I started looking at all the big importers. I called Preston.
“Hey, I know what you’re probably gonna say, but your guys have checked all the importers, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the drugs are getting to the East Coast somehow. But how is the question. I know the border thing. But there has to be an alternate route. So, have you all checked everything that comes in from Mexico? You know, like produce. We get an ass load of our produce from there.”
“Right. I’m pretty sure it’s been checked.”
“Can we check it again? Can I check it? There has to be something to all this.”
“Let me see what I can do.”
I kept working this angle and for some reason something kept nagging me. It was probably nothing, but it was worth a try.
“One other question. Imported produce from Mexico is usually shipped by truck, correct?”
“Yeah.”
“How is it inspected when it arrives?”
“Supposedly, like looking for a needle in a haystack. Dogs, you name it, they’re used. But you never know. I’ve learned not to believe in any system as perfect. There are flaws everywhere.”
“Okay. One last question. Is there a main distributing company that handles this stuff before it gets parceled out?”
“I’ll have someone check on that. But I’d have to say yeah. Then it goes into the grocery store warehouses.”
“All right. Let me know what you find.”
Preston and I went back and forth on this a couple of times a week. He’d only call when he could because he had to use disposable phones. Since my “death,” he’d been accepted into the loop, but not close enough to get the meaty information. I had to settle for what I could get, when I could get it.
Two weeks later, the phone rang and it was Preston.
“Pack a bag, enough for a week.”
“Why?”
“You’re going to El Paso. To EPIC.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. The director likes your thought processes and he wants to look into this a little further. Caroline, it may pan out to be nothing. Just sayin’, so you don’t get your hopes too high. And don’t forget, that other person is dead and gone.”
“Gotcha.”
“A car will be picking you up this afternoon around three. Government issue. Driver’s name is Dan. Ask for ID. Always Caroline. Never forget that piece of info. When you get his ID, call the number on it to verify. Okay?”
“Yep.”
“I’ll see you there.”
“You’re going?”
“Yeah. Or at least I’m trying.”
“Be safe.”
“Always. You too.”
********
Mom wasn’t happy at all. I called her at work to let her know I’d be gone for a few days.
Tomorrow I was supposed to have become Mrs. Justin Middleton. I dared not let myself even think of it for one tiny second, or I would lose myself to my grief. Instead of getting married, I would be in El Paso, trying to uncover links to a drug cartel. At three, there was a knock on my door and Dan presented his ID. I looked at the phone number and shut the door. I quickly called in to verify he was the real deal. When I was in the back seat and we were on the way, he said, “You’re a pretty intense girl, aren’t you?”
I shrugged and said, “Guess so.” You have no idea.
“I never had anyone question my ID before.”
“You never picked me up before Dan.”
He nodded and said, “No, I haven’t. So where you headed today?”
“Where ever this car is taking me, Dan.”
He laughed. “Man, they’ve trained you well. You’re a cryptic one.”
“Uh huh. Do you always talk this much Dan?”
“Yeah, I think so. At least that’s what everyone says.”
“I see. So what do you do at the DEA?”
“Well, I guess I’m basically a gopher.”
I could see why. The guy could never keep his mouth shut long enough to stay alive.
“Well Dan, every agency needs good gophers. They’re important too.”
“You’re shittin’ me right?”
“Yeah Dan, I am.”
He laughed. I didn’t.
We pulled into what appeared to be a private air strip after we went through several layers of security. I knew better. It screamed government all the way around. The damn government needed to quit buying those black Tahoes or Surburbans. They were dead giveaways. They were scattered everywhere.
Dan pulled up to the plane and I hopped out. “Thanks for the ride Dan. Have a nice career.” I didn’t wait for a response but headed up the steps.
When I reached the opening to the aircraft I heard, “You must be Caroline Cole.”
“That’s correct. And you are?”
“Mick Waterson. Welcome aboard. First things first. ID’s.”
He showed me his and I showed him mine. There were two other people on board, one being the sandy haired man from that night in Charleston. He did two long slow blinks, signaling me to act like we’d never met. Hmm, this might be interesting. Even these people, this high up, didn’t know about my change in identity.
“Caroline Cole meet Pete Kowalski. He’s the one that’s running this show. And over there is Jonas Richardson.”
“Pleased to meet you guys.”
Mick said, “Have a seat Caroline and get buckled up. We’re ready to take off.”
We started talking about my thoughts immediately. They kept countering me and I had to hand it to them. Everything had validity. But so did my ideas.
“Look guys, let’s think about it. We have these huge trucks coming over the border filled with all kinds of stuff...lettuce, tomatoes, peppers, what have you. What if the distribution center they’re going to is owned by someone that’s linked to the cartel? What if they have someone on the payroll...so when the inspection occurs, things are missed, overlooked, whatever? It’s not impossible. My other thoughts have to do with how things are shipped. What if there are false bottoms to everything? Enough room to smuggle in kilos of heroin or coke?”
