Caught in the Act

by Jill Sorenson

  “If the baby fusses, I’ll take him outside,” she whispered to Kari, squeezing her hand.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Kari said, glad for the company. “Thanks for coming.”

  Beth’s baby fussed a little during the ceremony, but Kari didn’t mind the distraction. She wasn’t comfortable showing emotion in front of so many people, most of whom she hardly knew. Instead of breaking down in tears, she merely endured the service, listening to a simple speech about greener pastures.

  For a nonbeliever like herself, it was cold comfort. She’d rather have heard about Sasha’s real life, her struggles and mistakes.

  But Kari had chosen this instead. An impersonal, closed-casket service.

  When it was over, she stood by the entrance, accepting condolences and murmuring thanks to everyone who approached her.

  Then the crowd moved to the cemetery to watch the burial. Again, Kari felt self-conscious about her solitude. Since her dad died, she’d been more driven than ever to succeed. Men and relationships had taken a backseat. Now she needed someone to lean on, a strong arm to steady her, a comforting presence by her side.

  She wanted Adam.

  After the service, she drove home, but she couldn’t escape the small group of well-meaning friends who followed her there. They helped her carry in the flower arrangements she didn’t want, and brought more food than she could eat. When a young man delivered a beautiful, elegant bouquet of calla lilies, Kari rose to sign the confirmation. She checked for a card, aware that her guests were curious about the ostentatious display.

  She felt an absurd moment of elation, wondering if Adam had sent them. Then she realized the flowers were from an anonymous source and her heart went cold. Only Carlos Moreno would throw his money around this way.

  Finally the crowd dwindled and Kari was left alone. She crawled into bed, exhausted. But for the first time in days, she couldn’t sleep. Daylight mocked her. The smell of fresh flowers and warm casseroles drifted in, their cloying fragrances assaulting her senses. She buried her face in the pillow but found no peace.

  Needing a different kind of release, she kicked off the sheets and rose to her feet, grabbing her workout clothes. She hadn’t gone for a jog since Tuesday. Her body felt weak and her mind sluggish. Running always helped her wake up.

  She nodded to the officer in the black-on-black squad car, letting him know she was leaving. He watched over the house, not her, so he didn’t follow. She started off slow but gained momentum, feeling stronger than she had in days. Detouring from her normal route, she returned to the cemetery, slowing to a stop at Sasha’s grave.

  There were flowers on the mound, creamy white roses and baby’s breath. The headstone didn’t have an epitaph, just a name and date. Kari hadn’t been able to decide on a suitable saying for a troubled young woman who had never valued her life.

  She brought a fist to the center of her chest, where she ached. The tears that refused to fall during the service came rushing to her eyes, spilling down her bewildered face. Why had Sasha refused to get help for so long? Why hadn’t Kari stepped in sooner?

  Now it was too late.

  She knelt in the grass beside the grave and wept bitterly, unable to escape the pain. She wished she could see Sasha one last time. The sight of her sister in a body bag would haunt Kari for the rest of her life.

  When she lifted her head, wiping the tears from her eyes, she noticed a man standing in the shadows. He was tall and lean, his identity almost disguised by beard stubble, casual clothes, and a Padres cap.

  It was her sister’s captor, lover, murderer: Carlos Moreno.

  Kari scrambled to her feet, her pulse racing. There was no one else in the cemetery. If any police officers had been present at the funeral, they were long gone now. Sprinting to the main road and flagging down a car would take less than a minute. But she was frozen with shock and her legs refused to move.

  How dare he come here?

  While she stared at him, horrified, he lifted a hand to his face, pressing his thumb and forefinger to his eye sockets.

  He was crying, she realized with astonishment. This man had introduced Sasha to heroin, kept her locked away in his mansion, and facilitated her death. As far as Kari was concerned, he might as well have shot her in cold blood. And he had the gall, the unmitigated gall, to show his despicable face at her grave? He’d treated her like a possession, a trophy to be traded away when the shine wore off.

  He had the nerve to cry? Bastard.

  “Did you bring these flowers?” she asked, gesturing at Sasha’s grave. “And the lilies?”

  Nodding, he dropped his hand.

  She swept a dozen long-stemmed roses from the top of the mound and strode forward. Unleashing several years’ worth of fury, she attacked him with the flowers, striking him across the face and neck. White petals flew everywhere, like loose bird feathers, and wicked thorns scraped his cheek, cutting deep.

  He endured the blows without complaint, making no move to defend himself.

  His lack of reaction enraged her. She threw the ruined flowers at his feet, breathing hard. “How could you come here?”

  The scratch on his face welled with pinpricks of blood, jewel bright against his dark complexion. “I came to show my respects.”

  “You never respected her! You used her and threw her away.”

  “No,” he said simply. “I tried to help her.”

  “By threatening and manipulating me?”

  He glanced around the cemetery, making sure they were still alone. “You were the only person she really loved,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I hoped that involving you would scare her into getting clean.”

  “You control the illegal drug trade, Carlos. Couldn’t you keep her clean?”

  His mouth thinned with regret. “I can’t control every dirty doctor or small-time dealer. Sasha was very clever about getting her fix.”

