The Redemption Lie

by Amanda J. Clay

  Beck flipped through the pages of Nina’s file. She was from a middle-class family, not your run-of-the-mill poor kid trying to find a break kind of story. Safe mountain suburb, married parents. Mom on the PTA, Dad an accountant. One sister, Camilla. Both girls went to public school growing up, but sister ends up at a top-tier private university while Nina ended up at Sac State. Did two years before dropping out. No previously reported arrests or trouble with the law until she was arrested at age 22 as an accomplice to Luther Kavka, known kingpin and part of the Estonian Opik crime family.

  Beck leaned back in his chair and rubbed the three-day stubble on his chin. How does a privileged girl like that end up the girlfriend to the leader of Placer County’s dark underbelly?

  He picked up the intake photo and almost wanted to laugh at the smug face staring back at him through the lens of the camera. She was youthful, defiant, proud. Cat eyes beamed through the lens of time. The small upturn of her lip and unconcerned smirk. Slight hardness to her young face, but still insolently beautiful. He was starting to see how she earned her moniker.

  Nearly six years later, Nina was still all those things. How did he reach someone like that? In his line of work, he dealt with his share of frightened women—abused and strung out. He’d dealt with thugs too scared to talk for the risk of retaliation, or those too proud and falsely idealistic to turn.

  He wasn’t used to dealing with women who’d made such a name for themselves in organized crime. Most of the women he’d encountered in this world were strung out on meth, turning tricks to survive. They come up from the school of hard knocks and were content with the hand they’d been dealt for lack of any other options. They were beholden to pimps and abusive husbands or boyfriends. They were frightened.

  But not Nina. Clearly, she was frightened, and rightly so. But she was no timid creature, rather a cunning animal who knew she could be hunted at any moment. She knew what people were capable of and she’d built a tough wall around her to protect herself. It was going to be a challenge to crack.

  But Beck Graham did enjoy a challenge.

  To win this, they needed her as an ally, not an enemy. She could be their most powerful weapon in this war, but first he needed to convince her that they were on her side, that they weren't going to throw her to the viper pit and walk away, brushing their hands clean. He needed her to know that he was putting just as much on the line she was. There was no safety in his job, no guarantees. He was going after the dregs of society, who had no qualms about murdering women and children. They'd certainly have no qualms about taking out some young fed.

  He pulled out the other envelope and slowly and carefully flip through its contents. If she didn't want to cooperate, they had one ace in the hole that might just tilt her decision in their favor. He wondered just how badly Nina wanted to stay out of prison.

  Beck heard footsteps. He quickly snapped the case file closed.

  “Graham.” Chief Advisory Agent Vince Martinez stepped into the alcove of the Tahoe Village Police Station where Beck had his temporary operations set up and shut the makeshift door.

  “Martinez,” Beck said.

  In his early 50s, Martinez was still handsome but with the hardness to his likeness that gave away his years on the job. That jaded mist to the eye that comes with dealing with criminals day in, day out for your entire adult life. Martinez had a certain cliché to him; the gruff curmudgeon cop trope.

  He wasn’t a bad looking guy, he was in good shape, and had a distinguished smattering of pepper black hair. His naturally tanned skin had aged well, only showing subtle creases at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Graham imagined he could've been quite the ladies’ man in his day. But he'd magically been married for some 25 years now, despite the job. Had two daughters off to college. A nice paid off home in a quiet neighborhood a few miles from the lake. It was amazing to Beck that someone could live such an ordinary life working this job for so many years. Any police work wore you down, eroded away at your humanity. The DEA? This department eroded your soul.

  “Any progress?” Martinez asked. He sat down across from Beck, clutching a cup of coffee.

  Martinez hadn’t hidden his opinion from the start that he thought Nina would be a dead end unless they played hardball.

  “Nothing yet,” Beck said.

