by Carsen Taite
Maria had walked out the front door. The neighbor waved from his own front yard. Maria called out a greeting and was bending down to retrieve the newspaper when a black SUV roared up to the curb. The neighbor had been startled at first, but the sound of rapid-fire gunshots spurred him into action. He ran back into his house and dialed 911 while straining to get a better view from his living room window. Before he was done with the call, the SUV drove off, leaving Maria sprawled on the lawn. With the phone still in his hand, he’d run across the street, screaming for help, but it was too late. Maria’s body was riddled with gunshots. She was still and lifeless, lying in a river of blood.
Dale listened to the account, allowing the horrific images to penetrate her consciousness, but filing away her pain for later. Right now, paralysis was her friend, but she needed one more thing to make sure what they were telling her was real and not some tragic nightmare. “I need to see her.”
Diego stared at her with a frown of reluctance, but finally nodded and grasped her arm. She stumbled, feeling faint, floating above her body—she wondered vaguely if she would ever feel normal again. A second later, she saw a different hand on her arm and she turned to see Mary standing beside her.
“I’ll take her.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“We’re fine.”
“I’m here if you need me.”
Dale saw their mouths move, but their words drifted through the air like they were discussing someone else, something else. Anything besides her. It didn’t matter—all the talk was just a delay of the inevitable. Without waiting for an escort, she stepped over the crime scene tape and walked slowly across her lawn toward a cluster of people kneeling on the ground. As she drew closer, she saw Mary out of the corner of her eye, waving everyone away until it was just her and the torn and bloody body of the woman she loved. She dropped to her knees, clutched her chest, and keened her sorrow, not caring who heard.
Dale shoved her phone into her pocket and slid her arms into the bulletproof vest, flinching as she adjusted the Velcro straps tight around her chest and shoulders. She hated the bulk and the vulnerability the vest symbolized, not to mention her left shoulder was still sore from the gunshot wound she’d gotten while checking out a lead at one of Cyrus Gantry’s warehouses. If she didn’t need to set an example for the rest of her team, the vest would have stayed in the back of her truck.
She waved at Mary, her second in command. “Do we have eyes in the building yet?”
Mary held up a finger, spoke a few words into her phone, and nodded. “Heat sensors picking up one body inside. Sniper from the house roof confirms, but he doesn’t have a clear shot. Beams are in the way.”
They’d received a tip from an unknown source early in the morning that Sergio Vargas would be doing a major deal at the barn on this property today. Dale wasn’t big on anonymous tips with no opportunity to evaluate the source, but the prospect of bringing in the fugitive chief of the Zeta Cartel was worth taking a risk on shaky information. If Sergio Vargas was in that barn, chances were he wasn’t just doing a one-time deal. He’d probably been hiding out here. The entire homestead was unoccupied, and this farm had been on the market for months. With no one to interrupt his dealings, this was the perfect setup for a drug lord on the run, and the fact that his co-captain and brother, Arturo Vargas, had been arrested just last week, probably made the solitude even more appealing. The owner had given the task force the run of the place to clear out any outlaws. Sergio Vargas’s oasis was about to become the doorway to his prison cell.
Dale glanced back at Mary and the rest of the group. Everyone was amped and ready to charge, no matter what danger lurked on the other side. She’d carefully chosen the team with her today, purposefully not including a few of the task force members she’d been working with over the past year. The events of the last week signaled someone was leaking valuable information, and until she figured out who it was, she was on high alert.
“We’ll go in from both sides with flashbangs. The object is to take Vargas alive. Do you understand?” She waited until each of the dozen agents nodded before saying anything else. “Everything by the book. If he resists, take him down, but no unnecessary force. And don’t get hurt yourselves. I can’t spare you, and I don’t have time for the paperwork.” She flashed a grin as she delivered the last words and led the way to the barn door, certain everyone on her team would follow.
