The Last Kind Word (Mac McKenzie #10)

At the time, authorities claimed the robbery was the work of a group known as the Iron Range Bandits that had committed at least a half-dozen crimes throughout the region.

The storage unit also contained vehicles and merchandise valued at over $100,000.

The deputies admitted that the unit belonged to them, sources say. However, they could not explain the presence of the stolen sacks, nor could they produce evidence that proved ownership of the rest of the unit’s contents.

“Apprehending the Iron Range Bandits and putting an end to their crime spree is a big win,” said Assistant U.S. Attorney James R. Finnegan. “It shows what we can accomplish when federal, state, and local law enforcement agencies cooperate with each other.”

It was during an initial search of the same storage unit that agents of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives discovered explosive devices that linked the deputies to a Mexican cartel that was attempting to sell stolen weapons to criminal organizations inside the U.S.

The arrest of James and Williams comes on the heels of a raid by a joint task force of ATF agents and Royal Canadian Mounted Policemen on a seaplane base in Thunder Bay, Ontario, that resulted in the apprehension of a dozen Mexican nationals and the confiscation of 392 firearms.

“What does this mean?” Jimmy asked.

“It means someone else is taking the fall for your crimes,” I said. I glanced at Josie. “I told you I’d get the bastards.”

She didn’t reply; didn’t even look me in the eye.

“You framed them?” the old man asked.

“You have to admit there’s a certain poetic irony to it.”

“How?”

“Remember the bags of checks and receipts we had after the Silver Bay job?” Josie said. She was speaking to her father and not to me. “Dyson put them in their shed.”

“McKenzie,” I said.

“You really are a spy for the ATF,” Claire said.

“Was a spy.”

“Not a criminal mastermind.”

“Just a gifted amateur.”

“What about Dave?” Liz Skarda asked.

“Dave’s coming with me.”

Skarda nodded his head even as he squeezed his wife’s hand, a despondent expression in his face. “I told you, honey,” he said. “I have to pay for my crimes.”

“Oh, stop being so melodramatic,” I said. “The charges against you for robbing the music festival in Grand Rapids have been dropped.”

“What?”

“Turns out the evidence against you was obtained illegally and is inadmissible in court.”

“Really?”

“It came as a surprise to the Itasca County prosecutor, too. You still have to face charges for your daring escape from justice, but Deputy Ken Olson is prepared to testify that I forced you to go with me at gunpoint, so … Just keep your mouth shut. You think that’s possible? Don’t say anything until you talk to your lawyer.”

“I don’t have a lawyer.”

“Your lawyer is named G. K. Bonalay. She’ll meet us in Grand Rapids.”

“Wait a minute.” This time Josie actually was speaking to me. “G. K. Bonalay is the one who just bought this lake cabin from the stockbroker’s estate—I got a six percent commission. That’s why we’re here—to clean up the place before the new owner arrives.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

I handed the envelope to Claire. She opened it slowly as if she expected to find something nasty inside.

“This is…” she said.

“It’s a purchase agreement,” I said. “The deed will be in the mail in a few days. Consider it a wedding gift.”

“You’re giving us the cabin?” Jimmy said. It was both a question and an announcement.

“You guys were guilty of trespassing,” I said. “Now you’re not.”

Everyone seemed happy to see me after that—well, except for Josie. Jill emerged from the cabin carrying a tray loaded with paper plates, silverware, a pitcher of lemonade, and several beers. I nearly choked—it was Summit Ale. We ate and drank and chatted. The Bandits all swore to God above that they were done with outlawing, even the old man, who quietly thanked me when no one was looking for keeping his secret. After a while, I made my good-byes and led Skarda to the Audi. He asked if I stole it. I told him no. He seemed disappointed. Josie appeared before we had a chance to climb into the car. She asked Skarda to take a walk. I told him to make it a short walk.

“So, all’s well that ends well,” Josie said.

“It would seem so.”

“When I found out what happened, when Jill told us after you brought her home, I wrote you off as just another asshole who was stealing oxygen from the rest of us…”

“I can’t blame you for that.”

“You’re not that guy, though—Dyson, I mean.”

“No.”

“Who are you?”

“I’ve been trying to figure that out for quite a while.”

“McKenzie … they say your name is McKenzie?”

“Yes.”

“Are you married?”

“No.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Do you love her?”

“Very much.”