#Aluminum Planters

[signetringsandpreppythings]

Deck in Vancouver Deck - large craftsman backyard deck idea with a roof extension

[seabreezebazaar]

This is an illustration of a small roof-extended transitional brick front porch.

[crazyclau]

Medium Garage

Ideas for remodeling a mid-sized, attached two-car garage

[greatinterest]

Outdoor Kitchen in Seattle Large minimalist outdoor kitchen deck design example with a roof extension

[lovelyyellowdress]

Medium Garage Ideas for remodeling a mid-sized, attached two-car garage

[deanohgorman]

Small modern backyard concrete patio kitchen idea with a gazebo for the patio

[abconcerns]

Deck Toronto An illustration of a traditional backyard deck design with a fire pit and an addition to the roof

[mogaiwriters]

New York Traditional Landscape Photo of a large traditional partial sun front yard formal garden.

[monikabose]

Roof Extensions - Traditional Deck Example of a classic backyard deck design with a fire pit and a roof extension

[newmas]

Exterior Stucco in Tampa Large contemporary white two-story flat roof design

[yukikiss]

Transitional Deck Example of a large transitional backyard deck design with a fire pit and a roof extension

[toonass]

Landscape Concrete Pavers Dallas An example of a small transitional partial sun backyard concrete paver landscaping.

[bloodtohold]

Traditional Landscape - Container Garden Photo of a large traditional partial sun front yard formal garden.

[drnikolatesla]

Nikola Tesla on Human Energy

In an article written in 1900 titled “The Problem of Increasing Human Energy,” Nikola Tesla shares his ideas aimed at revolutionizing the way energy is generated, transmitted, and utilized, with the ultimate goal of enhancing human well-being and progress.

Tesla starts with his philosophical perspective on human life–what is it, and where is it going? He implies that human life is a movement, and since the existence of movement naturally implies a body which is being moved and a force which is moving it, then wherever there is life, there is a mass moved by a force. Since action and reaction are coexistent (Newton’s third law of motion), then human movement, along with all movement in the universe, is rhythmical. He explains how we are witness to this rhythm in the motion of the stars, the surging and ebbing of the oceans, the changing of seasons, and the infinitely varied phenomena of organic life. Tesla then identifies humanity as a unitary whole, and comes to the conclusion that the same general laws of movement that govern the whole physical universe must be applicable to all living things, including humankind, and we may understand this movement by using mechanical principles. Consequently, Tesla implies we may measure human energy using the formula for kinetic energy, E=MV²/2, which is one of the fundamental physics equations that describes a moving object's energy. E represents energy, M being human mass, and V a hypothetical velocity. Tesla goes on to consider humans analogous to machines and asks how do we increase the energy of this machine positively and decrease the negative forces decelerating it? In answering this question, Tesla suggests:

Promoting marriage

Having more children and raising them to a higher velocity, or enlightenment, than their parents

Attention to health

Improving quality of drinking water

Providing healthful food to those in need

Encouraging a vegetarian diet rather than a carnivorous one

Discouraging artificial food

Moderation of exercise between both mind and body

Discouraging bad habits with alcohol, tobacco, tea, coffee, and other stimulants

Discouraging gambling

Improving hygiene, education, and morals

Reducing ignorance, stupidity, imbecility, religious fanaticism, etc.

Improving the productivity of soil by electrical means

Increasing the workforce

Ending warfare by developing machines (remote controlled robots, drones, etc.) to fight battles leading to fewer human casualties

Encouraging peace by bringing humans in closer contact

Improving methods of manufacturing (i.e., coal, gas, iron, aluminum)

Withdrawing from traditional energy sources and tapping into renewable energy

Tesla shares his invention of a radio controlled boat and its possible use. He also shares his experiments involving burning of nitrogen in the atmosphere, wireless transmission of power, and more. He discusses his vision for harnessing natural forces to help increase the energy needs of humanity. He proposes a global system of wireless power transmission, using the earth as a conductor and waterfalls as a power source. He also explores the possibilities of interplanetary communication and ideas related to tapping into cosmic energy sources and utilizing them for the betterment of humankind.

