man with a shock of bright white hair that had, at one time, been an equally bright red. He was a thirty-four-year veteran of the force who worked his way up from uniform cop to chief the old-school way.
While usually a man of good cheer, tonight the chief was pensive and foul-mouthed. The daughter of one of his best friends had been abducted, and in his city, no less. Not only that, but the mayor, Hizzoner Ted Olson, and the FBI’s local agent in charge, Ed Duffy, were standing just outside their room, monitoring the chief’s every move. Neither of them had much love for the chief, nor he for them.
“Where are we at?” the chief demanded.
“We’ve got what apparently the media’s got,” Riles said.
“Which is?”
“Zip,” Riles started, opening his notebook. “She was taken in the parking lot behind the cafe. She was thrown into a white van, which we found in River Falls. The kidnappers burned it there. Doesn’t look like there was much left behind. We have some crime scene techs going out there. Who knows, they might turn something up.”
The chief sighed and ran his hand through his thinning hair. Peters asked the obvious.
“So you don’t think you’ll get anything?”
“Doubtful,” Mac replied. “The River Falls cops didn’t know they were dealing with a crime scene right away. Police and fire trampled all over the place and hosed up what evidence there might have been.”
“Maybe the FBI can help,” Peters replied.
“They’re in for sure then?” Rock asked.
“Yup,” the chief said. “As you saw, Ed Duffy is in the house.”
“Bet that makes you happy,” Lich said with a wry smile.
Well, no it doesn’t. But let’s put that all aside tonight shall we,” the chief replied. For whatever reason, the two men did not get along with one another. Duffy replaced an old friend of the chief’s whose career was unceremoniously brought to a premature end due to some management discrepancies. Duffy came in, aired the management issues, made changes, and did a little more end zone dancing about his predecessor’s departure than the chief thought appropriated. On top of that, Duffy was good friends with Mayor Olson. Chief Flanagan and Olson were also on the outs, the mayor tiring of the city’s long-serving police chief.
“I’m more worried about Shannon Hisle than fighting a turf war,” the chief continued. “The FBI can help.”
“Lyman’s political friends have been on the horn,” Peters added. “And apparently one of the bureau’s best on kidnapping is in town this week to work with local agents. He’s coming in on this.”
“Who’s the guy?” Mac asked.
“A fellow named Burton. John Burton,” Peters replied.
“ That guy!” Riley replied, surprised. “I’ve heard of him.”
“Is he the guy who brought that judge’s daughter home?” The one who was kidnapped by the white supremacists in Montana last summer?” Mac asked.
“He is,” Peters replied.
“I remember that,” Rock added. “That’s this guy? He won’t need us much.”
“He is that guy,” the chief replied. “But don’t worry, you boys are working this. That’s the way I want it. That’s the way Lyman wants it, and that’s the way the FBI will deal with it.”
“I saw the mayor hanging around out there,” Mac noted. “The four of us aren’t exactly his favorites.” That all stemmed from the PTA case last winter, not to mention a recent investigation into a cop killing. Rock and Mac, with Riley and Lich in tow, finished a controversial chase and shootout with an African-American suspect in the old Rondo neighborhood. There were complaints of excessive force and the shootout was in the news for weeks. The chief was unyielding in his support of his men, which led to political discomfort for the mayor. And if there was anything the mayor hated, it was political discomfort.
“Hizzoner pushed hard for the FBI’s involvement,” Peters said. Everyone groaned.
“Nice he has confidence in his department,” Mac commented.
“It is what it is,” the chief said. “But listen, I want to get Shannon back, so we eighty-six the political bullshit. Do you boys read me on that?”
Everyone nodded.
“How’s Lyman doing?” Mac asked
“About as well as could be expected,” the chief answered. “I can’t possibly imagine what he’s going through.”
“He wanted to see you guys when you got here.” Peters opened the door. “He’s back in his library.” Everyone fell in behind Peters, walking down the back hallway and into the library, where they found Lyman sitting at his desk. He was talking with Detective Frank Franklin, better known as Double Frank, as well as a few other dark suited men that they all recognized from the local FBI field office.
Mac made eye contact with Lyman, who broke away from the group and walked over. Mac gave him a hug.
“Michael, I’m glad you are here,” he said. “I just can’t believe this is happening.”
“I know Lyman, I know,” Mac answered quietly. “We’ll get her back.”
Lyman gripped Mac’s shoulders and looked at Lich, then to Riles and Rock as well.
“Gentlemen, it’s good to have you working on this.”
“We’ll do everything we can Lyman, you know that,” Riles replied. Everyone else nodded.
“I know you men will; I know you will. Now, tell me where you’re at and don’t bullshit me. I need to know.”
Riles gave Lyman the rundown of what they had and then asked, “And I assume we haven’t heard from the kidnappers yet?”
“No,” Double Frank replied. “We’ll be ready when they call.”
Just then there was a commotion in the hallway and a rangy man with a shaved head strode into the room with Ed Duffy in tow. Duffy made the introduction, “Chief, Mr. Hisle, this is Special Agent John Burton.”
“Burton.” The chief replied, taking his hand. Then Flanagan paused and gave the FBI man a long look. “You look familiar for some reason.”
“I worked out of the Minneapolis office way back in the early nineties, Chief,” Burton replied. “Our paths crossed on occasion. I wondered if you would remember.”
“Good to have you,” Flanagan replied. “This is the girl’s father, and a friend of mine, Lyman Hisle.”
Hisle took Burton’s hand. “Word is you’re pretty good at this sort of thing,” Lyman said.
“I’ve had some success, Sir. We’re going to do everything we can to get your daughter back.”
“Well, let me tell you one thing that will help you,” chief said. “You keep my boys over here in the loop,” Flanagan waved toward Mac and the others. “They’re damn good.”
Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Burton replied blandly, shaking hands and getting names. When he got to Mac, he held his hand an extra moment, “ McRyan? Are you a relation of Simon McRyan?” Burton inquired with an unmistakable tone of respect.
“He was my father.”
“Burton held the handshake and pointed, “He was a hell of a cop son, a hell of a cop. You worked that PTA case with the CIA guys, right?”
“With these three,” Mac answered, gesturing to Riley, Rock, and Lich. Burton turned to the chief.
“Damn right I want to work with these guys.” There was noticeable approval in the FBI man’s voice. Then he looked to Riley, the senior officer.
“What do we know?” Riley gave the run down for what seemed like the tenth time. It didn’t sound any better no matter how many times he told it, Mac thought.
“Well, probably not a nut then,” Burton said.
“No,” Mac replied, “it was a well-orchestrated attack. These guys knew exactly what they were doing.”
It was dark now, approaching 10:00 PM, but the temperature was still in the mid-seventies. It if weren’t for the fact he had just completed a kidnapping, it would have been a lovely night to be out for a drive, Smith thought. Apparently, many Minnesotans agreed. During the summer, Minnesota cabin owners tended to stay up north at their lake places as long as possible before trekking home for another week grinding away at their jobs. As a consequence, even at this late hour, an endless stream of headlights glowed for miles in the distance, coming in the