  Martinez shook his head. “You’re not going to get anything out of that girl, I keep telling everyone. Trust me, I remember her. She was groomed by the Estonian mob. She’s impossible. You’re going to have to put the pressure on her.”

  “I don’t know. I think she’s just scared. I would be too. I think she’ll talk when she has her own motivations.”

  “You ever met a drug dealer with altruistic motivations, Graham?” Martinez said.

  Drug dealer. The word felt like acid on his tongue. Beck chewed the word and wanted to spit it out.

  “She’s not a drug dealer,” Beck said.

  Martinez shot him an incredulous look.

  “I just mean, you can’t just lump her into the rest of that lot. She’s different,” Beck said.

  Martinez raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, different. Much deadlier.”

  “She served time for it, didn’t she?”

  “Not enough in my opinion. But we cut the deal we had to.”

  “You see the world so black-and-white, Martinez. People do things for all number of reasons. She was a young kid. Give her a break.”

  “Mary Bell was convicted of multiple murders by age 11. Youth isn’t the best defense Martinez said.

  Beck smirked. “If we use what we have on her, we’ll make an enemy of her. If we don’t and convince her to help us on her own, she’s going to work that much harder. We need her to be motivated on her own.”

  Martinez sighed. “Look, Graham, I know you still think the world is gilded with flowers and sunshine and that deep down every criminal is really a hooker with a heart of gold. I'm not saying that your compassion is a bad thing. Hell, more people could stand to have a little in this job.”

  Martinez paused and rubbed his chin. He looked weary and conflicted.

  “But at a certain point you gotta realize not everyone deserves that compassion. Nina Sullivan came from a wealthy mountain ‘burb. She had two good parents, and a decent education. She’s not some poor abused kid that got sucked into the underground because she had to turn tricks for money. She made a choice because she was bored. She fell for a bad boy, wanted a little thrill, and paid the price for it. Save your compassion for the people who really need it. Nina the Cat doesn't.”

  Beck resented Martinez’s accusations. He was making Beck sound like some weak Nancy boy. He wasn't weak, but the one thing that fighting overseas had taught him, was there were two sides to every story. Everybody was just fighting for what they thought was right, what they were told was right. Because at the end of the day, everyone only knows what they’re taught.

  “She’s a contributing member of the community now. She's got a business, she's helping people,” Beck said. He wasn’t even sure why he was defending her. He ought to hate Nina Sullivan. It was because of people like Nina that Jack was gone.

  “Beck, you know I think you’re a good agent, but pull your head out of your tight ass. She just puts on a show for the community. Do I think she's some evil mastermind that needs to go away for life? No. That doesn't mean that she's redeemed for all the things she did. It doesn't mean I trust her. Don’t buy everything she’s selling.”

  Martinez stood. “Frankly, I don't really give Nina Sullivan much credit. I don’t think we’re going to get much out of her playing nice. I’ll give you the chance to use that famous charm of yours, but you don’t have long. We don’t have time for experiments. The clock is ticking on this thing.”

  “You don't give me enough credit, Martinez,” Beck said, smiling. “My charm is famous for a reason. I’m exceptionally convincing.”

  Martinez snorted. “Yeah, I bet. There’s probably a misconduct report a mile long about you,” he sa
id in jest.

  “You can trust me, Martinez. I know what’s at stake here.”

  Martinez nodded gruffly. “Good. Remember that. This case could be a career maker for you. We pulled you out of undercover for a reason. You have that ingenuity and wit that sets you above. You want to get to the next level? Then do right by this case. Don't let that girl get into your head. She has a way of doing that. During the last bust, she had all of our agents all wound up in a tizzy right around that little pinky of hers.”

  Beck smiled but nodded obediently. “I won’t sir. Strictly professional.”

  Martinez gave him a wary eye before leaving.

  Beck pictured Nina, tight white tee shirt, sweaty dark hair, bright eyes. Would he ever be able to keep things professional? Girls like Nina had always been his drug of choice.

