A Different Dawn (Nina Guerrera)

by Isabella Maldonado

  “Maybe,” Denbry said. “Maybe not.” He crossed his arms. “The point is, your partner had no idea what you were doing. He wasn’t prepared to react because you didn’t communicate properly.”

  Everyone turned to Wade.

  He shrugged. “I didn’t know what you were up to, Guerrera. I was going to negotiate for the release of the hostage and then for the robber to surrender.”

  Had she been impatient to resolve the situation? Distracted by what she had discovered the night before? The revelation had made it impossible for her to get a good night’s sleep. There had been no time to discuss anything with her team before the practical exercise started, and her nerves were frayed to the breaking point even before the intensive training had begun.

  Denbry gave her a hard stare. “I can see why SSA Buxton asked us to set up some scenarios. You all need it if you want to stay in the field.”

  Nina holstered her specially configured training weapon and glanced out the window to see Breck and Kent enter the faux bank through the glass doors.

  “Nice shot,” Breck said to Nina.

  “Don’t compliment her,” Denbry said. “She left a position of cover, failed to communicate with her partner, and did not allow for negotiations.”

  Nina made her case. “But the situation is resolved, no?” She gestured toward the actors. “And the hostage survived. I’d call that a win.”

  Denbry bristled. “There’s coloring outside the lines, Guerrera, and there’s scribbling all over the walls.” He turned to the woman who had been role-playing as the hostage. “I’m assuming she told you to duck in Spanish?” When she nodded, Denbry rounded on Nina. “How could you be certain the hostage spoke Spanish and the bad guy didn’t?”

  “I couldn’t,” Nina said. “I was—”

  “Taking a flying leap of faith,” Denbry finished for her. “We’re using Simunition instead of real ammo. Luckily, the hostage reacted to your command, but there’s no way to tell if your head shot would have dropped the suspect before he managed to squeeze the trigger. If those were real rounds in everyone’s weapons, the hostage might have been killed.” He gestured toward the actors as Nina had done earlier. “I wouldn’t call two corpses a win. Not when it could have been avoided by following protocol.”

  Kent stepped between them. He addressed Denbry first. “There are times when circumstances dictate a different approach. Times when it’s not the best move to follow procedure.”

  Kent’s observations carried weight. Everyone knew his background. He had more experience in both simulated- and live-combat situations than anyone present.

  Nina felt gratified at his comments. Until he swiveled to face her. “But this scenario was not one of those times. I can see where you might have felt the need to take the shot, but there was no reason to give up cover.”

  Denbry’s smug expression set Nina’s teeth on edge. She opened her mouth to object, but Kent wasn’t finished.

  “And there’s room for improvement in your communication skills too,” he added.

  He would focus on that. She had never played well with others. Her childhood had rendered her highly self-reliant, and four years as a local cop before she joined the Bureau had taught her to work independently and make quick decisions in the field. Not a great recipe for teamwork.

  “That’s why we’re here,” Wade said, sliding his weapon into a pancake holster attached to his belt. “We need to gel as a team, learn what to expect from each other, anticipate the other’s next move.”

  Breck grinned. “Well, we can pretty much anticipate Guerrera kickin’ some ass.”

  It sounded to Nina like the consensus was that her decision to shoot had been rash.

  Two years as a federal agent hadn’t fully indoctrinated her into the FBI mode of thinking. They were all about methodical investigations that involved bringing diverse resources to bear on a case and working every angle until it was watertight, everyone contributing their part to get the job done.

  As the youngest and least senior member of the newly formed team, she checked her attitude and turned to Denbry. “I will work on my communication.”

  He gave her a satisfied nod.

  “We didn’t do so great either,” Breck said, jerking a thumb at Kent, who had partnered with her in a different training scenario.

  Denbry heaved a sigh. “We’re finished here. I’ll give SSA Buxton some feedback. You all are clear to go.”

  Nina could only imagine what kinds of comments he would share with her supervisor.

  “Come on,” Kent said to Nina. “It’s been a long morning.”

  She looked up at him, curious about how someone with a background in Special Forces would have handled things. “Would you have taken the shot?”

  The lines around his mouth tightened. “No, I wouldn’t.”

  Chapter 30

  The Boardroom, FBI Academy

  Quantico, Virginia

  An hour later, Nina sat with her team at a corner table in the FBI’s internal lounge and pub, dubbed the Boardroom, which was deserted on a late-Sunday morning. After standing in line for a tray of brunch food in the facility’s dining hall, they had retreated to a quiet place to discuss the case. Buxton had texted to say he would join them as soon as he received a critique of the team’s performance from the training instructors.

  The internal debate continued to rage in Nina’s mind about what to share with the others. She kept her silence, giving herself a bit more time to come up with a way to broach the subject. Or to avoid it altogether.

  She had stayed awake most of the previous night, mulling over the situation. How would it have been possible, given her career in law enforcement involving two different agencies, for this not to have come to light before now?

  Every successful FBI applicant had to qualify for a Top Secret clearance, and an extensive background investigation was part of the process. Nina had been no different.