Tesla finishes his article saying:

"I anticipate that many, unprepared for these results, which, through long familiarity, appear to me simple and obvious, will consider them still far from practical application. Such reserve, and even opposition, of some is as useful a quality and as necessary an element in human progress as the quick receptivity and enthusiasm of others. Thus, a mass which resists the force at first, once set in movement, adds to the energy. The scientific man does not aim at an immediate result. He does not expect that his advanced ideas will be readily taken up. His work is like that of the planter — for the future. His duty is to lay the foundation for those who are to come, and point the way. He lives and labors and hopes with the poet who says:

"Schaff’, das Tagwerk meiner Hände, Hohes Glück, dass ich’s vollende! Lass, o lass mich nicht ermatten! Nein, es sind nicht leere Träume: Jetzt nur Stangen, diese Bäume Geben einst noch Frucht und Schatten."

(Daily work — my hands’ employment, To complete is pure enjoyment! Let, oh, let me never falter! No! there is no empty dreaming: Lo! these trees, but bare poles seeming, Yet will yield both food and shelter!)

*Goethe’s “Hope." Translated by William Gibson, Com. U. S. N.*

[cricketcat9]

Went junkyarding yesterday, with an informal group called Junk Yard Dawgs. First junk yard was well organized- a pile of this over here, a pile of that over there, pick it and bring to the scale to be weighted. I got several gears, for their sculptural quality, and two aluminum pots to be repurposed as flowers planters. Gears are heavy AF! The second yard along La Pana was enormous, slightly stinky and not well organized, did not buy anything, but the sheer size and amount of what we human discard was... impressive. Well, at least it's being recycled.. Close to the entrance there was a little discarded metal cabin with the sign "guardia". It would make a very elegant outhouse, but I have indoor plumbing. Next we stopped at a stone yard, because we were curious. They had stone garden lanterns and little temples, stone benches, several stone bowls ( I think I found a sink f0r my bathroom renovation), a HUGE stone bowl that would make a beautiful fountain, and a Big Dick. Big Dick was standing proudly on a pedestal, complete with the balls; it's made of marble and damn heavy. I wonder who/what is on the market for a Big Dick. Can he bestow fertility on a garden, or something? Or would he go to one of the, ahem, "motels" along La Pana?

We also visited two antiques stores, sadly intricately carved doors (probably belonging to a church before) I liked were FAR out of my $ range, and also size range.

I bought a little bronze ring because it looked sad and abandoned in the vitrine.

Next trip of the Junk Yard Dawgs to some mythical junk yard in Quito, apparently Really BIG. I need more gears of all sizes to make a garden totem.

photos by Susan B., a friend

[universitypenguin]

Chapter 15

Summary: Lloyd takes things too far in his threat against Deputy Russell and has to change tactics mid-stream. Princess and Zach decide to push back against Detective Roth's allegations.

Word Count: 3,936

Masterlist

Warnings: Mention of drug trafficking, murder, legal proceedings, spy/intelligence agencies, corruption, stalking, violence, threatening, and discussion of criminal behavior. Minor foul language. Only appropriate for 18+ readers. No minors. 

The Princess & the Lawyer Chapter 15

Lloyd stood at the stove stirring a noxious mixture of gasoline and aluminum hydroxide. Pungent fumes hung thick in the air, forcing him to cover his mouth and nose with a bandanna. 

The screen door slammed, and familiar footsteps echoed through the hall. 

“Ugh! What is that stench? Did a gas line rupture?”

Elliot’s voice rang through the house before he came around the corner into the kitchen. 

His bright-eyed appearance was in sharp contrast with Lloyd’s sleep-deprived state. Knowing his cousin had been left in charge of their captive all night, Lloyd couldn’t help but draw the obvious conclusion. Elliot’s excessive cheerfulness was derived from a more potent source than caffeine - he was smoking ice again. 

