Page 62 of Christmas with Three Cowboys

“Jake Miller.”

“Melissa’s ex.”

“Dang it, Colt, what have you gotten yourself into, boy?”

“Nothing I can’t handle provided I have accurate information,” I reply with a cool grin. “Come on, Sheriff. Do me this solid. I just want to know who I’m dealing with. I came to you for help. You know I’ve got former Rangers up at the DEA as well. But I came to you first because I respect you.”

And because calling in a favor with the DEA might end up with that agency telling us to back off because they’ve already got who knows how many RICO investigations open for the Esparza cartel. They might make matters worse, in fact. If the cartel senses the DEA breathing down their necks, they could accelerate whatever it is they’re looking to do to Melissa.

I’m in love with this woman, and I intend to keep her safe.

Kavanaugh gives it a second thought, then takes a deep breath while his mouse clicks through a series of folders and links on his computer screen. “Alright. I don’t have much in here, just what the Feds shared with us the last time they put a BOLO out on one of the cartel’s people in the area.”

“When was that?”

“Less than two months ago.”

“Around the time Melissa came to us,” I conclude. “Whatever you have, please, Sheriff.”

“It’s for your eyes only,” he warns.

I offer a reassuring nod. “Yes, sir.”

Five minutes later, I’m flipping through several pages with photocopies of criminal records and state trooper’s notes on the margins, as well as a few interdepartmental memos from one of the higher-ups in the DEA.

My blood runs cold as a picture comes into focus.

“They’re active in this district,” I say to Kavanaugh.

“Not dealing. Not that we know of anyway,” he says. “My boys would’ve picked something up by now, but nothing has happened. Those are just movements. Lease agreements. CCTV footage of suspected lieutenants at various locations across Long Pine and the neighboring towns. I’ll admit, it’s odd, but it’s not enough for us to open an investigation of our own.”

“Do you have eyes on these people?”

He shakes his head. “So far, we haven’t been able to identify anyone except that guy.”

“This guy?” I ask, showing him the mugshot of a black-haired man with a bushy mustache and several face tattoos. “Yeah, I suppose he sticks out like a sore thumb in these parts.”

“Luis Menendez,” Kavanaugh says, “a suspected lieutenant of the cartel. Supposedly answers directly to Ramon Esparza, the cartel jefe. But he’s keeping his nose clean. Renting an apartment in town. I checked with the IRS as well. The rental agreement is legit and fully declared. The man has a salary coming in from a small company from Ainsworth for consultancy services.”

So hewasholding back on me.

“I reckon the company will come up clean as well if you dig deeper,” I mutter.

“Probably, yeah. Whatever they’re doing here, it’s legal,” Kavanaugh replies. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it, but unless I put a tail on that guy...”

“Can you?”

He leans forward and gives me a hard look. “My constituents will grill my ass when they find out I’m using department resources to chase down one of your hunches. That Menendez fella is clean. He checks in with his parole officer once a week. I have absolutely no reason to put a tail on him and not enough manpower to do it with having to rescue half the damn county from the ditches.”

“I’ll look into it,” I tell him. “Discretely, of course. Just for my peace of mind. But if you get any more information about these people, will you let me know?”

“Stay out of trouble, Colt. I’m warning you.”

“I’ll do my best.”

I can’t guarantee it, but I give the sheriff the reassurance he clearly needs at this point. We all require peace of mind in one form or another. This is his. And the information in my hands is mine. I now know more now than I did five minutes ago.

Trouble is, there’s no mention of Jake Miller anywhere in these documents.

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