Never Safe

By Mike Poppe

In book 2 of the Stryker Series, A team of politicians backed by Chicago's most powerful crime family, set out to steal millions from the taxpayers. When sexy Sara O'Shea, Stryker's deadly firebrand assistant, starts nosing into their affairs, the order goes out: Kill Stryker! When Stryker is ambushed, it sets off a cross country adventure filled with death, violence, sex, and intrigue.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike Poppe
• Release date: Jul 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311569745

Mike Poppe

I was born in Rector, Arkansas, a small farming based town in Northeast Arkansas. Later, my parents moved to St. Louis in search of better economic opportunity. At age 16, disallusioned and bored with the “One Size Fits All” educational system, I dropped out in the 10th grade.Just as soon as I turned 17, I joined the Marine Corps. The education the Corps provided, wasn't always polite and pleasant, but it most certainly was not boring. My four year enlistment included one year in South Vietnam. 7 November, 1965 to 6 November, 1966. At the end of my enlistment, having attained the rank of Sgt E-5, I returned to civilian life.After nine months as an Industrial Engineering Clerk, I took advantage of an opportunity to move into transportation. For the next 34 years, I was a dispatcher and driver supervisor in the Trucking Industry.In 2011, the rise in popularity of E-books caught my attention. A life long avid reader, I'd always believed I could write a book, but didn't know how to go about getting it published. The birth of E-Books changed all that. In the fall of 2011, fulfilling a life long dream, I published my first book, The Sparrows Whisper.Today, my wife, Mary Katherine, and I, live in a small rural town in Southwestern Illinois. With the encouragement of family and friends, I've published a total of 13 novels. The split between my books has been divided pretty evenly between Mysteries and Westerns. Work on number 14, is under way.For all those that have taken the time to read my books, I appreciate your interest very much.

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Chapter One

While south of Chicago, emergency personnel were rushing to an overturned Amtrac train on the north side of town, Elizabeth Halliday was watching one of her favorite movies, Bridges of Madison County. Eleena, her live in maid, was at the movies with her boyfriend. When the movie ended, Elizabeth changed channels so she could watch the news and weather. As soon as the sports segment of the broadcast began, she clicked off the television for the night.

Elizabeth was 75 years old. For months following her husband Ed's death, each night, she had tossed and turned for hours, as she tried to adjust to not having him beside her. An article she found in Readers Digest, finally solved her problem. Once she began reading with no surrounding distractions for a full hour, Elizabeth began finding herself falling asleep within an acceptable time frame.

Her husband Ed, had been one of the Air Force pilots who flew the U2 photography missions during the Cuba Missile Crisis. He had managed to complete his missions without encountering any of the Russian made Surface to Air Missiles. However, six years later, luck was not a lady, when he was on a mission over the city of Hanoi, in North Vietnam. Although he managed to maneuver and evade all the SAMs fired his way, his jet took substantial damage from the anti-aircraft batteries that ringed the city. Unable to reach the airbase at Danang, he ejected just off the coast of Red Beach, before his F4 Phantom went into the sea. After bobbing around in the surf for fifteen minutes, he was picked up by a helicopter crew returning from dropping off medical supplies at Hue. When his back, injured in the ejection, failed to improve, Ed was given a medical discharge.

Because of his experience as a pilot in the service, McDonnell Douglas Aircraft hired Ed as a liaison with the Air Force. The job paid well, and through fortunate investments in stocks and real estate, he and Elizabeth, who worked as an executive secretary for a Corporate Vice President, compiled sufficient wealth to allow them to retire at age 50.

* * * *

Elizabeth and Ed Halliday had been blessed with two daughters. Their youngest died from pneumonia as an infant. Francisca, their oldest, had gone into journalism after college. For the next 12 years, she paid her dues, working for three small newspapers, before moving on to television news in Poplar Bluff, Missouri, and Rapid City, South Dakota. Eventually her work was noticed by a CNN executive while on vacation in South Dakota. When the executive returned to work, he called and offered her a job with the network. She gave the matter 30 seconds of consideration, then accepted.

