“Then after we eat, we need to get all of our refuse into the dumpster out front so that it gets hauled off before all this goes down. Considering how long Dad’s been in the hospital, extra bags of trash might give us away,” Asher added.
They got the groceries put away, then sat down at the table as Ash began distributing the to-go meals he’d picked up.
“What are we having tonight?” Gunner asked.
“Meatloaf with two sides, biscuits and peach cobbler. It was the daily special,” Asher said. He was about to remove the lid from his order when his cell signaled a text. “Sheriff’s office,” he said, and scanned the text. “Good news. Reddick scheduled his press conference for tomorrow morning at 10:00 a.m. They’ll air it live as a news bulletin, then air the taped version again on the evening news.” He sent a thumbs-up emoji back, and disconnected. “This is it, my brothers. Let’s hope it works and we close the case.”
“Amen to that,” Dylan said.
Gunner nodded. He was already fork deep in meatloaf and gravy. “What’s going on with our secret weapon?”
Asher looked up. “You mean Nora? She has a realtor coming tomorrow. She’s decided to sell the house. I asked if we could park the SUV in her driveway when we go on lockdown. That way the only vehicle left on the property is dad’s truck, which would be expected, and she said yes.”
“I hope the weather holds,” Dylan said. “Cold is one thing, but snow is another. No way for a thief to hide footprints in the snow.”
“It’s going to work out because Brandt’s sons aren’t any smarter than he was. The only thing in their heads is that untraceable money. They tried to kill for it once. They’re not done.”
Chapter 14
The Kingston brothers were in the living room of their family home, waiting for the press conference to begin. The local stations had just interrupted programming, and Rachelle Morgan, an on-site reporter, was already setting the stage for what was to come.
News crews from three different TV affiliates out of Amarillo were in Silverton, set up at the steps of the Briscoe County Courthouse, waiting for Sheriff Matt Reddick to appear. Local residents had seen the news crews, and the small gathering around the news vans was a result of curiosity.
As the Kingstons watched in silence, the doors to the courthouse opened just as Rachelle’s commentary was in full swing. The tone of her voice shifted to a higher note, and she began talking faster, wanting to get it all said before Reddick took the mic.
“And… Sheriff Reddick has just come out of the courthouse. All we know is this has to do with the attempted assassination of Jacob Kingston, a respected and well-known businessman in Crossroads, Texas. You may remember the Kingston name from some years past, when, unknown to Jacob, his wife Brenda was involved with Pete Brandt, the leader of an armed robbery in Amarillo some twenty-plus years back. Brenda Kingston committed suicide on the day of her arrest, and just recently, the gang leader, Pete Brandt, passed away in prison. There has beensupposition that it could be connected, but we have had no confirmation on that. We’re hoping Sheriff Reddick will have some answers.”
Asher’s eyes narrowed as Reddick paused above the steps for a moment of posterity. Framed by the grand white pillars of the courthouse that stood above the fan of descending steps, all eyes turned toward him.
Good. He has their attention.
And when he started down the steps with an inscrutable expression, the crowd hushed. The silver star of a Texas sheriff’s badge was pinned on the sheepskin coat he was wearing against the chill, and the grey Stetson firmly settled on his head was to shade his eyes against the morning sun.
* * *
Reddick knew a lot depended on saying the right things, without saying too much. He wanted the perps jailed who’d done this, and the case closed, so when he approached the mic bank, he wasted no time.
“I’m Sheriff Matt Reddick of the Briscoe County Sheriff’s department. The reason for this press conference is twofold. It is a plea for help on an open case regarding the attempted murder of Jacob Kingston, of Crossroads, Texas. Apparently, the media has already created its own version of motive, but that’s all conjecture. The truth is, at this time, we do not know the shooter’s identity, intent, or how many there were. We have received one report of a vehicle speeding away from the bar, but it was midnight. No identification of the driver or the tag number. Forensics is plowing through a mountain of DNA that, so far, tells us nothing except who liked to drink beer at the Tumbleweed Bar. This is a public plea for information. If you know anything that would lead us to the perpetrators,call the Briscoe County Sheriff’s department. The number will be running in a crawl on the bottom of your screen. And a fair warning to those who file false claims, or purposefully point the blame at someone you’re mad at as a means of revenge. Rest assured we do not take lightly to people wasting precious man-hours and money running down false leads, and you will face fines and possible jail time if you do it.” Reddick cleared his throat, then looked straight into the cameras for full effect. “At last update, we know Jacob Kingston is still in the hospital. We have no information to share regarding his prognosis. All we do know is that, for the time being, the Tumbleweed Bar in Crossroads, Texas, is officially closed, and we have no timeline as to when it might reopen.”
* * *
Hands were going up and reporters were clamoring for attention as Asher lowered the volume, then looked at his brothers and smiled.
“That was good. Damn good. They’ll air this again tonight. Now all we can do is hope the Brandts saw it. I’ll get the SUV to Nora’s later today, then we’re inside until it’s over, and I just had a thought as I was watching. What do you guys think about pulling the security detail off of dad’s room, and putting them on stakeout at the place where the Brandts are staying, instead?”
Gunner had been slouched in a chair while watching the press conference, but this was a focus shift he liked.
“Yes! Now that you found out where they’re staying, security would know if they were venturing toward the hospital, and even better, they would know if they left Amarillo. We’d have a major jump on them if we knew they were headed this way,” he said.
Dylan nodded. “But they wouldn’t actually follow them all the way here, right?”
“Right,” Ash said. “If they follow them through traffic and see for sure that they take the highway I-27 south toward Tulia, then we could safely assume they are making another move. At that point, we tell them to stand by until we have them in handcuffs.”
“I say yes,” Gunner said. “Get them on it now!”
“Leaving all that to the cops in the family,” Dylan said. “I’m just ready to thump some heads.”
“I promised Reddick we would not rough up his prisoners,” Asher said.
