Blind Betrayal

by Nancy Mehl

  He could see the inner struggle play out on her face. Finally she said, “Okay. I guess I could use a break. Thanks, E.J.”

  He smiled. “Not a problem.”

  He noticed that she almost smiled back, but then she turned away as if fighting the urge. Seemed that one smile a day was her limit. They were almost to the car when he stopped. “Doug, will you take our food to the car? I want to talk to Casey for a minute.”

  “What are you doing?” Casey asked E.J., her voice tight.

  He looked at Doug. “Please take Valerie back to the car.”

  Nodding at him, Doug quietly took the bags and drinks E.J. held out. He escorted Valerie toward the car, leaving E.J. and Casey standing in the middle of the parking lot like two fighters getting ready to duke it out.

  “Let’s step over here,” E.J. said, gesturing toward a small patch of grass near the exit. Though he wasn’t certain she’d follow him, she did. Now they stood toe-to-toe, Casey glaring up at him. “Look, Casey,” E.J. began, “something’s wrong and I truly have no idea what it is. Our witness needs our full attention, and you’re not giving it to her.”

  She crossed her arms and looked away.

  “You’ve been angry ever since I showed up,” he said, his voice louder than he meant it to be. He took a deep breath and forced himself to speak quieter. “You want to tell me why? I thought we worked well together. I don’t remember doing anything to earn this kind of treatment.”

  “That’s just it,” she said quickly. “You never did anything at all. In fact, you disappeared completely. I thought we were friends, but then you just walked away.”

  E.J. shook his head, totally confused. “You mean when you and Jared were dating? You were dating my friend, Casey. Three’s a crowd. I backed off to give you two some space.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  E.J. was shocked by the intensity of her gaze. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about. Besides, you’re the one who left. You walked out on Jared. He was devastated, and I had to help him work through it. I think he left D.C. because he couldn’t stand being in the same town where you two had been together. I lost my best friend because of you.” He hadn’t meant to allow that last comment to slip out, yet it was true.

  “You . . . you had to help him? Are you the most clueless man in the world?”

  E.J. just stared at her. “You’re going to have to explain.”

  Casey took a deep breath. “How long have you known Jared?”

  “Since I was sixteen. When we moved back to the States, he lived next door. We became friends immediately. We both wanted the same things out of life, even decided to join the Marshals at the same time.”

  Her expression was cold and emotionless as her brown eyes locked on his. Deep, dark pools he felt he could drown in. He found himself having to catch his breath.

  “Tell me about his parents,” she said.

  He frowned, not sure why this was important. “Jared had it tough. His father was a drunk, and he beat up on his wife. My dad had to call the police more than once. Finally they got divorced, and his father took off. To this day, Jared has no idea where he is.”

  “So his dad beat his mom?”

  “Yes,” E.J. said. “So?”

  “We see a lot of things in law enforcement. What did we learn in that seminar we took about kids with abusive parents?”

  “Many times they follow the same pattern of abuse,” E.J. said automatically, reciting something from a class everyone was forced to take in D.C. At the time, he’d thought it wasn’t really applicable to his job. He wasn’t a cop on the street. Suddenly the light clicked on and he realized what Casey was trying to tell him.

  “Jared wasn’t anything like his father,” he said emphatically, trying to choke back feelings of resentment. “Jared hated him. He was determined not to follow in his footsteps. He would never put anyone through what he and his mother endured.” All of a sudden, memories began to pop to the surface. Casey sporting a sling on her left arm, saying she’d injured herself playing basketball with friends. The limp she blamed on pulling a muscle while running. The thick makeup she wore for a couple of weeks, saying she was trying a new look. One by one, the layers of lies began to peel away. If there’d been a place to sit, he’d have taken it. His knees felt weak. “Casey . . .”

  “When things got really bad, you took off. You couldn’t ignore it anymore so you left.”

  “That’s not true. I . . . I had no idea. Jared hated men who hurt women. I just can’t believe . . .”

