Betrayal on the Border

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  Maddie would twirl on her tiptoes if her spike heels didn’t already have her on her toes, and if they weren’t standing in the midst of august company in an elegantly appointed anteroom of the state’s capitol building. She smiled back at Chris’s frown. He looked sensational in his tailored suit, and she hadn’t minded her reflection in the mirror when she donned her flowing, emerald-colored formal in her hotel room. She could do without the height of these spike heels, but at least Chris was tall enough not to be topped by her added inches.

  “And your delusions continue,” he pronounced.

  “Explain yourself, Mr. Investigative Reporter.”

  He wagged a forefinger in her direction. “Just because the bullet didn’t hit any vital organs it does not qualify the wound as a nick. It was a through-and-through, but you’re not ready to admit how close I came to losing you.”

  “Awww! Poor baby.” She tugged on the lapel of his suit. “The bullet nicked an artery.”

  Chris sniffed. “A rather life-threatening detail, don’t you think?”

  “God was merciful.”

  “No argument there.”

  Maddie held her hand in front of her and admired the fat rock on her index finger. Chris had placed it there only last week over an intimate dinner in the private alcove of a fancy restaurant. He’d done his part by courting her like a princess, so she’d done her part by saying yes.

  Chris linked his dark-suited arm with her silk-clad elbow. “Lovely,” he said.

  “The ring or me?” She arched a brow at him.

  “Both, but you more so.”

  “Diplomatic response, but do you mean that or are you trying to get on my good side?”

  “Again, both.”

  They grinned at each other.

  Chris and she were waiting for their cue to step out and receive a public award given to very few civilians for extraordinary public service. They’d already been treated to a private banquet with the governor and senior aides and legislators, both state and federal. Soon they were to be introduced to a much larger body of dignitaries who’d enjoyed a banquet in the ballroom.

  As weeks and months slid by, the fuse they helped ignite had exploded into a massive exposé of great and small cogs within multiple agencies and governmental bodies that fitted together in a network of conspirators all lining their pockets on the drug trade. In one swoop, a huge chunk had been torn from the hide of that hideous monster, which should take a fair amount of time to heal. She’d heard that law enforcement agencies across the country were hosting quiet internal celebrations in response.

  Representative Jess and his strong-arm, Richard Glick, were among those undergoing indictment. Those two, as well as agents Ramsey and Lesko, among others, were being held without bail until their trials.

  Results didn’t get much better. So what if a smile the size of her home state seemed to have taken up permanent residence on her face? The expression belonged there. Not that there weren’t loose ends to tie up—like who on the ground with her team the night of the massacre betrayed the location of their camp to the cartel? Every once in a while, she still lost sleep over that question. Maybe she wouldn’t know the answer this side of eternity. With this wonderful man by her side, she’d do her best to come to terms with the missing puzzle piece.

  “Pssst!” The hiss drew her head around to see Agent Blunt motioning for them to step into a connecting office.

  Chris winked at her and tugged her toward the other room. What could be so important that they might miss their cue to step on stage? Not that she was all that eager for the spotlight, but a person didn’t say no to the governor when he insisted on throwing a shindig. Chris and she stepped into the nicely decorated office, and Blunt shut the door. The agent led the way to a large chart laid out on a round table toward the right side of the room.

  “I put the request through on your behalf, Mason, and got permission from the Director to show you this.” He waved toward what turned out not to be a chart but a computer-generated map of an area along the Rio Grande.

  Maddie’s heartbeat stuttered. She recognized the spot all too well—the site of the massacre.

  “As part of our investigation,” the FBI agent continued, “we made this detailed representation of the location of every person, every dead body and every piece of equipment or property recovered from the scene.”

  Chris grabbed Maddie’s hand and squeezed. Her heart began to beat normally again, though her lungs struggled to pull in a full breath.

  “Point out where my fiancée was found,” Chris said.

  “Right here.” Blunt placed a fingertip on a dot labeled: Jerrard—recovered alive—shrapnel wound to the head—broken bones.

  Chris turned toward her, gaze shadowed. “I’ve wanted to tell you about this, but for a long time I knew you wouldn’t believe me. Then these past months I didn’t want to interrupt our happiness by belaboring dark history.”

  Maddie’s insides tensed. What bombshell was about to drop now? “Go on.”

  “After I carried you clear of the camp where shells were falling like rain, someone opened fire on us with a gun. We nearly bought it more than once. Finally, I took cover behind a clump of rocks. Then you regained consciousness long enough to draw your sidearm and return fire.”

  She rocked back on her heels. What an act not to remember! And where was this topic headed?

  “I requested that the FBI allow us to see this map,” Chris went on, “so that maybe, just maybe, we could determine who might have been taking potshots at us.”

  “One of the cartel forces, of course.”

  Chris shook his head. “Not necessarily.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Look.” He placed his finger on the spot labeled with her name then traced a line a few yards east. “This is the direction from which the bullets came.”