They were all shaking their heads going, “No fucking way. We have drug dogs.”
“Right. I’ve thought about that too. What if they’ve done something to the dogs to mess up their sense of smell? It happens to humans when we get colds. Like inflammation. It screws up our taste and smell. Why can’t they do something to the dogs? Or spray something on the drugs to keep the dogs from finding the scent?”
They all shut up and stared...and stared...and stared. I was getting very uncomfortable by the time Pete finally said something.
“I told you she’d be worth the trip.”
That was the conversation for the rest of the flight. We were on the computers and communicating with veterinarians all over the country trying to figure out what could disable a dog’s sense of smell.
********
We landed in El Paso and headed straight for EPIC (El Paso Intelligence Center). Preston was due to arrive in two hours.
They handed me a stack of folders and told me to figure out which ones had merit. They were talking about the wholesale food distributors in the U.S. that the Mexican produce was being delivered to.
I wanted to throw the folders right back at them. They didn’t believe me. Or at least that’s how I perceived them to feel. Screw it, if these needed reviewing, then that’s what I’d do.
It took me two days before the pattern started to emerge. One company, Mendoza Produce and Mexicana Produce started to look suspicious. When I tracked their deliveries to DFW, two days after every delivery, there would always be a spike in either drug related shootings, arrests or something similar. It kept getting more interesting. These two wholesalers were directly tied to one large distributor, East Coast Wholesaler, that handled grocery chains all over the southeast and east coast.
On the third day, I presented my findings. The shit hit the fan
. Preston smiled. So did Pete.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Justin
Today would’ve been our wedding day. I couldn’t run fast enough or far enough to get away from those demons. I was on call and wanted to work straight through. I didn’t want to stop for anything. Pearce happened to be on call too, so every now and then, he’d stick his head in and check up on me.
We both had a few minutes over lunch and he took me aside and wanted to know how I was.
“Don’t ask me that today.” I couldn’t stop the tears from dropping onto my cheeks. I didn’t really cry anymore, but the tears were present today. My heart would never mend. There would always be a piece of it missing. I wondered one time if a heart transplant would make it feel better. When people talked about broken hearts, I never knew their chests truly hurt. Mine did...all the goddamn time. It hurt when I woke up. It hurt when I worked. It hurt when I ran. It hurt when I ate. I’m sure it even hurt then I slept. It would always hurt until the day I died.
My family and friends had been great, but there wasn’t a fucking thing they could do, unless they could bring her back. And we all knew that wasn’t possible. I knew I loved my girl. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. I knew she was the one and that there would be no other for me. I just didn’t know how bad I would miss her when she was ripped away so cruelly from me.
Even when other women started approaching me, I knew I’d never be over her. A new nurse at the hospital came up to me one day. She didn’t know about my past, had no idea of the tragedy I was living through. She put her hand on my arm, in a friendly gesture, and my whole body cringed. She looked at me oddly and immediately removed it. I made some lame excuse and hurried away from her. The thought of another woman touching me almost made me sick.
An idea began to take root in my mind. I wasn’t sure about it because Charleston had been my home for my whole life. With the exception of undergrad at Princeton and then my residency at University of Washington in Seattle, I had never any desire to leave Charleston. My feelings were changing. Without Terri and with every little curve in the street, every restaurant, every single thing I looked at here that reminded me of her, I was finding it increasingly difficult to live here.
I dared not broach this subject yet with my family, for when I did, I wanted to be sure about my decision. They would have a sense of duty to try to talk me out of it I was sure. The real question was, where would I go? I’d traveled extensively and had a few places I loved, but I never gave any real thoughts to living there. I would start to do that and maybe do some research too.
My gut twisted up when I thought about leaving here, the only true home I’d ever known. Cutting all ties with my past...with Terri...with my memories of her.
I was suddenly thrown back to that day at Pearce’s wedding as I stood in the front of the church and watched her carefully pick her way down that aisle. I knew she was scared shitless...waiting to stumble, but she never did. She was remarkable. Because of her, because of the courage and strength she had, I now gave every patient that faced the same kind of recovery, hope. Huge hope. And I told them all about how she overcame every obstacle that was thrown her way. And how she nearly lost that leg. I don’t tell them that she was the love of my life and they don’t see me when I go back to my office and cry like a baby. But after I leave their rooms, they have hope and they believe that they will be able to walk again..
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Caroline
Six months...six grueling months of relentless investigations, inspections, late nights, sleepless nights, begging Pete to look at something else and we finally had it.
I’d been right. It was both of the suspected Mexican wholesalers. They had somehow created plastic crates with hollowed bottoms that they had filled with heroin, cocaine or meth. They also used a substance that they must have sprayed on the surface of the crates that covered up the scent of the drugs. The dogs had missed it every time. The DEA was analyzing it now and trying to determine exactly what it was. It was quite an ingenious plan too. They were connected to East Coast Wholesaler and when they shut them down, the entire Monterrey Cartel crashed in the United States.
