by Kane, Janine
“Yeah, well, tell him his sister will thank me later,” Zack baited.
“She will?” she said with a giggle. “How will she do that… exactly?”
“Oh, well, I didn’t want to get into details and get you all hot and bothered while you were at work, but if you insist…”
Eva thought better of it and stopped him. “Whoa, we better wait. I don’t want you hot and bothered at work either.”
“In my case,” he told her, “I could just go in the locker room and take a cold shower.”
“We’ll just hold off,” she insisted. “It’s a good sign they asked you to stay on for the afternoon. Let’s not ruin your reputation at work just yet.”
“Okay,” he said with a sigh, “but I expect my payment tonight, or you’ll owe me interest and penalties.”
“Oh… penalties…” she said with a big smile.
When she hung up, Hank shook his head. “You two are disgusting.”
She giggled again. “Jealous.”
“Ugh! You’re my sister.”
“Ew!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t mean like that. I meant you’re jealous that we’re so happy.”
“Oh, yeah,” he admitted. “I am, a little bit.”
***
After Hank left for her house, Eva threw herself into her work, thankful when the clock struck one-thirty. She went straight to meet Trish at Wendy’s. Her headache had subsided after talking to Zack. He was a miracle worker. She wanted a clear head while talking to Trish, who was already waiting for her when she got there.
“Hey girl,” Eva greeted when she found her sitting in a booth near the back. Then she saw Trish’s face. “Oh my goodness, what’s wrong?”
Trish put on a forced smile. “Nothing, really.” But she looked like she wasn’t sure herself. Her eyes had a faraway glaze to them, and she looked pale.
Eva sat down across from her. “What did Tyler do? Do I need to go kick his ass?”
Trish laughed. “No, but he did do something. He got me pregnant. I threw up before I went to work this morning, and yesterday I was so nauseated that I could hardly even get out of bed. I finally decided to buy a test on my way in today. I just took it, here, in the bathroom.”
“Oh, Trish!” Eva said. She wasn’t sure how her friend felt about it, so she decided to remain cautious. “Congratulations?”
Trish shrugged. “I guess. Tyler doesn’t want us to have kids yet. He says we’re not ready. We’re not even married.”
“That’s what he said when you told him?” Eva asked her, ready to actually go kick his ass.
“No.” Trish giggled at her friend. “He’s just always said that, so I’m really careful about my birth control. But there was one day while we were on our cruise… I got so carried away with it all, I forgot. Actually, it was three days. Anyways, here I sit, preggers.”
Eva reached over and took her friend’s hand in hers. Then she made Trish laugh by saying, “Then it’s Zack’s fault.”
They had all found out much later that Zack was the one who had set up and paid for Trish and Tyler to go on a cruise while he and Gray and the rest of the DEA field agents had wrapped up Hank’s mess.
When Trish stopped laughing, she said, “Wouldn’t this town just get a kick out of it if I went around telling people that Zack Norcross was responsible for me being pregnant?”
They both cracked up again, and then Trish added, “Thank you.”
“For what?” Eva asked her. “I’m no help. I bet you wish you had a friend who wouldn’t be making jokes at a time like this.”
“Just the opposite,” Trish said. “If you had gone all serious, then I would have gotten more emotional. I needed to laugh, thank you.”
Eva couldn’t help but turn serious then. “How do you feel about it?”
Trish lay a hand on her belly and said, “I’m kind of excited. I think I’m ready to be a mom.”
“I think you’ll make a great mom,” Eva told her, and meant it. “I’m happy for you.”
Trish grinned. “I am too. I just hope Tyler feels the same way.” She reached into her purse and unwrapped a plastic stick she had folded into tissue and showed it to Eva. “Look.”
“Aw,” Eva said with a smile and nearly touched it before remembering what it was. “Ew! You peed on that, didn’t you?”