  The dot lay outside the encampment, but the name was familiar: Hitchins—deceased—bullet wound to the chest. Realization smacked Maddie in the face, along with an equal measure of denial.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I liked DEA Agent Lorraine Hitchins. She was my tent—” Air hissed between her teeth, and denial fled. “She was my tent mate—therefore, she had access to my communications equipment.”

  “Exactly.” Blunt nodded his head. “I believe our agency will officially conclude that DEA Agent Hitchins was the leak that exposed your bivouac site to the cartel, and that you, army ranger Madeleine Jerrard, fired upon and killed Hitchins in self-defense.”

  Maddie gaped. “You mean the traitor of the Rio Grande Massacre has been dead all this time? And at my hand?”

  Her mind reeled. She’d ached for justice to be served on the turncoat, and if truth be admitted, she’d wished on that person a large slice of vengeance served steaming hot. Never in her wildest dreams had she guessed the matter was already accomplished...or her role in it.

  She looked up at Chris. “But my sidearm was missing when they picked me up out of the desert. I was told so and grilled about the missing piece over and over. I never could explain the issue to anyone’s satisfaction—least of all to myself.”

  The FBI agent cleared his throat. “This is unofficial, and don’t say you heard it from me, or I’ll call you a liar.” He shifted from one foot to another as if his shoes had shrunk another size. “Glick was on the ground with cartel forces that night and has admitted that he picked up your pistol when he happened upon you during his flight from incoming rescuers. He’d intended to shoot you with your own weapon, but absconded with it instead when he heard our people closing in.”

  Maddie’s thoughts scurried like a hamster on a flywheel. She was beyond speech. This information explained so much.

  “Are you implying that Glick is cooperating in the investigation?” Chris asked.

  “You’d b
e amazed at what the difference between life without possibility of parole compared to an assured sentence of lethal injection can wring out of a man’s mouth—even one like Glick.” A grin stretched Blunt’s meager lips. “Tonight you’re going to hear a special announcement from the governor related to this unadmitted cooperation, but I’m not letting that possum out of the sack one second early. Not if I want to keep my job.”

  The door opened behind them, and they turned as one. “Ms. Jerrard and Mr. Mason, they are ready for you,” an aide announced in stodgy tones.

  “Gotta go.” Chris grabbed Maddie’s hand and brought her knuckles to his lips.

  The touch feathered reassurance into her soul. In a semi-haze, she allowed him to draw her onto the stage. A roar of applause greeted their appearance. The grand ballroom was full of people delivering a standing ovation from their banquet tables. Among the people were Bonita and David, and even Chris’s sister, Serena, clapping and grinning beside a table near the stage.

  Bonita looked elegant and happy in a fine gown no doubt purchased with the proceeds rolling in from her brother’s book that Chris had begun to promote. Chris said the memoir was actually quite a powerhouse, and those who bought it seemed to agree. Since she couldn’t rise to her feet, the older woman held up a pair of enthusiastic thumbs in between spates of applause.

  Maddie offered Bonita a private smile, then jerked her thoughts into sharp focus and stood tall, chin high, surveying the crowd. This moment of honor was not for her. It was for her unrighteously slain comrades in arms. Only for them would she deliver a public speech, and only because Chris was beside her did her knees not knock audibly. After receiving her award from the governor’s hands, she kept her acceptance speech blessedly brief and then let Chris do the rest of the talking for them. He could say what she felt much more eloquently anyway. After he concluded to riotous applause, she and Chris were ushered to privileged places at a table, front and center.

  The governor took the podium, and a hush fell. The sixtysomething man surveyed the room gravely, then his sober face abruptly transformed into a mask of glee. He joined his hands above his head in a universal sign of victory. A ripple of speculation passed through the crowd, but the room fell silent as the governor, still smiling, cleared his throat into the microphone.

  “As a direct result of intelligence gathered from drug smugglers captured during the daring ambush on the U.S. side of the Rio Grande five months ago, it is my privilege to announce that this very day a team of DEA Agents, army rangers and Mexican Federales stormed the hidden bastion of the Ortiz Drug Cartel. The stronghold was virtually annihilated, and every known leader of the cartel, including Fernando Ortiz himself, was either captured or eliminated.”

  The news struck Maddie like a bittersweet bludgeon. This should have been the announcement shared with the world after she and her unit took the cartel stronghold. But at least—at last—it had happened.

  While the rest of the room erupted into applause and Texas hoorahs, she rose and lifted a hand to her forehead in salute to the American and Texas flags standing on the stage behind the governor. Beside her, Chris joined her in the silent tribute. Pressure built behind her forehead and cheekbones, and the backs of her eyes stung. She blinked against budding moisture and swallowed the thick golf ball gathering beneath her breastbone.

  As the wild cheering continued, Chris leaned close to her ear. “Are you going to cry?”

  “Later,” she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

  “I look forward to the event.” He smiled.

  Smug man. He’d do well to remember that a wedding was pending. Then she’d have an entire lifetime to whip him into shape...or vice-versa. A rush of joy pushed the flood over the dam, and tears spilled down her cheeks.

