Mystery: Family Ties: Mystery and Suspense

Family Ties

(Mystery and Suspense)

James Kipling

Mystery Thriller Suspense Publications House

Family Ties(Mystery and Suspense)

Copyright 2016James Kipling, Mystery Thriller Suspense Publications House

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The landscape of north western
Montana ran on both sides of the fast moving car. Agents Smith and Holliday were driving in silence, after already having discussed again and again their next moves. Smith was driving towards one of the ranches in the area, hoping that they would be finally able to find some lead on the case. For months they had been investigating some very disturbing leads about political radicals in the area.

The FBI had sent them to Montana to investigate the possible terrorist organization, which could grow into something much bigger and dangerous.

“Maybe, we should have called for back-up
,” Smith muttered, while taking another turn and watching how the plane ended into a thick forest. The road continued through the forest and according to the GPS it was going to end right in front of the ranch they intended to visit.

“Let’s first see what we are dealing with before bringing other people in,” Holliday looked up from his phone. “This thing is a lost case anyway. We have been looking into it for months now and what do we have? Nothing! Only a bunch of old men, who believe that the government is robbing them all their rights to be men. Shit!”

Smith only huffed at his partners negative comments and turned the car onto the dirt road, leading to the Kimble’s ranch. They had a few leads that pointed to something that was going on around here, but neither of them knew anything for sure. The ranch looked bigger than it seemed from outside and the FBI agents were surprised to see the large buildings running on the two sides of the road. The place was listed as the typical cattle ranch, but the agents could see that it was much bigger than the rest of them.

The main building was rising proudly in the middle of a large plane, while the barns and other work related buildings were scattered around, creating the illusion of a small town. Smith slowed down the car, so that they could look around. They approached the main house, where they could see someone sitting on the front porch. Now they could see that all the buildings were run down and some even were falling down.

“This doesn’t look like a rich ranch,” Holliday pointed out. “Our informant must have sent us to the wrong place.”

“Let’s see what that man has to say, and if this turns out to be another dead end, we are going to close the case and return to headquarters.” Smith said, thinking that they should have done so weeks ago.

The agents stopped the car in front of the main house and both of them climbed out of it. They were dressed in jeans and sweaters, having left the typical FBI suits in their hotel rooms. They had already learned the hard way that the local people weren’t in love with the FBI and what it represented, they changed their way of dressing. The man on the porch was old and sitting on an even older wooden bench, smoking a pipe and looking at them from under his hat.

“Mr. Kimble?” Smith spoke first, standing in front of the car and carefully looking around. It wouldn’t be the first time someone in Montana chased them away from their homes with a gun. “We are Smith and Holliday. We wanted to ask you a few questions.”

“Mr. Kimble?!” The old man laughed in a raspy voice. “No one has called me that in years. Everybody calls me Grandpa Jo, nowadays.”

“Nice to meet you, Grandpa Jo,” Holliday smiled. “So, can we ask you a few questions?”

“About what?” The old man asked sceptically and looked past them
at the car. “Are you cops?”

Smith looked at his fellow agent and said carefully. “We are searching for a friend of ours. We were wondering if you have seen him?”

“I don’t talk to cops,” Grandpa Jo said firmly. “And you look just like two cops to me.”

“We are not police officers,” Holliday tried to calm him. “We really are just looking for a friend.”

“I will tell you what you are,” the old man stood up from his bench slowly, taking his time in extending his legs and holding his back. “You are two trespassers and you should get off my land before I shoot you.”

Now the man was yelling and Smith and Holliday found it hard not to laugh at his threats. The old man was anything but dangerous, so Smith put one leg on the first step of the porch and attempted to climb up. “Look,” he said. “We don’t want trouble, just answer a few questions for us and we will be on our way.”

“Are you or are you not cops?” Grandpa Jo asked again, pointing at them with his finger. “Answer me!”

“Okay, okay,” Holliday stepped forward and raised his hands in the universal sign of surrender. “We are FBI agents and we are here to investigate a case of…”

“Get off of my property, now,” Grandpa Jo yelled. “Or I will kill you both. I am going inside for my gun and when I come out and find you still here, I am going to kill you.”

Holliday looked at his friend and fellow agent exasperated. “What did I tell you? Just another dead end.”

“Let’s go, he is not going to talk to us,” Smith agreed with him. “Maybe when we return home, they will give us a few days off. What would you say, we could go to LA and score some?”

