The Export by J.K. Kelly (read along books txt) 📕

“What’s up?” Sam asked.

Matt placed his index finger to his lips, asking for quiet. He walked past the sheriff, indicating he should follow him into the kitchen. There, with the water faucet turned wide open, Matt stood closer to Sam and told him what he needed.

“I can’t tell you why, like I said before, but I need to have a lab run toxicology on her. Unfortunately, the damn EMTs left before I could steal a few syringes.”

“But–” Sam began.

Matt shook his head. “I’ll tell you when I can, I promise, but it’s best you stay clear of this for now. Just help me – I need to slow this down until I can get a sample.”

The funeral director was on the front porch now and used the massive knocker on the solid oak front door to let them know.

“Shit!” they said in unison.

“I’ve got an idea,” Sam stated. “Let him in, and we’ll ask him to wait a few minutes until you and I have had a moment to say our last good-byes.” Sam reached over and shut off the faucet. “Meet me upstairs so we can say good-bye together one last time.”

Matt smiled. The two of them had gotten into all sorts of trouble back in their heydays at the ranch, much to Coleman’s entertainment but more often to her consternation. Matt knew he could count on Sam.

As they greeted the funeral director and asked for a few more minutes before he went to work, Matt’s phone began to vibrate. When he pulled it from his pocket, to his surprise, the caller ID read three words: THE WHITE HOUSE

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Matt showed the phone to Sam. As he engaged the call, he took the steps up toward the master bedroom while Sam headed out to his patrol vehicle. The funeral director, aware that he was in what had been the home of a very important government official, was prepared to sit and wait for whatever the family needed of him.

Matt stopped short of the bedroom door and took the call in the hallway. “Hello,” he answered.

“This is the White House operator. Please hold for the president.”

Seconds later he heard a very familiar voice on the other end of the line. He’d received calls from the White House before but never one like this.

“Matt, this is the president.” He was impressed. Matt had been to the White House on tours and then in the company of FBI officials and eventually with Coleman posing as an aide. But he had never been to the Oval Office and most certainly had never taken a call from this or any other president.

“I just wanted to express my sympathy to you on Helene’s passing,” he stated. His aunt had a lot of friends but also a lot of enemies. For this man to take the time to have Matt found and reach out to him made him feel good, made him feel good for his aunt.

“Thank you, Mr. President,” was the best Matt could muster. This man may have indeed appointed her, but it had been more of a political move, making a stand against his enemies, both foreign and domestic, much like everything else in Washington. He had sent a message that there was a new sheriff in town.

“She was really something special to work with,” the president continued. “I don’t know if it was growing up in the Wild West or the wilds of Washington politics, but Helene was a tough old goat, and I was proud to have known her.”

“Thank you again, Mr. President.”

“I understand you’re still working with us as a contractor in the national security field,” the president continued. “Next time you are back in D.C., I want you to contact my office. We’ll have you in to talk about a few things if that is of interest to you.”

“That would be fine, sir,” Matt replied. “The funeral director is here now, Mr. President. If it’s okay with you, I’ll say good-bye. Thank you again, Mr. President.”

Before he had time to process what had just transpired, Sam came up the steps and waved for Matt to join him back in Coleman’s bedroom. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a syringe, and handed it to him.

“Narcan!” Matt exclaimed in a whisper, hushing himself at the surprise. “You guys all carry these Naloxone syringes for the opioid overdosers – Brilliant!”

They both almost high-fived each other but then remembered where they were and who was lying in front of them on the floor.

Matt unwrapped the plastic bag the medicine syringe came in and squirted the material into the bathroom sink. He drew the plunger back under the running water to rinse the syringe capsule a few times.

When he returned, he looked at Sam and stood quietly for a moment. Raising his hand, he handed the syringe to the sheriff and asked, “Can you do it?”

It took a moment but Sam obliged, and Matt walked to the window, overlooking the Tetons in the distance while the sheriff drew the blood sample Matt would take back to Washington. He still didn’t know who he could trust or what had happened here, but Dale was someone he could go to when he was in trouble. One of only two friends, now maybe three, he could trust with his life.

Once Sam finished, he capped the needle, wrapped the syringe in a washcloth from the bathroom, and handed it to Matt, who smiled. He tossed the cloth back in the bathroom. “I’ll have a bulge in my pants if I stuff that in them,” he whispered in a laugh.

Then his mood changed, and so did Sam’s. It really was time now to say good-bye to this smart, funny, loving, caring woman. They did so, very quietly, before taking the stairs together and letting the funeral director know it was time for his team to take her.

“I’ll come down in an hour