Ruben woke under a torturously bright light to the knowledge that his body was nothing but a rolling wave of pain. As he struggled to open his swollen eyes, he thought for sure he’d died and gone to hell – because Detective Sergeant Ricky Chisolm was grinning down at him.
“Well hello, sleeping beauty,” Chisolm said, laughing. Ruben immediately tried to sit up but one of Chisolm’s arms pressed down on his chest.
“Lie down, will ya?” The detective took pity on him. “It’s okay, Ruby. She’s fine. I know that’s the first thing you want to know, and the O’Connor woman is fine. She’s in the ambulance behind us. Nothing serious.”
“Janey,” he breathed, falling back onto the stretcher. “Janey.”
Ruben’s eyes suddenly strained to open within the puffy mess of his face. “What are you doing here?” he garbled. “Where’s Rowe? Where is he?”
Chisolm’s arm came down on him again. “Sit still you little pecker. You’ve been shot and nearly beheaded, so you might want to take a load off.”
“Where’s Rowe?” Ruben’s eyes glared at him.
“Brad Rowe is dead. So is an FBI agent from Philadelphia and a kid from New Jersey. And Leroy was hit, but he’s gonna make it just fine.”
Ruben’s head buzzed, his blood buzzed, and the questions jockeyed for position in his brain, one after the other, an endless list of things he had to know, immediately, right this instant, right now…
But all he could manage was a groan.
“Chisolm,” Ruben finally whispered, as the most important question surfaced and took form. “Did you shoot Rowe?”
The Albuquerque Metro Detective nodded. “Yup.” God in heaven, Jaramillo looked like he’d met up with a gang of South Valley low-riders in a nice dark alley somewhere, he thought. “And you owe me. Big time.”
“Why are you here?” Ruben tried to swallow. He brought a hand to the bandages around his neck and his upper arm blasted through with pain.
A woman paramedic moved to Ruby’s side and smiled, adjusting his intravenous line. Taos County Community Rescue, Ruben saw.
“Ruby. We got a lot to sort out,” Chisolm said. “Right now, the most important thing is you get some rest, okay? Because as soon as we get to Albuquerque, the shit’s gonna hit the fan and you’re gonna to need to stay sharp.”
Ruben tried to clear his head. “What are you talking about?”
Chisolm let out a soft laugh. “Did you ever see re-runs of ‘I Love Lucy?’
“What?”
“Cause we’ve all got a lot of ‘splaining to do.”
Janey sat up in the stretcher, her filthy hands folded over the blanket tucked around her legs. It was difficult for her to meet Agent Lofton’s eyes. What he said sounded reasonable enough to give her some hope, but she couldn’t be sure.
It all came down to trust, and God knows there wasn’t much of that left in her heart.
“And, again, Miss O’Connor, what Agent Sheridan did to you was unconscionable. They’d have his badge if he were alive.”
She nodded silently.
“I’ve been authorized to tell you that if you agree to this, if your boyfriend agrees to this, you’ll get your life back, do you understand what I’m telling you?”
She nodded again, her eyes darting around inside the ambulance and stopping at the opened boxes at Agent Lofton’s feet. It seemed she was about to do the right thing, whether she liked it or not.
“Do you want me to go over it again?” he asked.
Janey looked behind her. The ambulance crew was riding up front so that Lofton could have time with her alone. She felt trapped. She was trapped.
She finally met Lofton’s eyes. He looked like a nice man. He looked like he really cared. And it terrified her.
“Miss O’Connor. You need to focus.”
“I heard you! You’re going to make up a story—what happened up here was just another violent drug deal nobody will pay any attention to.”
He nodded.
“But everyone in Philadelphia is going to have so many questions about Brad…”
“We’ll handle all of that. And, in our own way, we’ll handle Liberty Path. An entire army of federal officers has already been mobilized to keep an eye on the situation.”
She shook her head. “I’m scared.”
The FBI agent touched her shoulder. “No one will ever know you knew anything about Liberty Path.”
