Buried Treasure

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Heads and Tail

FBI Task Force Commander Irene Lindstrom’s POV
Los Angeles HQ

Our end of day staff meeting didn’t go well. The US Attorney’s office was unable to get a judge to sign off on the wiretaps for Chase and Rori King, citing insufficient evidence of a crime being committed. I tossed my reading glasses onto the conference table and rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Crap. What did we find out on background?”

“Not as much as I thought we would,” Agent Reynolds said, his team was digging into the Nygaard’s background. “Chase Nygaard has no criminal record. Up until about sixteen months ago, was on track to become a psychologist. He walked away from his internship, citing family reasons. He married Rori King, then eighteen, and they had twins nine months later.”

“Please tell me we can get him for statutory rape or something,” I said.

“No, he met Rori when she was brought in on a psych hold shortly before he left the hospital. She was found naked outside the back of a downtown Seattle restaurant, and they think she killed and ate a raccoon.” Ugh, if she was crazy, this was going a whole other way. “We don’t have a warrant to access her medical records, but there was a Missing Person report made on her in Manchester, New Hampshire a little over a year earlier. The report stated she was off her medication and had a record of mental issues and violence. The missing person report was withdrawn by her mother a few days later.”

It got worse and worse. “What are you looking at now?”

“I can’t find any history on Rori King before she was sixteen years old. I’m working with our experts in social media and records to find out more.”

“What about their money?”

“Their wealth is a mystery; the couple lives on a four-hundred-acre property that traces back to a real estate trust, Arrowhead Holdings. Papers filed last June listed Rori King, Chase Nygaard, and Keith Sexson as officers of the company. County records show they have invested almost ten million dollars on construction projects in the past two years.” He tossed me a photo of the mansion at the tip of a lakeshore point, a large community center above it, and other luxury homes lining the shoreline. “That home they live in has a tax value of over two million dollars, and the community center is worth five million.“

“That’s a lot of cash showing up at once,” I said.

“It’s a private company, so I don't have access to the books. Arrowhead Holdings has owned the property since the 1920’s. I did a historical search, and the property is shrouded in tragedy. On October 9th, 2000, a large fire swept through the home and killed dozens of people. The holding company never rebuilt; they must have held the insurance settlement in investments until they were ready to build again.”

“Do we have probate records,” our IRS representative asked.

“No, the company was held in trust until the papers last June. They didn’t do anything but pay property taxes,” Reynolds said. “All homes are assets of the holding company, and we estimate that they have between forty and ninety people living there.”

“Do they rent? What are the financials?”

“Private company,” he said.

I looked at Reynolds in shock. “Where the hell does an eighteen-year-old woman, pregnant with twins, get that kind of money? Could her parents have been killed?”

“Rori is not related to the Kings who died in the fire. Her mother is Donna King, formerly of Orlando, Florida, and now living in Two Harbors at one of the houses. She has a stepfather, but on the birth certificate, her father is unknown. I can’t find any information on Donna King more than three years old, either. Either they’ve been issued a new identity, or they paid someone good to create one.”

Interesting. Rori would have been sixteen then. “Keep digging. What about her parents?”

“Chase’s mother is Colletta Nygaard, Washington State address, no record. Her husband Will owned a logging company; he was reported missing about a month after Chase left the hospital. He was found a month later in a ravine in the Cascades, his body scattered by animals. DNA proved his death. His estate went to Colletta; she received a million in life insurance, his retirement savings, and social security survivor benefits. From what I can tell, she is retired and travels between her son’s homes in Washington, California, and Minnesota.”

I picked up my glasses and looked at the photos again. “So from out of nowhere, they become the officers of a company with property assets in the tens of millions, all while this eighteen-year-old high school graduate with mental health issues is pregnant with twins.” Everyone around the table just nodded. “Not good enough.”

“I can see if we can audit their company,” our IRS representative said.

“And I can dig into any foreign connections,” Al Perkins said. “Give me any phone numbers or emails you’ve found on them, and I’ll see if I can uncover any links with the Cartels.”

A few more ideas were kicked around, and then it was time to move on. “Who do we have on Frank Grimes right now?”

“The local Sheriff verified that he and Colletta left the airport together; surveillance photos showed them holding hands as they left. A vehicle registered to Arrowhead Holdings picked them up, two people inside. The unmarked vehicle followed them until they turned onto private property.”