“I followed your instructions and made a copy of Carl’s phone,” Elliot said, buzzing with excitement. “Guess what? Sheriff Holbrook’s texts are still on there, tucked away in some encrypted app. We could use it as leverage!” 

Lloyd shook his head. “No. We can’t deviate from the plan. Did Russell agree to a meeting time?”

“Eleven o'clock at High Meadows.”  

“Not a bad choice. Lots of entrances and exits,” Lloyd said. “I’m almost finished here. There’s water cooler jugs filled with this stuff piled up on the back deck. Bring your truck around and start loading them for me, will you?” 

“Sure thing, man.” 

Elliot bounded down the hall and Lloyd rubbed his tired eyes. He desperately needed some sleep unless he planned on asking Elliot for a bump of meth to keep him going. Lloyd shut off the stove, checked the final batch of chemicals, and rinsed his spoon in the sink. He stuck his head outside to inform Elliot he was going to bed and headed up the stairs. 

Just as he lay down, his phone rang. 

“Hello?” 

“Mr. Hansen? This is Judy Lange from the HOA. I wanted to let you know that the association swimming pool has been fixed and approved for reopening on Monday. Should I leave your keys in the mailbox for your house sitter, or wait until you’re back?” 

Mrs. Lange didn’t actually hold an official position with the Homeowners Association. Her husband had campaigned for the post out of pure spite. His single-minded crusade against Della Collins’ window box planters and their “busy-looking” Ultra Star Petunias earned him a landslide victory in the election. He’d passed a statute banning all multicolored blossoms from public spaces and after his triumph, lost interest in executing the duties of his office. 

Despite her eccentric husband, Lloyd found Mrs. Lange to be a reasonable person. Her annoying habit of speaking at a million words per minute was made up for by impeccable manners and a sharp sense of humor. Even Mrs. Collins, who was still torqued at Mr. Lange a year later, couldn’t resist her charms. 

After his brain finally managed to process her rapid fire words, Lloyd grunted. 

“The mailbox is fine. I’ll text my friend and let her know to pick them up.” 

“Excellent. I apologize for calling you at such a time, Lloyd.” 

Mrs. Lange’s voice carried a hint of horror, as if she’d just realized she had contacted someone in the midst of a family tragedy. Lloyd didn’t view the situation as such, but he recognized the apologetic shift in her tone as she launched into a long winded explanation. 

“With everything going on, I am sure now is a terrible time for you… I just didn’t want to forget. You’re the most frequent patron of our athletic facilities. Well, usually the only patron to be frank. Mrs. Collins isn’t getting around like she used to after her knee surgery. Anyways, I’ll personally take those keys to your friend so they’re ready when you get back. And if there’s anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to reach out.” 

She really meant it, Lloyd thought, his lips twisting into a bitter smile. If only she knew what the man who he was supposed to be grieving had done to him. 

“Thanks, Judy. I appreciate it.” 

“Of course, darling. I’ll see you around.” 

Already half asleep, Lloyd hung up the phone. His last thought was that he needed to call you. Hearing from Judy reminded him of home, and of you. It had been days since your last talk and that was far too long. Before the meeting with Russell, Lloyd promised himself he’d make time for a conversation. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You stalked back and forth in front of Zach’s desk, breathing hard, your fists clenched in frustration. 

“I can’t believe his nerve! Can you believe this? Can you?!” 

“Uh-huh.” 

Zach grunted and continued tapping on his keyboard.

“He has the audacity to accuse us of leaking information to the media, without a shred of evidence? It’s unprofessional!”

Zach nodded, seemingly absorbed in his work. 

“I spent so much time building them a database and now no one can use it. The whole process was exhausting and tedious and… are you even listening to me?” 

“Yes. Roth is an infuriating bastard. I knew it from the start, and you thought he was cute.”

“I did not!”

“Did so,” Zach said. 

“Did not.”

“Let’s not lose sight of our most important objective here.”

“Yes, let’s not. What is that objective, again?” you asked. 

