” Ryan asked. Jorge smiled.

“Of course,” he said. “That’s why they call it ‘mobile.’ We can access the Internet from anywhere these days. Welcome to the 21st century.”

“Okay, okay,” Ryan said. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Jorge said. “We’ll be in touch.” They said their goodbyes and Ryan watched as they drove off. He went back inside the house and met Ian, Cap and Buster. They had each gathered their things and were heading out. Ryan shook their hands.

“Thank you, guys,” Ryan said. “I really appreciate all your help.”

“No worries, mate,” Ian said. “Just make sure to invite us to the wedding.”

“You got it,” Ryan said. They walked out to the chopper and Ryan watched as it lifted off, raising a huge cloud of dirt. After the dust settled, he saw Bob making his way to the house.

“You think Elmer may have had that Blackstone guy murdered?” Sarah asked as she cleaned up the dishes. Ryan nodded his head.

“I do,” he said. “He was a loose end that had to be eliminated.”

“What a mess,” she said. “And to think Lisa was part of all that. What a waste. She had us all fooled.” Ryan noticed her use of her mother’s name. It was the first time he could remember her not calling Lisa, “Mom.”

“That she did,” Ryan said. He looked at little Ryan, who was sitting on the couch, watching television. “I’m glad to see Ryan’s up and about.”

“Me too,” Sarah said. “He had me so worried last night. That Cap guy checked him out last night and said he should be okay. Still, I wanna scratch that bitch’s eyes out for what they did to him.” Ryan had no argument, so he gave her a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

“I know how you feel,” he said. “Look, I have to make some calls. I’ll be right out front.”

“Okay, Dad,” she said.

FBI Special Agent John Smith looked around at what was left of the camp. It looked quite different in the light of day. He remembered the events of the previous evening as he took in the carnage. He shuddered when he saw Elmer’s burnt head in the still-smoldering fireplace of the building where he, Jorge and Ryan confronted Jenkins and considered himself glad that Ryan insisted he leave the building when he did. He knew of the old mercenary’s reputation, but he never fully realized just how vicious Ryan could really be.

He had seen things like this before during his time in the SEALs, but never from anyone he had served with. As he watched, crime scene investigators cataloged and bagged thousand of rounds of 7.62 mm brass – shells he knew came from the minigun Bob used last night.

A part of him felt sorry for the poor suckers at the receiving end of that barrage. More than one pile of bloody body parts were recovered from the compound and he knew the chances of them being positively identified were slim. There just wasn’t enough left to put back together.

Among the evidence collected were two cross-bow bolts removed from the dead bodies of two security guards. He remembered shooting one of those bolts last night, killing one of the guards.

“Any fingerprints on these?” he asked Jones as he looked at the bolts that were now in separate evidence bags.

“No, none,” Jones said. “Whoever used them knew what they were doing.” Smith grunted in response.

“Any video? Surely they had some surveillance set up,” Smith said.

“They had a system set up, but all of the cables ran through the security shack, and they were cut,” Jones said. “So, no, there isn’t any surveillance footage.” Smith nodded his head. Ryan was apparently more clever and thorough than he originally thought.

“What about tire or shoe tracks?” Smith asked.

“Forget about it,” Jones said. “When I got here the whole road was jammed with all kinds of vehicles. They had to bring in a big ass truck to get rid of the trees blocking the gate and there must’ve been a hundred agents and LEOs stomping all over the place. Whatever tracks might’ve been there are long gone.”

Smith nodded his head as he took in what Jones said. He mentally considered what was found in the camp.

The buildings contained the nude and nearly-nude bodies of a number of people, some of whom were obviously shot as they engaged in sex. He and Agent Jones had uncovered a huge cache of illicit drugs and weapons. Cocaine, marijuana, meth and date rape drugs like Ecstasy were found, making him wonder what really went on here.

They also found a treasure trove of DVDs and documents, all of which were bagged and tagged for further examination back in El Paso. Several computers were bagged and taken for further examination. Agent Jones came up to him and handed him a document. He looked it over, and saw it was a list of known casualties. Except for Colin Blackstone, the list included the entire board of directors of Knight Petroleum, along with the company’s chief financial officer.