  “You’re trying to convince me you didn’t know? You two didn’t laugh about it behind my back?”

  He stared at her slack-jawed. “I would never do something like that. How could you believe that of me?” Something occurred to him then. “Wait a minute. Why didn’t you walk away? You didn’t have to put up with that.”

  He realized immediately that he’d made a mistake. The seminar they’d attended had emphasized the confusion that comes from being in an abusive situation. “I’m sorry, Casey. I’m not judging you. Really. I have no idea what you went through, but you have to believe me when I say I didn’t know anything about it.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “It’s all right. I can’t explain why I didn’t leave immediately. I just thought . . . well, I thought he’d change. But he didn’t.” She glanced toward the car. “We need to get going.”

  “I feel awful,” E.J. said, shaking his head. “I wish I’d done something different. It just . . . I mean, it truly never occurred to me. I wasn’t thinking, wasn’t being observant.” He grunted. “You always seemed so strong. In control. I never saw you as someone who needed anyone. Especially me.”

  “Forget it. I shouldn’t have gotten upset with you. In fact, I shouldn’t have told you about it. I really don’t want to talk about this anymore. Not now, not while we’re on assignment.” She started walking toward the car.

  “Wait a minute.” He reached out and grabbed her arm. “Are you sure this doesn’t have anything to do with Carlton Randolph?”

  She twisted out of his grip, her face a tight mask of anger. “Of course not. How could it?” She inhaled sharply, then pushed the air out slowly. “Let’s get back to work, okay?”

  She strode away quickly, leaving him standing in the parking lot, bewildered. First, she was upset, almost out of control, and then she was the trained Marshal he expected her to be. He was confused. Angry at Jared . . . even angrier at Casey. He’d never seen her as the type of woman who couldn’t or wouldn’t defend herself. But as he stood there, he realized that no matter how strong and competent she was, Casey Sloane was still a human being. She’d needed help, and he hadn’t been there for her.

  He’d noticed her abrupt reaction to Randolph’s name. She must still blame herself for what happened on the case. Could that have anything to do with what she’d gone through with Jared? Try as he might, he couldn’t figure out a connection. What bothered him the most was that she hadn’t kicked Jared to the curb sooner. Her actions didn’t seem to match what he knew about her. Casey didn’t need to hold on to a man like Jared. She didn’t have to take abuse from anyone. She could have any man she wanted.

  She could have had him.

  He followed her back to the car, trying to focus on the witness they had to protect while dealing with emotions he wasn’t sure how to control.

  CHAPTER

  SEVEN

  Deputy Marshal Tony DeLuca searched through all the people gathered outside the bombed building, trying to find his boss. It had been hours since anyone had seen Batterson. Tony had been in the far side of the building when the bomb went off. Except for some things falling off shelves, everyone in that part of the facility was okay.

  Tony had called the hospital to see if Batterson had been transported there, but they didn’t have any record of him. Then he did the unthinkable. He made the medical examiner unzip all the body bags. Seeing friends and colleagues dead, their sightless eyes staring back at him, ma
de his stomach churn, but he had to keep looking. He was just starting to go back through the crowd once again when he noticed a boot peeking out from behind the wall of the parking garage across the street. Tony ran over there, brushing past a police officer who wanted to know where he was going.

  As he rounded the wall, he discovered Richard Batterson’s body. Tony knelt down next to him, praying. He put his fingers on Batterson’s neck and was relieved to feel a pulse, although it was weak and incredibly fast. He jumped up and yelled at a pair of paramedics who were treating a woman sitting on the back bumper of their ambulance. They grabbed their kits and ran over.

  “Sorry, we didn’t see him,” they said as they knelt down beside Batterson.

  “Is he going to be okay?” Tony asked while they worked on the chief.

  “Not sure. He’s got a pretty bad head injury, and his heartbeat is uneven. We need to get him to the hospital right away. Can you tell us who he is?”

  “Yeah. Can I come with you?”

  “Sure. We’ve already transported everyone else who needs to go. You can give us his information on the way.”

