The Redemption Lie

by Amanda J. Clay

“Maybe it’s time you started to think a little better of me, Martinez. I’m perfectly capable of controlling myself around a pretty girl.”

  Martinez snorted. “Pretty is the least of her weapons. That girl will mind fuck you until you’d lick your own ass if she asked you to.”

  “Graphic, sir.”

  “Honest. During the last case she nearly got the case agent to give up state secrets.” Martinez said it with a dash of mirth but Beck figured there was some level of truth to it.

  “I’m on your side here, Beck. I want you to succeed. You know that right?”

  “I do, sir,” Beck said.

  “Good. Ok, get back to work and stop dicking around.”

  As soon as Martinez was out of sight he fell back against his chair and exhaled.

  Last night had been a huge fucking mistake. God, what was he thinking? They’d been caught up in the moment, high on adrenaline and fear and excitement.

  He hadn't been thinking straight. There was an explanation. But that wasn’t going to matter if he had to go before the disciplinary committee. He needed this case. It was his only way to make rank and get the hell out of this place. He couldn’t fuck it up. He just needed to have a rational conversation with Nina. They were going to have to set boundaries. Nina needed to know that he was taking his job seriously.

  Holy hell, he could lose his badge for this. He couldn’t be the first agent to make this mistake. Cops slept with sources all the time, didn’t they? But that didn't mean that he wasn't going to face the consequences. That was, of course if anyone found out.

  Chapter 21

  Beck was utterly spent. He needed to get home, or at least to the only home he expected to know for the next few months, crack a beer and zone out to classical guitar for a few hours.

  What he really wanted to do was head straight to Nina’s and relive the night before.

  Maybe he’d just go to the local bar, throw back enough to numb the pain, and go home and pass out. He couldn't think about the case anymore. He had to give his brain a break.

  Beck was heading out of the station when he heard a commotion in the front entry. He peeked around the corner and saw two young uniforms dragging in a motley guy in handcuffs. The officers thrust him into a plastic lobby chair.

  “You sit and shut up!” One of the officers said. He walked over and said something to the receptionist.

  For some unknown reason, Beck's heart started to race. He swore he recognized that guy. But from where? Another drug bust?

  “Graham!” He heard the voice behind him.

  Beck spun around. “Martinez. What’s up?”

  “Hey, don’t go anywhere just yet. We got someone for you to question.”

  Beck wanted to groan and fall to the floor in a toddler-like tantrum, but he nodded.

  “Yeah, sure thing. Who is that guy?”

  “Picked him up in a local sting. Says he knows Nina.”

  Beck's blood went cold. He turned back around slowly and examined the man in custody. Yeah, he recognized him all right. Or rather he recognized his energy. He couldn’t explain it, but somehow Beck knew was the guy who’d chased them through the woods last night. He was sure of it.

  “I’m on it.”

  Martinez gave him a funny look. “Can you handle it? It’s been a long day.”

  Beck cracked his neck. “I can handle it.”

  “Let’s hope we can get something useful from this guy. Hey, maybe if he gives us what we need, we won't even need Nina, so go at him gently.”

  Gently, Beck thought. These guys deserve a hammer to the head, not an ounce of sensitivity.

  

  Beck stepped into the interrogation room. It was cold and dank, the air stuffy. He purposefully kept it uncomfortable. Oldest trick in the book, and everyone knew about it, but it didn't make it any less effective. You can't argue with physical sensations.

  Beck opened a file and pretended to scan through it. The thug sat at the table, his hands handcuffed. His blonde hair was slicked back, his sharp jaw splattered with haphazard stubble. Beck tried not to show any signs of recognition or emotion.

  “Eugene Sessions,” Beck began. “That’s your name isn’t it?”

  The man shrugged. “No one calls me that.”

  “And what do you prefer to be called then?” Beck said.

  “Badger.”

  Beck raised his eyebrows. “Badger. Ok, Mr. Badger, let’s start talking.”