Trish laughed again. Eva was reminded once more of how good it was to be with friends and people who loved her, and she thought about Hank. He really would be all alone under Witness Protection. That was a hard existence to live. Gray and Zack weren’t going to like it, but she was swaying towards Hank’s side of the argument. Starting over was okay, as long as you had a foundation to build on.
******
Brownsville, Texas
DEA Field Office
Tuesday Afternoon
Gomez and Lewis had arrived that morning, but the director had been delayed in the main office in Virginia. He finally made it to Texas about three o’clock that afternoon. In the meantime, all four of the agents waiting for him had pretty much speculated the situation to death. None of them wanted Samuel to be guilty of this. It was the ultimate betrayal to a law enforcement agent, to be sold out by one of their own. These guys were especially tight. They not only worked together, but since it was such a small office, a small operation, they had also become best friends, and a lot like family. It was heart-wrenching to think that someone they had risked their lives for and with would turn against them.
Director Kemp had met all the men of the group before, except Freeman. After they were introduced, they went into a conference room. Gray wasn’t sure what to expect from the meeting. For the hundredth time that day, he had to convince himself he made the right decision.
Kemp was the first to speak. “I know how difficult this is. The only other part of our job that can even compare emotionally would be having to report the death of an agent to his family. But regardless, it’s a job that we have to do. One that, if we fail to do, could cost us the lives of one or more of our most loyal agents. Agent Alexander, fill me in on this snitch of yours that started all of this, from the beginning.”
Gray took a deep breath before answering, aware of the gravity of the statement he was about to make. “The kid’s name is Barry. He’s a nineteen-year-old delinquent that really wants to go legit, but he’s got nothing much to draw on, you know? His dad’s been locked up most of his life; mama’s a prostitute. He had two older brothers—one died in prison and the other was killed in a drive-by when he was fifteen. He also has a sister who, at sixteen, already has two kids. He started running drugs when he was nine and has been running for the same dealer for ten years. They trust him, so they talk more around him than they would just anyone. He’s given me all good information in the year I’ve been using him. He didn’t point a finger directly at Agent Dillon, but he said that the ‘snake in the grass,’ as he put it, was named ‘Samuel.’”
“And there have been two times when Agent Dillon was tested, essentially,” Lewis said, taking over. “The first time, we set up the operation that netted us the capture of the three men that led to us being able to dismantle the cocaine operation in San Antonio. Only Gray and Freeman and Gomez and myself knew what was going down that night, and it was the first time in a while that we ended up with the element of surprise. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the one operation Sam wasn’t involved in, we succeeded. Then there was the meeting that we had yesterday where Agent Dillon was inadvertently told of the connection we were looking into involving Gilberto Sanchez. That house was cleaned out before the agents got there. They knew we were coming.”
“I haven’t had time to look over Agent Dillon’s file,” Director Kemp said. “How is his record?”
“Exemplary,” Gomez informed him.
“Does he have a family?”
“Yes, a wife and daughter,” Gray said.
“Agent Alexander, do you know his wife well?”
“Yes,” Gray replied.
“Could you give her a call, maybe ask to speak with him, but also ask how she’s doing, see how she seems. An agent can rarely endure this type of stress without his spouse at least having some idea that something heavy is going on.”
“Sure,” Gray agreed.
He picked up his phone and found Sam’s home number in his contacts, but he had his reservations. Tammy was the last person he wanted to get into the middle of this. The woman deserved better. And so did their child.
The phone was answered by an older woman. “Hello?” she said.
“Hi, I was looking for Tammy or Samuel Dillon.”
“This is Tammy’s mother, Charlene. Neither of them are here. Can I take a message?”
“Oh, hello, Charlene. This is Grayson Alexander. I met you at their wedding and again at the baby’s christening and first birthday party.”
“Oh yes, Grayson,” the woman acknowledged, and then she burst into tears.
“Charlene, what’s wrong, why are you crying?”
“Oh, Grayson. Samuel says I can’t tell anyone. Not even any of you. He says I’ll be putting Tammy’s life in danger. But… I’m so worried. I’m sick with it!”
