I pulled the folded piece of paper out of my pocket and held it up. “I know.”
“Right. You know!” He drilled his shaky fingers through his hair. “So you should’ve also known I would never not ever in a million years send you words like Sweet pea that are really some kind of coded messages forcing you to become a detective to try and save me by putting your own life in danger!” He squeezed his eyes shut. “You could’ve been killed.”
I dropped the paper onto the table and went to him, but Garrett began pacing the floor.
“You could’ve been tortured! It was pure luck that didn’t happen.” He blew out a breath. “Jesus, I almost lost you.”
I grabbed his hands in mine. “But we’re home and safe now. I went looking for you because I love you and I was concerned about you,” I said softly. “And thank God I did because otherwise there’s a good chance you’d be dead right now.”
“I would’ve found a way. Preston would’ve rescued us somehow. I even called the landline to let you know I was okay.” He shrugged his hands out of mine and his voice grew louder. “The point is, you put your life at risk and you jeopardized Tracey too!”
Wookie looked up from where he was eating and tilted his head in confusion that Garrett was raising his voice.
“It was a scary situation but you need to calm down. Have something to eat and then get a good night’s sleep.”
“And you were talking with Powel!”
“Obviously I didn’t know that Agent Powel had gone rogue and was using your phone to send me messages. I had to go with my instincts.”
“You figured your instincts were better than those of all the trained federal agents working this case?”
He was angry and the very realization I could’ve been killed was just hitting home to him so I tried to remain calm and not get drawn into an argument. I drew in a deep breath, walked into the living room and slouched onto the sofa.
Garrett followed and looked down at me. His voice had quieted, and I could tell he was trying to work through all of this in his head.
“Right up until recently, I still thought Agent Powel might be in the clear,” he explained. “It wasn’t until video surveillance caught her banging some guy in a fancy car in the Flash Import parking lot.”
“Jerry Mayer,” I said.
“We couldn’t see the guy but, yes, that’s who we assumed. Then we followed the money. We didn’t know how corrupt she actually was.” He sat on the sofa next to me. “When La Araña apprehended me and took my new phone, he called someone to tell them it had been done. I saw him punch the number on his phone and recognized it as Agent Powel’s. Even then, I thought she was maybe working the case from a different angle. I’d admitted to the higher-ups my connection to Sid. I was trying to reach out to Sid and get him to turn himself in when I left here but La Araña got to him first and then got me.”
“Oh my God, we should tell Meg!”
“Meg? Who’s that?”
“Sid’s girlfriend, Meg.” I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my messages to find her. “I met her when I went to Sid’s house looking for you.”
“Sid doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
“Sure he does. About my age, drives a yellow VW bug. Long hair. Dragonfly tattoo on her collarbone. Tough girl. I had to tackle her to the ground because she was making a run for it.”
“Wait a second...” Garrett held up a hand. “The person you’re describing is Mateo Flores’s wife, Josephine.” He looked stunned. “Flores probably had his wife hanging at Sid’s house, waiting for him to come home because he’d gone into hiding. You tackled a drug cartel’s wife! What the hell, Julie?”
“First of all, I hadn’t planned on tackling her, but she ran, and I was trying to find information on you. She told me she was Sid’s girlfriend. How was I to know that she was Flores’s wife?”
“You couldn’t know. That’s exactly why you should’ve stayed out of all this!” He put his hand to his forehead and cringed. “How the hell did you manage to go toe to toe with Josephine Flores and live to tell about it? That woman is danger on steroids. Flores is bringing in the drugs, but he groomed her to make the distribution connections out here. She saddles up to all the dealers, whispering sweet nothings in their ears and making all kinds of promises. Meanwhile any dealer who doesn’t fall in line and drop their previous heroin connection immediately goes missing.” His voice suddenly got louder. “Do you know how many men she’s suspected of killing? And she’s still in the wind...probably on her way back to Mexico by now.”
“I read about all the missing drug dealers when I was trying to come up with information about Flores. A dozen low-level dealers have gone missing in the last two months, and law enforcement says it’s connected to the drug turf war in Seattle.”
“Flores has been in Mexico for a couple months. His mother was ill. He put Josephine in charge while he was gone but news of all the missing dealers reached him. He came back last week to oversee this mega shipment of heroin. He was unhappy about Josephine throwing her weight around and drawing too much attention to the cartel.”
“Sid’s house was tossed. It looked like Meg—I mean Josephine—was staying there, and it also looked like she was a fan of Mexican Mud herself.”
“I’d told Sid to run. I was going to bring him in. I’m guessing Josephine figured Sid would go back home eventually and she’d be there when he did. They wanted him bad once they realized he had a brother-in-law with the FBI. Just one word from me would change the date the custom agencies would be looking for that huge shipment of Mexican Mud. Sid admitted he got in over his head.”
“I met Sid in the hospital when I went to see Tracey.”
“You did? How was he?”
Arrogant. A complete asshole. “Fine. He seemed perfectly fine.”