  “You can't just handcuff me and hold me here. Ain't got nothing on me,” Badger said.

  “I believe that they said you assaulted an officer. That would warrant the handcuffs. You can’t go around assaulting officers now,” Beck said. He kept his tone condescending. Then he learned in a little closer. “Or go chasing them through the woods.”

  Badger snickered. Then he licked his lips and spat on the floor.

  “Can I have a cup of coffee?” Badger said.

  “Think we’re all out,” Beck said.

  “Water?”

  Beck smiled. “Yes of course.” If he denied the guy water he’d be asking for trouble. He signaled to the window and momentarily an officer came in with a cup of water.

  Beck waited for Badger to take a long sip then started. “So. What's your connection to Luther?”

  “Who's Luther?” Badger smiled widely, his broken yellowed teeth stretching out.

  “I see. That's how we are going to play this?” Beck said.

  “Something rattle your cage, detective?”

  “I’m not a detective, Badger. I’m a DEA agent, and your worst nightmare unless you cooperate”

  Badger looked less than impressed by Beck’s threats. Fuck, he was losing his touch. Maybe his head was messed up from last night. A year ago he could make the biggest badasses tremble in their boots. This guy was smiling at him. A goddamn fucking smirk on his face.

  Beck slammed his fist on the table again. “Something amusing to you?”

  “Nope,” Badger said with such indifference that it fanned the flame at Beck’s core.

  “Tell me about Nina,” Beck said.

  Badger licked his lips.

  “Crazy bitch,” he said.

  Beck bit down on his tongue. “Care to elaborate?”

  “Not really. Just some bitch I used to know.”

  “Know how?” Beck said.

  Badger snickered, arrogant and cheeky. “Like you wanna know if I’ve fucked her? You would want to know, wouldn’t you? Maybe we could swap war stories, agent.”

  Beck’s rage exploded in his chest. He jumped around the table and grabbed the guy by his shirt collar. Beck leaned his face close, smelling Badger’s sour breath, cigarettes and stale whiskey.

  “You better whip that fucking smirk off your face or I'll beat it off for you,” Beck said.

  A moment later the door burst open and Martinez ran in. He grabbed Beck and pulled him off Badger.

  “Agent. That’s enough. Take a walk,” Martinez said

  Beck’s chest heaved as the rage snaked through his lungs, his heart, his extremities. He couldn’t move, couldn’t pull his gaze from Badger.

  “I said, OUT,” Martinez snapped.

  “Time for your time out, agent,” Badger said with a sneer.

  Beck complied but not without committing Badger’s smug face to memory.

  

  Beck was still heaving when Martinez came back through the door. He pushed Beck against the wall, pressing his elbow into his throat with enough force to get his point across but not enough to actually inflict pain.

  Beck smiled softly and apologetically.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Graham,” Martinez growled, releasing his grip. “What the hell is your problem? You looking to get suspended?”

  “The guy pissed me off,” Beck said, straightening his tie.

  “Yeah, well lots of people piss me off. Namely you. Calm the fuck down, already. Since when do perps push your buttons?”

  Beck heaved, trying to stead
y his nerves. He was losing control. He never lost control.

  “Sorry. It won’t happen again. I’m just tired. Been a long week.”

  “What are you not telling me, agent?

  “I’m hungry,” Beck said.

  Martinez rolled his eyes.

  But then Beck’s stomach growled as if to testify that he was telling the truth. He shrugged.

  “You look like shit. Did you even shower this morning?”

  “Yeah I showered,” Beck’s voice came out like a petulant teenager.

  “You look like you're coming apart at the seams. We can’t afford to have someone reckless on this case.”

  “I know. I can do better.”