Gray immediately tensed, but he tried to keep his voice calm and soothing. “Worried about what, Charlene? Tell me what’s happened. I promise, I only want to help.” He put the phone on speaker, so the other men could hear.
“Tammy’s been… kidnapped! She’s been gone for months now.” The woman was talking fast, and through heavy sobs. “I… I… I’m not sure I even believe that she’s still alive. Oh, God! I’ve never said that aloud. She’s my baby. Please do something, Grayson!”
Gray did his best to reassure her, and then he told her that it was very, very important for Sam’s peace of mind that she didn’t tell Sam she had spoken to him. She vowed she wouldn’t, but he re-iterated it twice more before hanging up.
So that explains it, he thought, relieved he’d figured out his friend’s motive but fearful for Tammy’s life. Looking at his superiors, he asked, “What do we do now?”
“We talk to Sam Dillon,” Director Kemp said.
Gray called Hank to tell him he was delayed, but Hank said he was sitting comfortably on Zack and Eva’s sofa, sipping iced tea. He told Gray another day was fine… or two.
******
Corpus Christie, Texas
DEA Field Office
Early Tuesday Evening
As they sat in the small office and waited for Sam to arrive, Gomez suddenly looked at Gray and said, “Aren’t you supposed to be in some biker bar in San Antonio this week? I got so caught up in this other shit… Damn! I forgot what else we had going on.”
“Yeah,” Gray sighed. “It’s okay, though. They think I’m out in Nevada hashing out a gun deal with some Nomads I claim to know. If they walked in right now and saw me in this suit and tie with my haircut, they wouldn’t give me a second glance.”
Gray had recently gotten himself involved with an outlaw biker gang that was reportedly running guns in from California or Nevada. He was putting his beloved Harley that his brother had left him to good use… and, he thought, putting this cartel business behind him.
“Do you really have gun running contacts?” the director asked him, interested.
“I’ve been trying to get in with these guys for over a year now. They’re tight, mostly family, or family of crews out of state. I pinched a couple of guys about six months ago. I got lucky while I was working this drug cartel case, actually. The gun runners were next on the hit list of the boss of my informant Barry. He was trying to clean out the competition in San Antonio. I went in as one of them, a kid of a Nomad out west. That Nomad died in prison a few years ago, and I happen to know his kid. He’s actually an accountant, and more legit than me. Anyways, he changed his name and cut ties a while before the old man died. I just sort of borrowed his identity. I told these guys I had a business associate that said they’d been fingered for a hit. Told them when and where it was going down, and when they ended up with the upper hand over the hit men, I was in like Flynn.”
“Well, we’ll try not to eat up too much of your time with this case,” Gomez told him.
“The drug business here in Texas is ran by the cartels, but these bikers are shit-deep in it too. I think they could go hand in hand if I play it right. First though, we need to figure out what’s happening with Sam, and make sure his family is safe.”
On cue, Sam strolled into the office whistling, until he saw Director Kemp sitting in Gomez’s desk chair. He stopped in his tracks and looked around at the other three men in the room. Lewis, Freeman, and especially Gray were unable to hide the accusation in their eyes. Sam didn’t bother to ask what they knew, or how. He sat down, put his head in his hands, and said, “I can explain.”
Chapter Seven
The Disappearance
Sutherland Springs, Texas
Wednesday Morning, 6:00 A.M.
“Hank, wake up!”
Eva was yelling at him. Why was his sister yelling? He hadn’t done anything wrong… lately. He opened one eye, and he could see her tiny frame looming above him.
“What? Why? It’s still dark. What time is it?” He tried to roll back into the couch where he had spent the night and go back to sleep, but Eva was having none of it.
She put her hand on his shoulder and said, “Come on, Hank, Grayson is coming to talk to you this morning, remember? You need to wake up.”
Hank growled, literally, like an animal. “Why the fuck does everyone here in Pleasantville get up so fucking early!” he moaned.