Over the course of the next several years, Francisca worked as a reporter, covering news of every sort. Some stories were of little significance, but they had been mixed in with several high profile assignments involving national politics. On one such assignment, she was sent to do an interview with an up and coming Assistant District Attorney named Glenn Howard.

The morning after the interview, she received a call from Howard, asking if she would join him for dinner that evening. Since Howard had a reputation as a playboy, and because she wanted to avoid any sign of bias in her reporting, Francisca politely declined. Over the next two weeks, Howard repeated his dinner invitation three times. Flattered by his obvious attraction to her, and mindful of the possibility of an inside story, Francisca finally relented, and agreed to a date for a movie and dinner.

Three dates later, her initial concerns about his womanizing had been swept away by a tidal wave of charm, intelligence and wit. A year later, despite the expressed concerns of her parents, she and Glenn Howard were married. For six months, things between Francisca and her new husband seemed to go flawlessly. Then, friends began warning her that Glenn was returning to his playboy ways. When her best friend called and reluctantly confided that Glenn had asked her out on a date, Francisca was crushed.

For the next year and a half, it was one fight after another, three of which turned physical, when Glenn drove home his point of view with his fists. At her wits end, and desperate for a solution that didn't involve a divorce, Francisca went to her supervisors at CNN, and requested assignment out of the country. She hoped that perhaps time and distance would provide the fix to their marriage that didn't seem to be available at that point.

Three weeks later, she was on a plane to London. Following two years of stellar reporting from England, she served stints in Greece and Germany. During that time, she kept in regular, but well spaced communication with Glenn. Distance certainly improved the tone of their conversations. Francisca had no doubt that he was bedding other women, but by then, she had given up any hope of his ever changing his behavior.

In her mind, she decided she had only two options, Divorce, or living apart. Determined to avoid divorce at all costs, she chose to put distance between them. While her marriage was not what she had once hoped for, the absence of marital fighting, coupled with a demanding yet fulfilling work schedule, was providing a substantial measure of consolation.

In her absence, Glenn ran for the office of Governor of the state of Illinois. His many pleas for her to return and join him on the campaign trail, fell on deaf ears. By this time, Francisca had come to grips with the realization that living with her husband was a dead end option. She would wish him well in his endeavors, but would not under any circumstances, live with him again.

After eight years of reporting from Europe, Francisca had been sent to cover the Middle East. While on assignment in Beirut, she and her camera crew were having lunch in an area that was considered to be secure, when a bomb vest worn by a terrorist, exploded ten feet away. Francisca and all but one of her crew were killed.

* * * *

Because Francisca had been their only heir, a month after her death, Ed and Elizabeth sat down to discuss the necessary revisions to their will. Left with no children, nieces or nephews, they devoted time over the next few days to discussing other options. It was Ed's opinion that despite their differences, the logical move would be to make Francisca's surviving husband, Glenn Howard, their sole heir. Elizabeth argued strenuously against the idea. To her, the idea of leaving everything to the man who had been responsible for driving their daughter to leave the country, was revolting. Ed's counter argument was that Glenn, however much they didn't care for him, was the closest thing they had left to a family. Worn down by her daughter's death, and arguments over money that they couldn't spend from the grave, Elizabeth had finally given in. A new will had been drawn up naming Glenn Howard as their sole heir.

Three months after Ed's death, Elizabeth was regretting having given in to her husband's wishes in the matter of their heir. She began making cautious and deliberate inquiries into a number of charities. One by one, the list narrowed as she dismissed organizations that used large percentages of their donations to fund extravagant management salaries.

The Governor's broad network of paid informers soon began reporting Elizabeth's inquiries. Well aware of her disdain toward him, Glenn quickly surmised that she was preparing to make changes to her will. Those changes would at the least, substantially reduce the amount he would inherit. The chances were strong, that he might be totally removed as an heir. With that possibility in mind, he began taking steps to make sure that never happened.

Randall Pritchard, attorney at law, had handled all of Ed and Elizabeth Halliday's legal matters for the past twenty two years. An expensive and extensive investigation by Glenn Howard's investigators into Pritchard's background, failed to turn up anything that could be used as leverage against him. A second check by other investigators, came to the same conclusion. Stubbornly refusing to accept the clean bill of health from both investigations, the Governor turned to his contacts in organized crime.

