Call of Duty 02 - Sworn to Protect

by DiAnn Mills

  Becca called. She’d phone her best friend after Tiana went to bed and invite her over for late coffee. So much had happened, and she needed a listening ear. Unfortunately so much of how she filled her hours could not be repeated.

  * * *

  Sandra set the phone back on the cradle and turned to watch Tiana color. Such a beautiful child. The silence in which she lived seemed like a blessing when so much of the world shouted defiance. And Sandra was one of the rebellious ones. She lived a lie. Each time she took up for an immigrant who had been discovered, she questioned the logic. Danika must never learn the truth about Sandra’s falsified work documents or all would be lost. She’d be escorted back to Mexico, and her friendship with Danika would be destroyed.

  Guilt rippled through her. And yet she had no choice. She remembered reading somewhere that the end justified the means. Although Sandra didn’t think God agreed with that philosophy, it made sense. To admit the truth would mean her parents no longer had the added income to help with medical bills. And dear Tiana . . . Sandra loved her as her own.

  Once Tiana no longer needed her, Sandra planned to take her savings back to Mexico and purchase her own chicken farm. She’d learned much about running a business from books and TV programs, and as a young girl she’d worked long hours on a chicken farm. With the current economy problems in the U.S., and with the Border Patrol and ICE enforcing the immigration laws, she simply wanted to live safe and take care of her parents. Maybe by then the Mexican government would give aid to those who wanted to make a decent living. Until then, she believed God would watch over her.

  She stole a peek at the little girl at play and signed, “Would you like strawberries or a banana as a snack before dinner?”

  Tiana held up an imaginary banana and pretended to peel it. She took a bite and rubbed her tummy. Like Sandra’s forged documents, the illusion was nearly as good as the real thing.

  Chapter 7

  To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead.

  Bertrand Russell

  Alex kicked up the volume of Beethoven’s Fifth a notch, just like he kicked his chicken pasta dish up a notch by adding a dash more of Tabasco sauce. A chunk of whole-grain bread sprouting with bits of vegetables and raisins warmed in the oven, and a wedge of lettuce dripping in blue cheese dressing and real bacon pieces called his name. He ran his finger around the salad bowl and popped a generous dollop of dressing into his mouth. Ah, a bit of cracked pepper would top this nicely.

  Cooking helped Alex unwind and work through stress and problems. Tonight his mind spun with the idea of pursuing Danika Morales. Make that Border Patrol Agent Danika Morales. Combine that with his commitment to Ed—chief patrol agent at the McAllen Border Patrol Operation—to help put an end to the flood of recent crimes supposedly due to a rogue agent, and Alex had a fine mix of flammable relationships. Made him wonder if his recent lack of sleep had affected his good judgment. More like he’d met a woman who was not only drop-dead gorgeous but had values and priorities that lined up with how he felt about life. Respect and admiration for the way she’d tended to the beaten young woman today had attracted him to her even more. Getting to know Danika could be a challenge with her brother-in-law following her like a stalker and the fact that Alex and Toby had been friends. But she no doubt could handle herself, or she wouldn’t be an agent. Toby had said his wife had the moral fiber of three men.

  Alex shook his head. Danika Morales was definitely a matter of prayer. And putting his heart out on a limb again for all the flaming arrows to take aim gave him a twinge of doubt. Renee had left him five years ago for a banker in San Antonio. She claimed he had less demanding hours and didn’t prefer his work over her. That accusation stung. Alex admitted to being devoted to his patients, but Renee had always come first in his heart. Stack up her discontent and unfaithfulness with his desire for children, and that equaled a heartbreaking divorce. Did he want to risk another heartbreak?

  After he’d checked on Rita during the late afternoon, he’d had but ten minutes to chat with Danika. Her replacement had walked in and needed to be briefed on the situation.

  Later, Alex joined her on the elevator and walked her to the parking lot. “Is home close by?” he’d asked.