“Getting back in Roth’s good graces and thereby, restoring our access to information and resources.”

“I’m sorry, were we just in the same room? About twenty minutes ago, when Roth kicked us to the curb and Bishop had a melt down?”

“We’re not going to let our hard work go to waste. There’s more than one key for every lock, you know?”

“Uh… that’s not how locks work.”

“It is when you know how to pick locks,” Zach quipped. 

“I haven’t even told you about my conversation with Mr. Liu!” 

He resumed typing, his attention focused on the monitor. “No sister?”

“Well, that’s a very anticlimactic way of putting it, but yes. He’s certain that Julia didn’t have a sister.” 

“That’s the conclusion I ended up at too.”

“Should we tell Roth?”

“I’d rather clear our names first,” Zach said.

“How?”

“Look at this.”

Zach pivoted his monitor to show you the screen. 

You stared at a map of Arlington with a route highlighted in purple. Squinting, you noted the web address of a popular running app called PacePal. The account’s username was generic and the profile picture was an image of a man's athletic shoes. 

“What am I looking at?” 

Zach smirked. “This PacePal profile belongs to Peter Shaw. The account photo is of the same running shoes he’s wearing in the Twitter he shared last year of himself finishing the Miami Marathon.” 

“Okay, not to make myself look like an idiot, but who is Peter Shaw?”

“A very tenacious investigative reporter with Rolling Stone Magazine. He’s also the only person who knows the real identity of the leaker, and thanks to his lax attitude toward social media security, we know where Mr. Shaw will be at two o’clock this afternoon.” 

“So, if I’m hearing you correctly, we’re going to give Detective Roth a taste of his own medicine?” 

“I intend to serve him a fresh plate of crow as soon as humanly possible,” Zach said. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Ruthless much?” 

“I didn’t pull in that jackass Lattimer without a damn good reason. We’re onto something with Julia’s supposed sister and if we don’t keep pushing the trail will go cold. What do you say, Princess? Shall we go put Shaw on notice?” 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Lloyd called you when he woke, but reached your voicemail instead of you. He sent a text instead and dove into the shower to scrub off the lingering stench of gasoline that clung to his skin. 

None of the clothes he’d packed suited the character he wanted to portray tonight, so he rummaged through Joe’s closet in search of better options. In the back, he discovered a garment bag containing the winning ensemble: a navy suit with wide lapels, bootcut trousers, and a matching waistcoat. It screamed 1970’s gaudy at the top of its lungs. 

To complete the look, Lloyd installed the hair extensions he’d sent Elliot to acquire from a beauty supply store two towns over. Cutting the remaining extensions into three-inch pieces, he applied them carefully across his jaw, smirking as he remembered April's suggestion that he should grow a beard. The overall effect was a cross between Jerry Garcia and Medusa on a bad hair day. 

For accessories, Lloyd raided Joe’s dresser. He added rings, a gold chain necklace, and a pair of lightly tinted orange sunglasses. The oversized frames elevated the look from vintage inspired to unmistakably costume like - a perfect fit for the character he was putting on. He slapped on a strongly scented aftershave he found in Joe’s medicine cabinet and instantly regretted it when his eyes watered from the fumes. 

Resisting the urge to wash it off, he turned his attention to more practical matters. Joe’s gun cabinet yielded a wide assortment of armaments. He owned weapons from every firearms manufacturer on the market in the past fifty years. Lloyd wasn’t keen to give a hopped up meth addict a gun, but circumstances demanded it. He picked up a Winchester Renegade and checked the ammunition.

“Hey, Elliot! How’s your aim these days?” 

Elliot turned around from his task of cleaning up the kitchen and did a double take of Lloyd’s outfit. 

“Better than most people’s. What are you wearing, dude? Are we going to make a drug deal or audition for Saturday Night Fever?” 

Lloyd snorted at the question and held out the Winchester Renegade. 

“I need you to watch my back while I’m meeting with Russell. Just in case things don’t go according to plan.” 