The DEA arrested dozens of high ranking members of the cartel and were also able to grab many of their operatives located in the larger cites that were feeding some of the smaller dealers. It was the largest drug bust in the history of our nation. Millions of dollars worth of heroin, cocaine and methamphetamine were confiscated, along with the money that went along with it.
Immediately following, violence broke out in Mexico, resulting in massive gang wars between the cartels. It appeared that the Monterrey Cartel had been put to rest permanently. That was the good news. The bad news was there would be another one to step in to take its place.
I thought about what this really meant. To most of the people hearing this on the news, they would probably think, “Oh good,” and not think another thing about it. Even if Justin heard of it, he would never know how deeply this had affected his life. How it had changed the two of us forever.
I would have to find some way to pick up the pieces now. For the last six months, this was all I had focused on, pushing all thoughts of Justin aside. Well, that’s only partly true. He was with me all the time. Constantly. At night when I went to sleep, I imagined I could feel his warmth wrapped around me and smell the scent that was all him. I imagined how it felt when he kissed me and sent my heart racing and my blood coursing through my veins. He was always right there...so close, but yet never again would I feel him. Ever.
When I left for El Paso, I thought it would be for a week. Six months later I was boarding the plane to go back to Virginia. I was a woman without a home. I wasn’t sure about what I would do next. Over a year had passed since that awful day. I had been to hell and back in that time and I wasn’t so sure I wasn’t still in hell now.
I sat on the plane and started thinking about me...my feelings...my life. One year had passed and then some. And I still felt like my belly was slashed wide open and my guts were hanging out. I would never get over him. Maybe time would dull the pain. But if the way I felt today was any indication, it would take a hell of a lot of time for that to happen. I had to get out of Virginia. I needed to leave the East Coast altogether. My memories were too vivid here. I’d gone to UVA. And then lived in Charleston the rest of the time. Maybe I’d go out west. I liked Texas. The people were awesome. El Paso was too far from everything though. Maybe Dallas or Austin. Or maybe I should check out Denver or Phoenix. I would give it a try, travel a bit. See the country. It was something I’d always wanted but had never done. When I decided where I wanted to live, then I’d look for a job. One thing I couldn’t ever do again was sell real estate. They’d told me that from the beginning...when they reinvented me, that I could never go back to anything I did before. It was unfortunate, because that was the one thing I loved and was good at too.
I hung around my mom’s place for a few months, and then I decided it was time to make a plan. Preston didn’t like what I was going to do, but I had to do it. Now that the cartel was destroyed, it was relatively safe for me to pop in and do what I had to do, and then leave.
Mom was crazy worried. I told her not to be. I would spend a day, two at the most and be on I-40 heading west before anyone could possibly get wind of it. Most of those people were dead now anyway. Preston, Pete and I talked about it for hours and they finally gave me their okay. They weren’t overjoyed with my decision, but I said, “Someday I hope you’ll understand.”
My Ford Taurus was packed, which really wasn’t saying much because I didn’t own much more than the clothes on my back. Financially I was set. The government had somehow transferred all of our funds to Swiss accounts that were untraceable (well, for anyone but someone in intelligence). Preston had received his trust so he was okay too. The DEA still owed me money. They’d hired me as a consultant and Preston was still trying to get the money from the government. Enough said about
that.
********
I pulled into Charleston around four in the afternoon. I didn’t have a hotel room, but I would get one on my way back out of town. I didn’t expect this would take very long. I drove straight to Justin’s house. I didn’t park in his driveway, but I decided to park two blocks away instead.
My heart was pounding and my palms were dripping. I’m sure my shirt under my arms was pretty wet too. I had on jean shorts, flip flops, and a tank top. It was September and balmy. My hair brushed the tops of my shoulders but it was still blonde and I had bangs too. I was thin, much thinner than I used to be.
When I got to the front of his house I couldn’t breathe. I kept walking and went around the block again. I couldn’t catch my breath. My heart continued to do its jackhammer number. Stopping for a second, I put my hand on my chest and found what I was looking for. It had always given me courage and hope. I would finally be passing that on tonight. I bit my lip and tasted blood. Using the little breathing trick that Phil taught me so long ago, I began to feel better.
Blowing out my breath between my teeth, I trudged up the stairs on his porch and rang his doorbell. His Range Rover was parked there so I was pretty sure he was home. But he never answered the door. I sat down on the steps and decided to wait. I’d come this far, I had to complete this mission.
Thirty minutes later, I was still waiting with my head resting against the column. I heard the pounding of feet...those of a runner and I looked up and there he was, coming to a stop. He hadn’t seen me yet. My heart stopped beating as I drank in the sight of him...all six feet three inches of him. His hair was longer...much longer. In fact, it was almost as long as mine. He was also thinner. His cheekbones were more prominent and his lips looked fuller and God help me it was going to take everything I had to keep my hands off of him.
Shattered Edge Page 20
