The Redemption Lie

by Amanda J. Clay

  “What’s with you today?” Martinez said.

  “Just tired. Didn’t sleep well.”

  “Well perk up. We’ve got Sullivan coming in today.”

  Beck’s stomach turned over. Nina was the last person he felt like dealing with. She was also the person he wanted to see most.

  

  Nina had about had it with police stations. She felt like she was on a hamster wheel, caught in an endless cycle, Sisyphus pushing a rock up the hill. After this is over, she was booking a one-way ticket to Mexico. She was going to drown her sorrows on the beach with stiff tequila, warm sand, and possibly a shirtless cabana boy.

  Nina was fighting back the anger of having to be here, answering questions and ratting people out. Like it was six years all over again. She never thought she’d have to relive this nightmare. She was supposed to be able to live the rest of her life in peace. Who was she kidding? She would never be free of the mistakes she’d made.

  She sat across the table from Beck and some older Hispanic agent in a cheap suit. At least they were in a cozy room with decent chairs and hot coffee. The bagel and fresh fruit was a nice touch too.

  The older agent—strong jaw, subtle lines etched into caramel skin, clichéd gruffness—tapped a pen against his cheek, staring at her with inquisitive ebony eyes. She knew he was just trying to unsettle her, make her feel uncomfortable so she’d babble on, saying things she’d later regret.

  Beck sat beside him, an unconvincing scrutiny in his eyes. She still wasn't sure how to play this thing exactly. Things had seemed to shift as she and Beck talked and laughed in a cozy bar. And as much as she didn't want to buy into the bullshit knight in shining armor act, she couldn't help but feel it was in earnest. She supposed she did owe him. Had he not come to her aid the other night at the restaurant, more than just some glass might have ended up broken on the floor.

  “Thanks for coming in, Nina,” the older agent—Martinez—said.

  “Once again, not exactly here by my own choice,” Nina said, keeping her tone even.

  “I understand that, but both Agent Graham and I appreciate your easy cooperation.”

  “Yes, Agent Graham is very persuasive. The smile. It could be the biceps. I have always had a thing for strong arms,” Nina wiggled her eyebrows.

  Beck blushed; Martinez just smirked. She could play this game better than anyone. Try me, her eyes said.

  “So just so we're clear, if I tell you everything I know about this operation, you leave me alone. Is that right?” Nina said.

  Martinez nodded. “That's right. You cooperate to your full extent, just give us the information we need, and we’ll just forget that we ever saw this evidence.” He tapped his finger on a Manila envelope on the table.

  “And we won't bother you anymore. That sound fair?”

  Nina chewed her lip. None of this was fucking fair. But she nodded anyway. “Maybe. But I want one more thing.”

  “That is?” Martinez said.

  “I want to see what’s in that file.”

  Martinez snorted incredulously. “Not a chance.”

  Nina stood. “Then we’re done.”

  Martinez let out a frustrated sigh and turned to Beck. Beck just shrugged.

  Martinez turned back, his mouth twisted, fingers drumming along the file. Finally he nodded slowly. “You knowing what’s in here doesn’t change anything.” He slid the file toward her.

  Nina’s heart raced as she reached for the envelope. She swallowed but a thick lump blocked the motion. Every crime, every sordid deed, ran through her mind. Gingerly as though she were handling an explosive, she pulled out the documents.

  She closed her eyes and counted to ten. She closed the envelope and met Martinez’s dark gaze.

  “You see? We know that money was dirty. And we can prove it. So unless you want to lose everything we’ve built and spend the next five to ten as a guest of the state, I suggest you cooperate,” Martinez said.

  She nodded slowly.

  “Can we continue?” Martinez said.

  “Yes.”

  Martinez pulled out a digital recorder and pressed the button. “Okay, we're recording this so go ahead and explain.”

  Nina took a deep breath. She might live to regret this, but she didn’t see another option.

  “Okay, here's what I know. Luther brought most of his pharmaceuticals up from Central America.”