“Understood. I’m the second shooter on the grassy knoll,” Elliot said. 

They took back roads to the meeting spot. By the time they reached their destination, Elliot’s old truck was covered in mud from the unpaved roads that cut through the vast Idaho landscape. They were deep in the countryside, hidden from prying eyes of passersby on the highway by miles of barren hills. 

High Meadows had once been a thriving venue for team roping and barrel racing events. Now, the clay earth he remembered as being meticulously groomed played host to an invasion of dandelions and scotch thistle. The red aluminum roof over the pavilion had faded to a dull rust color and the cedar panel fencing that encircled the space was bent with age and broken in several places. 

He helped Elliot unload the water cooler jugs filled with the gelled fuel that he’d spent the morning cooking. Lloyd marked out a circle, about twenty feet in diameter, in the middle of the arena and cut a small trench into the ground. With Elliot’s help he poured the viscous mixture into the trough and raked the displaced dirt back into place. 

They hid their equipment in the bed of Elliot’s truck and moved the vehicle into a ravine near the main access road to High Meadows. 

Lloyd turned to his cousin. “Go take up position on that hill over there.”

He pointed to a spot beyond the dilapidated grandstands. “It has the best vantage point. Also, there’s a thermal scope in your backpack in case the night vision doesn’t cut it.” 

Elliot slung his backpack over his shoulder and disappeared into the hills. Lloyd took his position in the arena as the sun settled behind the horizon. He lay down on one of the risers in the grandstands, propped his feet up, and dozed until the sun went down. Suddenly, the crackle of the Bluetooth in his ear brought Lloyd back to the present as Elliot’s voice broke him from semi-unconscious. 

“Russell is pulling in,” Elliot said. 

“I see the headlights,” Lloyd confirmed.

The beams of Russell’s headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the arena. Lloyd leaned casually against a pillar on the far side. The position gave him plenty of time to observe Russell as he approached. The deputy was clearly spooked - he’d worn a bulletproof vest over his khaki uniform. 

“Nice of you to finally show up,” Lloyd called out in greeting. 

Russell stepped into the arena, his eyes scanning the space, trying to assess the situation.

“Who are you?” 

“Didn’t Carl tell you? We’re the Canadians,” Lloyd said, flashing a mischievous grin.

Russell’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“Now, let’s get down to business!” Lloyd clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Don’t look so tense, Luke. I’m here to make you rich, and myself even richer. You see, I came here to shake down a former associate, but the trouble is this jackass died before I could get to him. So, I found a locally connected businessman and squeezed until he spilled your name.” 

The deputy’s nostrils flared, a warning sign Lloyd waved off dismissively. 

“Don’t worry about it. I took care of him.” 

“What do you mean you ‘took care of him’?” Russell demanded. 

“I took him for a swim in Redfish Lake, the kind you don’t come back from,” Lloyd said, punctuating that statement with a wink. 

Russell’s shock was palpable. Lloyd gave him a beat to recover, but when he just got a blank stare in response, he shifted tactics and threw his arms out in exaggerated frustration. 

“Oh, come on! Be fucking for real, bro. Do you have two brain cells left rattling around in that ugly mug, pig? I got rid of your dealer because, number one, he’s a snitch and I don’t fuck with snitches. Number two, getting rid of Carl gives you the opportunity to set up a more reliable distribution system. Isn’t that nice? An open playing field with no territorial disputes from the locals? You can thank me now, or later.” 

Russell hesitated. Lloyd didn’t let the silence linger. 

“Okay, then. You’ll thank me later. Look, about-” 

“You really killed Carl?”

Lloyd sighed. “Would I lie to you? Me? I have a reputation to uphold, Deputy.” 

“You’re a fucking psychopath, that’s what you are,” Russell said, edging backwards.

“Hey! We’re not done talking business!” Lloyd yelled after the man as he turned away.

“Yes we are. Go to hell!” 

“Don’t walk away from me, pig! This isn’t the kind of conversation you can just walk away from!”

