“I know.” She’d actually taken a few here and there to spend with Bill, usually a Friday, to give them a three-day weekend.
By February, all the special task force cases were handled either via trial or plea deal, leaving her with the major thorn in her side—Martinez.
Back in Miami, Gabe struggled at work with the Jorge Martinez case. He would go to prison for life, no doubt, despite his attorneys’ best attempts to get him off and discredit witnesses, when they weren’t stalling the proceedings with what she considered bullshit tactics.
But she wanted more.
She wanted the asshole backing the operation. The whole thing could easily be wrapped up if she could just get her hands on the money guy. Gabe knew the arrests of Martinez and his cohorts would be a temporary distraction to whoever was behind this. It would only be a matter of time before the money man found someone else to take over and the cycle would start up again.
And again.
And again.
She kvetched about it to Bill via a Skype session with him one night. “I’ve turned over every freaking rock I can find to get a name for this guy. Short of kidnapping one of Martinez’s attorneys and chopping his toes off one by one, I don’t know what else to do.”
“Well, sweetheart, that’s illegal for starters.” He smirked. “But I like your outside-the-box thinking.”
“Then give me an idea. I’m open to any suggestions.”
“Time to lean on that guy. The one you clobbered.”
She laughed. “Jorge Martinez. Hey, he claims he clobbered himself.”
“Sure he did. And I’m Pope Francis.”
“You said chopping off toes is frowned upon.”
“Yeah, of course it is.” He grinned, making her wish she could crawl through the screen and join him right then. “For you.”
“Well, technically it’s illegal for anyone to do.”
“True. You know where he’s being held? The facility, I mean.”
“Yeah. Isolation. Protective custody.”
“So go pay him a visit.”
“He won’t talk to me. And someone hired him lawyers. Good ones.”
“Probably his backer. Listen to me, sweetheart.” His tone made her pussy as well as her heart flutter. “You know where he’s being held. You know a lot of people in Miami law enforcement, do you not?”
“Yeah?”
“Find out about some of his neighbors inside. Maybe someone in there either serving time or waiting for his court date. Someone who doesn’t take lightly to child rapists.”
She thought about it. “Yeah, but he’s still in isolation.”
Bill shrugged. “Ask the state attorney’s office if they mind him getting moved. Overcrowding, you know. I’m sure there’s got to be at least one guy badder than him who needs to be in isolation, who’s been stuck in a hospital ward or something somewhere. All I’m saying is you need to ask around.”
“I love you.”
He smiled. “Love you, too, sweetheart. Keep me posted.”
“Will do.”
* * * *
The next morning, she’d already made several phone calls before heading into the office. And she had a name.
That afternoon, she ran a couple of errands, talked to a few more people, and had made arrangements to speak early the next morning with one Da’ron Calder, forty-two and serving a nine-month sentence for battery against a guy accused by a neighbor girl of molesting her.
The extenuating circumstances of the case allowed the public defender to get the case pled down to a misdemeanor. It wasn’t Calder’s first brush with the law, but nobody disputed his vigilante justice wasn’t justified.
When he was brought into the secure interview room, she’d asked a guard to stay with them.
And the video monitor had been disconnected.
The large black man stared at her as he sat at the table, shackle chains rattling. “Who are you?”
She got straight to the point. She unrolled the three pieces of paper, placed them on the table, and slid them across to him. She’d already received permission to give them to him.
His eyes narrowed a little, but that was the only reaction he allowed before looking up at her. “What is this shit?”
“Lawanda drew them for you,” Gabe softly said, treading lightly. “And I’d like to show you something.” She pulled her personal cell from her pocket, thumbed through to the videos, and hit play before holding it up so he could see it.
On the screen, he watched his little daughter and long-time girlfriend waving at him. They said hi and said a few things to him. By the time the five-minute video finished, a tear was rolling down his cheek.
He gruffly wiped it away as she took her phone back.
“What do you want? I’m no snitch.”
“I just want you to listen.”
“What?”
“Listen. That’s all.” She nodded to the guard, who opened the door.
Gabe stood. Calder looked up at her. “What are you talking about?”
She walked around the table to the doorway. “I didn’t say anything.” The guard stood there, holding the door open for her. Another guard came in and helped Calder to his feet.
“Don’t forget your pictures, man,” the guard softly told him.
“I can take them?”
“Yeah. She cleared it.”
The man tenderly rolled up the papers and held them in his large hands as if they were fragile, Fabergé eggs.
Her background check had shown Calder wasn’t a violent man normally, despite his gang involvement.
But he had connections.
Lots of connections.
And he was a devoted father.
They brought Calder to a stop in the corridor as two more guards were leading Jorge Martinez into the interview cell area.
Gabe broadly smiled. “There’s the man of the hour,” she said a little too loudly.
Martinez glared when he spotted her. “I told you, lady, I ain’t talkin’. Talk to my lawyer.”
She waved down his objections. “Yeah, yeah, I know. No hablo and all that bullshit. Listen, how is my favorite baby rapist doing today?”