  The other guy, a tall man with red hair, frowned and seemed to be scanning the area.

  “Is something wrong?” Tony asked.

  “We’ve lost someone. Another paramedic.”

  “Could he have left with a different crew?”

  “Maybe, but it would be highly unusual.” He shrugged and turned his attention back to Batterson. “Let’s get going. We’ll look for him later. Situations like this cause a lot of confusion.”

  While the tall one went to get a gurney from the ambulance, and the other paramedic worked on Batterson, Tony pulled out his phone. His fiancée, Kate, answered immediately. He’d already called her to tell her he was okay, but she was still worried.

  “I found Batterson. He’s hurt pretty badly, Kate. I’m going with him to the hospital.”

  “Okay. I’ll meet you there.”

  He started to tell her it wasn’t necessary, but the faces of the dead floated in front of him and he knew he needed her. “See you there,” he said quickly before hanging up. He couldn’t lose it now. Not in front of the paramedics. Right now, getting Batterson to the hospital was all that mattered.

  “Shouldn’t the chief have phoned by now?” Doug asked.

  Casey checked her watch. He’d had almost four hours to contact them. Still nothing. “Maybe it’s taking a long time to get back into the building.”

  “No, something’s not right,” E.J. said. “If this guy is as stubborn as you say, he would have found a way to call us.”

  Although Casey didn’t want to agree with him, she was worried too. “Let’s stop. I’ll call a friend of mine. See if she knows what’s going on. I could use some coffee anyway.”

  “Who’s your friend?” E.J. asked. “Someone you can trust?”

  She felt a flash of resentment at his question, but she fought back the biting remark that popped into her head. He was just trying to be careful. “Yes,” she said evenly. “She’s a deputy, but she’s on maternity leave. She should be at home. I’ll call her landline with the burner. No one will trace it.”

  “But if all the deputies are compromised . . .”

  “It’s a landline, E.J. We’ve got to get some information. We can’t keep flying blind.”

  She noticed the knuckles on his hands turn white as he gripped the steering wheel. She wasn’t trying to upset him, but they had to talk to Batterson. They were out of communication with the Marshals, and it wasn’t safe. Casey trusted Mercy to get a message to the chief. She waited until E.J. turned off the highway and pulled into another convenience store. Casey turned around to look at Doug and Valerie. “If you need anything, get it now. We probably won’t stop again for a while.”

  “I could use something cold,” Doug said. “How about you, Valerie?”

  “That sounds great. Thanks.”

  She’d been quiet ever since she got into the car. Except for some occasional small talk, Valerie spent almost all her time staring out the window, ignoring them. Casey found it odd that a reporter would have so little to say.

  “I’m staying here,” E.J. said. “Can you grab me a bottle of water, Doug?”

  Doug nodded and got out of the car. Casey stared into her side mirror as he and Valerie walked toward the store’s entrance.

  “I’m going to make that call,” she told E.J. as she opened her door. She didn’t want to talk in front of him. She felt him judging everything she did, and it bugged her. He’d changed clothes at their last stop and was wearing jeans, black boots, and a short-sleeved black shirt. He looked great, and for some reason, that irritated her even more. At least she was able to be civil to him. She felt she’d finally gotten herself under control, and she was determined to stay that way.

  She walked a few feet away from the car. As she dialed Mercy’s number, she reassured herself that she wasn’t putting Valerie in danger. Not contacting Batterson was riskier than placing this phone call. So far, they appeared to be safe. Their trip had been uneventful. They’d all watched for cars that might be following them. Every time they thought a vehicle might be suspicious, it would turn off the highway or pass them.

  The phone rang about four times before Mercy St. Laurent answered. Casey was so glad to hear Mercy’s voice, she fought back tears. Mercy was a top-notch deputy, as was her husband, Mark. They were awaiting the birth of their first child, a girl they’d already named Rose.

  “Mercy, it’s me. Casey.”