She closed her eyes and leaned back against the stretcher.
“The important thing is that no one but Agent Sheridan knew you were collecting information on Rowe, right? The surviving militia member in custody has already spilled his guts to us–so he’s our whistleblower, Miss O’Connor. No one will even think of looking for you.”
“But…”
“All you need to do is go back to your life, your work, and say you didn’t know anything about Brad’s drug connections, which is the truth. You won’t have to fear Liberty Path ever again… if Jaramillo agrees to write the story.”
She frowned at him. “But he’ll know it’s a lie.”
Lofton nodded. “There has to be an explanation for Brad’s death that will give us room to work. We need him to write the story. He’s the local crime reporter, right? He writes these stories all the time. It will look totally legitimate.”
Janey nodded quietly, looking down at her black, ragged fingernails.
“He has the ability to help you, Janey, help the country.”
“I don’t know if he’ll do it.” She blinked back the tears.
“You’ll just have to convince him, then.”
Chapter 13
Saturday, March 25
Agent Lofton had barely left Ruben’s hospital room when the door opened again. He closed his eyes and sighed. Now what?
“Dear God, Ruben.” Howard Norris stood in the doorway with Jim Cooper and Suzie Gilligan. All three stared in disbelief.
“Shiiiit,” hissed Cooper.
“Are you feeling any better?” Suzie was at his side, touching his hand. “Is the pain okay?”
Ruben nodded, giving the threesome a good look at the stitches across his throat.
“I heard they brought in a wonderful plastic surgeon. The scar won’t even be noticeable.” Suzie knew it was a stupid thing to say, but she was at a loss for words. She could hardly look at Ruben – he looked like a piece of steak gone bad, all red, black, purple and ripe.
“Shiiit,” Cooper exhaled again.
“We just came by to let you know we’re thinking of you.” Howard stood by the bed, frowning, his hands shoved in his pockets. A laptop carrying case was slung over one shoulder. “Is there anything we can do?”
Ruben nodded. “We need to talk.”
Howard pursed his lips. “We do.” He turned to the others, “Could I ask you two for a few minutes alone with Ruben?”
Suzie got up immediately, but Cooper stood immobile. “Shiiiit,” he said again, as Suzie grabbed him by the arm and led him into the hallway.
Howard pulled up a chair.
“The FBI agents explained the situation to me Ruben, at least a portion of it. I must say I’ve never been faced with a decision like this, in all my years in the newspaper business.”
Howard studied Ruben and winced. “Are you sure you’re up for this right now?”
“Yeah,” Ruben said. “I’m so sorry, Howard.”
The managing editor laughed. “I hardly think you need to apologize for a national security crisis, Ruben. God knows you’ve caused me grief now and then, but this time I can honestly say it’s not your fault.” He smiled at him. “I don’t think even Chief Chavez can blame you for this one.”
Ruben smiled weakly.
“Now, let’s talk turkey, shall we? I just got off the phone with the U.S. Attorney General. He asked me to print a news story I know to be false in order to prevent another potential Oklahoma City bombing. Then he asked me to make sure it was picked up on the wire.”
“What did you tell him?�
�
“I told him we’d do it. I’ve talked to our lawyers and we believe we can’t, in good conscience, do anything but what they’ve asked. It’s not prior restraint. I can live with it.” Howard grinned. “I brought my laptop, so I thought we could slap it together from here.”
“All right.”
“Ruben?” Howard paused as he opened his briefcase. “I don’t know the real story, but you do, don’t you?”
He nodded. “I can’t, Howard.”
He pursed his lips. “Fair enough.”
Ruben swallowed hard. “Howard?”
“Mmm?” He was already typing.
“As soon as we’re done here, I’ll give you my resignation.”
Howard’s fingers froze in mid-air. “Excuse me?”
“I’m quitting.”
“You’re quitting what? You’re quitting your job at The Star?”
“Yes.”
“Whatever for?”