  Chapter 7

  The buzz of the restaurant blurred in the background. Nina faintly heard the clatter of pots and pans, the shattered glass. Laughter and some kind of argument in Spanish. But she couldn't isolate any of the sounds. Her head throbbed.

  “Is everything okay, Nina?” Brooklyn asked.

  Nina looked up, dazed. “What's that?”

  “You've just been staring at that page for like 10 minutes. What's going on? Everything okay?”

  Nina looked down at the inventory report in front of her and realized Brooklyn was right. The ink blurred on the page in front of her. She sat up straight and rubbed her forehead. Her lower back screamed in protest.

  “Yeah everything's fine. Just… I don’t know, something really weird happened last night and it sort of freaked me out.”

  Brooklyn sat across from her. She folded her hands on the table and leaned forward, big blue eyes alert and ready.

  Nina explained the transient at her door and his swift disappearance.

  Brooklyn shook her head. “I don’t know why you live out there. It's so remote.”

  “It's the mountains, everything is remote out here. And I’m only a mile from the Village.”

  “I know, it’s just so…so dark on that road. It’s like something out of a horror film. Why don’t you get an apartment in town? Don’t you get scared out there?”

  “I need the space,” Nina said.

  “Why? It's just you and a cat?”

  “I more mean the headspace than the physical,” Nina said, gently smiling.

  How could Nina explain that she couldn’t ever live in some tiny cramped apartment surrounded by everyone else? That she couldn't stand to hear the sounds of other people running their water, flushing the toilet, arguing with their spouses, crying at night. She could never sleep again in a place like that.

  Brooklyn was looking at her curiously.

  “It's just a thing I have. Everybody's different. I mean, it would freak you out to live in the woods, wouldn't it? I feel the same about small spaces surrounded by people,” Nina said.

  Brooklyn gave an overdramatic shutter. “Yeah, no way I could live out there. I mean, the fact that we even live in this mountain town to begin with is rural enough for me. I'm not going into those woods. It's like asking a serial killer to come rape you.”

  “You watch too much television, Brooklyn.”

  “I'm just saying, I hope you have a weapon handy and an emergency line direct to the police.”

  Nina smiled. “How did you ever survive jail?”

  Brooklyn smiled sweetly. “I only did 30 days in super low-security County. Pretty much just sat around and watched bad daytime TV for a month.”

  Nina forced a smile.

  “Are you sure there's nothing else going on?” Brooklyn said.

  Nina didn't answer.

  “Okay now I know there's something going on. Whenever you get that thoughtful, far-off look, there's something on your mind.”

  “Just some past shit,” Nina said.

  “Does this have anything to do with that juicy police officer that was in here the other night?” Brooklyn asked.

  “He was DEA,” Nina said.

  Brooklyn's eyebrows went up in the way that all addicts’ do at the word. “Are you kidding?”

  Nina shook her head.

  “What the hell do they want with you?” Brooklyn's expression fell. “You're not like using again are you?”

  Nina could have smacked her if she didn't look so adorable. The girls didn’t know that Nina hadn’t gone away for possession. That, in fac,t she was never a user. Only a pusher.

  Nina sighed. “Of course I'm not. It's a lot bigger than that. It has something to do with why I went away in the first place. Just stuff with my ex-boyfriend. I got myself into some deep trouble back then.”

  “You mean you didn't go away for just drugs?”

  Nina bit her lip, unsure of exactly what to say. She didn't like to talk about those times. Frankly she couldn't talk about those times if she wanted to stay alive. And she never wanted the girls to know the full extent of her past crimes. It was easier for her to let on that she’d just been a user like them. But Brooklyn deserved better than a half-cocked lie. Maybe the half-cocked truth would do.

  “You could say that. My ex was just involved in some dangerous stuff. He kind of got me into it as well. And now the DEA has some additional evidence against some of his old friends and they want my cooperation.” The words burned her tongue as they slipped out. Every time she had to talk about it, the horrible memories blasted her consciousness. All the things she’d done, all the blood on her hands.