When they were all in place, she shouted, “Federal agents. Come out with your hands in the air. You have five seconds to respond or we’re coming in.” She held up her hand and started ticking off the count on her fingers. When she reached five, she closed her hand in a fist and pointed to the door. Two agents were ready with a battering ram, but stood down when Mary tugged on the door and it opened.
Dale tossed a flashbang into the room, bracing for the loud noise and the acrid smell of smoke. Hoping the suspect’s visibility was impaired, she crouched down and stepped into the room, sticking close to the wall while she tried to get a read on anything moving inside. The rest of her team followed with the exception of Mary, who was assigned to secure the door in case Vargas somehow made it past them. Even if he did escape, he wouldn’t get very far. The sniper on the roof of the house next door was poised and ready to take the shot.
Through the haze, Dale detected a chair in the center of the room. Someone was seated in the chair, and as the smoke cleared, Dale saw that his hands were in his lap, held close together, and his head was covered. What the hell? She raised her gun and stealth-walked the short distance until she was standing directly behind him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the other agents approaching from the left, and she shook her head. With the gun still pointed at the guy’s head, she sidestepped around to the front of the chair and issued a command. “Put your hands in the air. Right now!”
The guy shoved both hands skyward immediately. She was close enough to see everything clearly now. His hands were tightly bound together with twine and his head was covered with a burlap sack, most likely a castoff, found in the barn. His legs were bound to the chair with heavy rope, tied tight. If this was Sergio Vargas, someone had beaten them to him. Before she found out if they’d captured their intended prey, she shouted to the rest of her group. “Report.”
Responding shouts of clear came from the front door, the stables, and the loft. Dale waited until everyone had reported in before waving Mary over. “Go ahead and unmask him.”
She kept her gun trained on what she imagined was the spot right between his eyes, as Mary carefully lifted the sack from his head and, as every inch was revealed, Dale scrambled to make sense of what she was seeing. Finally, she could no longer deny the truth.
“Who the hell is this?” Mary said as she laid the bag on the ground. “Dale, what is it? You look white as a sheet.”
Dale stepped closer, as if reality would change upon closer inspection. No, not a chance. The man they’d captured wasn’t the highly sought Sergio Vargas, but someone she and others had been looking for. Someone she wasn’t altogether sure would be welcome now that he’d been found. The sense of familiarity was like a punch in the gut. She leaned down and removed the gag from his mouth. “Not sure what to make of the fact we found you here. You care to explain?”
The man’s voice cracked, but his tone was adamant. “I want a lawyer and I’m not talking to you without one.”
Dale shook her head. “Of course you do.” She motioned to Lieutenant Raphael Martinez, a Texas Ranger assigned to their task force. “Take him to division headquarters. I’ll call AUSA Cruz and we’ll figure out the charges. I have to make a stop on the way in. I’ll meet you there.” She walked out of the barn and back to her truck, but before she could open the door, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to face Mary.
“What was that all about? You know that guy?”
Dale sighed. “Let’s just say he’s a person of interest in the Cyrus Gantry case.” Mary nodded, and Dale made a split second d
ecision to tell her the rest. “Oh, and he’s AUSA Peyton Davis’s brother, Neil.”
CHAPTER TWO
Lindsey leaned toward Senator Levenger and posed the final question of the interview. “Are you prepared, right now, to tell the viewers of Spotlight America whether or not you plan to resign?”
The senior senator from Ohio cleared his throat and shot a furtive look at his attorney who was sitting across the room. As the seconds of silence ticked by, Levenger’s face reddened, but Lindsey simply waited for the answer. Clearly, he’d believed the show booker’s promise that she would stick to an agreed outline of acceptable questions. Lindsey had made no such promise, and she struck a pose of nonchalance as he stuttered his response. Something about duty, family, and remaining loyal to his constituents. She nodded as he spoke, but steadfastly refused to throw him a lifeline, instead preferring to let him hang himself with his own scattered attempt at an explanation.