  Martinez gave him a slight slap up against the head. “You better do better. Your job is on the line here. You can't go all John Wayne on every guy that looks at you wrong.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’re going to tell me everything, Graham. You will, you know that? Go home and get some rest. I want you back in action bright and early tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter 22

  Nina stretched out on her yoga mat, letting her muscles pull and extend. She was a tense pretzel these past days, the long hours and the stress all building up in the fibers of her makeup like a volcano that wanted to erupt. She slid down into upward dog pose and stretched out her back, then swished up into downward dog, letting the blood flow to her brain, hoping for reenergizing.

  There were a few positive things she credited prison with, one of which was her yoga practice. There was a lot of anger floating around the Women's State Correctional Facility. Lost women with a lot of pent-up rage ready to take it out on anyone who crossed their path. Luckily there was an old hippie woman who offered yoga sessions to anyone who was willing. Although reluctant at first, Nina had nothing better to do. Within a week, it had changed her outlook. For one, it gave her something to look forward to every day in an otherwise dismal existence. Two, it gave her some calm. Some peace. A way to relieve the tension in her body that built up working in the prison kitchen every morning before the rooster crowed.

  Then it gave her perspective. As much as she’d despised those early morning kitchen shifts at first, eventually it gave her purpose. And an idea of how to rebuild her life once she got out. If she ever made it out of course. Each night was spent anticipating not waking up. She was convinced the organization would take her out.

  But they never did. And then one day, three years later, still alive, she’d stood on the side of the road with a Greyhound ticket in hand. She’d boarded a bus on a rural road, a small bag of possessions in hand. Where did she go from here? The next few weeks would bring lonely nights in cheap hotel rooms, sending up futile prayers of contrition. The burden of the past rested so heavily on her shoulders, her conscience carrying the weight of blood. There was no atonement for what she’d become. All the vodka and regret couldn’t erase her past. At least that’s what she’d thought.

  It took her a month before she’d gained the courage to go home. That phone call to her mother was the hardest one she’d ever made, her fingers trembling, her nerve betraying her. Trying to find the courage to simply say hello to the cold voice on the other end.

  Mom, I’m out. Can I come home?

  The silence of her mother’s delayed reaction had been deafening.

  “I’ll give you one week,” her mother had said.

  Nina swung through another round of Sun Salutations.

  A million thoughts raced through her mind. Getting involved with Beck was one of the stupidest things she'd ever done. Not that she’d ever been accused of making rational, intelligent decisions when it came to men. It had been nearly a decade since she’d stepped into Luther’s web and she was still paying the hefty price for that lapse in judgment.

  And now, another stupid adrenaline-fueled decision had gotten her back in hot water. Maybe she’d just been so much lonelier than she’d realized these past years. People underestimate the devastating power of loneliness. For all humanity’s independent abilities and libertarian viewpoints, people were still very much pack animals. When the nights get long and dark, when the winds blow and the bitter realities of life slice through the surfaces of composure, people crave human companionship and comfort. Without it, everyone would waste away to shells of humanity, reverting to basal instincts.

  Nina had read a recent study in a psychology article that even suggested that mere interaction wasn’t enough. That humans needed quality contact, close relationships, intimacy. It suggested people in large cities, surrounded by millions of other people, could be just as lonely as those in solitude. In fact, it even went as far as to suggest that the psychological impacts of such an existence could be even worse because the isolated city dweller was close enough to intimacy to taste it, but it was thus out of reach.

  What a cruel kind of torture, Nina thought.

  It had been a long time since Nina had felt that closeness with someone. She’d never been great at making friends and her family dynamics were always strained. Perhaps that’s what had made her so susceptible to Luther. She’d been so desperate for love and connection.

  Nina finished up and pulled herself together for the weekly meeting. It had been Reina’s idea that they host their own version of NA every week. They’d built a small family here and sharing in each other’s struggles further strengthened the bond. And it turned out to be a brilliant way to keep everyone on track in their recovery. Nina herself had never actually been a user, but she didn’t let on to the girls. Sure, she dabbled in coke her youthful rebellion but she’d never touched meth or heroin or the other vices that dug their claws into the very essence of you. Luther got his claws in her instead. He’d told her the fastest way to get caught was to become an addict, so he forbid her from touching the stuff. She at least could be thankful for that.