  “Whose fault was that? You got her addicted.”

  “For this, I take full responsibility. I wanted her to quit with me. She refused.”

  “She needed rehab.”

  “I agree. I asked her to get help, repeatedly.”

  “Liar.”

  He gave her a quiet look. “I thought she would go if the stakes were high enough. Chuy’s plan was to use your dedication for each other to our advantage. I never should have listened to him.”

  Kari pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. “I hate you.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry,” she repeated, smothering a sob. “You took everything from me! You stole my sister, my only family member—and you shot Adam. How can you stand there and look me in the eye?”

  “I didn’t shoot anyone.”

  “Go to hell,” she said, sick of his bullshit. “If he dies, they’ll lock you up and throw away the key.”

  “He’s not dying.”

  His certainty gave her pause. “How do you know?”

  “I was there when he was hit. I could have killed him, but I didn’t, for reasons I still cannot fathom. Maybe I’m losing my touch. At any rate, he was wearing a bulletproof vest. He wasn’t seriously injured.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Do me a favor.”

  Shaking her head, she turned to walk away. “Drop dead.”

  “I have Maria,” he called after her.

  Her blood turned to ice. Although she suspected he was playing her again, she couldn’t force herself to keep moving.

  Like a fool, she stopped to listen.

  “Go to the hospital and visit Armando Villarreal. I think you will find your border cop there in his place, lying in wait for me.”

  She whirled to face him. “How do you know?”

  “It is just a hunch,” he said, shrugging. “And evading arrest is my specialty. The room will be guarded, but you shouldn’t have any trouble getting in. Call me afterward and tell me who you encountered.” He took Sasha’s sparkly cell phone from his pocket, handing it to
her. “In exchange, I will release Maria.”

  Kari stared at the object in her hand, tears filling her eyes. “I could just call the police, right now.”

  “You could,” he agreed.

  She lifted her chin. “Put Maria on. I want to hear her voice.”

  He placed the call from his own cell, giving a terse order to the person who answered. A moment later, he turned the phone toward Kari.

  “Maria?”

  Her friend’s voice was hesitant. “Kari?”

  “Are you okay?” she asked, leaning closer to hear her.

  “I think so.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m in a basement—”

  Moreno pressed a button, ending the call.

  Kari recoiled in shock, her mind screaming a shrill warning. What was she going to do? She didn’t trust this man, or his crew of violent criminals, at all. He’d already betrayed her. Their last collaboration had been a disaster.

  “I give you my word that she’ll be returned to you, unharmed.”

  “That’s what I was told about Sasha. But you couldn’t keep her safe.”

  He flinched, bothered more by this truth than by the blows she’d dealt him earlier. “She was her own worst enemy.”

  Kari crossed her arms over her chest, staring at the dirt mound that her sister had been buried under. If only Sasha had faced her traumatic past instead of self-medicating. She’d never learned to deal with her emotions or take responsibility for her actions. Kari hadn’t known how to be a parent, a friend, and a sister.

  “What happened at the end?” she asked.

  His gaze followed hers to the grave and then moved away, across the grassy sprawl. “We went to a nice hotel in Rosarito. I wanted to spend some time together, just the two of us. I was rationing her drugs, giving just enough to stave off withdrawals.” His eyes were bleak. “Sometime during the night she found my stash and did it all.”

  Kari studied the mark on his cheek, feeling hollow. She didn’t want to speculate on Sasha’s state of mind before her death. The possibility that she’d taken her own life on purpose was too disturbing to contemplate.

  Even more unsettling was the idea that Moreno had killed Sasha with the most powerful weapon at his disposal: love.

  Taking a ragged breath, she changed the subject. “What excuse will I give for wanting to visit Armando? We’re hardly friends.”

  “Say you came to ask about Maria. He was the last person to see her.”

  She nodded, steeling herself for the task. Once more she would do his bidding. But she would never, ever feel sympathy for him. It didn’t matter how much they had in common or how devastated he seemed by Sasha’s death.

  “I’ll do it for Maria,” she said. “But I hope you come to a bad end.”

  He gave a slight bow. “I expect nothing less.”

  22

  Kari jogged home to retrieve the rental car, her thoughts racing.

  She told the officer she was going to the grocery store and left, driving to the closest area hospital. The heat of the day had receded, leaving a pleasant breeze in its wake. She parked at Scripps and walked across the lot as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

  A receptionist greeted her at the front desk. “May I help you?”

  Kari didn’t know how to proceed. Should she sneak around, hoping to stumble into the right room? That could take hours in this enormous building. “I’m here to see Armando Villarreal.”

  The receptionist checked her database. “He’s in ICU. No visitors allowed.”

  “Oh,” she said, crestfallen. After a moment she asked, “Is there a vending machine around here? Or a cafeteria?”

  “It’s at the end of Hall B.” She handed Kari a folded pamphlet with a map of the facility. “On the west side of the building.”

  Kari thanked her and headed in that direction, her pulse kicking up. Bypassing the cafeteria, she continued to the intensive care unit, peeping through the double doors at the entrance. There were at least a dozen rooms in the unit, but only one had a uniformed police officer sitting outside, reading a magazine.