  “Just a few minutes, but I need to drive back to the station and file my report.”

  She looked tired, and he didn’t want to detain her. Not much of an exciting beginning, but he’d take it.

  He lifted a glass of water, heavy on the lemon, to his lips and took a long drink. I should tell her about knowing Toby. But when?

  Alex spooned pasta onto his plate and added the chicken and spicy marinara sauce. Glancing at the clock, he calculated how long before his cell phone alerted him to a critical hospital situation. Not that his self-worth had anything to do with his profession. He just believed in his calling.

  His cell phone rang on the second bite of his salad.

  * * *

  Danika set a plate of chocolate chip cookies on her kitchen table and shoved them Becca’s way. “Sandra baked these just for you, and they have extra macadamia nuts.”

  Becca swirled her spoon through her coffee laced with sugar and half-and-half. She leaned over the freshly baked cookies and inhaled. “Oh, I’ve died and gone to cookie heaven. One of these days, Sandra’s baking is going to catch up with my thighs.”

  “It will give you character.” Danika laughed and poured a second cup of decaf for herself.

  “Redheads do not wear potato sack thighs with distinction.”

  “Worry about it when it happens.” Danika reached for a cookie, extra-large as usual.

  “Sounds like a plan.” And Becca reached for two. “So what’s going on in your world of arrests and protecting the border?” All traces of girlish fun disappeared. “Don’t tell me how many times you were in danger.”

  “Sweetie, that’s a fact of BP life.” Danika twirled a loose strand of hair at her earlobe. Tonight she needed a break from the pressures of work—and family problems. Should she talk about Jacob or the poor girl in the hospital or possibly Alex or—

  “You’ve met somebody.” A smile lifted the corners of Becca’s mouth.

  “Sort of.” Danika wasn’t sure she should discuss Alex, certain her best friend would advise her to stay clear of a man who obviously had conflicting views about the border problem.

  “Another agent? I know it’s Felipe Chavez, the cute guy with the big eyes and dimples.”

  “I’d never date Felipe when you have a serious crush on him.”

  Becca laid her spoon across the saucer. “Thank you. Now tell me about this guy.”

  What had she gotten herself into? “I have to think about it.”

  “What’s there to think about? Spill it. You know I won’t let up until you give me all the yummy details.”

  “Okay. His name is Alex, and he’s a doctor.”

  “Woo-hoo, girl! I like him already. How many dates?”

  Danika should not have opened up, because Becca would never let it rest. “None. We’re just talking.”

  “Where did you meet?”

  “At the hospital.”

  “Duh. I should have figured where. McAllen Medical Center?”

  Danika nodded. “First it was for Jon Barnett when he got shot.”

  Becca raised a brow. “How is he?”

  “He’s doing fine. Going home tomorrow. Anyway I talked to Alex twice during that time and then today when I brought in a young girl who needed medical attention.”

  “What’s he look like?”

  Honestly, she should recognize the inner qualities of a person before assessing his potential for GQ. “Becca, other things are more important than looks.”

  “I know, but it’s a good starting point.”

  Danika laughed. She and Becca both appreciated a good-looking man. “His eyes are blue, very blue, like they’ve been outlined with black pencil.”

  Becca sighed. “I’m about to get a
dissertation.”

  Danika wrinkled her nose. “Okay, so here’s the skinny. He has blond hair, a little taller than me, a wide smile, and beautiful teeth.” An image of Alex flashed across her mind. Over ten years had passed since a man had affected her this way. Perhaps two years after Toby’s death wasn’t long enough.

  “What about the stuff that counts?”

  “From what I’ve seen, he’s dedicated and compassionate with a sweet sense of humor.” Danika thought back to the first time she met him when Jon Barnett was shot. Alex had comforted Livi and told her in easy-to-understand language about Barnett’s condition. And today, he’d been so tender with Rita.

  “Ah, while you have that dreamy look on your face, tell me if he has a brother.”