Zack’s voice floated in from the kitchen. “Hey! Watch your mouth. Pleasantville has been good to you.”
Eva giggled, and Hank rolled his eyes as he sat up and said, “Fucking Mayberry.”
“Go wash your face and brush your teeth,” Eva instructed, waving her hand under her nose and making a face.
“And wash that mouth out with soap while you’re in there,” Zack hollered. “Aunt Bee would roll over in her grave if she heard you talking like that.”
Hank stood up and looked at his sister and then over his shoulder at Zack, who had come into the living room with a tray that held a little pot of coffee and all the fixin’s. Hank really couldn’t believe this place. He looked up at the clock on the wall. It read 6:05.
“Shit!” he said. “What time is Barney Fife coming?”
A voice behind him said, “Already here… Gomer.”
Hank turned slowly. Grayson Alexander didn’t scare him as badly as Zack did, but he was intimidating in his own right. He gave him a half smile, and Alexander and the other SOB in a suit smiled back. He recognized the other guy as some special agent or other who he had met the night Eva had been taken.
“Fuck!” Hank said. “Gimme a minute. I gotta take a piss.” He could hear his sister giggle as he set off down the hall. Little traitor, he thought.
******
Brownsville, Texas
Wednesday Morning, 6:05 A.M.
Vincent paced the perimeter of the small basement as he spoke on the phone. “Yes, it should be done today,” he said. The person on the other end of the line must have objected to his use of the word “should,” so he quickly changed it to, “Yes, that’s what I meant to say. It will categorically be taken care of before the day is over. I apologize for my phraseology. It’s early.”
Marcella watched as he stopped pacing and stood listening to the instructions being given to him by the person on the phone. She knew it was his “Boss,” but she didn’t know who that was. She had never met the one above Señor Heston. She imagined that in order to become Señor Heston’s boss, though, one had to be a very powerful man. Vincent started to say something else, but realized that whoever was on the other end had hung up. He threw his phone against the brick wall in anger and watched as it shattered into a thousand pieces.
Then calmly, he turned to Marcella and said, “Get me another phone from above.”
Marcella got up and went to the
stairs that led up into the rest of the house. She hated going up there, hated the way they looked at her. She knew they would never touch her as long as Señor Heston drew breath, but she felt raped by their eyes as they raked them lewdly across her body.
She pushed open the door to the basement and then walked several more feet. Unlocking the three dead bolts on the steel re-enforced door, she pulled it open as well and stepped out into the ultra-modern kitchen. Her eyes scanned the immaculately clean granite countertops, and she felt her blood boil in her chest. If Señor Heston’s men weren’t so inept, she could be staying up here, instead of in that cold dank basement. She wished that she could be the one in control of the trigger that would end the lives of those who had deceived him. Their very souls would burn for eternity, paying for what they had done.
None of the guards were present in the kitchen. She didn’t know who Señor Heston had called upon to arrange their security, but this gang of thugs they hired were not what she expected. Even in the basement where they had been staying, she could hear them driving up on their motorcycles and partying at all hours. She shuddered to think of what they had done within the nice house they were using. She called out for the only one of them that didn’t frighten her.
“Pablo,” she summoned.
Instead of Pablo, a young man with a white T-shirt that fell to his knees and baggy pants that somehow held up despite the force of gravity came into the kitchen. He smiled at her, and when he did, the tattoos he’d gotten around his eyes the last time he’d been in prison looked like long wisps of eyeliner coming off his lids. His name was Enrique, and if anyone ever forgot it, they need look no further than his neck. That had been his first prison tattoo, and not long after he’d gotten it, he had beat the artist, his cellmate, to death with a hammer he’d made of scrap metal collected on the yard over a period of two years. He had been sentenced to death for that one, and by Texas standards, should have been executed by now. As it turned out, however, one of Texas’s most brilliant young attorneys seemed to have an affinity for defending young gang bangers. She had not only gotten the charges against him reversed on a technicality, she had gotten him released. God Bless the U.S.A.
