Hush in the Storm

by Julie B. Cosgrove

  Agent Gonzales held out his hand. “Calm down. I’m on your side. I am your ticket to freedom, and those girls’ too. Let me help. You owe Roberto nothing.”

  Pastor Jake pleaded with me. “Jen, trust me. I sought counsel before I called Agent Gonzales to make sure I wasn’t violating your confidentiality. I had your best interest and safety at heart.”

  I bore a hole into them both for so long their faces began to fuzz.

  “All he has told me is that you know your husband is alive and involved in the trafficking of young illegal girls. The fact you know those things alone is enough to warrant your need for protection.”

  Jake leaned across the desk, his hands clutched as if in prayer. “It’s okay. You can tell us everything. What is said in this room remains here.”

  I shot him an incredulous look. “Really? What proof do I have you will this time?”

  He pointed to the agent and then back to himself. “Trust us. Your government and your faith will protect you.”

  A nervous laugh spewed from my throat. “How can I be sure? You haven’t so far.”

  The anxiety rose. I shuddered all over as my breath labored. Why had I left that bottle of pills at home? My legs and hands became chilled.

  I heard Gonzales’ voice in an echo. “Pastor Jake, get her some water.”

  I closed my eyes as the room spun furiously around me.

  The agent shoved my head between my knees. “Breathe, Mrs. Westlaw. Breathe.”

  I tried to raise my head but it felt tied to floor. “Oh, dear God,” I moaned, cradling my face in my hands.

  Another hand patted my arm as a pair of women’s shoes came into view. I lifted my eyes to see Becky’s smiling, warm face. “Hi, neighbor.”

  I squinted to bring her more into focus. “What are you doing here?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Becky pushed the hair off my face, and handed me a glass of cool water. I blinked to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. Yes, it was her. Her face was now in full view.

  After a few sips, my brain cells revived. “You aren’t just my neighbor. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here, right?”

  Jake scooted a chair closer. “Smart girl. And I am not just your pastor. Well, I am. But more than that.” He motioned to Becky then back to himself. “We’re both what they call undercover assets, Jen. We’ve been helping the Feds. Becky’s with the U.S. Marshals. She’s been tracking your husband’s illegal immigration activities for over a year before he died. I was brought in after your, er, resurrection, shall we say, landed you at my doorstep. I must admit it sounded a bit exciting and all. I knew I could help you. You needed someone you could―”

  “Trust?” I interrupted with a sarcastic smirk.

  He hung his head.

  I groaned. “And I told you he was alive.”

  Agent Gonzales looked into my eyes. “We suspected as much. He was getting bold. Before all of that, Becky was assigned to monitor your whereabouts and Robert’s as well, which is why she moved in across the hall and made friends.”

  She squeezed my arm. “I didn’t do too great a job of protecting you, though, did I?”

  “Not your fault.” I eased up more into the chair and raised my hand to my neck. “My throat. It feels so dry.”

  She handed me the glass of water again. “Small sips, dear. Not too much.”

  I was tired of people telling me that, but I obeyed. The cascading coolness revitalized my vocal chords, and more of my gray cells. “Why did you tell me you’d seen him at a hotel with another woman?”

  “Because I had. And I wanted to test your reaction. To see if you had any idea who your husband was. Later, I found out she was another agent trying to trap him. Governmental agencies don’t always coordinate well. They call her Mother.”

  So that’s who “Mother” was. I widened my eyes. “He saw you. He figured you out. That’s why he faked his death.”

  Agent Gonzales spoke up. “It’s exactly what we suspect. Though at the time, we weren’t sure the traffickers hadn’t fingered Becky as his watchdog. We thought they had taken him down.”

  I repositioned my shoulders into the back of the leather chair. My head felt heavy, but my hunger for answers was stronger than my emotions. “Why didn’t you get involved with the investigation into his…” I still found the words hard to say. “Into his death?”

  My neighbor leaned in. “We were doing our own. He went pretty deep below the surface for a while. No one saw the ripples. We weren’t sure he’d ever float up.”

