“What can I do for you?” Arias questioned the man.
“I told you I’d give you a call if I heard anything on your man down here. I got a call early this morning from some chap, said he was from New York, asking about your guy and if he’d checked in. I’ve dealt with people all my life and see all kinds in the hotel business you know. There was just something about the guy that raised the hair on the back of my neck. I lied and told him no one by that name had checked into this hotel. Just the way he slammed down the phone in my ear put me off. I called some of my friends in the business down here, the ones I’d told you shared with me that you had been calling around. He’s been calling all over the island it seems. None of us got a name, but I did get the caller ID number for you.”
“Interesting,” Arias pondered. “Wonder who this guy is and what he wants with Nyland. Give me the caller ID number you got, and I’ll check it out. Thanks for the tip, man. We really appreciate it. Maybe I’ll get to bring my bride to Nassau someday. I promise to look you up and buy you a drink.” As Arias hung up the phone he heard Padilla sit down in his cubicle. He popped over and told him about the phone call.
Detective Padilla picked up his phone and called Alice Smarte at the DA’s office. He filled her in on the call from the Bahamas his partner just had. “Someone is looking for our guy. I’ve already told you what Buck Martin, the Arson Investigator, told me about the building owner where the fire originated. That man has more money than brains. If he’s got someone looking for Nyland, it could be he’s trying to silence him so we can’t trace the arson back to him. Should we be offering some kind of protection for Nyland if we want to get him back here for trial? Why don’t you talk to the DA yourself and see what he thinks?”
Alice Smarte thought about that for a minute. The silence on the phone was deafening for Padilla. “Do you or your partner have a U.S. Passport?” she finally asked him.
“Yes, we both do,” Padilla said quizzically. “Why do you ask?”
“Maybe we should send one or both of you to Nassau to keep an eye on Nyland while the Justice Department works their magic with the Bahamians. I need to talk to the DA and see what he thinks. Could either of you go if we need you?”
“Well, that would have to be cleared with the Department here first. But I’m sure we could get on a plane and spend some time tailing him if we need to. We have a man at the hotel we trust who can help us there,” Padilla answered thoughtfully. He’d always wanted to take his wife on a trip to the Caribbean. He knew she wanted to go. How would she feel if he went with his partner and left her at home? She’d probably not take that well. He sighed.
“I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks for the heads up.” Alice Smarte hung up and dashed out of her office. If someone really was looking for Nyland in Nassau, it probably wasn’t for a good purpose. She wanted to put that man in prison for this crime and several others that crossed her desk in the past few years.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Hilda Jorgensen hugged Todd and thanked him again. She told him she needed to freshen up a bit and she would be out to see the other kids in a couple of minutes. Todd rejoined the others in the living room where the talk was all about the time they spent in the canyon and the terrifying ride Desperado led them on to get there. There was a lot of talk about what a hero Desperado was in the entire situation.
About a half hour later, while Hilda regaled the parents with her own tales of the adventure, the phone rang. Sharon answered it and listened for a bit, then spit out “No Comment!” and slammed the phone down. No sooner had she hung up than the phone rang again. Sharon answered it and repeated her earlier performance. The phone rang again. She looked over at Chris and mouthed “Your turn” silently.
Chris hurried to the kitchen phone and answered it. He listened for a few seconds and said “No Comment” and hung up. This time he waited until the phone call disconnected and took the phone off the hook and set it down on the counter.
Sharon looked at Chris and asked, “What are we going to do?”
Chris shrugged his shoulders and said, “I think I’ll take a walk out and see what Chief Odom suggests. We can’t keep our phone off the hook forever because other family members are trying to reach people here now. But we don’t want to be swarmed by reporters either. Maybe the Chief has a suggestion. Just leave the phone off the hook until I get back.”
