The Relic Runner Origin Story Box Set by Ernest Dempsey (non fiction books to read TXT) 📕

to all this, sir? Because right now I don't see where this is going."

"My apologies, Sheriff," the man said with just a little too much coolness in his voice. "I was only trying to connect a few dots. That's all."

"What dots?" Sanders snorted.

"Seems to me that you have a troublemaker in your midst. Quiet little town like this probably doesn't see many homicides. I'm guessing you haven't during your entire tenure."

Sanders stood and planted his palms on the desk. He leaned over, his face sizzling. If he were a cartoon, smoke would have been spilling out of his ears.

"You better make your point and make it fast, stranger."

"Yes, sir," the man said. "How well do you know Tyler Mumford?"

The question startled the sheriff, but he answered honestly. "Not too well, I suppose. He moved here several months back. Bought one of the old abandoned ski resorts just outside of town. He's done a little philanthropy in the area since he got here. People seem to like him."

No need to mention that most of the "philanthropy" had ended up in the sheriff's pockets.

"I'm sure he has," the visitor hissed. "I'm not going to bother you about how Tyler Mumford came by his fortune. I honestly don't care. What I do know is that he isn't who he says he is."

The irritation on the sheriff's face melted into a frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like, Sheriff. You're a smart man." He let those last words hang with a bit of sarcasm.

"What? Are you suggesting Tyler is someone else? As in, he's using an alias or something?"

"I realize it must sound ludicrous to you. So, tell me. Was he friends with your son?"

The knot returned to the sheriff's throat. He sucked in air through his nostrils and let it out gradually. "They had recently become acquainted, yes."

"Did you notice any animosity between your son and Mumford? Any issues at all?"

Sanders' patience waned, desperate to get to the point. "Sir, I'm going to need you to either tell me what it is you think you know or let me go about my day. I'm very busy and as I'm sure you can imagine, this is an extremely difficult time."

"I understand," the stranger sympathized. "You want to find who did this. I'm telling you who is responsible."

The sheriff lifted and dropped his shoulders. "So, you're saying Tyler Mumford killed my boy and his two friends? That's your big reveal?"

The visitor reached into his jacket, and the sheriff drew back instinctively. The man eased his concern with a twist of the head and the slightest, albeit devilish, grin.

"Just a file, Sheriff. I'm unarmed."

The man pulled a manila folder out and set it on the desk, sliding it toward the lawman.

"What is this?" Sanders asked, confused and curious at the same time.

The visitor said nothing, merely staring at the sheriff with the cool gaze of a world champion poker player.

The sheriff took his cue and opened the file. He passed over the pictures of the man he knew as Tyler Mumford, but in a different guise. He was wearing military fatigues. In one of the pictures, Mumford cradled a sniper rifle against his shoulder as he peered through a scope.

"Is this a—"

"Dossier?" the visitor finished. "Yes. You'll see in the file that Tyler's name is actually Billy Trask. He's a former Delta Force operative gone rogue. I'm here to bring him in."

"Bring him in?" The sheriff's confusion mounted.

"I work for a special agency with the DOD, Sheriff. It's my job to locate and arrest particularly dangerous people, people we previously employed. He changed his name and moved here to avoid justice. I'm tasked with the duty of making sure he's brought in. I'm sorry to say that I got here too late to save your boy, Sheriff, but if you help me get to Billy, I can keep it from happening to anyone else."

The sheriff considered the story, sorting through the details of the file in his hands. It was all there in black and white. The truth about the mysterious Tyler Mumford was at his fingertips.

"I can't believe I didn't see through it," the sheriff admitted. "We all just accepted his story without question."

"I assume he was… persuasive, Sheriff. I would tell you not to beat yourself up, but I know you must feel somewhat responsible for what happened last night. You have to let that go for now. There will be a time for grieving, but it isn't now. I need you to take me to Billy's place. I understand he built a cabin on the top of Purgatory Mountain."

The sheriff nodded absently. "Yes, but if you know where he is, why do you need me?"

"He's a marksman, Sheriff, a killer of the highest order. He's taken out targets thousands of yards away. His cabin is perfectly situated to take out anyone foolish enough to come after him. He trusts you. You can get me up there. Once you're in the cabin, I'll make my move."

"He won't suspect anything?"

"Why would he? You're conducting an investigation into the murder of his friends. He doesn't know you know the truth now. Tell him you have some new information on the case."

Sanders thought about it. "He did say he wanted to be the first to know if I got any leads."

The visitor opened his hands wide. "There's your in, then."

The sheriff nodded, anger filling his veins once more. "Okay. Let's do it."

"We have to make it look like you're going alone, Sheriff. No other cars or deputies. Just you. I'll hide out in your car until you're in the cabin. Then I'll move in. Understood?"

"Why no backup?" Sanders wondered.

"That'll spook him. Believe me when I say the last thing you want to do is spook this guy. He could take out your entire department in twenty seconds. You go in alone. I'll have your back."

The sheriff pondered the plan for thirty seconds before he nodded. "Okay. Let's load up and go after him." He stood and then realized