  I pictured a bloated, stinky, dead fish and gave a short chuckle. The three of them knitted their brows in unison. Pressing the smile from my lips, I waved my hand. “Never mind, it was just an image. Forget it.”

  They gave each other a shrug. I turned to my minister, now agent. “And so, you got involved because ...?”

  “Agent Gonzales came to me. They knew I was counseling you. They wanted me to convince you to come into WITSEC.”

  Now it was my turn to lower my head. “And testify against my husband and Tom.”

  The Federal agent responded. “Well, at the time our purpose was to find this Tom or Travis of yours. Now that we know Robert is alive, it changes the picture.”

  I popped the crick out of my neck and turned to Agent Gonzales. My head felt less heavy now. “What do you want from me?”

  He repositioned in his chair to face me. “What I want is the information you have regarding this man Roberto and his colleagues. In return, the FBI will give you full protection and relocate you anywhere you like.”

  I straightened my shoulders. “And help me find Marisol and the baby when it’s born.” It wasn’t a question.

  Agent Gonzales clucked his teeth through a sigh. “That wouldn’t work. She ties you to your past.”

  “Right. If I’m given a new life in a new city, my search would have to end.”

  His eyes darted to the ground then back to me. “That’s correct.”

  I felt the blood sprint from my cheeks into my chest. My mind bounced against the walls of my skull. What should I say? Yes? Give up on my quest to save them so I could save myself? And if I refused? These were the Feds. That would mean Federal prison. I heard Tom’s voice in my head. “I don’t want to do time.”

  Neither did I.

  I turned to face Agent Gonzales full on. “What if I refuse to testify? Will I go to jail for withholding evidence?”

  He shifted in his chair. “It all depends.”

  Jake gave Agent Gonzales a strong-eyed look. “Jen needs rest. We can discuss all that later.”

  The man stood, took several steps backwards, and went to the window. He gazed into the garden, hands clasped behind his back.

  Jake moved to his bookcase and pulled out a small olivewood cross, but it was strangely shaped—thick and a bit skewed as if it had melted. His mouth curved up to one side as he placed it in my hand and curled my fingers around it. It fit my clutched fist perfectly.

  “I really am your pastor. Would you like to take this to the Lord?”

  I looked at the picture of Jesus on the wall above his desk and nodded. Agent Gonzales stepped from the room into the outer office.

  Becky squeezed my other hand. “May I stay?”

  My free hand reached for hers. “Please.”

  Jake prayed as he spread his fingers over my forehead. Warmth oozed over my scalp. I let it soothe my soul.

  When he sat down, an earnest look drenched his face. He spoke in a low voice with tented fingers to his chin. “And now, I must ask you to forgive me. I never revealed any of your heart’s struggles, Jen. Yes, I have compromised your trust but the information you gave me changed everything. Lives were at stake, Jen. Yours. Young girls...”

  I reached for his forearm. “I know.” Then the proverbial light bulb clicked on. I sat upright. “Tom knew, too. He made me promise I’d talk with you. He said for me to tell you everything. He knew I’d tell you about Robert. Then, he parroted your words almost verbatim. He said f
or me to find myself, then find the girls.”

  “Ah.” Jake looked at Becky. “He held the ace after all.”

  * * *

  Becky took me home to rest. After long talks over hot tea as I fluctuated between shaking and crying, she spent the night on my couch in case I needed her. The next day, she drove me to the agency’s doctor’s office in Dallas. Jake and Agent Gonzales met us there. After the doctor heard everything I had been through the past few days, he hospitalized me for thirty-six hours with strict bed rest and a full psychological evaluation. I insisted on a Christian counselor, if possible. I had round-the-clock guards, not because I was suicidal, but because I was in danger.

  In layman’s terms, I suppose I had a nervous breakdown. For me, it was a breaking apart so God could put me back together again, like Humpty Dumpty. The eggs shells I never wanted anyone to walk on had finally cracked.

  * * *

  A man came into my room one morning after breakfast. From his smile, suit, and clipboard I gathered he was the agency shrink. He came around the bedside table, and then extended his hand. “I’m Bob. I’ve been read in on much of your plight. Feel like talking? I’d like you to tell it to me in your own words.”