Chris marched out of the mudroom and up the hill to the Command and Control unit of the Fire Department. He knocked on the door until someone inside invited him in. Chief Odom was on the phone with one of his Battalion Chiefs, so Chris waited. As soon as Chief Odom hung up, Chris explained about the reporters dogging them.
“Oh, I thought we might get a day off before this started,” Odom told him. “I’m really sorry. Let me call my boss and see about a press conference. It’s probably time for a public update on the fire anyway and we can use a couple of representatives from the parents at the conference. That would keep the reporters away from the kids and poor Hilda Jorgensen. I think, if we have it at the ranch next door, we might be able to keep them at bay for a while longer. Those poor kids need their family time right now. I’m assuming none of them need to see a doctor, right? How about the horses? Any of them injured during their expedition?”
Chris assured Chief Odom everyone made it through the ordeal with nothing more than a slight scratch and a few singed hairs. “That’s excellent,” the Chief said. “Let me make the call and I’ll come to the house and talk to you and the other parents in about half an hour.”
When Chris got back to his house, he called the parents together in the living room to discuss the news conference. None of them really wanted to participate, but Grandpa Carnegie and George Reeves volunteered to stand with Chris. That would leave everyone else off the hook.
Chris looked at Walter Howard and said, “Walter, your family owns Prince Ali. He’s the two and a half million dollar stallion. Those reporters are going to be rabid to know what’s going on with him. Why don’t you join the three of us at the news conference so Caroline and Becky don’t have to? While we’re all here, we should probably discuss those of you who need to drive back to California and when you want to leave. Because of what’s going on here, we may want to stagger departures and set up a meeting place where you guys can join up down the road away from Boulder.”
Discussion continued for a while in the living room with the adults. They decided to postpone the trip to California for that night rather than try to leave right after the News Conference. It was a 14-hour drive so they wanted a fresh start in the morning.
The nine older kids went to the barn to see their horses. The younger ones took advantage of Todd’s video games in the playroom. Within an hour the adults had a plan for departure staggered 15 minutes apart with a meeting place along the road between Denver and Grand Junction, near the turnoff for Vail. That would be a good place to stop for fuel and something to eat before pressing on for California.
With plans in the works, the women turned to the kitchen to prepare the next meal. Sharon had a large well-stocked freezer and she took advantage of that planning ahead to feed such a large crowd. Hilda tried to pitch in too, but Sharon sat her on a stool at the kitchen island with a large cup of tea. Sharon was worried. Hilda looked very tired. She was able to engage in the discussions in the kitchen and kept the ladies laughing as she talked about the funny things that happened in that quiet canyon in the wilderness.
Chief Odom returned to the house with a time for the News Conference. His bosses would be there with several of the Battalion Chiefs so they could update the media on the progress of fire suppression. Fortunately, the weather was in their favor and the winds died down considerably. The fire was beginning to lay down overnight and progress was made.
Chris let Chief Odom know he, Walter Howard, George Reeves and Charles Carnegie would attend the conference. He told Chief Odom that George Reeves was local to the area and his son was among the youngsters
caught up in the fire. Walter Howard was the owner of Prince Ali and Charles Carnegie’s granddaughter was one of the kids from the canyon. Chief Odom briefly talked to the four men then rushed back to the Command and Control Unit with a promise that he would come to get the four and take them to the News Conference himself.
When the five men arrived in the Chief’s car, the place was a madhouse. There were at least a hundred reporters from print and television with cameras and microphones waiting to pounce on anyone who could give them a soundbite. They crowded, pushing and shoving to the podium, shouting questions as the participants gathered there.
