Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 132962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“No, ma’am, I didn’t get mad at him. I got mad at you, little lady. You were supposed to take him outside before bedtime,” she scolded.
“Uncle Cody, I didn’t take him outside. The coyotes are back and Mom wouldn’t let me take the BB gun out with me to protect us,” Tucker chimed in. Tucker was Kylie’s older brother.
“But he snuck it out anyway,” Kylie said, telling on her brother. That was all it took for a fight to begin, and his sister did everything in her power to stop them before things got out of hand.
“Did we get souvenirs?” Sarah asked.
“Yep, in the front seat of the truck.” Cody laughed as Sarah raced out the door in a flash.
“Tell them about the mounted patrol,” Mason suggested.
“He can tell us while we’re eating. We’ve been holding lunch,” his mom spoke up from the door separating the dining room and the kitchen.
“I’m sorry I’m late, Mom,” Cody apologized, moving with the group toward the table.
“Mom made your favorite dessert,” Justin, his brother, added, slapping him on the shoulder. “Lucky.”
The big family table, the one that kept expanding with every grandbaby born, was set, and his mom began loading the table with the huge feast she’d cooked on his behalf. Another banner, much smaller than the one out front, hung in that room too. He was even shown to his spot for this week’s dinner—the prime spot in the middle of the table. Kylie made it clear she was sitting next to him. Sarah burst back inside the room with his bags of treats.
“We all got Texas Rangers baseball ball caps like Uncle Cody’s,” Sarah declared. She handed them out and they started to put them on.
“No hats at the table,” his father said.
“Let ‘em wear their hats today, Daddy. We’re celebrating,” his mom reasoned, carrying in his favorite pot roast dinner. The kids squealed with delight when they found the small sheriff’s badges that had Dallas written across the front.
“You’re going to spoil them,” his sister Sheila scolded.
“That’s what uncles are for.” And that earned him a huge grin from Kylie who then decided dinner needed to be eaten from his lap, not her chair. “I met Colt Michaels when I was in Dallas.”
“No way! Where?” Mason asked.
“He was leaving a bar.” Cody picked up his napkin and placed it on his free leg.
“Did you get him to sign your hat?” Travis asked eagerly.
“Nah, I wanted to, but it wasn’t really the right time.”
“Tell us about the job,” his brother tried again.
“Not before grace,” his dad stated as his mom took her seat next to him. That was the sign to bow his head. The entire room grew silent as his father began the blessing.
Chapter 12
Mitch sat quietly, staring at Senator Greyson and his wife in a private room next to Elliot’s in an undisclosed hospital west of the city. He let Connors do most of the talking for them. Apparently this was Connors second meeting with the family since the incident. Mrs. Greyson appeared exactly how he would expect an exhausted, concerned mom to look. Senator Greyson just looked angry. Then again, Greyson always appeared angry, which made it difficult to read his body language.
Honestly, as close as Mitch could tell, the Greysons had pretty standard responses to the situation. The family had no idea what happened or who would want to hurt their son. Except Senator Greyson made it clear, he believed every Democrat in the nation could be considered a suspect.
With the exception of the last remark, every other family he had interviewed felt that exact same way. When a victim had survived, they were like Colt—critically injured with very little memory of the accident. There were no leads.
There were clear differences in the Greyson case compared to the others, though. Elliot Greyson was the youngest victim targeted, he had no career, and wasn’t high profile. His father held that distinction. The only similarity at the moment was that two of the cases involved a bomb. County Court Judge Bennett had been killed in a bombing accident.
Mitch began to bite at his fingernail, letting Connors go on and on with the meaningless questions until he finally just tuned him completely out and looked around the room, watching the Secret Service a little closer. The president had ordered a double-up on the Secret Service security for this family. Mitch had been given some cock and bull story about the kid ducking out of a coffee shop, dodging his security detail. Apparently this story had been backed up by the staff at the shop.
Per the family, Elliot was a good young man. An honor student throughout all his high school years and carried those same ethics into college. He was smart, well-mannered, worked hard, and was easy to get along with. Definitely not someone who fit the mold of a rebel.
One Secret Service agent stayed in the room during the questioning. Two stood by the door that hadn’t been allowed to be closed. Mitch assumed the move was all that departmental posturing. The ‘we’re better than you’ bullshit that seemed prevalent between the divisions, especially here in Washington DC.
After a few minutes more of nothing, Mitch was done. They’d find no answers here. The family knew nothing. Now they needed to move on to the next task at hand. They needed to get to Kentucky before the evidence had too much time to be tampered with.
Not exactly sure how to hurry the long-winded Connors up, Mitch stood abruptly, effectively silencing everyone, causing all eyes to look his way.
“I’ll be out in the hall,” Mitch announced, then strolled from the room, not waiting for a reply. He heard Connors rambling off an excuse for his lack of manners, and he rolled his eyes in his retreat. Mitch targeted the two guards at the door.
“Were either of you on this case the night the kid was abducted?” When he got the look that he was clearly stupid, he amended his sentence. “I mean the night he ran off?”