Call of Duty 02 - Sworn to Protect

by DiAnn Mills

He laughed, a dose he needed after the last couple of days. Running his fingers through his hair, he deliberated how much to tell her. “She’s a widow. Her husband and I were friends, and he was murdered two years ago. Problem is, I neglected to tell her about the friendship.”

  “Alex, that doesn’t sound like such a crime to me.” She tilted her head. “Knowing you, there’s more.”

  “Oh, there is.” Alex proceeded to spill his guts about Toby, his pro-immigration activism, the threat made to Danika, and the shooting. He didn’t mention any association with Ed or Homeland Security.

  Mom buried her face in her hands. Drama was her specialty. “Did you leave anything out?”

  He grinned. “Probably. But you have the gist of it. I’m not an activist, but at this point, I doubt if she’d believe anything I said.”

  “Why is someone out to shoot her?”

  “My personal thoughts are it has something to do with her husband’s murder or the fact that the Border Patrol suspects a rogue agent.”

  Panic seared her eyes. “You didn’t tell me about a rogue agent. I think I need to pack you up and take you home with me.”

  “Things will settle down soon.”

  “At whose expense?” Mom pointed to his leg. “His aim might be better the next time.”

  “I—” Alex’s cell phone rang before he could finish his statement.

  It was Ed, wanting to know about his recovery process.

  “My mom’s here. Going to be the cook and nurse for a few days.”

  “Does she like kids?”

  Weird question. “She’s a retired pediatric nurse. What’s up?”

  “Danika talked to me before she ended her shift. She’s looking for someplace to send her little girl until things cool down here, possibly the child’s nanny too. She doesn’t have any family who could take her daughter.”

  Alex thought about Danika’s reaction when he brought up her parents. Their relationship must have been worse than he guessed. “Danika is not speaking to me.”

  Ed blew out an exasperated sigh. “I’m not playing matchmaker.”

  “Who asked you to?”

  “Do you need a pain pill?”

  “As a matter of fact I do.”

  “Thought so. Guess I was out of line. Got a boatload of work to do and was trying to help Danika get her daughter out of the city.”

  Alex glanced at his mom, who pretended interest in a magazine. No one could read pages that were turned that fast. “Her little girl is a sweet kid. Maybe I can approach Danika as a friend.”

  “In terms of your mother?”

  “In terms of a little girl who needs a safe place to stay. Danika and I may not be an item, but I do care about their safety.”

  “Let me know.”

  “I will.”

  “And, Alex?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Take a pain pill.” Ed chuckled, but Alex didn’t find it a bit amusing.

  Mom closed the magazine as soon as he disconnected the call. “Who needs a babysitter?”

  Chapter 34

  For every man who lives without freedom, the rest of us must face the guilt.

  Lillian Hellman

  Jacob wiped the sawdust from his jeans at the cabinet shop. The bench was completed, a custom piece for an interior decorator, rough finished to look like it had come from an eighteenth-century mission.

  “Every piece you construct is superb quality. Are you ready to go full-time?” Harv clasped him on the shoulder. “Sure could use you.”

  Jacob studied the bench, proud of what he’d accomplished. The store’s owner, a bald man long past the age of retirement, had been pressuring him for the past few days. “I never thought I’d like to build furniture full-time, but this is a lot easier on my blood pressure than riding the line for the Border Patrol.”

  “I have an order for custom kitchen cabinetry for an upscale house. It’s yours if you want it.”

  Jacob crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t have to think long about the offer. “I’ll take it. My grandfather was a craftsman too. He built beautiful pieces of furniture. Used to watch him for hours.”

  “You’ve got a gift. That’s for sure.” Harv stuck out a veined hand scarred with his profession. Jacob grasped it, and he felt good.

  Jacob left the shop without the usual depression weighing on him. He enjoyed taking pieces of wood and forming them into something beautiful and useful. Father Cornell was right—working with his hands could calm his spirit and reshape his heart.

  He’d started meeting with Father Cornell the day he’d been let go from the Border Patrol and learned they suspected him as the rogue. In the beginning it looked like a good way to show his innocence and get custody of his kids. But he’d actually started to feel better.

  For a few minutes he’d shoved aside the losses in his life. Would he ever see his Naddie again? His throat tightened.

  * * *

  Karen Price delivered a cup of herbal tea to Alex. “Son, you have a heart for people in need. It doesn’t matter whether the problem is physical, mental, or spiritual, you’re ready to help. God wired you that way.”

  Alex inhaled the apple cinnamon tea. “I inherited the trait from you.”

  “Remember when you called me about those nineteen undocumented people who died in the back of a truck transporting them to a city near Houston? It was all over the news.”

  May 2003. The memory still haunted him. He knew the relatives of one of the men who had perished in the suffocating heat. A child was among them too. All those people wanted was to reach Houston and find work—start their lives with hope for the future. “A sad situation. Senseless deaths.”

  “From what I can tell, the situation with the border is a mess, and I certainly don’t have a solution. But all the authorities can do, like your friend, is enforce the laws of our country.”

  “The agents I’ve met are concerned about the welfare of those who cross the border. They don’t hesitate to bring them to the hospital for treatment.”