Two weeks later, a large man with cold eyes and a nose that showed signs of having been broken more than once, walked into a post office, opened a locked mail box, slid the envelope inside, locked the box, and left. Back in his vehicle, he made a phone call, using a coded message, to the the private line of Ted Madison, the Governor's chief of staff. Half an hour later, Madison dropped the brown envelope on Glenn Howard's desk. The Governor scanned the document, closed his eyes for several seconds, then with a smile of relief, announced to Madison, We got him!

Two years after taking on Ed and Elizabeth Halliday's account, Randall Pritchard had taken a beautiful young bride named Jessica Robbins. This document revealed that Pritchard had first met Jessica Robbins in Las Vegas, while she was plying her trade as a prostitute. Randall, who could be overpowering in the court room, had always been shy and insecure around women. After a night of being pampered and pleased by Jessica, he had fallen head over heels in love.

Following a dozen more trips to visit her in Las Vegas, Randall managed to summon enough courage to propose marriage. Jessica, well aware that marriage to a rich attorney offered a brighter and longer running future than her present employment, waited just long enough to drive Pritchard out of his mind, before allowing herself to be swept off her feet. Three days after she accepted his proposal, the happy couple were married. Using Pritchard's legal expertise, all references to Jessica Robbins's past, had been purged from the records. Any routine check into her background would show that his wife had been born Barbara Covington, and that she had been employed as a travel agent, when they first met.

One Saturday morning, in keeping with his usual half day routine on Saturdays, Randall Pritchard was alone in his office, when a white SUV pulled into the parking lot. Randall's long standing rule was that unless he ordered otherwise, all his employees were to take the entire weekend off. Over a period of time, he had discovered that if his staff worked on the weekend, he was constantly answering their questions, and dealing with complaints they would never have brought him during the regular work week. Once he was satisfied that his staff's weekend efforts were being counter productive, he had issued the mandate against their working on the weekend.

At 9:30, two men wearing large dark sunglasses, stepped out of the SUV, entered the building through the outer door, then crossed the hall, walked through the empty outer office, and without saying a word, sat down in the chairs facing Pritchard's desk.

From years of experience in the courtroom, the attorney had no doubt these men were professional criminals. He nervously licked his lips, took a deep breath, then asked, May I help you?

The older of the two men pulled out a copy of the report the Governor had been given, and set it down on Pritchard's desk. As his eyes scanned the document, the attorney's face turned ashen. His hands were shaking when he asked, What do you want?

The answer he received, was simple and direct. They wanted the paperwork for the change in Elizabeth Halliday's will. Otherwise, his wife's background of working as a whore, would be fed to the news media on Monday.

Barbara, formerly Jessica, may have jumped on Randall Pritchard's proposal as a way to a better future, but to her credit, she had been a devoted and loving wife over the years. There was nothing Pritchard wouldn't do to protect her. He nodded in a sign of submission, opened his private safe, removed the paperwork, and turned it over to his visitors.

There, you have it. But, what am I to do when Mrs. Halliday asks why I haven't made the change?

The answer from the older of the two men was ominous, but convincing.

Lawyer, you just saved your wife's reputation. If you're smart, you'll leave it at that.

A cold chill ran down Pritchard's back. He sat down behind his desk, and stared at his hands. When he looked up again, the two men were gone.

* * * *

Finished with her reading for the night, Elizabeth closed the book and returned it to its usual place in the book case. As she started up the stairs leading to her bedroom, the memory of her deceased husband was heavy on her mind. Feeling melancholy, she began second guessing her decision to change the will. She hated to go against Ed's wishes now that he wasn't around to argue his point of view. With only two steps left before reaching the second floor, she looked up to the ceiling and smiled.

All right, you win Ed. I'll leave it like it is for awhile. Not saying I won't change it later, but it won't be now. I just hope Randall hasn't printed the changes already. I do hate to waste his time.