His eyes widened. “Fuck you! I didn’t rape no babies!”
“No, sorry. That’s right, you just raped several little girls.”
Now Martinez was paying attention to Calder, who stood just a few feet behind Gabe.
“Fuck you, lady!” Martinez yelled. “Hey, take me back to my cell.”
Gabe snapped her fingers. “Oh, that’s right, you haven’t heard yet. We’re moving you out of isolation and into general population. They’re moving your shit right now.”
“What?”
“Well, you were whining to your attorney about lockdown, so I talked to the state attorney’s office. They approved your move into general.”
She looked over her shoulder and spotted the hatred on Calder’s face, directed at Martinez. Returning her attention to Martinez, she grinned. “You’re going to be sharing a cell block with Calder here, as a matter of fact. Just a couple of cells down, from what I understand. Even better, you get a roomie.”
Now Martinez struggled against his guards, trying to back away from her and Calder. “No! Fuck you, you’re insane! I want my attorney!”
“And people in hell want ice water, asshole. Hell, I want the name of the money guy behind your operation, but I guess none of us are getting what we want today, are we?”
“You…you’re fucking crazy! You’re trying to get me killed!”
She feigned hurt innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You bitched about lockdown, I got you general. There’s just no pleasing a guy whose distinct pubic mole was identified by no less than six of the little girls he raped and pimped out, is there?”
She shook her head and turned to Calder again, hooking her thumb back toward Martinez. “You believe this guy? What a fucking ungrateful asshole.”
“No, fuck you!” Martinez screa
med, now panicking. The guards were struggling to keep him from turning around and bolting back to the gate. “Take me back to my cell right now! I want my fucking attorney!”
“I think they still need a few minutes to finish moving all your crap, buddy. But, hey, I’m sure Calder here will be happy to introduce you around while you’re waiting.” She looked up at him.
He slowly nodded, the skin at his left temple twitching, his jaw tightly clenched.
She barely tipped her head to him in a nod.
His eyes swiveled toward her and he slowly blinked before his gaze refocused on Martinez.
She was walking toward the exit at the other end of the corridor, which would take her through the secure checkpoint, when one of Calder’s guards came hurrying after her. She’d learned the guards liked Calder, because if they gave him respect, he gave it right back and tried to get his fellow inmates to do the same. That, and he had zero tolerance for sexual criminals of any kind.
Especially ones who committed sexual crimes against children.
“Big guy asked me very nicely to tell you thank you,” he whispered in her ear. “That he appreciates what you did. And that he was listening very carefully.”
She smiled and nodded, turning to look down the hall. She spotted Calder looking at her.
She touched her right ear with her finger.
He nodded.
She walked up to the door and hit the intercom buzzer.
* * * *
Gabe was halfway to the office when her work cell rang.
Walker.
She almost didn’t answer it, but then decided it had to happen sooner or later. If not on the phone, when she got to work. “Villalobos,” she said, faking a lilt she didn’t feel.
“What the hell did you do?” he said by way of greeting.
“Hello, Special Agent Walker. And how are you this fine morning?”
“Knock it off. What did you do?”
She hoped Martinez wasn’t dead already. That would put a kink in the case, although it wouldn’t personally bother her. “Well, can you be more specific, boss?”
“Today. What. Did you do. Today?” He sounded close to blowing a gasket.
“Um, I’m on my way in. I started out with a workout first thing—”
“Were you just at the freaking jail?” he yelled.
“Oh. Well, yeah. Why didn’t you ask me that?”
He let out a long groan.
“What?”
“I just got a call from the state attorney’s office. Martinez is begging to cut a deal. He’s got his freaking arms and legs wrapped around the bars of a door in the interview cell corridor and threatening to make them tase him if he doesn’t get a SA there right now to talk to him.”
“Huh. Wow, that’s convenient, isn’t it?”
“Gaaaabe—”
“Ask the guards. I didn’t say anything except to tell him the good news that he was being moved to general population.”
He groaned again. “And?”
“And what?”
“What else? He was babbling something about another guy.”
“Oh. Oh, yeah, there was another prisoner right there, come to think of it.”
Maybe I shouldn’t go to the office right now.
“Gabe, what the hell am I supposed to do with you?”
“Tell me what I did wrong?”
“You set up a defendant to get killed. I never authorized his move.”
“I did not. I was trying to accommodate his request to get out of solitary lockdown. And sorry, didn’t know you had to approve it first.”
Silence.
She checked, and the call hadn’t dropped. “Travis?”
“You have got to be the luckiest person on the planet, you know that?”
“Why?”
“He said he’ll give us the name of his boss in exchange for protection. He’s begging for the witness protection program.”
She laughed. “I thought only the feebs offered that.”
“He doesn’t know that. Yet.”
He hung up on her.
She couldn’t help the smile. It felt good to smile.
Textbook? No.
Illegal?
Well, that was different. Not technically, she supposed. Ethically, she knew the right attorney could probably get her fired, or reprimanded, at the very least.