  “Yeah, we gathered that based on trace.”

  “Okay, well he's got a whole network that brings it North.”

  “What I want to know, is why go so far north?” Beck asked. “This is such a rural area. Doesn’t seem like there’d be a whole lot of business. Why not keep it in LA?”

  “Less competition up here. Besides, there’s a lot of energy and resources going into fighting drugs in the inner city. A lot less going into rural operations. No one seems to care what happens up here. People seem to think that the drug problem is all black ghettos. But I’m sure I don't have to tell you fine gentlemen, the opioids have hit rural America hard. Hit women worst of all. Women have been getting hooked on prescription opium since the gold rush. People like Luther are smart, they know that. Luther knew that.”

  “So they just arbitrarily pick the poorest areas to infiltrate.”

  “Of course not. Lake Tahoe was chosen very strategically. Namely because of the laundering opportunity.”

  Martinez's eyes went up. “Go on.”

  Nina’s insides burned as the next words made their way to her tongue. It was the one thing she’d held back in her previous testimony.

  “Back then, Luther partnered with the casinos. The way that they clean the money. Filter back in. Plus, casinos are an endless supply of customers. It's not just townies they go after around here. People who think Casino corruption died out with the Italian mob are severely mistaken. It was only replaced by a new class of criminals,” Nina said.

  “The Estonians?” Beck said.

  Nina shrugged.

  “And you think it’s still in operation?” Martinez asked.

  “I have no way of knowing, but I’d say it’s a good bet. It’s gone undetected for years. Why stop?”

  “Any one in particular?” Martinez asked.

  Nina sighed. “I couldn’t possibly say for certain every single one, but I know the Royale was the hub.”

  “And you can prove it?”

  “I can prove it.”

  Martinez and Beck exchanged wary glances, an unspoken conversation passing between them. They had that steel-tempered closeness of soldiers in battle or prisoners of war, the mystery attained only by men in extremes.

  “Ok, so another question,” Martinez finally went on. “How are they getting the drugs up here so unnoticed? Agency’s been doing sting operations on the usual trails for months, and they've never once been able to pin the Opik organization.”

  “That I can’t help you with,” Nina said. “I honestly don't know how it’s done.”

  “In all those years at Luther’s side, you never heard anything?” Martinez said.

  “There were some things I didn’t want to know. I was involved in a lot of the operations. But other things, I kept my ears closed tightly. The less I knew, the less I could be indicted on one day.”

  “It seems like you had some foresight,” Martinez said, almost amused.

  “It's the reason I'm not dead.”

  There was a knock at the door and a young woman popped her platinum blonde head in. Nina could smell the Victoria Secret perfume from her chair.

  “Um, agent Martinez. You’re um, needed,” the young woman said, her tone sounding poorly rehearsed.

  “Thanks, Shelley.” Martinez stood. “Becki, can you handle the rest of this?”

  “Sure thing,” Beck said.

  Once the door was closed, Nina faced Beck and snorted. “Becki?”

  “He’s just being an ass,” Beck said.

  “So is this the part where you play good cop?”

  “I’
m not a cop.”

  Nina laughed. “You guys are pretty good at this game.”

  “Nina, I’m not playing games. I just want you to trust me.”

  Nina studied Beck but couldn’t read him. Was he flirting, gently petting her weaknesses until, like a wild animal, she finally warmed up to him? She'd seen a lot of girls go down that way. Street-smart girls with damaged hearts, willing to spill everything because the right man made her feel like a queen for the day. Luther had certainly mastered that art and taught his minions the same party trick.

  Had Beck learned the same magic or was there something more between them? She couldn’t decide if she wanted there to be.

  “Look, Beck I want to trust you. I can’t really explain why, but I do.”

  “Is it the smile? It’s the smile, isn’t it?” Beck said.

  Nina blushed and laughed.

  “But you don't,” Beck said casually.

  “No, I don't. I mean, you are threatening my livelihood and freedom here.”