“Good,” I said. “Get an FBI surveillance team up there. I want electronic and visual surveillance on that property 24/7.”

“Can’t happen now,” Agent Reynolds said. “Big winter storm has moved in. Our FBI team couldn’t get out of Minneapolis; all ground transport is shut down, all flights are grounded. The Sheriff pulled his men back to deal with emergencies.”

“Damn.” I looked around the room. “Anything else from Frank Grimes?”

Agent Wilson shook her head no. “We found nothing in our searches of his office, home, or email that would tie him to illegal activity. The guy was a Boy Scout; he worked hard, his social life was non-existent, and no one has a bad thing to say about him. The text messages he got from his source with the information on the dirty agents and the drugs came from a burner phone that is no longer active. Cell tower data shows the sender was traveling down I-5 from the Bay Area. The message that he needed to meet, and Frank’s message that Go time was 0600, in both cases the phone was in Long Beach.”

“I want people digging through the traffic cameras in the areas those areas we pinged the mystery phone. Use our facial recognition to look for either Chase or Rori. If we can tie them to the call, we can get the warrants we need.”

The meeting broke up, and I ate at my desk while trying to catch up on reports. I needed a break, and that happened just as I was packing up to go home and get some sleep at 9:30 pm.

My phone dinged with a text from a number I didn’t recognize, telling me to call immediately. A photo followed almost immediately, then two more. My jaw dropped when I saw the contents. I didn’t expect this; my hands were shaking as I called the number back. “San Diego Sector Border Patrol, Lieutenant Menendez speaking,” the woman answered.

“This is FBI Commander Irene Lindstrom. I just received a photo from you; is that what I think it is?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Just after sundown, our patrols in the mountains east of Tijuana responded to a vehicle and multiple men approaching the border fence. The men didn’t attempt to cross; they tied ropes to the fence and tossed something over, leaving it hanging on our side. They were gone before our patrol arrived. Four heads were attached to each line, sixteen total. The ropes were tied off, so they hung like Christmas ornaments from the fence, swaying in the breeze.”

“Visual identification?”

“It’s the Sons of Tezcatlipoca Chapter Presidents you are looking for, along with the National President. The Coroner has them now, we will do DNA testing, but I’m certain it is your men.”

Crap. “All right, I want a news blackout on this. I don’t want the Sons to know their Presidents are gone quite yet.”

“I’ll try, Commander, but it might be too late.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I ordered a helicopter to transport three of us to the scene and grabbed my go-bag. The Sons must have pissed off the Tijuana Cartel; if we didn’t move fast, a full-scale Cartel war could break out on our side of the border. The Sinaloa Cartel owned the Sons.

Now we had to see who the Tijuana Cartel owned.

Frank Grime’s POV
Arrowhead Pack House Basement

“This is an impressive building,” I said as Colletta showed me the gym, the recreation area, and the bunkrooms in the cavernous basement.

“Well, they do like to host parties for the Brotherhood up here. Between the homes, the campgrounds and the bunk room here, we can host hundreds of friends comfortably. The kitchens are big enough to handle the surges, and in the summer we use an outdoor kitchen down by the beach.”

“That sounds nice,” I said. Colletta led me to a doorway and punched a code into the keypad next to it. There was a loud click, and she pushed the door open smoothly on well-oiled hinges. It was maybe sixty degrees and damp smelling on the other side as we stepped through into a concrete tunnel, lit with LED lighting. “What is this?”

“Tunnel system. Chase and Rori put it in when the roads were being laid out; it’s made up of eight foot diameter sewage pipe, and it connects into the basements of all the homes.”

“Wow,” I said. “It seems like a lot of money to avoid going outside.”

“Did you ever try to run naked through the snow when it’s twenty below,” she asked. “Everyone can access the Community Center without going outside, and the neighbors can’t see us.” We had walked downhill through a tunnel, and a door was straight ahead of us as the tube split to each side. She pressed another code, and we entered into the basement of a home.

“This is nice,” I said as I looked at the home theater setup. “Each home has a unique code?”