  “And disappoint Felipe?” Danika pushed the plate of cookies a little closer to Becca. “We have half a pot of decaf coffee to drink yet, so tell me what I should do about Alex.”

  “Any smoke signals?”

  Danika rested her chin on her fists. She didn’t want to ruminate about Toby. As much as she’d loved him, he did have secrets. “Nothing other than he works at a hospital where illegals receive free treatment.”

  “Does he wear a sign that says ‘activist’?”

  Danika nearly choked on her coffee. “No.”

  “Then let him know you’re interested,” Becca said. “Enough time has passed for you to consider seeking friendships with men. Toby would not have wanted you to stay single.”

  “I’ve been thinking about other things too. What about the practical things like Tiana, our careers, and faith?”

  Becca’s eyes widened. “I advise you to talk to God about the serious issues. I’m your good-time friend who wants your life to be like Cinderella.”

  Danika sobered. “You and I know Prince Charming always has a bag of toads.”

  “But if you know about the warts first, they have a way of working out.”

  Chapter 8

  Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth.

  Henry David Thoreau

  “Eight hits at sensor 114,” the radio blared.

  Danika shoved her jeep into gear and whipped it around to head back down the narrow road toward the sensor location. Typical Friday. Never an easy day. But this beat sitting in the hospital waiting for Rita to heal. Thank goodness another agent had taken her place, although she didn’t know why. She’d noted an unusual amount of tension at the station, but again she didn’t know why. If she’d done something wrong, wouldn’t the chief have called her into his office? Perhaps she should simply ask him.

  In the distance, she saw a funnel of dirt bringing another agent toward the point. Usually illegals crossed over during the night, but lately they’d gotten braver, or their guides had convinced them the Border Patrol wouldn’t stop them. By the time she reached number 114, two other vehicles were there.

  Felipe led the way on foot down a well-worn path to the river and disappeared behind a clump of spindly trees. Known for his speed and agility, Felipe seldom allowed an illegal to slip past him, and he could read a trail like an Indian scout.

  She yanked out the truck keys and jogged after Felipe over the trodden grass. Already the sun baked the earth and stole the breath of man and animals, causing the locusts to protest in an earsplitting discord of voices.

  Over the morning air, Felipe shouted out the familiar calling card of the Border Patrol. Ten people, some still wearing muddy clothes and shoes from crossing the river, stood about twenty feet from the riverbank. Why had they attempted this in the middle of the day? Made no sense.

  Danika heard a cry, the distinct wail of a newborn. Her gaze flew to the women, but none of the four in the group was holding a baby. She searched the ground around them but saw nothing.

  “Dónde está el bebé?” Danika studied the faces of the women again. “Do you want your baby to die in this heat?”

  A man stepped forward and lifted an infant from inside his jacket, causing an otherwise-protruding stomach to look flat. Danika gasped. The baby looked to be about two weeks old. The man handed her the crying child, who was clad in only a soggy diaper. She didn’t want to think about the toxic river.

  “Is the mother here?” She cradled the crying infant and studied the women’s faces.

  When no one acknowledged the baby, Danika turned back to the man and handed him the infant. “Your little one could have drowned.”

  He said nothing but pulled a capped bottle of milk from his pocket. Oh, the germs. The enormous sacrifices these people paid to get to the U.S. proved their desperation.

  A flash of metal caught her attention. A man wielded a knife in Felipe’s direction.

  “Felipe!”

  But the wiry agent had already detected the danger and quickly had the man pinned on the ground. Felipe tied the illegal’s hands.

  “Soy ciudadano estadounidense,” the man claimed.

  “Then why did you pull a knife on me?” Felipe jerked him to his feet.

  “I was afraid.”

  The other agent searched his overstuffed backpack and found approximately twelve pounds of cocaine, his cell phone, and two cans of Red Bull.

  “Was that supposed to give you courage?” Felipe hoisted the backpack over his own shoulder.