The State Fire Chief opened the News Conference himself. He introduced the firemen with him and began the briefing. The reporters weren’t interested in fire updates at all. They continuously and rudely interrupted the man asking questions about the missing kids and their horses. He finally halted the conference briefly. “Gentlemen and ladies, we are here to update you on this wildfire that has already burned over 78,000 acres of woodland, destroyed homes and ranches and taken the lives of at least three people. We will get to the missing kids when we’re done with our business. I won’t be taking any questions about them until our briefing is done.” With that, he introduced Chief Don Odom who took the microphone and explained how many firefighters were on the front lines, how much air support they had from Colorado and other states, where the active fire was burning at the moment, and what their plan for fighting the fire was. Chief Odom introduced his Battalion Chiefs, one at a time, and let them give their personal impressions from front-line experience. Once that portion of the conference was over, Chief Odom took the microphone again and introduced the four men with them. The reporters began screaming questions immediately. “How is Prince Ali?”, “Did any of the kids get hurt?”, “How is the old lady with them?”, “Is Prince Ali going to perform again?”, “How is little Becky Howard?”, How did they survive in that canyon?”, “How did they find a safe place?”, “Did anyone get burned?”
Chris O’Neal couldn’t speak. He had no idea how to talk over the questions and the uproar. George Reeves was also mute as was Walter Howard. Charles Carnegie, however, had numerous experiences with news conferences in his day. He’d worked on a number of celebrities during his time as a neurosurgeon and learned to deal with reporters wanting information on his patients. He looked at Chief Odom and raised his eyebrow. Chief Odom understood his cue and handed the microphone to Grandpa Carnegie.
“I’m Charles Carnegie, that’s spelled C H A R L E S C A R N E G I E. My granddaughter, Maryann Wilcox, was one of the young people who sought refuge in the canyon with her horse. This fine gentleman on my left is Chris O’Neal – spelled C H R I S O’ N E A L. He is a horse trainer and the owner of Cold Water Creek Ranch where several of the horses, including Prince Ali, were trained. This gentleman to my right is George Reeves – spelled G E O R G E R E E V E S. His son, Charlie was trapped in the canyon with my granddaughter. The gentleman to the right of him is Walter Howard – spelled W A L T E R H O W A R D. He is the owner of Prince Ali, the horse you are most familiar with. His daughter Becky was also trapped in the canyon with Prince Ali. We will be happy to answer your questions, but we need to do that one at a time. The reporters quieted down and looked more respectfully at Mr. Carnegie. He saw a hand raise from the group in front of him and he pointed to the woman. “What’s your question ma’am?”
From that point, reporters raised their hands and respectfully asked their questions. George, Walter, and Chris stepped in and answered many of them. They told the story the kids told when they arrived back at the ranch. Walter assured them Prince Ali was in good shape and he would be competing again with his daughter. George told them about his night in the canyon with the kids before they walked out. Chief Odom explained how they were alerted to the kids’ location by the recon helicopter pilot and how they dropped supplies in for them and the horses. He also explained how they had to bulldoze a path for them to get out of the canyon and back to the highway. He told them how many State and Federal agencies were involved in the rescue efforts. A couple of times, a reporter shouted his question over others speaking. Charles Carnegie stopped the conference to let him know they couldn’t answer more than one question at a time. He was marvelous at maintaining control and keeping it civil and informative.
After 55 minutes of grueling questioning, everyone in front of the podium was exhausted and the questions finally ended. Chief Odom returned the four men to Cold Water Creek Ranch and resumed his own duties.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Alice Smarte waited her turn to see the District Attorney with great impatience. She sat in the chair outside of his office hugging her notes close to her chest. She crossed her legs and bobbed the upper one up and down in her angst. She thought about what the two police detectives had told her, both about the perp who probably burned down her weekend sanctuary and the man who probably hired him. She had a real dislike for both men.
The door to the District Attorney’s office opened suddenly and Alice jerked to attention. She watched as one of her colleagues walked out into the lobby area and went straight to the elevator, pushing the down button. She jumped to her feet just as the D.A. stepped out to his secretary’s desk.
“Sir, I’d like to have a word with you if you can,” Alice spoke up. Beau Collier smiled at her. “Sure Alice. Come on in. I have a few minutes now.”