She didn’t care. If it meant they could take the money man off the street, or at least get the media crawling up his ass, it would mean he couldn’t set other little girls up to be raped and abused.
And she’d never apologize for that.
* * * *
When she got home that evening, she grabbed a shower before settling in with leftovers from the pot of macaroni and cheese she’d made herself the night before.
I really need to start eating better.
She cruised through her e-mail and newspapers before skimming Facebook. She had a private message there from her cousin Jennifer. But then her Skype alert went off for Bill’s call and she never opened Jennifer’s message.
Heart thrumming, she clicked on the Skype icon to open the chat window. Bill asked her, “Hey, sweetheart. So, what happened today?”
“Travis asked me to take four days of my vacation time. ASAP.”
He winced. “Ouch. Things went that bad, huh? Sorry.”
“No, not at all. We’ve got a name. Martinez is finally cutting a deal.”
“Oh, well that’s good. Then why the forced time off?”
“Because Travis said he doesn’t know whether to slug or hug me, and both of those options can get him in trouble with human resources, one way or another. And that I still owe him time off from before and that for the sake of his sanity and my career, I’d better take it.”
Bill laughed. “Hey, remind him that you keep him on his toes. Life never gets boring with you around.”
“I did. That’s why he added two days onto the original two he ordered me to take.”
“How many does that leave you with?”
She ran through it in her mind. “At least another four weeks I haven’t used yet total. Including from before.”
“So when are you taking the time off?”
“I’m due in court tomorrow for another case, so he can’t get rid of me yet. He was not happy to hear that.”
“That’s the little workaholic I know and love.”
A thrill ran through her at his tone and words. Something about that loving, playfully teasing tone always drilled right through her core. They chatted for nearly an hour before she realized how much time had passed.
“I miss you,” she said.
“I miss you, too, sweetheart. I’m coming down this weekend.”
“Okay.”
Her eyes started to prickle. She both hated and loved feeling this vulnerable with him.
Now if she could just kick her hesitation out the window, life would be peachy.
Unfortunately, Maria’s voice still came to her from time to time, usually when it’d been too long since Gabe had hit subspace, chattering at her and killing what strides her emotional self-esteem managed to make. Frequently it happened when she was lying alone in bed, curled around the pillow Bill used when staying with her.
“I love you, sweetheart,” he said.
Now the prickle threatened to turn into a full-blown, tearful porcupine. “Love you, too, Daddy.”
The word had slipped, unbidden, from her mouth.
He reached his fingers out toward the screen and smiled at her. She reached out, too, touching her screen.
“Sweet dreams, my good girl,” he said.
“Sweet dreams.” She clicked off the connection first. Then she drew her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees, and cried.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The next Monday, Gabe ended her latest Skype session with Bill and struggled not to burst into tears. Once again she felt lonely. She’d had to go into work that day, her vacation time postponed yet again due to court de
lays on other cases and work issues that even Travis had to admit she needed to handle.
After having spent the weekend with Bill, she felt lonelier than ever without him.
How much longer can I do this to myself?
Tomorrow, however, began her ordered four days off. And he had depositions and court dates, meaning he couldn’t take any time off.
She’d spent a wonderful weekend with Bill, which made her wonder even more why she kept him hanging on when she suspected she would never be able to get past everything to finally allow herself the ability to fully love anyone.
She also knew he wouldn’t beg her to come visit him. She wouldn’t ask that of him, either, to beg her. She wouldn’t play games with him.
She wasn’t even sure she was the right person for him. It didn’t matter what he said, in many ways she felt too broken to be able to give him what she thought he needed.
Maybe I should just end it once and for all so he can find someone better than me.
The problem was, being with him not only felt right, she knew in her heart it was right. She could transfer up to the Sarasota or Tampa area. At the very least, he was only a three-hour car ride away if she stayed in Miami.
Now she was stuck with four days off that she didn’t even want, courtesy of her boss. As she stared at the stack of folders she’d brought home with her, which were sitting on the corner of her table, she let out a disgusted snort.
Who am I kidding? I hate taking time off. I feel like I’m slacking.
Another of Maria’s lessons still stubbornly slinking around in her brain.
Only losers relaxed. You had to work hard, all the time, to be successful.
She sat back and stared at her computer. Then she reached out and brought up her browser and logged in to Facebook. Now she had messages from Shayla, Leah, Laura—everyone.
Her friends.
She missed them. More than she ever thought she would. And, apparently, they’d all missed her. The munch had been that Sunday.
Being missed.
That was a new experience for her.
Jennifer’s message from days earlier still sat there in her inbox.
She clicked on the message and read it.
Dear Gabe,
I don’t want you to take this message the wrong way. Please, don’t be mad at me. If you never want me to bring the subject up again, I won’t, and I completely get it. I know what you said years ago about this, and believe me, I agonized about it for a long time, whether or not to send it. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t at least pass the whole message along.
Broken Toy Page 20