  “How appropriate if the media reported those cases instead of the dirt.”

  “Exactly. I do think the media has been doing a better job since the drug cartels have been threatening our borders.” He studied her. This was leading to something.

  She stood and lifted her chin. “Grab your crutches. We’re taking a ride.”

  “Where?”

  “To get a dozen roses and a sweet card for your friend. Then we’re going to talk to her about having her little girl come home with me until this is all over.”

  He should have known. “How’s your signing?”

  She tossed him a puzzled look.

  “Tiana is deaf, and so the nanny would need to come along.” Except she’s undocumented. What a mess.

  Mom lifted her chin. “I have plenty of room, and I’d enjoy the company. Maybe I could learn to sign too. My fingers aren’t eaten up with arthritis yet and won’t be for years.”

  Alex wanted to think about Mom’s proposal. Dragging her into this gave a whole new meaning to uncomfortable. “Are you certain this is what you want to do?”

  One look told him there was no changing her mind. “Absolutely.”

  He glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantel. “Her shift ends at six.” He worried his lip. “Sometimes she goes to church on Saturday nights. I think the service begins at seven thirty.”

  “Then let’s get going. Do we need to bring dinner?”

  Alex laughed. “I’ve already done that once.”

  For a woman who should be planning the next senior club event, his mom sure had energy. They’d always been close. After Dad left them for a younger woman, she’d jumped in and played both parental roles. They went camping, played football, took piano lessons, learned how to take care of the house inside and out, and everyone attended church on Sunday morning and Wednesday night. When she made a mistake, she owned up to it. When she was right, she didn’t let you forget it. All three of the kids had gone beyond coll
ege education and were firmly rooted in their relationship with God. Not a bad life when he considered the statistics of what usually happened to kids from broken homes.

  He struggled to his feet, dread nipping at his heels. He anticipated Danika would not be happy when she opened the door and saw him and his mother. The pain meds had definitely knocked loose any good sense that might have taken residence in his brain.

  * * *

  Danika smelled dinner the moment she opened the front door at home. Chicken noodle soup and homemade bread. She could use a little comfort food. Driving home from work, she’d realized the best solution to finding a haven for Tiana was to send her and Sandra to another city. Paying rent along with her mortgage payment would be a stretch, but she could do it until those threatening Danika were brought to justice. It also occurred to her that she wouldn’t be able to visit Tiana and Sandra for fear she’d be followed.

  She searched her mind again for suspects, but nothing surfaced, leaving her feeling frustrated and stupid. It was as though she’d pulled into a one-way cul-de-sac. In two years she’d failed to find Toby’s killer, and now someone had set out to get her, too. What battered her senses was why now? This person or persons had two years to come after her. Something had triggered the stalking . . . but what? She arrested people every day for crimes. Any of them could hold a grudge. Any of them could have murdered Toby. Oh, the depths of reality.

  I’m not going to sit back and be the hunted. If they want me, they’d better be prepared for a fight.

  Danika set her backpack in her bedroom closet and sought out Tiana and Sandra in the backyard. Roses climbed the fence and crepe myrtles in bright pink added color to the otherwise-green area. With Tiana’s jungle gym, there wasn’t much room for anything else. A ceiling fan on the enclosed patio circulated the air, and Sandra and Tiana were involved in a paint-by-number book—in Spanish.

  No sooner had Danika hugged her daughter and greeted Sandra than the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Danika signed. “You two finish up your masterpieces.”

  “Dinner’s ready,” Sandra said. “All I have to do is spoon it into the bowls.”

  “Wonderful, because I’m starved.”

  Danika took a precautionary glance at the street. Alex’s truck sat parked at the curb. What was he thinking? Did she now have more than one stalker?

  Swinging open the door, she considered a thousand and one retorts. Alex stood beside an older woman with short blonde hair and a wide smile. She held a bouquet of red roses. All it took was one cursory look into the woman’s eyes, and Danika saw the resemblance.

  “Hi, I’m Karen Price. I thought you could use a few roses to brighten your day.” She extended the green-wrapped bouquet, forcing Danika to take them.

  “Uh, thank you.” Danika breathed in the roses. Some were open, and others hadn’t yet made their grand entrance. They smelled sweet, and the ones Alex had previously given her had withered and died. How apropos. She glared at him. “I thought we had an agreement.”

  “We do.” He offered a thin-lipped smile that immediately faded. “Mom, this is Danika Morales.”

  “What a pleasure,” Karen said. “May I come in? Alex can stay in the truck if you like.” Alex’s mother looked quite the fashion statement with her white jeans and purple and blue silk blouse.

  Startled, Danika questioned Alex’s motivation in this silly, immature setup. Well, she could play the same game. Maybe Dr. Price and his crutch didn’t understand the word no. “Please come in, but Alex can wait outside.” She smiled at him, silently letting him know she wasn’t a pushover for any man who had the nerve to bring his mother to the door to plead his case.

  Then guilt assaulted her. He had taken two bullets for her. “I’m sorry. That’s rude, and you just got out of the hospital. Come on in.”