  She recalled that the applicant process for both the Fairfax County police and the Bureau had included running her through the Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System and the National Crime Information Center. The NCIC, which was a massive criminal database, was maintained separately from the FBI’s DNA index. A search of IAFIS would only match prints already on file, and NCIC would only reveal involvement in illegal activity.

  Neither background check had included a DNA test.

  Even if her DNA had been entered into the system, the blood samples collected at the scene of the Llorona case were never submitted for DNA analysis. The case had been closed years before such technology was available. Besides, the police had concluded the culprit was deceased. No need to investigate further.

  “That shit show at the Bank of Hogan didn’t help our cause,” Kent said, interrupting her reverie.

  “I thought it went okay,” Breck said.

  Kent frowned. “Let’s just say there were some issues with teamwork.”

  She felt the weight of everyone’s gaze. This was her problem. She had spent too many years relying on herself. And wasn’t that what she was doing now?

  “I don’t think it’s sunk in yet for Guerrera that we have her back,” Kent said.

  Her head snapped up. “What are you talking about?”

  “Maybe a real-life illustration will help,” he said. “On one of my overseas SEAL deployments, I got pinned down by gunfire during a classified operation. I’d been separated from the rest of my unit when I dropped back to check our six. Sure enough, there were unfriendlies lying in wait, ready to ambush us from behind. I had no way out. Whichever way I moved, hostiles would cut me down.”

  He had her full attention. “What did you do?”

  “We were all on a com system. We’d been trained to give a distress code if we got trapped behind enemy lines. I had to trust them to assess the situation and lay down suppressive fire,” he said.

  She had learned about suppressive fire in the academy. It involved shooting at an attacker to keep them at ba
y while a fellow officer escaped from a deadly situation.

  “The point is, I could not see my team,” Kent went on. “I couldn’t be sure exactly where they were or if they’d heard me clearly. I had to have total faith and put my life in their hands.”

  She had already grasped the point to his story but couldn’t resist hearing more. “What was the distress code?” she prompted. “What happened when you used it?”

  “The code word was flashpoint,” Kent said. “There was no time to wait for a response. The instant I said it, I left cover and sprinted as fast as I could toward the team.” He lifted a shoulder. “If they did what I expected, I would make it. If they didn’t, I would die—or worse, get captured.”

  “They covered you?”

  “Fuckin’ A, they did. I’ve never seen so much lead flying.” He leaned toward her. “You have to get to the point where you can trust your team to have your back.”

  She took a sip of soda, taking in the information. Kent was talking about a tactical situation, but she understood his words on a completely different level. Now was the time for her to decide. Was she part of a team or not?

  Her gaze traveled over Wade, Kent, and Breck. They had become more than just fellow agents to her. They were friends. Comrades in arms. Allies. If she confided in them, one of two things would happen. They would either pass the information on to Buxton, as they should, or they would keep her secret, jeopardizing their careers.

  Wade gave her an appraising look. “What’s on your mind, Guerrera?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I read people,” he said. “And I’m damned good at it.”

  She took another sip of her drink, playing for time. “I was thinking about Carmen Cardona,” she said, still unsure how much she was prepared to elaborate.

  “I know she was on drugs and all,” Breck said, “but how could she hurt her baby—that is, the baby she thought was hers?” She scowled. “Or any baby at all for that matter.”

  After leaving St. Elizabeth’s yesterday afternoon, Wade and Nina had briefed the rest of the team about Carmen’s statements. At the time, Nina had translated Carmen’s comment as “I gave her a kiss.”

  Together, they all considered the facts. First, Carmen had expressed regret before she broke down crying, saying, “What have I done?” Second, Carmen admitted to using narcotics again a few weeks after giving birth and was desperate in many ways. Finally, there was zero trace of the baby after Carmen took her from the hospital. Ultimately, the team had concluded Carmen had most likely killed a child that had become a burden to her.

  They had agreed to try to find closure for Victor’s and Maria’s relatives through more definitive answers, although the chances of doing so without Carmen’s cooperation were slim.

  “Let’s face it,” Kent said. “There’s no way we can criminally prosecute someone in a psych ward based on mere suspicion that she committed a crime almost three decades ago. Even if we somehow found proof, she would never be convicted.”

  Nina wanted to look away, but Wade’s gray gaze held her trapped as he leaned toward her. “Guerrera?” He would not be distracted.

  Time to make her choice. “After we left St. E’s, I kept thinking about what Carmen told us,” she said.

  He made no comment. This was Dr. Jeffrey Wade, psychologist, in interview mode. Before he was through, he would wring the whole story from her.

  “At the end, when Carmen began to cry, I thought she said ‘besar,’ which means to kiss, but now I believe she was trying to say ‘basura,’ which means trash.” She didn’t bother going into the intricacies of Spanish grammar involved in her new interpretation. “After giving it careful consideration, I now believe she said ‘La dejé en la basura.’”

  “I left her in the trash,” Kent said softly, translating for the others.

  “The trash?” Wade looked from Kent back to Nina.

  Mouth dry, she merely nodded. Wade, who had gone over her psych eval before she became an agent, knew her entire personal history better than anyone else.

  “Carmen told us she had met with a client in Virginia,” Wade said, dawning comprehension in his expression.