  Danika immediately recognized the tattooed markings of the Zeta gang. For the past two years, Mexican police had been working to bring an end to this highly organized drug gang. But now the open fighting had the White House’s attention and every Border Patrol agent on alert.

  The man, around eighteen years old, sneered at her and spat on Felipe’s uniform. “You’ll pay for this.”

  She curtailed her emotional restraint. “You got it wrong. You’ll be in jail for a long time.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “Contract is already out on you, lady. Big reward for pretty, blonde woman agent. Might have some fun first, huh?”

  Twice she’d heard this. The energy it took to keep calm would take its toll later. “From whom?”

  He laughed. “You’ll find out soon enough. Maybe from me. All the gangs know about you and the reward. You better keep looking over your shoulder.”

  Hours later, Danika pored over the police report from Toby’s killing for the hundredth time. His body had been found in a field near the Highway 281 checkpoint, an area noted for illegals attempting to slip by en route to Houston, San Antonio, or Austin. Agents knew to look for bodies when vultures swarmed the area—sometimes lack of water and food or exhaustion killed the illegal.

  But not Toby. He had a hole in his head from a 9 mm semiautomatic pistol—execution style—and no one knew why. She dealt with facts, and she didn’t have enough to lead her or the authorities to the killer.

  * * *

  Jacob listened to the last snippet of sports on the late night news before reaching for the remote and powering off the TV. He’d checked on the kids during the last commercial, and they were asleep.

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  Barbara moved the newspaper from the front of her face and stared at him with a familiar frown. “What about?”

  “I’d rather have this discussion in our bedroom.”

  “Right here, Jacob. Right now.” Her voice started to escalate.

  “Hush. Do you want to wake the kids?”

  “They hear it all anyway. Why is this any different?”

  “Things are bad between us. Can’t we talk civilly like two adults?” Jacob reached over and snatched the paper from her hands.

  She started and her face reddened. “You could have asked before you grabbed the paper.” She sighed. “What do you suggest?”

  “My concern is for the children.”

  A tear slipped from her eye. Good, she needed remorse. “They worry about their parents fussing all of the time.”

  “Whose fault is that?” Jacob would not allow her to turn this around. He’d prepared for this discussion.

  Barbara stiffened. “Not all mine.”

  “Th
ey’re afraid of me.” He hadn’t thought he could get those words out, but in doing so, he’d found the strength to say what must be stated.

  “You are constantly criticizing them,” she said softly and leaned toward him. “You seldom play with them anymore or encourage them in their interests. Meeting with Father Cornell helped before. This time I’ll go with you. We can do this together.”

  Jacob clenched his fists. “The kids are afraid because you’re poisoning their minds against me.”

  Her eyes flared. “What are you talking about? I’ve never discredited you in front of our children. That’s insane.”

  “But true.” He lowered his voice and attempted to keep himself in control. “I’m warning you, Barb. If you value our family, do not turn my children against me.”

  She stood and faced him. Her lips quivered. “If you value our marriage, then you will seek help before you lose your whole family. Toby is gone. You can’t bring him back. And where are you spending your time when you aren’t at work?” She opened her mouth as if to say more, but instead she walked away and left him sitting in his favorite chair with regret ringing in his ears.

  Never had he known such frustration with Barbara. Like a splinter under his fingernail, the discontent needed to be yanked from his home.

  Chapter 9

  The truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it.

  Flannery O’Connor

  Danika finished brushing Tiana’s thick black hair into a ponytail. Her daughter’s dark eyes danced in anticipation of the station picnic. Today the off-duty Border Patrol agents and their families would gather for a picnic at Cascade Park. Luckily, Danika had a rare Saturday off. Despite the broiling temperatures guaranteed for this Saturday, heat would not stop the fun and games—including softball and volleyball—and all the good eats. Danika could almost smell the barbecue and taste the mounds of food that she didn’t have to prepare.