  “You know I don’t have a choice—”

  “Exactly. I can’t even say I blame you for doing your job but at the end of the day, you're going to do what's best for yourself and the case.”

  Beck didn't say anything.

  “You know I'm right,” Nina said.

  “Yes, obviously it's my job to do what's best for the case. To fight these guys with every weapon I have. But that doesn't mean that I don't have ethics. I don't throw innocent people in the line of fire to get what I want.”

  Nina studied his eyes for truth. Wouldn’t anyone throw innocents under the bus for personal gain? She certainly had.

  “I appreciate the candor,” she said.

  “You have a pretty low opinion of law enforcement, don't you?”

  “Anyone who spent any time inside would share that particular opinion.”

  Beck touched her arm then, sending a shock of energy up her pale skin. “You know we’re not all the bad guys, right?”

  She slipped her arm away from his touch. “I know. But I think our justice system is super fucked up.”

  “I won’t necessarily argue. I've seen it inside, I know what it’s like.”

  Nina laughed. “No, you don’t. Looking through the bars at the monkeys doesn't mean you know what it's like to be a caged animal. The humiliation, the indignities. The suffering. To be stripped of all rights. Do you know what it’s like to eat, sleep and go to the bathroom on the orders of some fat pervert with a baton?”

  Beck shrugged playfully. “Sounds like boot camp.”

  Nina glared at him until he laughed.

  “Sorry, sorry, I’m not making light of it. But those people are in there by their own accord you know,” Beck said.

  “People commit crimes for a lot of reasons, agent. It’s easy to judge when you’ve never had to make their choices.”

  “You don’t judge them?”

  “I do, I admit that. The weight of my hypocrisy hangs high. But I think I’ve earned the privilege. But it doesn't matter. It's all black and white by the letter of the law. Once a judge slams the gavel, you're just a serial number. You no longer have rights, no longer worthy of humanity.”

  “You kept your humanity,” Beck said in earnest.

  “Yeah well, I did my best to hide it away before I went in. I hoped it would still be there when I got out.”

  “Do you really not know how they get the stuff up the state?”

  Nina drained the last of her coffee. “All I can say is that it's getting easier to transport every day. We’re not talking truckloads of heroin anymore, we're talking pills. Legally produced, legally distributed. And it's deadlier than ever.”

  “That’s why we’re fighting it so hard.”

  “You know it will never stop right? You can't just put a Band-Aid on it.”

  “Maybe. But they pay me to put really big fucking Band-Aids on it.”

  Martinez stepped back into the room then. He smiled thinly, forced and awkward. “Sorry about that. So, how’s it going?”

  Beck met Nina’s eyes. Something passed between them. Did they too share a secret understanding?

  “I think we’re done here for now,” Beck said. “Thanks for all of your help, Nina. We’ll be in touch soon.”

  

  Beck tried not to watch her as she left the interrogation room, but his eyes couldn't help but stay glued to her. She had a tight figure, small but strong. Agile, lean muscles. A stealth cat. She even had the eyes to match.

  “Not every day we get someone like that in here,” someone said beside him.

  Beck looked over to see a uniformed officer eyeing Nina appreciatively, if not a little licentiously.

  Beck nodded. “Yeah. She's interesting.”

  The cop beside him snorted. “Interesting isn’t exactly the word I had in mind. I wouldn’t mind having her in the interrogation room for a few hours by myself.”

  Beck snapped around and glared. His fists instinctively tightened.

  The uniform took a step back. “What? Geez. You federal guys are way too uptight.”

  “You really shouldn’t talk about victims like that,” Beck said, relaxing his hands.

  The guy snorted again. “Victim? No way that girl’s been a victim of anything in her life. She looks like she’d about scratch your eyeballs out.”

  Silently, Beck hoped she'd get the chance to scratch out this guy’s eyeballs.

  “Don’t you have something productive to be doing?” Beck said.

  The cop rolled his eyes at him. “Anal Fed,” he said as he walked away.

