Page 105 of Loco

Griggs had moved again, this time to a private airstrip on the outskirts of a neighboring town—remote, low-traffic, often used by people who wanted to avoid being seen. He’d ditched his backup vehicle and was now traveling with just one man—lean, military build, sunglasses that didn’t hide the fact he was scanning for a threat.

It was too late for that.

Judd, Keir, and I moved out with a three-person unit from Ned’s trusted security. The Rangers were already active, following up on a list of officers tied to Griggs—names we'd fed them through Ned’s clean FBI contacts. So far, two were already in custody. Two more were missing, but the Rangers had their addresses and weren't the kind to knock gently.

We didn’t wait for Griggs to board a plane.

He was twenty feet from the stairs, phone in hand, when Keir’s voice crackled over comms.“Target confirmed. Go.”

I moved first.

We came in from both sides—Judd flanking left, Keir on the right, two of Ned’s men fanning out behind. One quick, sharp order— “Hands where I can see them!”—and the man with Griggs reached for his waistband.

Bad call.

Keir dropped him with a shot to the shoulder—non-lethal, but it took him out of the fight fast. Griggs froze, arms lifting slowly, his mouth working like he couldn’t believe we’d actually shown up. I got in close and slapped cuffs on him myself.

Up close, he looked older and smaller, his false confidence stripped away. “You have no idea what you’ve just done,” he hissed at me.

“Sure I do,” I shrugged, tightening the cuffs until he winced. “I just took away your runway.”

Back at the ranch,Ned’s team confirmed the arrest. Sayla and the kids were kept safely inside while the last threads were pulled tight.

Then came the second name on our list.

Vincent Russo, the man who’d taken Sayla and worked under the radar with a federal clearance that should’ve been stripped years ago.

It didn’t take long to track him.

With Griggs in custody and his burner phones confiscated, our FBI contacts were able to trace a recent call to an apartment on the edge of San Antonio—a safe house, off the grid, not listed to anyone. They sent a team that found

Russo inside, packing a go-bag. He didn’t resist when he saw the Rangers and Bureau outside his window. Not when the agents came through the door with weapons raised and authority in their voices.

They found everything: false IDs, encrypted drives, burner phones, a stash of untraceable cash, and detailed notes that connected him to multiple disappearances and all of the things we also knew he was guilty of in Palmerstown and around the state.

They also found notes about Sayla, her schedule, the kids, and a photo of her car parked outside a supermarket. It was stalker level detail, and if I’d been the one to find it all, I’d have had to be held back.

They brought him in under heavy guard, and I finally breathed a sigh of relief.

By nightfall,the list of arrests had grown.

Seven officers—some from nearby towns, others from Palmerstown—were in custody. The Rangers were already coordinating with internal affairs to keep the cleanup rolling. Everyone named in Griggs’s files or Russo’s drives was being pulled into the investigation, and more charges were being prepared by the minute. We also finally had Russo Lynch and AJ Foster, the two men who’d been at the very head of the operation and who’d been wanted for years.

It was quiet again at the ranch, but this time, the quiet wasn’t tense. It was relief.

I stood on the porch, watching the stars come out, the cool night air washing away a layer of tension that had lived under my skin for days.

Behind me, the kids were curled up on the couch, half-watching a movie with Kaida snuggled into Sayla’s lap.

Sayla caught my eye through the screen door. She smiled, and I knew—we were almost clear and breathing free.

The stars were startingto pierce through the darkening sky, the breeze carrying the scent of Lindee’s apple-something from the kitchen. The chaos had finally quieted, at least for now.

I felt Sayla’s presence before I saw her. She stepped onto the porch beside me, her arms folded lightly across her chest, and the corners of her mouth turned up just a little.

“You ready to go home?” she asked softly.

I let out a quiet chuckle and shook my head. “What home? A van literally drovethroughmine.”

---