Lloyd’s voice echoed through the pavilion, ringing with anger.

Russell glanced over his shoulder.

“Oh, Luke… My number one rule is simple: I don’t fuck with snitches. Rule number two? Dirty cops who know your face are bad business. You see, they always end up being snitches. It’s like different flavors of the same ice cream. Triple chocolate fudge or brownie delight, who can tell ‘em apart?” 

As Russell’s hand went for his gun, Lloyd flipped open his lighter and tossed it on the ground. The carefully prepared mixture of gasoline ignited instantly, shooting up and forming a wall of fire that raced around to encircle them. 

Taken by surprise, Deputy Russell instinctively moved away from the searing heat of the flames an action that inadvertently drew him closer to Lloyd. 

“Isn’t this nice? I find it rather cozy, like stepping into a bubble of security.”

Lloyd chuckled, his smile twisted with madness.

“This is how you conduct business?” Russell hissed, eyes glinting with shocked desperation as the flames continued to roar around them. 

“I find it refocuses the attention when a deal starts getting off track.” 

“What the hell do you want?!” 

“I’ve made myself very clear, Russell. You need to work on your attention span. Here’s the deal: we become business partners… or you become a victim of what I like to call ‘spontaneous human combustion.’” 

“Spontaneous,” the deputy muttered, looking at the flames.

“I never really plan on cremating anyone,” Lloyd said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world to discuss incinerating your business associates. “Every time I’ve actually gone through with this, the whole thing happens so fast, it really does look spontaneous. Now, Deputy… What do you say? Ready to make a deal?” 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

You sat beside Zach on a park bench, trying to make the most of the slight shade of a tree that offered a tiny bit of respite from the blistering August heat. The sound of approaching footfalls was a major relief. Five more minutes out here and you would have melted. You glanced up to see Peter Shaw, a man of average height with close cropped dark hair, nearing your bench. 

Zach stood up and moved to the center of the path, blocking access to the parking lot. 

“Peter Shaw. I’m Zach Hightower and this is Y/N. I assume you know who I am?”

The journalist stopped a few feet away from Zach. He was dripping with sweat, but still had the energy to offer a cocky smirk. He glanced in your direction and arched an eyebrow. 

“The investigative duo. Where’s Hansen? Isn’t he usually your partner?” 

“I read your article this morning. It was very interesting,” Zach said. 

“Thanks. What part did you enjoy the most?” 

“I thought it was very well researched. You even knew where the recent evidence was being stored. That was a very… interesting… detail to include in the article.” 

Peter shrugged. “I take pride in my work.” 

“The other little thing that jumped out and grabbed me was about the evidence collected in the Nguyen case twenty years ago. Your source criticized the chain of custody related to Shun Nguyen’s cell phone. That was extremely specific.” 

Shaw’s grin turned from smug to sly. “I always make sure my sources have a keen eye for detail. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

“One more thing. The criticism you leveled at the State Police for handling the digital evidence from that cell phone? Well, it went over my head, but I’ve got a guy who’s a genius with that kind of thing. When I showed him the article he said you’d need to consult with an expert in digital forensics to break down those kinds of technical concepts as clearly as you did.”

“Actually, I’m just that good,” Peter said, crossing his arms. 

“You have a degree in English and absolutely no background in tech. You’re not that good… but I believe your source is. The level of insight they gave you left their fingerprints all over that article, Shaw. Your man’s days are numbered. If you were as good as you think you are, his head wouldn’t be heading for the chopping block.” 

The journalist snorted. “Do you run, Mr. Hightower?”

“Only when someone’s shooting at me. Why?”

“Just wondering if you get any other forms of exercise, besides jumping to conclusions.” 

“It’s more of a step-by-step chain of logic that links together quite nicely. You really are a good writer, Shaw - very organized. That made it much easier to fill in the blanks. Does the name Leo McKenzie ring a bell?”

The blood drained from Shaw’s face, turning his lips white. Zach grinned.

“Good talking to you, Pete. Thanks for your time! Come on, Princess, let’s go.” 

