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Sinclair turns green, and I must admit, I start to get concerned, until Reed catches my eye and winks at me, out of eye shot from Sinclair. So this is a game. A way of getting the information they want. I relax a little. I mean—arguably the guydeserves to die. He kidnapped a four-year-old girl for crying out loud. But still…
"Alright, alright." Sinclair spits. "Waddaya wanta know?"
"That's my boy!" Dean is smiling now. "But first, let me get my cell phone's 'record a memo' app up and running, so we can keep a copy for our future reference, okay?" Dean fiddles with his phone for a moment, then says, "Okay, Sinclair, we're good to go. When I hit record I wanna hear you start confessin'. Got it?"
Sinclair nods.
"Good. Start with your full name, and tell the recording that you're giving this statement of your own free will, and no one is forcing you to do it. Then tell us what you did and why you did it. We'll keep this recording as our little insurance policy, in case you ever get any funny ideas in the future, alright?”
Silence.
"Well? Need another reminder?" Dean half stands up, but Sinclair quickly responds.
"Okay, okay, I'll do it. Just don't hit me again. And please, throw some water in my eyes. I'm in agony, and I can't see nothing."
Dean takes a saucepanful of water and throws it into Sinclair's face, then wipes the worst of the mace off with a cloth. Sinclair looks a mess, his eyes are a burning red. He's blinking rapidly, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"He needs a doctor—" I begin, but Dean cuts me off with his hand.
"He can have a doctor. He can have anything he wants… as soon as he's finished talking."
Half an hour later, and we have Sinclair's full confession on tape. How he'd got himself into debt, and the only way out that he could see was to stop farming and build a far more lucrative hotel and leisure resort on the land, but the Ute objected to his planning submission, so he decided to try and get their piece ofland off them too, especially since it had the lake on it, which would make a perfect additional attraction for boating, fishing and swimming.
He'd gone ahead and made up a fraudulent court case to prove the Ute never owned that land, which he'd lost, due to my father. That made him hopping mad. It was personal now, and he vowed to get his hands on that land somehow one day, but over time the whole thing had kinda blown over, and was no longer such a burning issue.
Then I'd come along and stirred all his emotions up again. Reminded him of what could have been his. What he thoughtshouldhave been his. He renewed his determination to get that land for himself. First he'd tried to buy it off me cheap, then he'd paid the Sheriff to try to bribe the boys into signing a document to take to court to prove the land was his all along. When that didn't work, he'd snatched Lennon's kid, Grace, thinking to use her as a bargaining weapon to force the three men into signing, and not realizing their SEAL background.
We got it all down, then we checked it by listening back on the cell phone. A full confession. Would it stand up in court, if Sinclair said he'd made it under duress? Probably not, but it would at the very least beg questions, and not too much scraping around would soon uncover the real truth. I didn't think either the boys or I had to worry too much about Sinclair—nor the Sheriff for that matter. We had Sinclair's confession that he paid off the Sheriff, and we'd recognized one of his men on the mountainside this evening. No, the Sheriff and Sinclair would not want to stir up any more problems for us, I felt sure. So then… what to do about Sinclair?
"What are you gonna do with him?"
"It's what… forty-five miles into town, give or take? He's an adult, he can manage that."
"Hey! You can't make me walk into town in the state I'm in. I'm still almost blind. My legs have stopped working. I need medical treatment."
"Alright, alright. Here's what we'll do. Me'n Reed'll drop you off in town right now, and then you can take things from there yourself, okay?"
So that's what they did. They picked him up, still in my sleeping bag—which by this stage I definitely didn't want back—and bundled him into the back of their truck, drove to town, and literally threw him out, outside the police station. He'd been bound and gagged and Dean had left a note attached to him which read:
We found this vermin trespassing on our property earlier. If it comes on our land again I won't be held responsible for what happens. Goes for you too, Sheriff. The rest of your gang are tied up at the old Steadfast silver mine. Let’s hope you can reach them before the coyotes do.
It's seven in the morning now, and the sun is up. We're all tired, but not sleepy, still stoked from all the adrenaline and stress of the last few hours. Can it only be twelve hours since we got that panicked call from Marsha? It seems like a whole week has gone by, the amount of stuff that's happened.
Obviously, Grace isn't going to pre-school today. Lennon will call them later to let them know she isn't well and won't be attending. Meantime she's still out for the count, fast asleep in her bed.
Dean's already had a word with a couple of the farmhands. Explained it was a busy night, told them to do what they can for the day without troubling the three men.
Back in the kitchen, Dean pours whiskey. Reed toasts.
"To family."
"To victory," I add.
"To love," says Lennon.
We all go quiet, thinking of the little girl he adores so much.
I look at the three of them with new eyes now. The way they had sprung into action last night was almost scary. The way they had changed from relaxed farmers with nothing more to worry about than the weather and making sure the horses were fed to elite soldiers on a life-and-death rescue mission had been nothing short of awesome.