“All Sid’s problems started with Jerry Mayer,” Garrett said angrily. “He flaunted the cash and fancy car he got from Flores for greasing the import gears. Flash Imports became an easy way to import drugs, but Jerry couldn’t handle all the wheeling and dealing on the inside to get a big shipment through the ports. He needed someone new, so he recruited Sid and poor Sid had no idea what he was getting himself into.”
“Poor Sid. Right.”
Garrett tilted his head at my sarcasm. “Well, obviously he’s going to have to answer for his involvement. He told me all about how Jerry Mayer sucked him in and then threatened him. Just a few small loads, at first, and Sid figured what was the harm, right? He was too naive to realize that kind of easy money always came with a price. When he heard about the big shipment coming in, he tried to get out of it but, of course, a visit from some of Flores’s thugs set him straight that he wasn’t going to be able to just walk away. He sent me a message and went on the run.” He exhaled hard. “I owed it to Faith to help him. Unfortunately, once the cartel knew he had a connection to the FBI, that put him in more danger.”
I’d spent only five minutes with Sid and felt like I needed to shower the scum off me. Garrett didn’t see it because, to him, Sid was family. I was betting that Sid had played the sympathy card to get Garrett’s help. Maybe he even set him up to help the cartel.
“You don’t think it’s possible that Sid reached out to you exactly for that reason? To play big man to Flores by flaunting a connection with the feds?”
“Don’t be ridiculous! If all they wanted was a connection to the FBI, they already had Powel.”
“Yeah, but she was on maternity leave, right? She didn’t have access to know whether the feds had information on the exact date of the big drop. Plus, she’s going in for a C-section tomorrow, so I can’t imagine Flores wanted to trust her on something this big.”
“Stop it.” A flash of anger crossed his face. “Just leave the theories to me and the rest of us who are trained to do this job. Please. Just stop.”
Garrett got up and walk
ed to the den. I followed, wanting to talk things through and get that angry look off his face. In his office, he reached behind a stack of hardcover books on his shelf to grab a pint of whiskey. He unscrewed the bottle, took a long drink and coughed.
He looked at me and shrugged. “I needed that.”
“You don’t need to hide booze from me. This is your home too.” My voice hitched with sudden emotion. I’d never seen him take a drink around me before. “I’m the one with the problem. You’re welcome to drink whenever.”
Garrett opened his mouth to speak and then thought better of it. He knew he had to hide that bottle, and the truth of that sat between us like a fat dancing elephant in the room. Neither of us wanted to talk about it. He walked back to the living room with the bottle in his hand.
I followed close on his heels, suddenly fuming. “Look, I know you’re pissed that I got involved in your case but try to look at it from my point of view.” I added heatedly to his back, “You weren’t acting like yourself. You left here and sent me a coded message calling me Sweet pea and I thought you really wanted me to try and find you.”
Garrett turned to face me in the kitchen. “There are so many things wrong with that statement that I don’t even know where to begin.”
Wookie came between us and began to whine and paw at me. He’d never seen us fight. I bent forward to offer Wookie a reassuring scratch behind the ears and, as I did, the pendant slipped out from the front of my shirt.
“Is that...” Garrett put down the whiskey bottle on the counter and reached for the ring. His voice held a spark of controlled anger. “That’s Faith’s wedding ring.”
“Yes.” I unclasped the necklace and placed the ring on the kitchen counter next to me. “She... Um...it... The necklace helped me find you.”
His eyes were softened briefly but his next words were harsh.
“Julie, I am a trained federal agent.” His face was contorted in pain and the reek of alcohol left his mouth as he leaned into me. “If I was in danger and needed help do you think for one bloody second I’d waste time sending you coded messages? I called the house landline to tell you I was okay, so your cell phone number wouldn’t show up on Karla Powel’s phone. I didn’t want her to have your cell number since that’s the one you always have with you. God, I didn’t think for a second you’d reach out to her! If I had access to a phone, don’t you think I’d call for reinforcement from other agents? Do you really think I’d text my girlfriend and put her in danger?”
The derision he used when he said girlfriend caused me to flinch like I’d been struck. I whispered, “I thought you needed me.”
A brief pause stretched between us.
Take me in your arms. Tell me you do need me, and we’ll be okay.
“I just can’t handle thinking about you almost dying for me.” He quickly put up his hands, palms out, and I found myself taking a step back from him. My obvious recoil caused his tone to falter.
“Don’t you see that I can’t do my job and keep you safe too?” His voice broke. “You need to stick to doing your own stuff and leave drug cartels to the FBI.”
I felt tears burn in my eyes, but I’d be damned if I’d let him see them. As I turned away, Garrett said to my back, “I’m getting in the shower.”
I stood frozen to the spot for a good five minutes. I heard him slam the door to our en suite bath with much more force than was necessary and I listened to him turn on the water.
While he showered I went to our bedroom and repacked my duffel bag with fresh clothes.
I scribbled a brief note—Gone to Tracey’s—and left it propped up against his small bottle of whiskey, next to Faith’s ring on the counter. An evil voice inside my head told me to gulp the remaining whiskey before I left. It took all my willpower to smother that malevolent murmur.
“Be a good boy,” I told Wookie, with my hand on the door.