As she stepped onto the second floor level, Elizabeth saw a flash of movement, then let out a gut level moan, as an aluminum baseball bat smashed into her face, snapped her head back, and sent her tumbling down the stairs. Her attacker, Ray Lloyd, two hundred and thirty pounds of brute force, raced down the stairs after her. There, three more vicious swings of the bat ended Elizabeth Halliday's suffering, and her life.

Lloyd made sure to take all the cash from her purse, along with the expensive jewelry from her bedroom. With robbery providing a convenient reason for the old woman's murder, the homicide detectives would have little reason to look for any other motive. After leaving Elizabeth's home, Lloyd dropped the cash which would have her fingerprints, in a dumpster behind a Walmart store. The jewelry he deposited in a dumpster behind a Home Depot store. No longer in possession of any evidence that could connect him to the murder, he made his way to the airport, where a charter jet was waiting for him. Once aboard, he used the throw away cell phone to call the number he had been provided before flying to Chicago. The call was answered on the other end with a curt, Yes?

Lloyd simply said, It's done.

When the line went dead, he walked to the rest room, where he wiped the phone down, then tossed it in the trash. On arrival at his destination, a cleanup employee would be waiting to make sure that particular item would never be found.

The next morning, with his inheritance now assured, Governor Howard called in his chief of staff, and directed him to go ahead and set up the meeting they had been planning over the past few weeks.

Chapter two

The summer tourist season was in full force in the Branson, Missouri area, when the governors of three states, along with their chiefs of staff, gathered for a meeting in Bass Pro Shop's Big Cedar Lodge, on the shores of Table Rock Lake. The announced reason for the meeting, was to discuss ways in which they could make their state governments more efficient. The actual purpose was more self serving and sinister in nature.

Glenn Howard had arranged for the meeting room to be swept for listening and video devices the day before, and again, just before their meeting. In an unprecedented move, all three governors and their chiefs of staff surrendered all their electronic devices before entering the room.

The meeting room had large windows, providing an impressive view overlooking much of the Long's Creek portion of the lake. In the pristine waters below, watercraft of every sort were moving from one location to another, some transporting fishermen, some pulling water skiers, others just enjoying a day on the water. After taking in the view for a few minutes, the six men took their places at the round handcrafted walnut table.

The meeting was the brainchild of Illinois Governor Glenn Howard. He and his chief of staff, Ted Madison, were the first to take their seats. Then came Texas Governor, Rob Fannon and his chief, Chet Greene, followed by Kentucky Governor, Walt Monroe, and his right hand man, Hal Martin.

When everyone was seated, Governor Howard used the courtesy phone to signal the staff that they were ready. In thirty seconds, four attractive young women brought in coffee, bottled water, and platters filled with rolls. Their work done, the four women left as quickly as they had arrived, leaving the men to conduct their business.

Glenn Howard had arranged the meeting, but there wasn't a man at the table, who didn't have some idea as to what the main discussion would involve. The three Governors under the leadership of Governor Howard, had more than a year ago, devised a scheme whereby they were able to divert large sums of money from their state funds for their personal use. Each of these thefts, was laundered through a complicated system of repeated transfers to and from, the other two states, making the thefts nearly impossible to trace. Even more cash, provided by Chicago's largest crime family, was being laundered in the same way. This system provided the mob their most efficient way of laundering their drug money. In return, all the considerable resources of organized crime, if needed to protect this operation, were available to the group in this room, at any time.

To this point in time, the six men in this room had all reaped millions of illegal income from this practice. Of course in order to guarantee the secrecy of this program, a significant amount of that money had to be diverted to paying off a select few banking executives and federal bank examiners. Then of course, there were other assorted individuals of varying occupations, who got much smaller pieces of the pie, in return for simply minding their own business.

The Illinois chief of staff passed out a set of talking points that fit the announced purpose of the meeting. With no more than a few minutes of study, these men would be able to grasp enough content, to be able to satisfy the curiosity of the assembled media waiting outside the door. Once everyone at the table finished with the talking points, Governor Howard stood and looked around the table. His mind was largely on the other two governors, for their chiefs of staff would normally follow their boss's lead.