  The warmth of the sun’s rays through the window fell on to my chest. Or was it the trust reflected in his eyes? I swallowed and motioned him to sit.

  “I’m much better now that I have had a chance to sort through it all.”

  He crossed one leg over the other. “Are you? You’ve had a lot to absorb, Jen.”

  I closed my eyes and began the spiel I had rehearsed. In low, even tones I proceeded to tell him about Robert’s deception, my attraction to Tom, and my fervor to save the girls and others like them.

  “You saw evil up close and personal. Of course you wanted to get involved. You are a good person, Jen.” His tone was not mocking, but soothing. Obviously he was professionally trained on how to respond, yet under his poised demeanor, there was honesty in his face. Was that part of his schooling as well?

  I grinned. “I still have trust issues, you know. Like whether to trust you, a total stranger with the authority to release me or wrap me in a rubber room.”

  He blinked, then threw his head back in a loud laugh. “You sound very normal, Jen. Very normal indeed.” He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. As he did, his face lessened in color and became more serious. “But you do know you don’t have the power to be superwoman and rush in to save the day?”

  I looked at the blanket on my bed and nodded.

  “You see, it’s best to let someone who is trained in this sort of thing pull those girls out, if they want out.”

  I rubbed my hand along the knobby white cotton. It sent off a faint whiff of institutionalized bleach. “Yeah.”

  Tom had been right. I searched the counselor’s face. “What will happen if I back off? Do I have yours, or anyone else’s guarantee they’ll be found?”

  “There are no guarantees in this world, Jen.”

  “True.”

  I bent my head and ran my finger over the spot where my wedding ring once lay on my left hand. “But there is something I can do, isn’t there? Testify so more girls can be spared.”

  I’d changed my mind, or maybe finally made it up for good. Wanting to keep Robert buried only denied my own pain. Justice had to be served. Maybe my job was to help lead the Feds to Robert so they could slice off one of the trafficking octopus’ arms. It’d make me a married woman again, but it was the truth anyway. Besides, Tom would never be safe as long as Robert was free. And Tom was the only one who could save the girls, and perhaps me, even if it was from a safe distance.

  The psychiatrist waited as I sorted through my thoughts. He watched me without staring at me. His face seemed expressionless, non-judgmental. I swallowed and gave him a swift bob of my head. “I’m ready to give my report now. Set it up.”

  Bob’s mouth stretched up at the edges. He covered my hand with his and squeezed. “I’ll authorize your release. The agency will be in touch in a couple of days.”

  * * *

  I relayed our conversation to Jake when he visited that afternoon. He gave me his wise, pastoral smile. “God has spoken, and at last you have heard.” Still, his demeanor appeared more penitential in nature than clandestine.

  “What is it?”

  “Have you forgiven me?”

  My face warmed. “You acted with my best interest at heart. There’s nothing to forgive.”

  I saw his shoulders slacken.

  “But tell me, when you approached me that day after church in the fellowship hour and said you wanted to see me again, was it because the Feds had contacted you?”

  “That’s classified.” Jake winked. “I am glad, however, if even in a small way, I could be…” He paused and coughed into his fist. “Let’s just say, an asset to you.”

  I laughed out loud.

  “There’s another reason I came.” His face became like stone and his eyes darted to the ground.

  I scooted forward in the bed and then took in a gulp of air. “What?”

  “Here.” He pulled an envelope from his inside coat pocket. From my point of view, it looked official. “It’s from an attorney I know. He drew this up. Legally, you have ample grounds to divorce Robert on grounds of infidelity and fraudulent vows, and may apply to do so without his consent once he’s in prison.” He raised a finger. “If that’s what you decide to do. I’m not counseling you to do so. I only want you to know it’s an option.”

  Relief and sorrow mingled in my eyes. I tried to steady my hand as I took the papers from him. I laid the envelope on the tray-table that swiveled over my hospital bed. My fingers hovered, not yet willing to open it.

  “Take your time, Jen. Pray about it—a lot. This is not an easy decision.” He squeezed my hand, and left the room.