An hour later, while she was carving into a steak at Del Frisco’s Grille, she got the call. She stared at the display on her cell phone and took a deep breath before answering. “Ryan here.”
“Ms. Ryan, I have Mr. Prince on the line.”
“Of course you do.” With a sigh, she pushed her plate aside. “Put him through.”
“Lindsey, what the hell were you thinking?”
“Uh, I don’t know, Larry. Maybe I was thinking a senator who can’t keep his hands to himself might have a constituency that wants to know if he plans to try to weather the shitstorm he sailed into. Even you can’t deny it was a fair question.”
“Fair? Who ever said we were supposed to be fair? Besides, we promised his attorney we wouldn’t ask the resignation question in order to get the exclusive, but I guess you think it was fair to pop him with it anyway, right there on live TV?”
“Sorry. I may have forgotten about that promise.” She hadn’t, and Larry didn’t believe for a moment she had, but she didn’t give a shit. Good journalism wasn’t about agreeing to what the story should be in advance, no matter what the network and their sponsors believed.
“Funny, I would’ve thought what happened after your interview with General Tyson would make you especially careful, for a while at least.”
Lindsey chewed a bite of steak instead of responding. General Randall Tyson had gotten everything he deserved as a result of the fallout from her interview. He’d openly ridiculed the president who’d appointed him as the commander of US Forces in Afghanistan, and then acted appalled when she refused his demands to edit his insults out of her broadcast. Several of the network’s key sponsors had been outraged at what they viewed as her lack of patriotism. To placate the network bigwigs, including Larry, she’d acted appropriately chastised, but when faced with Senator Levenger’s actions, her investigative instincts pushed her to ask the tough questions. “I only asked the senator what everyone else wants to, and you know it.”
“Whatever. I’ve got a new project for you on location in Dallas.”
Lindsey’s appetite plummeted at the abrupt change in subject. “We had an agreement. No more traveling for a while.”
“I may have forgotten that promise.”
Larry delivered the words in a singsong voice, and Lindsey wanted to punch him in the throat. “Don’t be an ass. We had a deal.”
“We do have a deal, but this is a puff piece. You’ll barely have to work. Infomercial about the DEA. Interview some real folks, put together a story about how they’re restructuring to meet the changing times. They have some big event coming up.” She heard the sound of shuffling papers before he continued. “It’s the tenth National Take-Back Initiative. People bring their drugs in, like those gun turn-in programs. Cover that and make it into something.”
“Sounds candy ass. Can’t you have someone else do it?”
“Susan promised someone with credibility would do the story. Naturally, I thought of you.”
Lindsey scoured his words for the hidden mine. Susan was the executive producer for Spotlight America and a network muckety-muck. A person at her level usually collected favors instead of handing them out. “Who did Susan make this promise to?”
“I don’t know and I don’t want to know. Neither do you. The important thing is you still owe me for the fallout from General Tyson and the stunt you pulled today. You realize how difficult it is to get these politicians to come on the show after they’ve imploded all over the Internet?”
Lindsey took a deep breath and silently counted to five before answering in an even tone. “Don’t get me started, Larry.”
“Look, I know coming back was an adjustment, but you’re not in a combat zone anymore. Relax and enjoy some well-deserved rest.”
“In Texas?”
“You’ll be down there a couple of weeks, tops. Cush trip. Hell, you’ll probably spend most of it in a four-star hotel going through the dailies.”
Maybe Larry had a point. Dallas wasn’t New York, but it wasn’t Afghanistan either. Puff pieces weren’t her thing, but adjusting to life back in first-world civilization had been harder than she’d expected. She could use a little down time. “I want to pick my own crew.”
A few beats of silence passed, and finally Larry said, “Uh, okay. I mean sure, camera, sound—you pick.”
“Producer?”
“I think we’ve already got someone lined up for the spot. She already did some of the prep work, and she’s ready to leave whenever you’re up to speed.”
Lindsey was certain she wasn’t imagining the nervous edge in Larry’s voice. “Larry, who is it?”