Texas Governor, Rob Fannon was tough as nails. There would be no worries about Fannon getting cold feet. On the other hand, he lacked the imagination to notice leaks in the dam before they became critical. Howard knew he would have to keep an eye on the Texas Governor, for his iron clad rigidity in thinking, could be a problem at some point in the future.

Walt Monroe, from Kentucky, was Fannon's opposite. A favorite with his state party because of his family's history in the state's politics, Monroe's campaign for the Governorship of his state had been a breeze. Where Rob Fannon tended to be bombastic, Monroe was reserved, tending to analyze things from several angles before making his opinion known. Walt Monroe, because of his intelligence, and his basic insecurity, would always be alert for any changes that might signal danger ahead. On the other hand, in Glenn Howard's view, Monroe's timidity would eventually make him a risk too great to absorb. When that time came, he would have to be dealt with. But for now, his habitual caution served a purpose.

Glenn smiled at the men seated around the table.

Well then. Let's get down to the big question. I'm sure we will all agree that our little partnership has been quite profitable for us all. The question before us today, is do we want to continue with the program, or should we play it safe and end our joint venture?

The Texas Governor, Rob Fannon, leaned back in his chair and asked, Glenn, why in the hell would we want to kill the golden goose? There are untold millions left to be made, and I want my share. I'm voting to keep things just like they are. Turning to his chief of staff, he asked, Chet, is that how you see it?

Chet Greene nodded once, then answered, Sure. I don't reckon there's such a thing as too much money.

Walt Monroe, the Governor from Kentucky, conferred with his chief of staff, Hal Martin, before posing a question.

Glenn, before I give my opinion, I have to ask, is there a problem here that I'm not aware of? I guess I'm wondering why we would be considering dissolving our partnership, if there wasn't some concern in your mind about the security of our operation.

Fair question,Walt, the Illinois Governor noted. Turning to his chief of staff, he instructed, Tell them what we know, Ted.

Ted Madison, always more comfortable speaking on his feet, stood, stepped over by the window, then addressed the question.

The best answer I can give you right now, is that we don't really know if we have a problem or not. I assume everyone here is familiar with Stryker, from Reliable Research?

When the men at the table all nodded in the affirmative, Madison continued. What we have learned, is that his chief investigator, Sara O'Shea, has been directing questions to a few people who know nothing about this operation, but do have some knowledge of our legal finances. The fact that her questions have only been general in scope, suggests that Stryker has no specific information that should cause him to press this much further. That's of course, providing O'Shea doesn't stumble onto some information we might have failed to protect.

Chet Greene, the chief of staff from Texas, had a question.

In your opinion, what are the chances that this gal will turn up anything?

Slim, Madison replied. Almost non-existent.

At this point, Glenn Howard interrupted his chief of staff.

While I agree with Ted, that the chances of discovery are remote, we should not lightly dismiss the possibility. We all know what a pit bull Stryker becomes, once that bastard sinks his teeth into something that offends his self righteous view of how politicians should conduct themselves. If Stryker gets suspicious, the consequences could be disastrous for us all.

Governor Fannon slammed his fist on the table.

Damn it, Glenn, you're not talking to a bunch of stupid voters. This whole thing was your baby from the get-go. Now lay it out there, with the bark on. What the hell do you think we should do?

Howard took a deep breath, then responded to the question.

All right, Rob. Here it is. We have two choices. Get out while the getting is good, or get rid of Stryker. If he gets suspicious and starts digging into our procedures, in time, he will take us all down. Personally, I don't intend to take that risk. Referring to the organized crime family whose money they were laundering in this scheme, he added, Remember, our friends who are not represented at this meeting, also have a big interest in this matter. They have both the inclination, and the expertise, to take care of Stryker, without leaving any connection to us. Ted has already alerted them to the possibility. As his eyes searched the faces of each man at the table, the Illinois Governor asked, Is anyone here against getting rid of our potential problem? Only the Kentucky Governor's face showed signs of doubt, but under Glenn Howard's iron stare, Monroe reluctantly signaled his agreement. Turning to face his chief of staff, Howard ordered, Ted, make that call today.