  A few minutes later, the reality sunk in. Five years of my life, five years of deception, could be dissolved as if they’d never happened. Yet, they had happened, and I had very fresh heart wounds pounding away in my chest as proof.

  After a good, cleansing sob session, I packed to go home to my apartment with the legal papers, Becky, and another female agent in tow. Once home, I tucked the envelope into the stack of ever-growing “to-do’s” on my desk.

  * * *

  Later that week, I basked in the apartment complex’s atrium watching the finches flit around one of the birdfeeders. Becky brought Agent Gonzales for a visit.

  He assumed in his normal posture, hands clasped behind his back in a military at-ease. Becky spoke first. “Their chirps are so sweet.”

  I turned to Becky. “The birds? Yes, they must be hungry. They aren’t scrapping as much over the food. And there are more of them.”

  Becky nodded. “See the little ones, the fledglings flapping their wings so hard? That and food prepares them for flying.”

  I raised my hand over my eyes to block the sunrays. “And what are we preparing for?”

  “May we be seated?” Agent Gonzales motioned to the chair across from me.

  I agreed. “Official visit?”

  He raised an eyebrow. His eyes, however, remained friendly. “Do you think you are ready?” He plopped his briefcase on to the wicker table next to us, then sat down.

  I placed the bookmark in my novel and set it aside.

  Becky laughed. “Hmm. The Spy Who Came in from the Cold. Classic.”

  I wiggled my eyebrows, then shut off my smile. I turned to Agent Gonzales. “I’m ready.”

  He winked and popped the latch on his briefcase. He set a small, silver recorder on the table. “Maybe you shouldn’t read that novel. You might learn all of our secrets.”

  “Oh…” I grinned with my back straight. “I’ve learned enough of them through all of this, so don’t think you’re pulling anything over my eyes, mister.”

  Becky reached into her bag and brought out a plastic container of spinach-artichoke dip and a bag of sea salt pita chips.

  “My favorites. You all m
ust want something big from me to bribe me with pita chips.” I chunked one into my mouth. Deep down, a small part of me wished I was eating them in a dark mausoleum with a black hump in the ceiling. Then I’d know Tom was safe, and watching me. Funny how perspective can change things.

  “Not at all, ma’am. Only need you to relay what you are comfortable telling us.”

  I put on my friendly face. “I know. And, please call me Jen, Agent Gonzales.”

  His shoulders relaxed for the first time since we met. “Okay. I’m Luis.”

  Becky’s eyes darted between us, then she slid back in her chair, hands folded over her bosom, legs crossed at the ankles. “Don’t mind me. I’m just here as a witness.”

  I heard a pita chip crunch in her mouth.

  Luis spelled out the deal they offered. In exchange for any information on Robert, I would be given a new identity. At first I objected, but in a few minutes, they’d convinced me it was necessary because the cartel might retaliate. After all, Roberto was the American Jefe. When he went down, his kingdom would tumble as well. The cartel wouldn’t be happy.

  At last, I had a concrete idea of my role in all of this. I knew how I could make a difference. Testify to save others from Marisol’s fate, then vanish to save myself. Too bad the idea of my memoirs would have to be ditched. I kinda liked the idea of the TV movie. And the money.

  “But how will you explain my disappearance this time? I’ve already been dead once.”

  Luis smiled. “Nervous breakdown works.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  He shrugged those broad shoulders supporting a linebacker’s neck. “Lost at sea? Terminally ill aunt in the south of France?”

  Becky chuckled. “How about fell in love with a billionaire and scooted off to his secluded island?”

  I waved a pita chip loaded with dip in her direction. “The last one, yeah. Can you make that happen?”

  Luis shook his head. “We’re the Feds, not God.”

  “Oh, well.” I plopped the chip in my mouth. “Doesn’t matter. I’m still married.” I dashed a look at Becky. “I haven’t decided to file. Will that affect my ability to testify?”

  “No. But if you want to go through with the divorce, I suggest you do it now. The agency’s lawyers can push it through before you fully enter WITSEC.”