The list also included the four names of Mexican nationals, two of which he recognized as known members of a vicious drug cartel that operated across the border. Why were they here, he wondered. Eight unidentified women were included on the list. Perhaps, he thought, they were prostitutes who were either brought across the border or procured in one of the local towns. Or both.

“I’ve already forwarded this to El Paso,” Jones said. “They’ll arrange all the notifications. They’ll also reach out to the Mexican consulate.” Smith nodded his head.

“Good,” he said.

“What do you think, boss? A drug deal gone bad?” Jones asked. Smith looked around before speaking.

“Possibly,” Smith said, fully knowing the real story. “How would you call it?” Jones thought for a bit before speaking.

“Just from the amount of drugs, the viciousness of the attack and the presence of those Mexican nationals, I’d be tempted to say it was drugs,” Jones said. “Maybe a rival cartel did this and the Knight people were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Hmm,” Smith said. “Sounds logical to me.” Smith’s calm voice masked the turmoil taking place inside him. He had served his country all his adult life, first in the Navy as a SEAL team member, then as a Special Agent in the FBI. Now, he was directly involved in covering up his own illegal actions.

He thought about the situation as he looked around the compound. He knew how easy it was for a case to fall apart. All it would take was a partial fingerprint, a reflection in a cell phone photo or a tiny blob of DNA from someone’s spit. Was Ryan really that good, he wondered. Could he really have pulled this off without leaving anything behind?

“Anything else?” he asked Jones. Jones shook his head.

“No, boss,” he said. “That’s pretty much it. Everything is on its way to El Paso.” Smith nodded his head. As he thought about the scene, something niggled at the back of his mind. Ryan said he saw no vehicles here earlier. He knew the jet carried maybe nine people, tops. The two SUVs might have carried 10 or 12. What about the others?

From what he and Jones saw, it appeared that at least 15 people had been staying here full time. Surely, Knight wouldn’t have left them here without transportation. And could someone really have heard the gunfire from 12 miles away? Something didn’t make sense here, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

“Okay, lets get on outta here,” he said. “I’m tired and I could use some sleep.”

“Sure, boss,” Jones said.

Ryan finished making his calls and went back in the house. Sarah was playing with little Ryan out by the pool, so he went into his office. He knew he would have to get rid of any evidence from last night’s raid, so he disassembled the weapons he and Smith used, cleaned them thoroughly and placed them in a box. He would have to get rid of them, but how?

He picked up his desert camouflage and the gloves he wore, and noticed the dried blood. His boots also had blood on them. He put it all in a bag and carried them to an incinerator by his pistol range where he burned most of his trash. He put the clothing in the unit, along with his garbage and fired it up, hoping it would do the trick.

He took the box of pistol parts and dug a hole by the range, covering the box with dirt. He knew he would have to eventually dump the parts somewhere else, but at least this would get them out of the house.

He got back and had just cleaned up when he heard a car pull into his driveway. He looked and saw it was Sheriff Coltrane. He looked around to make sure there was nothing incriminating in the open, then opened the door and went outside.

“Good morning, Sheriff,” Ryan said as he stepped onto his porch. “What can I do for you this morning?” Sheriff Coltrane came up to the porch and offered his hand, which Ryan accepted. “Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea?”

“No, but thanks for asking anyway, Mr. Caldwell,” he said. “Mind if we talk for a couple minutes?”

“Not at all, Sheriff,” Ryan said. “Have a seat. Mind if I light up?”

“Your house,” the sheriff said. “Mind if I join ya?”

“Help yourself,” Ryan said, lighting up a cigarette.

“How’s Beverly these days?” Sheriff Coltrane asked.

“Doing quite well, thanks for asking,” Ryan said. “She’s out delivering eggs this morning.”

“Yeah, I saw her over by the Jennings place,” the sheriff said. “You two getting along okay?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I asked her to marry me,” Ryan said. “And she said yes.”