I turned off my phone and put it in my duffel, then tossed it into the back seat of Tracey’s car. Tears blurred my eyes as I peeled out of the driveway.
Chapter Fifteen
When Tracey opened the door to her apartment all I said was, “I need somewhere to stay.”
Her eyes searched mine, but she didn’t ask for more and I didn’t offer. It was late, and I’d obviously woken her and Craig, but they made it feel like it was the most natural thing in the world that I was there. The only annoyed person was Fluffy, who flicked his tail with irritation and clawed at my feet while I tried to walk inside.
The small room smelled faintly of beer and I spied a couple empty bottles on the kitchen counter, then tore my eyes away. Craig fussed over me and went to work bringing me a pillow and blanket for the sofa before he made himself scarce in the bedroom of the small apartment.
“You’re going to be okay.” Tracey leaned in and hugged me with her one good arm. “Tomorrow we’ll ditch Craig before he smothers me to death and we’ll go get a really unhealthy breakfast and you can talk all you want or not at all, okay?”
I just nodded because I didn’t trust my emotions enough to talk.
Most of the night I stared at the ceiling, replaying everything that happened over the past few days. Then my mind went to work replaying Garrett’s hurtful words over and over in my head like they were on my music playlist and the song was set on replay. He was banged up and had lived through terror and that alone allowed me to cut him enough slack that we might get over this hump. But the derision and fury in his voice slammed me back to a place in my childhood I thought I’d put behind me.
I’d been happy to be home; to have rescued my love. Now it was something ugly, and a sea of self-doubt washed over me, leaving me to wonder if I’d really done the right thing. Maybe he would’ve gotten out of that situation without me. There’s a chance I risked Garrett and Tracey being killed for nothing, not to mention my own life. I bit my lower lip as I worked through all the thoughts that piled on one after the other. No matter what, I needed to be away from Garrett right now to clear my head.
“God, I need a drink,” I whispered to the ceiling.
The few empty beer bottles on the counter meant possibly more in her fridge. Tracey didn’t drink in front of me, and my alcoholism wasn’t something we talked about. She kept liquor in her fridge casually for guests the way people without addiction could, and if I drank what was there she’d still be my friend. I got up, walked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Three bottles of beer stared back at me. In the far corner behind the milk was a half bottle of wine. Maybe it would be enough. I stood staring at those bottles. The only light in the entire apartment illuminated me from the fridge. My hand reached for a beer and I jumped when a furry lump wound between my legs.
“He-e-ey.”
I smiled down at Fluffy, who began to purr. Closing the fridge door, I went back to the couch followed by the cat. When I lay back down, Fluffy jumped onto my chest and curled up. After a while, I drifted off to sleep, stroking his soft fur; the rumbling of his contented purring was like soothing white noise.
Sometime near dawn I woke and Fluffy was nowhere to be seen. I sat up on the couch and yawned. My head was pounding like I had a hangover, but the headache was pure stress. The sun streamed in through the kitchen blinds, causing me to wince. I combed my fingers through my hair and considered my options as I listened to the sound of Craig’s snoring coming from the bedroom. The first thing I needed was to get out of here.
After leaving Tracey a note with her car keys, I left her apartment and got into a taxi with my duffel bag and backpack. I had the driver bring me to a restaurant a few miles away that was located across from a car dealership. I nibbled some toast and looked through a newspaper as I nursed coffee after coffee until the car lot opened for the day. I paid my bill, hoisted my backpack onto one shoulder and hefted my duffel bag onto the other and walked across the street.
In the car lot I immediately spotted
a two-year-old Jeep that was nearly identical to the one that had been destroyed, except this one was blue. It took less than a minute for a young salesman to spot and target me. Then I made his day by buying the Jeep on the spot without even a test drive. The insurance, paperwork and small talk in between took a whole lot longer than my decision to purchase the vehicle, but as soon as I had the keys I was gone.
Within minutes I was headed south on I-5 and I didn’t even know where I was going until I’d pulled into a parking spot outside the high-rise that housed Dr. Chen’s downtown Seattle office. The receptionist let me sit in the waiting room even after she reiterated that I didn’t have an appointment and Dr. Chen did not take walk-ins.
Even without a scheduled appointment, when Dr. Chen saw me sitting in the waiting room she invited me into her office since her next appointment hadn’t arrived yet.
“What’s going on?” She motioned for me to take a seat. “We’ve only had phone appointments for so long I almost forgot what you looked like, and now here you are in a surprise visit.”
Her friendly smile did nothing to break open that happy part of me.
“We had a fight.”
“You and Garrett?”
I nodded.
“I take it this was a big fight. I can’t see you showing up out of the blue because he didn’t like how you squeezed the toothpaste.”
I let out a jagged breath but didn’t reply.
“People fight. Relationships sometimes end and sometimes they recover.” She folded her hands in her lap and gently added, “Do you want things to end?”
“No.” I shook my head. “He was so mad.” I closed my eyes and remembered his words and the memory was jumbled with the recollection of every hateful, angry word ever thrown my way.
“People get mad.” She shrugged. “Did it get violent?”
“No. He would never.”
“How did his anger make you feel?”
A Grave Peril Page 21