They both laughed at the idea and turned to walk back to their car, when suddenly, several camouflaged gunmen sprung from their hiding places and sprayed the agents with a hail of bullets. The FBI agent didn’t have the time to even reach for their guns, before they were lying on the ground, covered in bullet holes. The gunmen continued to shoot even when they were already dead, enjoying the way their shots made the bodies jump, as if still alive.

By the time Grandpa Jo returned to the porch with his antique rifle, two of the gunmen were dragging the bodies away and a third one was climbing into their car. The old man just shook his head at the mess his porch had turned into and sat down on his bench. No one spoke, while the place was carefully searched and cleaned of all bullet shells and other signs that people had been killed there. The blood disappeared, the car was ditched somewhere where no one was going to find it and the bodies were disposed of. Grandpa Jo, on the other hand, was left to enjoy his evening nap on the sunny porch with no more unwanted interruptions.

As most USA big cities, Salt Lake City was busy, noisy and not what you could call a nice place to run through. Special agent Asa Clark was already running late for a meeting, but the city didn’t care about her problems. The day had started really bad for her – she woke up late, managed to spill coffee all over her clothes, had to change into clean ones and then, on top of everything, her car wouldn’t start.

The city was busy so early in the morning and agent Clark had to fight for a place in the metro, ran after two taxis before she managed to get on and use the stairs, because all the elevators were full. Sometimes her life really sucked and that day seemed to be just one of those times. Thankfully, she had managed to finish her last case successfully, sending to prison a very astute killer, who had terrorized the neighborhood with silly pranks for almost a year. The FBI had been laughed at and despised for not being able to stop the killer and agent Clark had been working hard to catch up, to the point of forgetting all about her own life.

Now, when the case was behind her, she had thought that she would have time to relax and maybe even for a few days of vacation. But no, the deputy director had to call her only two days after and rush her towards some new assignment. The life of the FBI agent wasn’t as excited as most people thought it was.

Agent Clark rushed through the building, navigating her way to the office of Jennifer Shepherd, the Deputy Director of the counter terrorism division. She was aware that the deputy director wasn’t going to be happy about her being late, but what was done was done already and Clark couldn’t do anything about it. Stopping in front of the office door, agent Clark took a few deep breaths and adjusted her suit jacket, hoping for the meeting to end quickly.

“Deputy Director?” She called softly, after knocking on the door and receiving no answer.

“Clark? Is that you?” Director Shepherd called. “Come in.”

Agent Clark walked in and closed the door behind her, looking at the woman sitting behind the heavy desk, placed right in front of the window. The Deputy Director was
watching her coldly and Clark felt a chill run down her spine. The day was going to be real fun, in that she was sure.

“I am really sorry for coming in so late, Director Shepherd,” she started with the first of the number of excuses she had prepared on her way here. “I had problems with my car and I had to take the…”

“I don’t really care, Clark,” the Director interrupted her. “What I care about is that you never do that again, because you are wasting my time and I don’t have free time.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered quickly, using the address, Director Shepherd preferred, although she was a woman. “That will not happen again.”

“Okay, now sit down,” the Deputy Director instructed and opened another one of the files on her desk. “I have a new case for you. Yeah, yeah, I know you just finished a very big case and want some time for yourself, but this is urgent and I think you are the person, who can solve it.”

Agent Clark didn’t comment on the way her boss was dismissing her personal opinion, as she was used to her way of treating people, but she really didn’t feel like taking a new case so quickly after the last one.

“The case is a very sensible one,” the Deputy Director continued, obviously not expecting an answer. “Two FBI field agents have disappeared in Montana one week ago. Agents Smith and Holliday were investigating a possible domestic terrorist organization in the area. Their last report was exactly one week ago, on Thursday, when they contacted their direct supervisor and informed him that they were going to visit some of the suspected families in the region and see if there was some truth about the terrorist threat. But, when they didn’t contact their supervisor three days ago, when they were supposed to, we sent someone to check on them. Unfortunately, there was no sign of the two agents.”

“So, you want me to go and investigate their disappearance?” Agent Clark asked, already thinking about possible strategies and ways of solving the case.

“Yes, I expect you to handle the case with the utmost caution, professionalism and care,” the Deputy Director pointed out. “Agent Smith and Holliday are both good agents with years of experience in the field. According to their boss, they were ready to close the
case, as there wasn’t any real proof of the existence of a terrorist organization in Montana.”

“I will need all the case files,” Clark was already in her working mode. “Did they have families?”