Strong Cold Dead (Caitlin Strong, #8)(20)

“Well, sir—”

“Sam Bob.”

“The truth is, I understand you were hired by the Blackfoot up on the Fort Berthold reservation in North Dakota. And I understand there was some trouble up that way, as well, in the course of more than thirteen hundred wells being dug.”

“There was indeed, Ranger, regrettably.”

“I believe the tribal chief who pushed the whole deal through, Tex G. Hall, ended up establishing his own energy consortium, with a shell company established by you, according to the paper trail. Hall’s currently facing a slew of indictments and has been implicated in a pair of murders.”

Sam Bob Jackson forced a smile, trying to look casual and undaunted but unable to disguise the edge that settled in his voice. “Does your jurisdiction extend to North Dakota, Ranger?”

“No, sir, but it does to the Balcones, and some of the Comanche have expressed concern over your involvement there, as well.”

“You’re speaking of those protesters, I assume.”

“There were protesters up in North Dakota, too, Sam Bob, who got it in their mind to draw attention to what fracking would do to their land. From what I’ve heard, they were pretty much right.”

The giddiness fled Jackson’s expression like air from a balloon. His face suddenly looked smaller, his gelled hair not as shiny.

“That’s something you’d have to take up with the oil companies Jackson Whole sold off the mineral rights to.”

“Well, Sam Bob, the protests I’m talking about happened before the drilling operation began, when your company was still running the show. And one of the leaders of the Blackfoot protest ended up in a coma after a serious car accident. Another disappeared and turned up drowned, after falling out of his skiff while fishing the Snake River. Another of the leaders had a change of heart and ended up with a brand-new home for his whole family.”

Jackson interlaced his fingers again, this time with elbows laid atop his dark wooden desk. “What exactly are you getting at, Ranger?”

“Who would have the most to lose by a protest like that gumming up the works?”

“The Natives, for sure. And the oil companies who’d bought the leases, of course.”

“And if they’d decided not to drill and pulled up stakes within a specified period, on account of not wanting to push their way past a bunch of kids standing in their way? That would leave Jackson Whole holding the bag, wouldn’t it? On the hook for the nonrefundable advance you paid the Blackfoot, and the Comanche in this case, for the rights to sell or lease mineral rights to their land.”

“You still haven’t answered my question, Ranger.”

“What question was that?”

“How I can be of service to you.”

“That’s because I came here to be of service to you. I believe it’s in everyone’s best interests here to make sure that no harm comes to those young Comanche standing their ground, ’cause we both know this’ll pass soon enough. Time and money getting lost are nothing compared to lives. And it’s in those same mutual best interests for you to tell me who might be capable of something like that—which both of us would regret. I just figured that a civic-minded man like yourself would want to do right. Make sure nobody gets hurt in a way that would reflect badly on everyone involved. Would I be correct in that regard?”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Jackson said, sounding as if he meant it.

“That’s good, sir, because Texas has one thing North Dakota doesn’t, Sam Bob.”

“What’s that?”

“Rangers,” Caitlin told him.

*

Once back on the road, Caitlin finally checked her phone for messages and saw three labeled CAPTAIN TEPPER, along with five additional missed calls from Tepper. She was ready to pocket her phone without returning them, when he called for the ninth time.

“Glad you decided to answer this time, Ranger,” Tepper greeted her.

“I couldn’t read the caller ID, Captain.”

“You think I’m stupid?”

“Yes, sir, for killing your lungs with those damn Marlboros.”

“Turns out the chair I assigned you hasn’t been sat in. Turns out you showed up where local cops are trying to prevent a riot, outside an Indian reservation, and then paid an unauthorized visit to some mineral company for no good reason at all, other than to piss somebody new off.”

“I’m guessing Sam Bob Jackson called you.”

“Yes, he did. We had a very congenial talk after I explained that I was revoking your day passes off the grounds of the lunatic asylum you belong in.”

“You mean the one called Texas?”

“Give it a rest, Caitlin. You pay the man a visit without even a clue of what it is you were investigating, without any authorization whatsoever, concerning something you don’t even have any jurisdiction over. Is that about right? Oh, hold on. I left out the part about putting you behind a desk until things quieted down at Department of Public Safety headquarters in Austin. Well, Ranger, the volume has now been officially turned up even louder.”

“I got a call Dylan Torres was involved in the protest, Captain.”

“Yes, ma’am, I heard that too,” Tepper told her, a grim undercurrent lacing his voice. “And you should know there’s been some more trouble up at that reservation. That’s why I’m calling.”