  She hung back, loitering near the restrooms. How was she going to get by him? While she tried to think of a better idea than stealing a set of scrubs and playing doctor, he rose from his chair and walked toward her.

  Trying to act cool, she bent to drink from the water fountain and watched him pass by on his way out of the ICU. After he disappeared into the men’s room, she strode forward, doubting she’d get a better opening. Heart pounding with anxiety, she hurried down the hall, ducking into the room the officer had been guarding. It was dark inside. She waited for her eyes to adjust, standing silent, her fingertips tingling with awareness.

  The first bed was empty. A curtain divided the room, blocking her view, but the steady beep of a pulsometer indicated a quiet presence. She stepped closer, peering around the curtain. A man in a hospital gown was lying on his back, his eyes closed. He was connected to an oxygen machine and an IV drip.

  It was Adam.

  Although his face was partially obscured by a breathing apparatus, she recognized him. Perhaps someone who didn’t know him on an intimate level might mistake him for Armando, but Kari had no doubt.

  The sight of his slack body made her stomach twist with distress. She’d just buried her sister, and her sanity was hanging by a fine thread. Seeing Adam so close to death pushed her right over the edge.

  While she stood there, trembling like a leaf, he opened his eyes and sat forward, pointing a gun at the center of her chest.

  As she drew a breath to scream, a figure burst from the bathroom, grabbing her from behind. Her high-pitched shriek was cut short as he clapped his palm over her mouth, silencing her with crushing pressure.

  She struggled to break free, twisting back and forth in his arms. He stumbled sideways but didn’t release her.

  Adam ripped the oxygen tubes away from his face. “What the fuck, man? Were you going to let me shoot a defenseless woman?”

  The man holding her eased his grip. When Kari stopped kicking, he took his hand away from her mouth. “How am I supposed to know she’s defenseless?” he asked, flipping the light switch. Under the harsh fluorescent glow, Adam didn’t appear sick or injured in the least. Her concern for him evaporated.

  “She’s clearly unarmed,” Adam said, setting down his weapon.

  The man checked anyway, skimming his hands along Kari’s sports top and jogging pants. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment, because he was thorough. “You’re right,” he said. “She’s clean.”

  Adam gave his partner a warning look, as if he hadn’t liked the way he’d touched her.

  “Why didn’t you call me?” Kari asked, itching to slap them both. “This whole time I thought you were dying, you son of a bitch.”

  The man beside her coughed with surprise.

  “Take a break, Ian,” Adam said.

  Ian left the room without an argument, favoring his right leg a little on the way out. Kari thought he looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him. He was tall and dark-haired, sort of scruffy-looking, with intense eyes. Not as handsome as Adam, but attractive.

  “Is that Agent Foster?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Were you two in on this together? He was trying to get close to Maria while you were working on me?”

  “Of course not,” Adam said, scowling. “He was there to bust Chuy Pena. Maria was a distraction he didn’t need.”

  Kari crossed her arms over her chest, uncertain. She didn’t know whom to trust anymore. Every man she’d come in contact with lately had lied to her and manipulated her. “Is there a reason you couldn’t return my calls in person?”

  His expression softened. “I’ve been ordered not to contact you.”

  “By who?”

  “My boss. After everything went wrong at the border I was interrogated about my relationship with you.”

  “You were honest?”

  He gave a curt n
od.

  She stared at him, still reeling from shock. “Did you ever think of me? Wonder if I was up late every night, worrying about you?”

  “Yes,” he said quietly. “I thought of you. I’m sorry I couldn’t go to your sister’s funeral. I wanted to be there.”

  As if she hadn’t cried enough today, fresh tears rushed to her eyes. She turned her back, hiding them from him. He rose from the hospital bed, yanking off the remaining tubes and monitors. But when he put his hand on her bare arm, she snapped.

  With a strangled sob, she rounded on him, pummeling his chest with her fists. She felt like she was dying inside, imploding in fury and frustration. He’d let her down at the most critical time of her life.

  Her sister was dead and she’d never be whole again. “I hate you!”

  Although her strikes were a release of miserable energy, not a serious attempt to injure him, they made more of an impact than she’d figured. He fell backward onto the bed, pressing a palm to his midsection.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he replied, schooling his expression. “Bruised ribs.”

  “I thought you’d been shot.”

  “I was wearing a bulletproof vest.”

  “Doesn’t that protect you?”

  “Not always. High-powered rifle fire can penetrate the plates. I was lucky.”

  She covered her trembling mouth with one hand, disturbed by the close call. After the hell he’d just put her through, she didn’t want to care about him. She wanted to walk away and never look back. “I just came to see if you were okay,” she said, dropping her arms to her sides. “I won’t bother you again.”

  He stopped cradling his ribs and reached out to her, wrapping his strong fingers around her wrist. “Don’t go. Please.”

  “You’re not supposed to talk to me.”

  “I want to explain.”

  She studied his handsome face, torn. Her heart was too tender to absorb another blow right now. “Make it quick.”