“Good for you,” Sheriff Coltrane said. “Congratulations. I knew the two of you would hit it off.” he took a long drag off his cigarette before continuing. “I see y’all got home safe and sound last night. Everything go okay?”

“Yeah, it did, thanks,” Ryan said. He knew the sheriff was toying with him and waited for the other shoe to drop.

“You see the news this morning?” the sheriff asked. Here it comes, Ryan thought.

“You mean about the incident in New Mexico last night?” Ryan asked. “Yes, I did.”

“Interesting, the FBI guy they interviewed was the same fella I talked to last night,” Sheriff Coltrane said. “I took a look at my map, and noticed that camp’s not too far from where I left you at the state line last night. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” Ryan shrugged his shoulders. He looked at the sheriff and tried to read his expression, but was unable to. He thought for a moment and made a decision. He hoped it was the right one.

“They had my daughter and my grandson,” Ryan said quietly. “They were going to rape her then sell her off and do God knows what to the boy if the feds didn’t back down from prosecuting Knight Petroleum.” He looked at the sheriff, but was still unable to read his face. “Tell me, sheriff, what would you have done if it was your daughter? Your grandson?”

“Well, Ryan,” the sheriff said. “May I call you Ryan?” Ryan nodded his head. “I reckon if it were me, I’d move heaven and earth to get ‘em back.” The sheriff looked at him hard before continuing. “You know, Ryan, I may be a country sheriff, but I’m not stupid,” he added, his west Texas accent all but gone. Ryan looked at him, confused. “I figured it was something like that. I understand the secrecy, but I just wished you would’ve told me up front.” Ryan nodded his head.

“So, what are ya gonna do now?” Ryan asked. Sheriff Coltrane shook his head.

“Nothing I can do or say, even if I wanted to, which I don’t,” he said. “That FBI fella swore me to secrecy, remember? Besides, there ain’t no law against riding in a van late at night. At least not in this county. Far as I’m concerned, if you took that bunch out, you did us all a big favor.” Ryan chuckled, noticing the accent had returned. Who was this guy, really, he asked himself.

“Speaking of the law,” Sheriff Coltrane added. “You ever consider going into law enforcement?” Ryan laughed.

“Seriously?” he asked. “I’m an old man, and I only have one eye.” Sheriff Coltrane laughed.

“Old?” he asked. “Son, I’m a lot older than you. Besides, I have to deal with this,” he said, lifting one trouser leg to reveal a prosthetic limb.

“So, why are you asking me?” Ryan said. “I’ve never done police work in my life, and I’m too old to start out at the bottom.”

“Fortunately, that’s not a requirement to be sheriff in this county,” the sheriff said. “Sheriffs here are appointed by a county board, based on recommendations from local citizens.”

“That’s all well and good, but where are you going?” Ryan asked.

“I’m planning to retire in a couple months,” the sheriff said. “Been thinking about who might be best to take my place.”

“Surely you have deputies who would be far more qualified than me,” Ryan said.

“Yeah, they’re a good bunch of fellas alright,” Sheriff Coltrane said. “Hell, one of ‘em even served on the LAPD before coming here. But none of ‘em want the job. I already asked.”

“Why me, then?” Ryan asked.

“Folks here like you,” the sheriff said. “They all say you’re a good man, and I agree. Besides, you command respect. Trust me, it’s a lot safer than what you did before you moved here.” Ryan looked at him, shocked.

“Oh yeah,” the sheriff said. “I know all about you. You’re not the only one with friends, you know. Does Beverly know?”

“Yes, she does,” Ryan said.

“And she’s okay with it?” Ryan nodded his head.

“Well, there ya go,” the sheriff said.

“If I do this, will you at least help snap me in?” Ryan asked.

“Of course,” Sheriff Coltrane said. “I wouldn’t just throw you to the wolves.”

“I have a few loose ends to tie up and I’d have to talk with Beverly about it first,” Ryan said.

“I’d expect nothing less,” the sheriff said.

“When do you need to know?” Ryan asked.