“Exactly. We are in Chase and Rori’s home now. Leave your shoes on the matt there.” I put my dress shoes next to her Uggs, and we walked up the stairs to the main level. It was dark, but I stopped to admire the view of the storm over the lake. We continued upstairs, and she led me into a bedroom. “Why don’t you jump in the shower and I’ll find you some clean clothes. There's shaving supplies and other stuff in the medicine cabinet,” she said.

“Thanks.” The bathroom was beautifully appointed, with marble counters, a limestone-tile shower and a triangular Jacuzzi soaking tub with a view of the lake. I had finished shaving and was washing my hair when I heard the door open.

A gloriously naked Colletta walked past, smiling at me before she opened the door to the shower and joined me. “Need some help with your back,” she asked as she reached around me.

“All I can get,” I said. Our hands teased and caressed as we cleaned each other’s bodies, then we both rinsed off and dried. I put my hands to Colletta’s face, pulling her into a deep kiss as my hard length pressed against her flat stomach. “Time for bed,” I said.

“Damn right,” she agreed. We stepped out, drying quickly, then running like teenagers to the queen-sized bed across from the gas fireplace she had turned on. She scooted back on the bed as I crawled towards her, stopping when I grabbed her thighs and moved them apart. “Frank,” she moaned as my tongue ran over her hot sex.

“You’ll be moaning my name a lot,” I said as I lowered myself to her. I took my time, not even touching her clitoris for the first ten minutes. I kissed and nibbled and licked at her thighs, her labia and her hot core through two orgasms. She grabbed my short hair and pulled me up, her legs urging me on top of her.

“Come here,” she said as I moved up her body until I was resting between her thighs. “Fuck me, Frank. I want you so bad,” she said.


She shook her head. “I can’t get pregnant, and you’ll be the second man to make love to me. If you’re clean, we’re good.”

“God, yes,” I said as I lined myself up and pushed inside. She was wet and welcoming, and she moaned in pleasure as I stretched her out. I wasn’t porn-sized, but I had nothing to be ashamed of in the locker room. I held myself on my elbows, kissing her deeply as I started to stroke into her slowly. “You’re amazing, Colletta.”

She ran her hands down my back, her fingernails scratching me until her hands grabbed my ass to pull me deeper inside. “Fuck me, Frank. Take me hard.”

“Whatever you want, love.” I backed out and slammed hard into her, causing her to grunt with each hard thrust. Her cries of pleasure rose in pitch and volume as she rose to another orgasm, he legs holding me tight as her body spasmed in bliss. I let her come back down, then sat up and pulled her onto her hands and knees. “You’re the hottest woman I’ve ever seen, and you are MINE,” I said as I slammed into her from behind.

She screamed in pleasure, her chest dropping down to the mattress as I held her hips up. I pounded her through another orgasm, then picked up the pace until she was begging me to finish. Her sheath gripped me like a vise as she came again, and this time, I was with her. “CO-LETTA,” I yelled as I started to empty my balls deep inside her.

She couldn’t even say my name; she just screamed in pleasure and rode it out. I stayed inside her as I moved us to our sides, spooning her as we came down. “That was amazing,” she said.

“We need another shower.” To make my point, my softening member popped out, and a gush of liquid spilled onto the bed.

“Worth it.” I held her in my arms for a few more minutes as we recovered, then she started to get up. She wiped herself off with the sheet, then walked towards the bathroom. “Strip the bed, and I’ll get the bath going,” she said. “Hamper is in the corner.”

I joined her a few minutes later. She had left the lights off, lighting two candles so we could see outside. She’d tied her hair up out of the way, and she leaned back into me as we relaxed and watched the snow fly outside. “I could get used to this,” I said as I kissed along her neck, making her moan in delight.

“I knew as soon as I saw you that you would be a good lover, and I wasn’t wrong,” she said. “I think I’ll enjoy this weekend.”

“Do we have to leave the room?”

She leaned back, turning and kissing me. “It’s a party, my friends and family are here, so we can’t ignore everyone. Besides, you’ll need to rest sometime. If you start getting hard, I’m bringing you back to my room again.”

I moved my hands down her body, playing with her breasts as they floated at the waterline. “I guess we can’t leave yet then,” I said as I started to harden. She turned around, moving me until her mouth could get me to full hardness, then riding me slowly to another memorable climax.

We eventually got to to the pool party, but we didn’t stay long.

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