  Chuckling, Chris gathered her to himself and kissed her in front of God and country. Maddie kissed him back.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Navy SEAL Rescuer by Shirlee McCoy!

  Dear Reader,

  I’m delighted you joined me for Maddie and Chris’s adventure. They went through quite a time of trial, didn’t they? Not many of us will have to run and fight for our lives against ruthless foes determined to snuff out our lives. Aren’t you glad? But we all experience trials and challenges that are just as dire and urgent to us. Nor do many of us experience such a public victory over evil, but our personal victories are just as important in the Kingdom of God.

  My husband and I know a dear family of missionaries who at one time lived and worked in Nuevo Laredo, Mexico—sister city to Laredo, Texas. However, because of the rampant drug trade, Nuevo Laredo became so bloody and dangerous—even for innocent citizens—that they have moved their base of operations into the United States. Yet they continue to risk their lives by traveling back and forth between Mexico and the U.S. They do this for the love of God in order to reach men, women and particularly children with the Gospel and physical aid in the form of food, clothing and household items. Their journeys over the border are like traveling into a war zone.

  It is vital to the missionaries’ continued efforts that border agents wage an effective war against the rabid darkness that would like to flood our nation with poison. Therefore, I urge us all to “take up arms” in prayer to protect the lives of those who serve on the front lines of this war and to prosper their just cause. We have more power in the area of prayer than we think or that we use.

  Feel free to check out my other books with Love Inspired Suspense. This is my sixth release with them. More information can be found on my website at:

  http://www.jillelizabethnelson.com.

  Every page of my website offers an opportunity to sign up for my quarterly enewsletter. Each issue contains encouraging words for life, breaking news in my writing life, and exclusive opportunities to win my books. You may also connect with me on Facebook at:

  https://www.facebook.com/JillElizabethNelson.Author

  Or on Twitter:

  @ JillElizNelson.

  Abundant blessings,

  Jill E. Nelson

  Endless Adventure~Timeless Truth

  http://www.jillelizabethnelson.com

  Questions for Discussion

  Throughout much of the story, Maddie presumes Chris’s guilt as the traitor who gave the cartel the location of their camp. She bases this assumption on the fact that he is the sole unscathed survivor of the massacre. Does this conclusion appear logical? Why or why not? Have you ever drawn a conclusion about a person or situation based on evidence that seemed conclusive to you, but later you discovered the truth to be quite different than what you assumed?

  Chris resists his attraction to Maddie based on a personal philosophy adopted as a result of a tragic event early in his career. Does this personal philosophy proceed from logic or an instinct to protect himself (and others) from a repetition of his bad judgment? Have you ever created a personal rule of thumb or made an inner vow regarding future behavior? What was the root cause for this self-imposed regulation, and is this reason valid and valuable in your life? Why or why not?

  Maddie’s 1972 Oldsmobile Cutlass is precious to her. Why? Do you have an object in your life that is dear to you for a sentimental reason? What is the reason? What might be important enough to you to override the sentimental attachment and cause you to part with or destroy the item?

  Maddie feels alone and abandoned—even by God. As much as she craves human and divine fellowship, she fears taking the risk of opening her heart. Is this an understandable reaction, considering all she’s been through? Why or why not? Discuss reasons why people close their hearts. Is your heart closed in any area? If so, why, and what would it take to heal that area and reopen your heart?

  At the beginning of the story, Chris feels compelled to find Maddie and pursue the truth of what occurred that night in the Mexican desert. Why
? Are his reasons principally personal or altruistic? What does Maddie think his reasons are? Why would she feel the need to put the worst possible construction on his motives?

  How does Maddie deal with her grief over all the losses that have occurred in her life? Do you know people who are dealing with grief in a similar fashion? Are you among them? How does Scripture address the subject of grief, and how are these truths relevant to our lives? Is her progression from the beginning of the story, when she gives herself no time to cry, to the end of the story, when tears come freely, a healthy one? When are tears healthy and when are they not?

  Maddie has a highly developed sense of justice. Chris has a highly developed nose for the truth. How do these individual characteristics create compatibility between them? How do they create clashes and misunderstandings?

  Discuss the nontraditional roles of the main characters, with Maddie as the warrior/bodyguard and Chris as the intuitive thinker/planner. Do these dynamics work for the characters? If so, in what ways and why? Does Scripture provide examples and provision for people who are called of God to fulfill roles in ways that may be nontraditional or countercultural? How do we sometimes limit ourselves and others by confining our thinking and expectations to our culture and traditions?

  In spite of Maddie’s nontraditional role and occupation, in what ways does she demonstrate her femininity, internally and externally? Despite Chris’s dependency on Maddie for physical protection, in what ways does he demonstrate his masculinity, internally and externally?

  Maddie and Chris realize their love, each for the other, on separate occasions, but hold back on declaring their feelings until they are nearly wrenched from each other permanently. For what reasons did they hold back? Have you ever resisted loving someone? What kind of love is this that can contain reservations—human love or God’s kind of love? Does God ever have reservations about loving us?