Madison nodded. Consider it done.

Governor Monroe then asked, What about the girl who works for Stryker? When her boss gets whacked, won't she start digging deeper? Are we going to have to get rid of her too?

Rob Fannon spoke up.

Damn it, Walt. You're giving her too much credit. My guess is that when Stryker goes down, she'll get the message, and run back to Momma.

Glenn Howard added, Besides, it doesn't make any difference. If the bitch doesn't get the message, she can die too. Now, unless we have something else to discuss, we have an excursion boat waiting lakeside, for our personal use. On board, are a dozen beautiful young women who I'm told, are eager to show us a good time. If there are no objections, I declare this meeting adjourned.

There were no objections.

Chapter Three

When Tracy, Kay Albright's secretary, called and informed Sara O'Shea that her boss wanted to see her right away, she felt a knot forming in her stomach. Sara could sense her vacation plans going right down the toilet. Stryker was already in Wyoming, having left early to take care of a business matter, before beginning a badly needed vacation in the mountains. Sara had reservations to fly out tomorrow and join him.

For the past ten months, she and Stryker had both been under a heavy workload. More than that, they had been dealing with the unrelenting pressure of having to testify in a congressional hearing. The hearing was the work of several members of congress, all of whom were unhappy with the work of Reliable Research. They had convened the hearings in order to investigate and intimidate the company.

It quickly became obvious that their main focus was directed at Stryker. Because Sara was his chief investigator, she soon was caught up in the glare of the same spotlight. In the end however, all the committee had to work with were suspicions, none of which were backed by evidence. After a few days of performing in front of the television cameras, the politicians had been left with no choice but to vent their anger in speeches before the cameras, then dismiss the hearings.

In keeping with her well established history of seldom passing up a chance to irritate Kay, Sara looked up at the clock on the wall, and decided to make her wait for another five minutes, before responding to her summons. Since Sara joined the company, the relationship between the two women had been as volatile and unpredictable as the weather. The center of their mutual distrust and jealousy, tended to revolve around Sara's boss, one John M. Williams, better known as Stryker. Kay's influence and possible advantage in dealing with Stryker, since she was the head of Reliable Research, worried Sara. The flip side of the coin, was that Kay seemed to feel she was at a disadvantage because Sara was younger, and attracted a great deal of attention from the men in the building.

Sara had heard the rumors that Kay had considered ordering Stryker to fire her. Sara's guess was that it never got further than the consideration stage, simply because Stryker was not a man to be pushed. It was her guess that Kay feared dismissing her, for fear Stryker might quit too.

With her eye on the time, Sara stood outside Kay Albright's outer office until every second of her intended five minute delay expired. When she stepped inside, Tracy, whom Sara had never seen smile, looked over her glasses and said, She's waiting.

Biting her tongue to keep from delivering the nasty response that was on the tip of her tongue, Sara opened the door and walked in. Kay Albright was furiously typing notes as Sara entered her office. Kay, without looking up, said, No need to sit. This won't take long. I'm afraid you're going to have to delay your vacation. I just found out that my mother has been placed under Hospice care. She's not expected to last long. The company jet is being fueled as we speak, and I'm leaving in a few minutes to pack. With my situation, and with Stryker in Wyoming, that puts you next up to take care of things while we are gone. You've got my number in case you need advice. Any questions?

Sara answered with a curt No, then spun on her heel and left without saying another word. As Kay watched Sara disappear down the hall, a hint of a smile appeared briefly on her face. Having slept with Stryker on one occasion, and hopeful for an opportunity to do it again, she couldn't help but feel a bit of selfish satisfaction that Sara's plan to vacation with him, was now going up in flames.

Sara O'Shea, when angered, and sometimes when not, could demonstrate a vocabulary that would make a Marine Corps Drill Instructor blush. As she stormed her way to the elevator, she made loud and frequent use of it, amusing some of the people in the hallway, shocking others.

Returning to her own office, Sara slammed the door shut, then called the airlines and canceled her reservations for her flight to Wyoming the next day. Past the deadline, the cancellation was going to cost her a substantial dollars and cents penalty. When Kay returned, they would have it out toe to toe, because damn it, she canceled the vacation, so the bitch could damn well pay for the penalty.