Alice fiddled with her notes briefly before telling him the purpose of her meeting. “I’m not sure but I think there may be someone else looking for our guy in the Bahamas.” She relayed the conversation she’d had with Arias a few minutes before. “Maybe we should send our detectives to Nassau to keep an eye on him while the Justice Department gets their paperwork together. My contact at the Justice Department told me the extradition procedure with the Bahamians is quick in the case of a murder so the Bahamian police will pick Mr. Nyland up and incarcerate him until we send someone to escort him back to Denver. I’d just like to be sure he gets back here. How would you feel about sending the detectives now?”
“Before I spend that much taxpayer money, I’d like to go over this with you again. Tell me why you are worried about Mr. Nyland in the first place, from the beginning,” Collier asked.
Alice laid it all out for him including the fact someone was calling hotels all over Nassau looking for him without leaving a name. She’d looked up the caller ID given by the manager of The Reef in Nassau and it was a burner phone dumped at the Miami airport. Miami airport police found it. It had no fingerprints on it. All the phone numbers it dialed in the preceding six hours were five-star hotels in Nassau, Bahamas, none of which was more than three minutes long.
“How soon can you get our own cops on a plane?” Collier asked her. “I will get going on this end. I’ll get Department permission to send them and have tickets sent over right away. You need to let those guys know they have a plane to catch.”
Alice rushed back to her office and called Officer Padilla. She explained what she wanted them to do and told him plane tickets were on their way over by messenger. She jotted down the cell phone number of both Padilla and Arias for her files and called her contact at the Justice Department in Washington.
Officer Padilla explained the situation to his boss and he and Arias waited in the lobby for the plane tickets, then took off in separate cars for home to pack. They would meet at the ticket counter at the airport in 45 minutes. They had no time to spare.
David Nyland called downstairs to book a reservation at The Reef’s fine dining room that evening at 7:00 p.m. The Concierge, who was also the evening Maître D’ himself, took the call. He’d heard rumors from other staffers at the hotel what a good tipper Mr. Nyland was, so he showed him every courtesy possible. “I have just the table for you, sir. I will seat you at Table 7 which is one of the best in the house. I will personally seat and serve you and your guest this evening. Is there anything special I should have ready for you?”
Mr. Nyland mutter
ed about celebrating something. The Concierge caught that right away. “Sir, I will have a bottle of our finest champagne chilled and ready for you when you get here. I’m looking forward to serving you.”
The hotel manager, Wilson Vickers, looked over the restaurant bookings for the night late that afternoon. He saw the comment for Table 7 next to Mr. Nyland’s 7:00 booking. He’d never seen the guy but knew there was interest in him from the American law enforcement people. He made himself a note to look in on him in the dining room. He also checked to be sure Table 18 was available and blocked it off for the night so no one else could reserve it. The manager heard from the front desk people what an interesting couple he and his lady friend were, and he had to see it for himself.
Mr. Vickers was at the fine dining room by 6:45 p.m. that evening and talked to guests as they checked in for their tables. Many of them he already knew from earlier encounters around the hotel. The wealthy people who frequented places like The Reef often had special requests that involved his approval for the staff. He always gave it but often wondered why such requests were made in the first place. He was standing inches from the podium when Mr. Nyland approached. He had his arm tucked around the elbow of one of the most beautiful women Mr. Vickers had ever seen.
“Nyland, party of two for 7:00 please,” Nyland said to the Maître D’.
“Oh, of course, Mr. Nyland. Please come with me. I have your table ready,” the Maître D’ said graciously bowing just a bit.
“Please let me introduce myself,” Mr. Vickers spoke up. “Actually, I have Table 18 ready for you. Our Table 7 is one of the best in the house, but Table 18 is the best. I’m Wilson Vickers, the hotel manager, sir. I’m pleased to have you as our guests. I’ve spoken to the chef. He recommends the chateaubriand with halibut or the steak and lobster as some of his best for tonight. I’ll have your champagne delivered to Table 18 for you.”
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