  “Wow. What are you going to do?” Brooklyn asked.

  “I told him to fuck off.”

  “Nina! You have to work with the police.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says, I don’t know, the law. You're on probation. You kind of have to!”

  “Look Brooklyn it's complicated. I just don't want to talk about it right now. I need to get through the inventory.”

  Brooklyn pursed her red lips, making her look like a fish. “Fine. But if you really do have bad guys with their eye on you, you’re better off working on the side of the police. At least they try to do the right thing. Drug dealers will never do the right thing.”

  Nina smiled thinly. “Yeah, I know. Ok, get to your shift. People are coming in.”

  

  Nina was polishing wine glasses in the bar while Reina was on break when her phone buzzed with a text from Beck.

  At the risk of being too direct, you need you to come in and answer questions.

  She groaned but wrote back.

  Oh yeah, not direct at all. About what?

  The case. Sorry, not from me, boss’ orders.

  Nina rolled her eyes. So that was how he was going to play it? He was just a helpless pawn, just like her. All the orders came from the big bad men at the top. She’d had plenty of experience with guys like Graham.

  She growled audibly and thrust her phone into her back pocket.

  Brooklyn raised her eyebrows at her as she sliced limes. “Everything okay?

  “Just that fucking DEA agent again. Won’t leave me alone.”

  Brooklyn gave her an amused, expectant look.

  “Not like that, idiot. He wants me to come answer questions.”

  “Are you going to?” Brooklyn asked.

  “I’m not sure I have much of a choice this time.” Nina pulled off her apron and angrily thrust it aside. “Great, just what I fucking need right now.”

  “I’d happily answer all his questions,” Brooklyn wiggled her tattooed eyebrows. “Just breathe girl. Just cooperate, tell them what they need to know.”

  Nina sighed and forced a smile. If only it were that simple. But she very much valued her life at the moment. She wasn't in a hurry to give it up.

  “Can you finish up here? If I run down to the station?”

  “Of course. We’ll be in a lull the rest of the afternoon.”

  

  God, Beck was so fucking mad at himself that he had to do this. But Nina was kind of making it impossible for there to be any othe
r way. She refused to cooperate, so they were going to have to force her hand a little bit. If she just gave them the information they needed, everything would be fine. Life could go on as normal. The bad guys go away, and she gets to live her life.

  C’mon, Beck, he thought to himself. Would you really cooperate if you were her? If he’d served time, he’d probably have a dim view of the justice system as well.

  Nina flung herself down on the chair in the interview room. The room was stuffy, dark, the overhead neon light blinding in its artificialness. Nina folded her arms over her chest and cocked her head as if she were a defiant teenager. She felt like one, being dragged into detention for yet another thing she didn't do.

  She was dressed down in a T-shirt and tight jeans, low motorcycle boots. Her black hair was pulled up in a high ponytail. Her green eyes stood out like emeralds against the pale canvas of her face, like a cat in the darkness. Beck tried not to look, but Beck couldn't help but notice the sharp angles and edges of a toned physique. She was definitely a woman who took care of her body.

  Her cheeks were flushed and Beck could visibly see the anger coursing through her.

  Beck sat in front of her and watched the anger pulsing at the surface of her skin. Her gaze remained steadily locked on his. She wasn’t going to show weakness, to cower. He could see the calculation in her eyes. How did she play this? Did she flirt, bat her eyes?

  He remembered what Martinez had said about her having the agents drooling all over her hand last time.

  But not this guy. He could stand up to every weapon in her arsenal. If she wanted to play, he was ready. Game on.

  

  Nina couldn't help but weave the backstory for him in her mind. Hardened inner-city? The dirty slums of Louisiana? No accent. Maybe he’d done border control in Tucson.

  Did he have a wife? A girlfriend? Maybe both.

  “Can I get you anything? Coffee?” Beck asked.