Because of the circumstances, Sara certainly understood Kay's decision to cancel her vacation. Still, logic and understanding wasn't enough to quiet the rage building inside her. Reason and fault be damned. It simply wasn't fair! In the past year, she and Stryker had both barely missed being killed in the performance of their duties. Now, when the opportunity had finally come for them to unwind together, fate had stabbed them in the back.

An hour after Kay left the office, Sara, unable to concentrate because of her anger, told Nora she was going home with a bad headache. On her way home, she stopped at Friar Tuck's, a local watering hole, located just two blocks from her home. Sara finished off three beers while quietly mumbling a steady stream of obscene insults, all directed at Kay Albright. When she finished off her third beer, Pia, the cute bartender with long black hair, looked her way to see if she wanted a replacement. Frustrated that her anger was still burning just as hot as it had been when she walked in, Sara waved Pia off, dropped a tip on the bar, then walked the two blocks to her home.

* * * *

Once inside her house, Sara undressed, then slipped into a silk robe. For the next two hours, she attempted, with little success, to focus on the television. A full hour of trying to get interested in three different novels, also proved to be a waste of time. Pacing the floor, she cussed both Kay and Stryker. Why she was blaming Stryker, she wasn't sure, but it wasn't fair for her to have to deal with this pain alone. She wanted him to be as frustrated and pissed off as she was.

Twice she picked up the phone to call him and dump the bad news on him. Each time, she hesitated, then dropped the phone on the night stand. After the second time, she fell back on the bed, looked up at the ceiling with tears in her eyes.

Stryker, sleep well, damn you. I guess there's really no need to ruin your evening. But damn it, I'd like to.

Overcome with frustration and loneliness, she soon rolled over and tried to cry herself to sleep. Ten minutes later, she turned on the light, picked up her phone and sent Kay Albright a text. I'm sorry about your mother. Take care.

Now too emotionally exhausted to think, Sara fell asleep with the bedroom light still burning.

Chapter Four

The work portion of Stryker's trip to Wyoming had turned out to be a matter that he was able to dispose of much quicker than expected. A sexual harassment complaint had been filed against first term Wyoming State Representative Greg Wilcox, by 20 year old Elaine Rollins. Miss Rollins had been hired to work in the representative's Cheyenne office, based on her performance as a volunteer during his election campaign.

Stryker had first learned of this case when Wilcox himself, called and requested that he come to Cheyenne, and make a thorough investigation into the complaint as soon as possible.

Stryker, this is my first term in office. The longer this allegation hangs over my head, the darker my political future becomes.

Ever watchful of avoiding any signs of favoritism or bias in his work, Stryker answered, Mr. Wilcox, you do understand that my investigation could be a double edged sword, don't you? My findings will be based on what I see, hear, and read, as I investigate. If there is even the slightest bit of evidence pointing to your guilt, I will say so in my report.

Of course, Wilcox quickly replied. I'm well aware of your reputation for calling things the way you see them. To tell you the truth, that's why I want you to handle the investigation personally. I have no doubt that I will be found innocent of this woman's allegations, and a clean bill of health from you, will carry more weight with the campaign contributors, than it would from any other investigator.

After checking his calendar, Stryker informed Wilcox that he could be in Cheyenne to hold a review in ten days. The representative quickly agreed, then asked, Are you by chance a fisherman, Stryker?

I am, when I can find the time.

Wilcox laughed and said, Me too. Unfortunately, I have very little time to enjoy it anymore. You know, the trout fishing in the mountain streams is excellent right now. If you can, once you finish your business here, you really should take a couple of days to try your luck with the trout.

If that's an invitation to take me fishing, my answer is no, Stryker sternly warned. Accepting such an invitation would rightfully put the findings of my report in question.

The representative immediately assured Stryker that he totally understood, and that his comment had been made simply as the sort of polite suggestion one would offer any visitor to his state.

Actually, a chance to relax using a fly rod on the mountain streams, had been a factor in Stryker's decision to accept this case. Not only did