  “Oh, thank God, Casey. I still don’t know who was hurt in the explosion. They’re keeping the identifications quiet for now.”

  “But Mark’s okay?”

  “Yes. He wasn’t near the blast. It mainly hit the area around the chief’s office.”

  “Actually, that’s why I’m calling. We’re transporting a witness. Batterson told me this morning that he thinks the explosion was meant for us. He ordered us to take off with the witness and meet up with the FBI at a safe location. He was going to get his secure phone out of the building and call hours ago, but we haven’t heard from him. I’m getting concerned.”

  “You . . . talked to him this morning?” Mercy asked, a note of incredulity in her voice. “After the explosion?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Because he’s in the hospital, Casey. Mark’s with him now. He was found not far from the office. He’s badly injured.”

  Casey didn’t know how to respond. It didn’t make any sense. “But . . . but he talked to us. Well, I mean he talked to Doug. How could he do that if he was in such bad shape?”

  “And how could he get to the parking garage across the street?” Mercy added. “I guess he was able to hold on for a bit before he succumbed to his injuries. You know how stubborn he can be.”

  Although it made sense, Casey could hear the doubt in Mercy’s voice. “You said Mark’s at the hospital now?”

  “Yeah. He’s going to stay there for a while. Until they know for sure if . . . if the chief’s going to make it.”

  “It’s that bad?”

  “It’s pretty serious. A severe head injury, cuts and bruises, a couple of broken ribs. He’s in intensive care.”

  “Okay. I’m going to call Mark at the hospital. I’ll use the main hospital number. It should be safe. Mercy, please don’t tell anyone except Mark that I contacted you. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Some place out of town. It’s not one of our normal safe houses. Doug has the address. Batterson chose it. Better if I don’t tell you over the phone. Just in case.”

  “Okay, but keep in touch with us, Casey. I don’t like this. It sounds dangerous.”

  “Seriously, we’re fine. Batterson already talked to the FBI. They’re going to meet us at the location and take our witness to D.C. since we can’t be sure how vulnerable we are right now.”

  “All right.”

  “Hey, how’s Rose?”

&nbs
p; Mercy chuckled. “She’s fine. Getting more and more active. The doctor said it could be any day now. I’m ready. I thought being a Deputy Marshal was tough, but being pregnant takes some real guts.”

  Casey laughed. “I can’t wait to hold that little girl.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be excited to meet her Aunt Casey.” Mercy was quiet for a moment. “Please be careful, okay?”

  “Will do. And thanks, Mercy.”

  “You’re welcome. See you soon.”

  Casey hung up, feeling slightly confused. How could Batterson have been in good enough shape to talk to Doug and then go so far downhill? Her gut told her something was wrong. Was she just being paranoid? Maybe she was still rattled by the bombing.

  She rummaged in the trunk for her briefcase. She kept an emergency contact list and numbers for all the major hospitals in St. Louis, just in case a situation went sideways. She found the number to the hospital where they’d taken Batterson and called and requested intensive care. When they answered, she asked to speak to Deputy Mark St. Laurent, telling the nurse he was there visiting Richard Batterson. After a few minutes, she heard Mark’s voice over the phone. She told him she’d just spoken to Mercy and that she knew about Batterson. “How’s he doing?” she asked.

  “Not good,” Mark said. “He has a bad head injury and developed a subdural hematoma. It’s like a pocket of blood pressing on his brain. They’re getting ready to operate, Casey.”

  Casey could hear the concern in his voice. “What’s the prognosis?”

  “They don’t know. It’s a serious surgery.”

  “Doug talked to him this morning, Mark, before we took off with our witness.”

  There was a long pause. “I don’t see how that could possibly be true,” he said slowly. “He was unconscious when Tony found him and got him to the hospital. Tony’s here too.”

  “Batterson was found across the street, right? So he had to have walked there himself. He must have collapsed after he talked to Doug.”

  “I guess,” Mark responded, “but with his injuries it’s hard to believe. Besides he didn’t have a phone when he was found.”