“You’re way off base, Hightower,” he called after you.

Zach gave him a cheerful wave. “Hey, Pete, since you’ve undoubtedly got my number, why don’t you give me a call next time you need a source? I can teach you how to cover your tracks so you don’t keep burning through informants.” 

Then he lengthened his stride, forcing you into a jog as you tried to keep up. Once you were in the privacy of his vehicle, you gaped at him. 

“Are you crazy? Did you just invite that sleazebag to call you?”

“Sure. He’s made more progress on this case than anyone else. We can’t ignore that.” 

“How did you know who his source was? Did you guess?”

“Deduction isn’t guessing and that look on his face was all the confirmation I needed.” 

“We should tell Detective Roth.”

“No. Let him figure it out on his own. He won’t believe anything we tell him at the moment.” 

“But the security of the investigation is at stake!” 

“Not for long. Shaw will contact his source and alert them that we’re onto them. I want to give Detective Roth the chance to redeem himself. Also, if he can’t find a mole in his own department, I’m not sure I want to work with him.”

“Right. Hey, where are we going?” 

Zach turned onto an unfamiliar exit, one that headed away from his office.

“I’ve got to make another stop. Don’t worry, it won’t take long.” 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Elliot drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "You really freaked him out."

"Mmmhh."

"He's going to send those drugs up in flames."

The insight was spot on. Deputy Russell’s wavering commitment to the sale was becoming more evident as dawn broke. He had raced back to the security of the Sheriff’s Offices after meeting with “the Canadians” and spent the rest of the night holed up there. Through the front window, Lloyd watched his shadow move behind the blinds. 

The silhouette moved from left to right, and then crossed back again, from right to left. Russell was already a paranoid bastard and introducing a real threat to his life may have been a step too far. His restless actions raised a red flag in Lloyd’s assessment of the situation. Watching him through binoculars from their high vantage point in the parking lot of the White Rivers campsite, Lloyd decided it was time to ease the pressure and give Russell an escape hatch. 

He was too spooked to hand the drugs over directly to the Canadians. After the ring of fire incident Russell was probably more likely to shoot Lloyd if he ever saw him again instead of cooperating with him. 

“We’re going to plan B,” Lloyd said. “Give me a burner phone.” 

He held out a hand and Elliot pressed a device into his palm. Lloyd dialed and watched through the binoculars as the blinds of the Sheriff’s office raised. He couldn’t see anyone, but he knew Russell was somewhere inside. 

The call connected. 

“Hello? Who is this?” 

Lloyd spoke hoarsely. “Hello. Deputy Luke Russell?” 

“This is he.” Russell sounded suspicious. 

"This is Agent Ambrosio of the ATF. Do you have a moment to speak with me? Somewhere private would be best if possible."

"Yeah, yeah. I can do that," Russell said.

There was feedback as he moved, the the sound of a door closing. He must have gone to his office. 

“Okay. I can talk now.” 

"Russell, I'm calling about your boss, Sheriff Holbrook. Are you aware of the case against him?"

"Uh… you mean that thing from last year?"

"Eighteen months ago," Lloyd clarified. "The federal investigation into Holbrook's involvement with the drug trade has continued, which is why I'm reaching out. We need your cooperation."

"What can I do to help you, agent?” 

"We have everything that we need to make an arrest. This is a courtesy call, Deputy. We're moving on him tomorrow morning. Do you understand?"

"Oh… Wow… Okay, is there anything I can do?" Russell asked.

"We're still organizing things. Holbrook is constantly armed, and we're aware of how high-risk this operation will be. I’d be more comfortable with the situation I’m sending my men into if we had your cooperation.” 

“Absolutely. Whatever you need, sir.” 

Lloyd’s mouth curved into a smile. Pushing too hard may have been the right play after all. His prey had just swallowed the bait without noticing the hook that pierced his lip along with it. 

Game. Set. Match. 

All that was left to do was reel in his catch. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Next - Part XVI

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Masterlist

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