Defiled: The Sequel to Nailed Featuring John Tall Wolf (A Ron Ketchum Mystery Book 2) by Joseph Flynn Read Free Book Online

headquarters.
    “I can live with that. So what’s your story? You work for the BIA but you’re doing a job for the EPA. And you have contacts with other federal agencies. I don’t get it.”
    “It’s like this,” Tall Wolf said.” A lot of the people who’ve been here in North America from the very early days think they’re going to reclaim the land by and by. When they do, they want it to be in good shape. So they can go back to the old ways. Given that point of view, the BIA lends my services out where they’re needed. Sometimes to the EPA. Sometimes elsewhere. But I’m not supposed to talk about most of it.”
    Ron gave his new colleague a look. “Okay, but the FBI is still known to bigfoot cases, and they don’t give a damn whose toes they step on.”
    Tall Wolf nodded. “They might drop in on us. But they’re wary about the BIA in general and me in particular. My boss has more clout in Washington than you might think. And I’d bet your boss holds some sway, too.”
    Great, Ron thought. The guy just hit town and he already knew how things were wired.
    “Yeah, he does, and I have to go see him now.”
    He didn’t have to say he needed to go alone. The special agent got out of the SUV, but he looked back in and said, “We’ll keep in touch?”
    “Yeah. Absolutely.”
     
    The first thing Ron noticed as he turned onto Clay’s driveway was the Pinnacle sign. It was both an overt warning and subliminal advertising. It said to people, “You’ve got a nice place with nice things? You want to keep them that way? Give us a call.” Ron had a comfortable modern cabin with a mortgage subsidized by the town government. He depended on good locks for his security.
    That and a sign of his own telling people who resided there.
    Even the most demented burglar didn’t want the chief of police pissed at him.
    Ron pulled up in front of the mayor’s front door. He picked up his department iPad and googled Pinnacle Security. The company’s website informed him that it operated coast to coast. It didn’t have offices in every state, but anywhere there was a significant cluster of real money, Pinnacle was nearby. There were several additional links that commented on the company’s services, pro and con, but before Ron could skim any of them, Clay Steadman opened his front door. Walt Ketchum stood at the mayor’s shoulder.
    The old man had a bruise on his forehead.
    Ron could hardly wait to find out what that was all about.
    Clay ushered Ron inside and gave him a can of sparkling water, didn’t bother offering the chief a glass. Used to be Clay would have a can of domestic beer at brunch or anytime thereafter. Now, he was drinking water, too. Uncarbonated from a plastic bottle. Walt, showing he was made of sterner stuff, had ice tea. Ron couldn’t smell any booze in the glass.
    The three of them could form an auxiliary to a WCTU chapter.
    Ron took an easy chair opposite the sofa where the other two men sat.
    He asked his father, “What happened?”
    “Bar fight.”
    “I thought I —”
    Walt told his son, “I never threw a punch.”
    “How about a bottle or a chair?”
    The old man laughed and looked at Clay.
    “The boy knows his father.”
    The corners of the movie icon’s mouth rose a mirthful millimeter.
    Turning back to Ron, Walt said, “Truth is, son, the only move I made was strictly defensive. I ducked a punch aimed at my nose. In the old days I could have slipped it completely. Now, the best I could do was lower my noggin and let my thick skull take the blow.”
    It was Ron’s turn to smile, but he repressed it.
    His father had taught him long ago that you hit a hard surface, like a forehead, with a soft one, like the palm of your hand. You hit a soft surface, like a nose, with a hard one, like knuckles. Doing the opposite in either case was asking for trouble.
    If the fight had gone the way his father said, the old bastard was in the clear.
    “How’d that work out for the other guy?” Ron