“Damn, I’ve got another call coming in. I’ll have Beth call you with the details.”
He hung up before she could get another word in, and she stared at her phone wishing she could pull back her consent. He was up to something, and she wished she knew what it was. In the meantime, she could line up the rest of her crew. She scrolled through her phone contacts until she found the number for Alice Jordan, one of the industry’s top cameramen, and she punched in her number. Alice answered on the first ring.
“Jordan.”
“Hey, it’s Lindsey. Put on your boots and hat and fly with me to Dallas.”
“Hey, girl. They got you on that piece? What did they have to offer to get you to agree?”
“You know about it already?”
“Sure. Elaina’s been making a big deal about it. She’s been working us to death on another project so she can finish up in time to head down there.”
Lindsey was only mildly shocked at the sound of her ex’s name. She and Elaina Beall had broken up a couple of years ago, and they’d somehow managed to avoid the awkwardness of working together since. So, Elaina was the producer who’d already been picked for the project. No wonder Larry hadn’t wanted to mention her name. He probably thought she’d come unhinged at the thought of working with Elaina for the first time since their very public power couple breakup. She wasn’t looking forward to it, and frankly, she was surprised Elaina had agreed to take the job. Elaina had spent their entire relationship bemoaning Lindsey’s singular focus. Work always came first—a mantra Elaina had resented from day one.
Maybe she’d changed, and maybe working together on a human interest piece devoid of controversy was the perfect way to mend fences.
CHAPTER THREE
Dale drove her truck up the long, rocky drive to the Circle Six ranch, rehearsing how to break the news to Peyton Davis that her brother had turned up under more than a little suspicious circumstances. When she reached the main house, she saw Peyton standing on the porch with a scowl on her face. She climbed out of the truck and called out as she walked toward the house. “Sorry to just drop by. Is this a bad time?”
Peyton shook her head. “It’s fine. I heard you driving up, but I was hoping it was Lily. She was supposed to be home a couple of hours ago.”
Dale heard a slight edge of panic in Peyton’s normally calm voice, and she couldn’t help but flash back to the memory of Maria’s death she’d relived earlier
that day. “Where is she?”
“She left just before lunch to go out to Valencia Acres. She and Sophia haven’t had a chance to visit in person since last week.”
“I guess they have a lot to talk about,” Dale said. Lily, Peyton’s girlfriend, had met her birth mother, Sophia Valencia, who she’d been told her entire life was dead, for the first time the week before. Unfortunately, their meeting had been marred when she’d learned that Sophia’s brothers, her uncles, were the notorious Sergio and Arturo Vargas, co-heads of the Zeta Cartel and at the very top of the most wanted list being hunted by Peyton’s federal task force.
Dale was well aware that the fact that Sergio was still on the run had Peyton worried about Lily’s safety. She didn’t blame her. Sergio and his brother were responsible for dozens of gruesome murders and, although she’d never been able to prove it, she suspected they were at least tangentially responsible for Maria’s death.
As for Lily, she wouldn’t be safe until both of her uncles were in custody. She’d personally debriefed Lily after a shootout at Sophia’s ranch that culminated in Arturo’s arrest. Before he was taken into custody, Arturo had taunted Sophia about the circumstances that led her to spend most of her life having no contact with her daughter. When Lily was only days old, Sergio and Arturo had taken Lily from her mother and handed her over to Cyrus Gantry, Lily’s natural father. In return for the privilege, Cyrus had spent his life beholden to the criminal element, while lying to his only child about her parentage, insisting she had been adopted after her mother died in childbirth, a lie that once found out, would drive Lily to distrust his every word. Cyrus’s troubles were compounded by the fact that Peyton, the woman Lily loved, was investigating him for money laundering.
Despite her own sense of foreboding, Dale searched for something encouraging to say. While she was thinking, Peyton’s mother, Helen Davis, appeared in the doorway, her expression drawn with worry.