  But, she felt like she owed the rest of them. How many lives had been at her disposal during those years?

  She didn’t limit the scope to strictly drug addiction recovery—she encouraged everyone to talk about whatever the struggles were with rebuilding their lives. From men to drinking to families. Even if Nina didn’t struggle with drugs, she still had her own demons to overcome.

  She set out some ice tea, coffee and freshly baked muffins and tried to focus on healing thoughts—not the dark demons swimming around her in consciousness.

  Her phone buzzed. She groaned when she saw Beck’s name.

  She swiped the message bubble open.

  Checking in on you. How are you?

  Nina bit her lips and contemplated how best to respond.

  Fine.

  That’s all? Just fine?

  Just busy.

  There was a pause.

  Would you mind if I stopped by?

  Nina closed her phone without responding. She wasn’t at his beck and call.

  

  Brooklyn, Reina, Melanie, Nina and Katie sat in a circle in the bar lounge.

  After Katie’s first month, Nina still hadn’t quite gotten a read on her. Frankly, she didn’t really like her much. She had an air of insolence that rubbed Nina the wrong way. Nina tried not to judge any of her girls, knowing they all came from troubled backgrounds, with a unique set of circumstances, but something in Katie’s demeanor set her off. She had every right to let the girl go of course, but she also had to admit Katie was proving to be one of her best servers. She was attractive—straight white teeth, clear skin, sharp blue eyes, shiny auburn hair. A certain sharpness to her that suggested she could read your thoughts. The kind of attractive that usually comes with money and class, not the kind that usually accompanies the girls who worked at her place. Those girls usually had a certain hardness to them; too many late nights, punches to the face, too many drugs, too much booze.

  The story Nina had gotten was that Katie had been a high-priced call girl working the nearby Casinos. She got herself hooked on pills but hadn’t been at it long enough to
do any real damage. She’d been busted in a sting, served a couple of months and paid a fine. Pretty easy sentence, but it was still nearly impossible for a girl with no formal education and a criminal record to get a decent job. Despite the opportunity Nina was offering, Katie’s attitude suggested she saw it more as a punishment than a saving grace.

  But, Katie had opted into the weekly meetings, so that was something.

  The room was silent as they waited on Brooklyn to share.

  Brooklyn’s eyes went to a far-off place, then she refocused and began. “Oxy grabs a hold of you. Once it has you in its grasp, it won’t let go. It turned me into something I never thought I could become,” she said. “That first hit, it’s like a warm hug right from Jesus. Who wouldn’t want to stay there forever?”

  The others nodded in agreement.

  “It takes you away from the pain, makes you believe you’re worth something,” Brooklyn said.

  “It’s not like I said, hey I’m going to become a heroin addict. I mean, sticking a needle in my arm? Fucking gross. But when it’s a pill…it’s not so gross. But sometimes pills are hard to come by. And then someone hands you a bag…” She shook her head and shuddered.

  “I tried detox so many times. And it just kept failing me because you get in there and they run you through the spin dry until you’re just a shell, then toss you back out. It’s not like I was any better equipped to deal with my life than I was when I went in,” Brooklyn said.

  “What finally made you stop?” a male voice said behind them.

  They all spun around to see Agent Beck Graham standing in the bar entryway.

  “Um, excuse me you can’t just fucking barge in here,” Nina snapped. She thrust herself up from her seat and headed toward him. “Out. This is private.”

  Beck glanced at the women in the circle and flashed his smile. Dammit, Nina thought. There goes the neighborhood.

  All four of the women in the circle blushed and tittered. Nina rolled her eyes.

  “Serious, Beck, this is private.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. You just didn’t respond to my text so I was worried.”

  Nina folded her arms and glared. She lowered her voice. “Beck, I’m not your child. You don't need to tail my every move. I have a life.”