  “Graham, how many times do I have to tell you to play nice with the locals?” Beck heard Martinez's gruff voice behind him.

  “What? I didn't say anything,” Beck said.

  “Just remember that we’re here by their good graces. Using their resources, their space. Let's try not to piss them off, okay?”

  Beck opened his mouth to protest but Martinez held his hand up. “I don't care what he said first. You’re not a third-grader, Graham. You’re a federal agent. Act like one.”

  Beck nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ve cut you a lot of slack because of who you are. But don’t push me.”

  “And who exactly am I?”

  “I know all about your track record. Special forces, really made a name for yourself in L.A. Rising star. All that bullshit. The Agency wants to be good to you. They say you’re going to prove yourself and that your attitude is worth it. But I don’t tolerate rogue bullshit very well, you got that? I don’t care how many little babies you’ve saved or intergalactic wars you've prevented. You're in my department now, that means you play by my rules. Things here operate a little differently. This isn’t inner-city crime—this is a small town, delicate.”

  “I understand, Sir,” Beck said.

  Chapter 14

  How does a nice girl like you end up in here? She’d been asked that question ad nauseum. Sometimes they just do, was her only answer. There wasn’t always some deep-rooted childhood trauma that led people down the wrong path. Sometimes they were just bored, thrill-seeking teenagers with a grudge against overbearing, judgmental parents and a perfect cookie-cutter sister.

  People also assumed she’d been a nice girl. She wasn’t sure she ever had been. According to her mother, she came out of the womb moody. But then again, anyone was dark and moody next to the perfect ray of sunshine that was Cammy.

  Nina's parents had been painfully strict with her growing up. But it was the kind of strict that good Christian suburban parents have, rooted in a solid desire for them to live a life on the straight and narrow. Her older sister never seemed to have a problem following all the rules. She never broke curfew, never stayed at reading past her bedtime. She got perfect grades and never drank. But Nina just had a hard time conforming. She had everything she could have wanted, except for stimulation and acceptance. She liked to study maps, to take things apart, see how the world worked. And while her parents definitely val
ued education, and encouraged Nina to learn, they didn't understand that the safe quiet suburb that they’d chosen for home was slowly eating away at her soul.

  But for all her education and ambition, Nina was painfully naive.

  She tried not to reflect on her time with Luther, but sometimes when she let her guard down the predatory memories came at her.

  The times lying in Luther’s arms, his tender embrace making her whole. The first time he’d hit her. She never saw the blow coming. Her head rattled, her jaw ached. And then he was calm and soothing, he stroked her hair, he rubbed her cheek, he kissed her forehead.

  Luther didn’t lose his temper or rage or abuse with abandon. It was deliberate punishment, the way one might reluctantly spank a child. Thoughtful, mechanical, calculated.

  Nina remembered the way her hands trembled as she finally made the call that would change her fate. Her eyes could barely focus on the business card in front of her. The business card she tossed in the trash and then scrambled back to retrieve, because something inside her told her that the life she was living had an expiration date.

  Each millisecond the phone rang was a torturous eternity. Because every millisecond that she was still breathing was a closer moment to her last breath.

  When she finally heard the voice on the other end, she thought she might pass out.

  Her palms were so sweaty she could barely grasp the phone to her ear.

  “Hello? This is Agent Abrella,” the voice said again.

  Nina cleared her throat. “This is Nina. Sullivan. I’m ready.”

  She barely remembered telling the agent everything. She barely remembered the aftermath. She only remembered the feeling of emptiness, as though she had cut out a piece of herself. She knew now that it wasn’t right for another person to ever have so much power over another.

  The interview had lasted what felt like hours, the feds asking the same questions a hundred different ways until Nina felt like she was spinning in circles. Her lawyer sat next to her, patiently nodding and interjecting at certain moments when Nina said too much. But in the end, she wanted to cooperate, to make amends. She wanted to see Luther put away. Because she knew, one day it would be too late. One day he would kill her.