“For this. For compromising our newspaper this way. For wrecking the newsroom car. For dropping the ball on the investigative project. For everything.”
“Well now.” Howard closed the laptop computer and rapped his knuckles across its top. “I won’t accept your resignation.”
“But…”
“No way. If you want to quit because you’re moving out of town or you’ve won the lottery, fine. But I will not accept your resignation because of any kind of perceived failure as a reporter. That’s ludicrous. Are we clear on this?”
“Howard…”
“In fact, I was going to ask you if you’d consider a promotion to assistant city editor – Kovac’s old job.”
“His old job?”
“His old job.”
Ruben grunted with amusement. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Fine. We’ll have plenty of time to talk about any changes you might like to make when you get back in a month or two.”
“But the evidence story, I told Cooper…”
“We’ll get to that, but it will have to wait. Our country is depending on us, right?” Howard grinned, reopened the computer and started clicking on the keys.
“Let’s make it down and dirty. No frills. Just get the basics out and let it take on a life of its own, which God knows it surely will back in Philadelphia. The FBI says they’re ready to handle their end out there. Shall we?”
Chapter 14
Sunday, March 27
The story was picked up by the wire services and appeared in newspapers and television news across the country that morning. When Janey came to visit Ruben, she brought him the Star, the Los Angeles Times, the New York Times, and the Washington Post.
She read to him while he took tiny sips of coffee and nibbled on toast.
By Ruben Jaramillo
Albuquerque (AP) – A federal agent and a Philadelphia antiquities dealer were among three men killed in a shootout Friday in the remote mountains of northern New Mexico during a drug trafficking dispute, according to the FBI.
Dead were Philadelphia-based FBI Special Agent Valerie W. Sherman, 52, and Princeton-educated gallery owner and philanthropist Bradley S. Rowe, 39. A third man, who police had yet to identify, was also killed.
The deaths came during an exchange of gunfire between law enforcement agents, Rowe, and the unnamed man, the FBI said.
Injured in the melee was an Albuquerque Metro Police detective assisting on the case. Sergeant Leroy Salazar, 47, was listed in good condition at University of New Mexico Hospital with a single gunshot wound to the leg.
According to an FBI spokesperson, Rowe had been under surveillance for months for his suspected role in a nationwide drug distribution ring. The FBI would release no further information, saying the case was ongoing.
Rowe was owner of Bradley Rowe Gallery and Imports in downtown Philadelphia, and was considered an expert in the field of antique and collectible weaponry.
“This news is shocking to say the least,” said Winston Smythe, a member of the Philadelphia Opera Company board of directors, on which Rowe had served for six years. “Brad was top-notch all the way. We’re stunned,” Smythe said.
Rowe was a fixture in Philadelphia’s fine arts and philanthropic communities. A New Hampshire native, he earned a master’s degree in art history from Princeton University.
Janey placed the paper on Ruben’s lap. “Stunned,” she repeated to herself.
“Stunned is a good word,” Ruben said, studying Janey. She looked clean and composed and, except for the bandage above her left eyebrow, hardly worse for the wear.
“You look like hell, Ruby.”
“I feel like it, too, believe me.”
“I don’t know how to thank you for doing that article.”
“No problem.”
“Yeah, right. It must have killed you to write something you knew wasn’t true.” She let her eyes wander over him, wondering how long it would take for him to heal. “I’m so sorry for everything. I feel like I’ve single-handedly ruined your life.”
His fingers stretched out for hers and she gripped his hand.
“Shit happens,” he mumbled, and Janey let out a throaty laugh. “Stop,” Ruben said. “It hurts when I smile.”
She brushed her cool fingertips across his swollen cheek. “I have to go back.”
“I know.”
“The plan is I go back to my life and wait for the FBI to deal with Liberty Path. I won’t be allowed to have contact with you until the group is destroyed. Then I’ll be free to go wherever I want.”
“Okay.”
“It’s not over between us, Ruby,”
“You’re damn right about that.”