  She helped him connect the final dots. “I’m about to turn twenty-eight years old.” She let that penetrate before continuing. “But no one knows when my actual birthday is, so I might have turned twenty-eight—”

  “On February twenty-third,” Wade said.

  Breck’s hand flew to her mouth. “Wait a minute.” She glanced at Wade, then at Nina. “The baby from the Llorona case was born on February twenty-third, then Carmen took her to Maryland. Now you’re saying Carmen put the baby in the trash somewhere in Virginia?”

  Wade held up a hand, silencing all discussion. “Guerrera, are you saying you are Victor and Maria Vega’s missing daughter?”

  She swallowed. “Last night, I checked to see how many Latina baby girls were left in a northern Virginia dumpster exactly twenty-eight years ago.” She finished on a hoarse whisper. “One.”

  Kent reached out to clasp her hand. “Nina.”

  Growing up, she had not experienced much in the way of sympathy, tenderness, or any other show of kindness. The compassion in his touch, the warmth in his expression, the gentleness in his tone, were more than she could bear. She pulled her hand away.

  “Fate has been especially cruel to you, Agent Guerrera,” Wade said. “I don’t want to cause you more pain, but you understand that we must have a definitive answer about your status in relation to the victims.”

  “We’ve got to go back and reinterview Carmen,” Breck said.

  Wade shook his head. “Dr. Matthews called me after we left St. E’s. Carmen is catatonic now. We won’t be allowed back to see her anytime soon.”

  Nina went straight to the point that concerned her most. “I want to stay on the case. I’m an outsider to both families because I’ve never known any of them. I can remain objective.”

  Wade arched a skeptical brow. “You can fool yourself, Guerrera, but you can’t fool me.”

  Maybe she was deluding herself, but she wanted—needed—to investigate this case. She began to regret sharing her secret, then Breck spoke up.

  “Is your DNA in any of those commercial genealogy systems?” she asked Nina. “You know, the ones people use to find out about their ancestry or meet their relatives?”

  Nina shook her head. “Why would I want to look up people who had thrown me in the trash?”

  She realized how hardened she had become regarding the circumstances of her birth and abandonment. She had never thought there could be another reason behind it and walled herself off from further pain by refusing to even think about her biological family.

  Breck’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “We happen to be sitting in a facility that contains one of the most advanced forensics labs on the planet,” she said. “I helped out one of the lab techs with a computer problem when I was in Cyber Crime.” Her smile widened. “He owes me a favor. I can arrange to have a sample of your DNA compared with the profile of Victor and Maria Vega that was submitted to the CODIS database by the Phoenix crime lab.”

  Nina eyed her warily. “This tech is working today?”

  “Saw him in the parking lot half an hour ago.”

  “You’re saying he would run the comparison on the down-low?” Kent asked. “Is that even possible?”

  Breck’s cheeks dimpled. “He’ll find a way to keep it off the books.” After a brief pause, she added, “But we’ll have to wait a few hours for the results.”

  “We’re flying out to Phoenix this afternoon,” Kent said.

  “He’ll call me as soon as he knows one way or another,” Breck said. “Probably after we land at Sky Harbor Airport.”

  “Can we give him a swab from an unknown source?” Nina air-quoted the last two words.

  “Sure,” Breck said. “But he’s not dumb. He’ll figure out it’s probably somebody in-house, he just won’t know who.”

  “Let’
s say we do this, and Guerrera’s DNA is a match,” Wade said. “Now we know for sure she’s the missing baby.” He paused. “Buxton will put her on the first flight back to DC.”

  Breck lifted her chin. “Only if he knows about it.”

  Silence followed her words. Nina surveyed her team, all of them apparently lost in their own thoughts. Probably contemplating the effect such a severe breach in protocol would have on their careers. She desperately wanted to work the case but not if it put others at risk.

  “I can’t let you do it,” she finally said to them.

  “Do what?” Buxton said. Their supervisor had walked up to their table while they were engrossed in conversation.

  Chapter 31

  Nina wondered how much Buxton had heard as he sank into an empty chair and gazed at her expectantly.

  She scrambled to find something—anything—to divert him from their actual discussion. “I can’t let them take the blame for my performance at the training session today,” she said after the briefest hesitation. She knew Buxton had just met with the instructors and that they would have had plenty to say about her judgment.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Buxton said. “Because Agent Denbry was none too pleased with your operational freelancing.”

  “Guerrera’s still about thirty percent street cop,” Kent said, smiling. “She’s a work in progress.”

  “You all aren’t helping my cause,” Buxton said. “I’m trying to make this a standing unit. Excellent teamwork is a prerequisite.”

  “So is investigative work,” Wade said. “Kent and Breck were just about to explain what they learned about James Snead.”

  Nina threw Wade a grateful look, fully aware he had changed the subject as an added distraction. She had also been curious to hear what Kent and Breck had uncovered about the Phoenix television reporter who always seemed to know too much.

  “Snead kept coming up with information that only either the killer or one of us knew,” Kent said. “And he’s been obsessed with the case since he reported on the original incident twenty-eight years ago, so he was worth a look.”