“Anytime in the next few days will work. Just don’t wait too long, though,” the sheriff said. “You let me know, and I’ll put in my recommendation to the board. By the way, when are you and Beverly getting married?”

“We haven’t set a date yet,” Ryan said.

“Well, I’d appreciate an invitation,” the sheriff said. “Believe it or not, I think the world of her. She’s been through a lot.”

“Consider it done,” Ryan said. “By the way, why don’t you come on in and meet my daughter and grandson?”

“I’d love to,” he said. “And please, call me Russell, willya?”

“Okay, Russell,” Ryan said. They went inside and saw Bob, Sarah and little Ryan in the kitchen. Sarah looked up as they walked in.

“Bob, Sarah, this is Sheriff Russell Coltrane,” Ryan said. “Russell, this is my daughter, Sarah, her husband, Bob and my grandson, Ryan.” Russell smiled as he gave Sarah a hug, then shook Bob’s hand. He knelt down to say hello to little Ryan, but the youngster held on to Sarah’s leg.

“It’s okay, young feller,” Russell said. “I’m a friend of your granddad’s.” Little Ryan looked up at Sarah then at Ryan, who smiled and nodded his head. Slowly, he let loose of Sarah’s leg and held out his hand. Russell smiled and took the boy’s hand in his and gently shook. Russell stood up and looked at Sarah.

“That’s quite a young fella you got there,” he said. Sarah smiled nervously as she thanked him.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Ryan said. “He knows.” Russell nodded his head.

“Are you alright?” Russell asked her.

“Yes, we’re doing fine, thanks,” she said.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Russell said.

“Are you going to,” she began before Russell shook his head.

“Arrest your father?” he asked, finishing her question. She nodded her head. He shook his head before speaking. “No, I’m not. Hell, I’d have done the same thing if it were my daughter. In fact, I’d like your dad to take over when I retire.”

“Really?” she asked, shocked.

“I can’t think of anyone better to protect the folks in these parts,” Russell said.

“Wow,” she said, smiling. “My dad, the sheriff.” Ryan shrugged his shoulders.

“Are you gonna do it, Dad?” Bob asked.

“Well, I need to talk it over with Beverly first and I have a couple loose ends to deal with, but I think so,” Ryan said.

“Well, congratulations, Sheriff,” Bob said, holding out his hand. Ryan smiled as he shook Bob’s hand.

“Well, folks,” Russell said. “I’ve got to be going. Good meetin’ y’all.”

“Good meeting you, Sheriff,” Bob said. Ryan walked Russell to the door just as Beverly drove up. They met in the driveway.

“Hey, Beverly,” Russell said.

“Hello, Sheriff,” she said. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine dear,” Ryan said. “He knows.” She looked at Russell, wondering if he was taking her husband away.

“It’s alright, darlin’,” Russell said.

“So you’re not going to arrest Ryan?” she asked.

“Arrest him?” Russell asked. “Hell no. I plan to make him sheriff.” She looked at him shocked.

“Seriously?” she asked.

“Well, the final decision is up to the county board, of course, but if I have my way, yes,” Russell said.

“I haven’t said yes yet,” Ryan said. “I told him I needed to talk to you first.”

“Thank you for that,” she said. “Personally, though, I think it’d be a great idea. It’d get you out of the house anyway,” she added with a smile. Russell laughed before continuing.

“By the way, I hear congratulations are in order,” he said. “You’re daddy would be so proud.”

“Thank you,” she said. Suddenly her face changed. “Oh my God, that reminds me.”

“What?” Ryan asked.

“Who’s gonna walk me down the aisle?” she asked. Ryan looked at her for a moment, then they both turned to Russell. Beverly spoke up first. “Sheriff, I hate to ask, but would you...”

“What? Walk you down the aisle? Why, I’d be proud to, Beverly,” Russell said. “That is, if Ryan doesn’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Ryan said. “In fact, I can’t think of anyone better.”

“Well then,” Russell said. “It’s settled.” Beverly wrapped her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek.”

“Thank you so much,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “But only if you start calling me Russell.”