She gripped his hand harder. “The company is letting me dance Aurora. I’m still a principal. They didn’t cut me. I should be out of this damn cast in time for opening night.” A huge smile spread across her face, and Ruben realized he hadn’t seen her smile like that since she remembered her name.
“Janey, that’s good. That’s real good.”
“I want to kiss you, Ruby.”
His eyes flashed from behind the puffed lids. “If you can find a spot, go for it.”
Janey climbed up on the bed with him, careful not to bump his left shoulder, where the bullet had been removed, or his throat, or his swollen eyes, or the cuts on his brow, chin, and upper lip.
She sat on her knees next to him and pressed her lips, so gentle and so soft, against the corner of his mouth. He moaned at the touch of her against him, at the realization that she was saying goodbye.
She pulled back and looked at him. She saw tears in Ruben’s eyes.
“Oh, Ruby…”
“I’m fine.”
“When I thought he was going to kill you… I… nothing in the world mattered but you.”
“I’m alive,” Ruben said, squeezing her hand even harder. “Don’t worry about me. You’ve worried enough for a lifetime.”
“I love you, Ruben Jaramillo.”
“I love you, Jane Doe. When is your flight?”
“In two hours. Lofton is waiting for me in the hall—they want me back right away. They’ll have someone assigned to me all the time.”
Ruben nodded at her.
“Lofton told me the kid gave them a ton of information trying to plea bargain in Sheridan’s death. He’s just twenty years old, Ruby!” She shook her head sadly. “I guess he’ll be the scapegoat, so I’m clear.”
He tried to smile.
“I’ll miss you every second of every day,” she said. “Just get well. I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?”
He nodded. “Hey Janey?”
“Yes?”
“You really do love me, don’t you?”
“I do. I love you. I’m not going to be able to call you up and remind you, so please, know that I love you. Don’t ever doubt that.”
“OK. Can I have another kiss?”
She obliged him, then she lay her head on his chest. Ruben carefully brought an arm up around her.
“Between the
two of us, we’ll figure it out,” she whispered.
Now if this wasn’t the strangest get-together in the most unlikely of settings, Ruben thought. If his body didn’t hurt so much, he would have sworn he was dreaming.
They’d decided to meet in the doctor’s lounge in the hospital’s general surgery unit. The door was locked. On Ruben’s left at the conference table was Howard, and on his right was Cooper.
Across the table was Metro Police Chief Sam Chavez and Detective Ricky Chisolm. At the end of the table, in a wheelchair that propped up his bandaged leg, was Detective Leroy Salazar.
“We’re here to make you a deal,” Chief Chavez said, looking at Ruben’s swollen face. “Howard has already heard me out on this.”
Ruben shot his editor a skeptical glance, and Howard nodded.
“It’s your evidence story, Ruby. You’re close, but not quite on the mark, and we need to ask you to pull back.”
“What?” Cooper jumped to his feet, looking from Chavez to Howard and back. “Howard?” He stared at his editor.
“Sit down. Let the Chief speak.”
Ruben and Cooper listened as Chavez told them the data they’d collected on narcotics evidence storage did indeed implicate police misconduct and criminal activity—just not the way they thought.
“Things aren’t always the way they look at first glance, gentlemen,” Chavez said. “You’re right. There is a pattern of missing evidence in a series of South Valley busts. But it’s not Detectives Chisolm and Salazar who are involved. They’re working undercover as part of the Interdisciplinary Drug Taskforce. The reason they’ve been at each of those busts was to collect evidence on fellow officers.”
“Not a pretty job,” Salazar said, lowering his head.
Ruben and Cooper stared.
“Here’s our deal, gentlemen. Don’t publish what you’re planning to publish, for two reasons. First, it’s wrong, as in, all the way wrong. And second, it will blow an investigation we’ve spent many months, hundreds of man-hours and thousands of taxpayer dollars putting together. Don’t do it.”
Ruben and Cooper slowly turned their heads to face each other. Was it possible?
Collision Course: A Romantic Thriller Page 23