  “Actually, I think I’d better wait in the truck.” He looked a little pale. He turned and made his way back to the vehicle, painfully, if his hunched shoulders and grimace were any clues.

  She wanted to call him back.

  Once Karen was seated and the roses placed in the kitchen until they could be arranged, Danika offered the woman a cup of coffee.

  “No thanks. I don’t drink the stuff. Do you have any idea what coffee does to your stomach lining and your colon?” Her shoulders lifted and fell. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

  “I didn’t think so.” Danika leaned back in the chair.

  The back door opened and closed, and Sandra entered the kitchen with Tiana. The little girl ran to her mother. Danika signed for her to help Sandra set the table for dinner.

  “She’s a very pretty little girl.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I understand you need a safe place for her and her nanny to stay until some undesirables are found?”

  Danika hesitated before answering. How did she know this? For that matter, how did Alex know? “I’m not sure I’m following you.”

  Karen clasped her hands in her lap. “One of Alex’s friends called to check on him while I was there. He said you were looking for help with your daughter. I think his name is Ed Jimenez. So here I am.”

  Danika didn’t appreciate Chief Jimenez sharing their conversation with Alex. She’d handle that on her next shift. “Why would you want to burden yourself with Tiana? You don’t know her, and she has special needs.”

  The woman scooted to the front of the sofa cushion. “I’ll give you my qualifications. I’m a retired pediatric nurse, I raised three children, I teach third-grade Sunday school, and I have a house far too big for me.”

  “Alex put you up to this?”

  “No. He’s embarrassed. I know all about the stupid thing he did. That man was not brought up to keep the truth from people. He’s a doctor, for heaven’s sake. What has gotten into him is beyond me.” Karen leaned toward Danika. “I was a single mom. I understand the issues and problems of carrying the load. Let me help you, sweetie. I promise to take good care of your little girl and her nanny.”

  Danika drank in every word. She didn’t know if the peculiar, yet likable, woman before her was an answer to prayer or a distraction. “I’m not sure what to say.” She massaged the back of her neck.

  “Long day?”

  “The longest.”

  “And then you still have to play mom and dad.”

  Danika lifted her head and smiled. “I love it. Tiana is why I get up in the morning, why I work hard at keeping our borders safe. But it’s tiring.”

  Karen stood and stepped behind Danika’s chair. She began kneading the muscles in Danika’s neck.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “True. But a massage feels good, doesn’t it?”

  Danika laughed softly. Alex’s quirkiness came honestly.

  “Why don’t you think about my offer? This has nothing to do with my son. He did a jerky thing, so let him pay the toll. He’s a good man and a fabulous doctor, but still a man. Multitasking emotions is not a part of their operational database. Anyway, I wrote down about ten references, and those are in my pocket. Check them out. Run a criminal check—I would—and let me know. From what I hear, you have a lot of stress right now. I’d like to help, and it would fill my hours.”

  Danika let all the information sink in. Numb best described her. “Thank you. I will think about it. How long will you be in McAllen?”

  “Until early Wednesday morning.” Karen pulled a piece of paper from her jean pocket and handed it to Danika.

  She could pray about this and talk to Shannon and Becca about the possibility—as absurd as it sounded. “Can I let you know on Tuesday?”

  “Oh, sure. I drove from San Antonio, so I’m flexible.” Karen continued the massage, and it felt good. “I had a thought the moment we pulled up in front of your house. I could park my car in your garage before sunup on Wednesday morning, load up Tiana and all of her things with her nanny, and leave while it’s dark. No one would have a clue.”

  Did this family think of everything?
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  Chapter 35

  Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself.

  Leo Tolstoy

  Sunday morning, Alex swung his crutches down the hospital corridor. He was well aware the patients could hear the dull thuds of his approach.

  No word existed in human language that touched how Alex felt about his mother’s intrusion into his private life. Mortified was a good beginning. He tried to tell himself his mom meant well, and yes, her plan provided a safe place for Tiana. But he felt like a junior high kid whose mommy had marched to school to defend him against the bullies. Except Danika was far from a bully. She had every right to be furious after his failure to be honest with her. But he was a man, and he had his pride, and he sensed there would never be reconciliation with her. He’d rather she envision him as a caveman protector who’d fight to his death defending her. Nothing in medical school prepared him for a mother who took life’s problems head-on or a Border Patrol agent who had stolen his heart or a pint-size angel who had him in the palm of her hand.

  Women. This went far beyond textbook bedside manner.

  Still dressed in a shirt and tie from church, Alex continued to hobble through his patient visits with a determination to nix his frustrations. He enjoyed checking on his patients after worship. High on Jesus and high on the gift of healing, why not reach out to see if he could make a difference in someone’s life?

  Cira’s little boy, Mickey, had responded to the treatment and medication for the pneumonia, but not as quickly as Alex desired. He’d explained to Cira that her son was very ill. She’d delayed seeking medical care and sacrificed the strength he needed to fight the fever and illness. Alex had little tolerance for parents who allowed children to suffer, especially when the care at McAllen Medical Center was free.

  Alex stepped into the pediatric section to find Mickey sleeping and Cira’s face pinched with concern.