by Ammar Habib
There’s another long silence. I know that if I was not here, there would be tears streaming down Mary’s face after saying those words. I notice her holding them back behind her eyes.
I reach into my purse and produce a golden-framed photograph. “There’s something you should see, Mary.”
Mary takes it and looks down at the family photo that sits on Bryan’s office.
“He keeps that at the forefront of his desk. He thinks I don’t notice, but he looks at it every day. And whenever I catch him staring at the photo, I see something behind his eyes, Mary. Do you know what it is?”
She doesn’t reply.
“Regret. It’s regret. I know what kind of armor Bryan wears. He wore it around me when we first met, and I know how he can be distant. And I know he may not deserve another chance after the patience you’ve shown him.” I lean forward a little more. “But maybe this duty has just made him forget how to show his emotions. Maybe it took the toll it takes on everyone else who wears the badge. Maybe it’s taught him so much about putting on a show that he has forgotten that he doesn’t have to wear his armor around you… but I don’t think it’s too late to remind him. And if you’re willing to take a step towards him, something tells me that he will come running to you.”
Mary glances down at her wedding ring as I continue.
“He loves you. He may not show it and there may be times when he doesn’t act like it, but he does and he has never stopped. All I ask is that you give him another chance. Do that… and I promise nothing but good will come out of it.”
After a long moment, her gaze comes back onto me.
***
I don’t have much time to digest what all occurred inside Mary’s home. I went in there hesitant, but left emotionally exhausted. I hope it was worth it. If she’s willing to pick up the phone and call her hurting husband, then it will be.
The only thing I want to do right now is lay my head on my pillow and sleep the entire weekend away. Lord knows I need the rest. I can hardly even concentrate on the road right now. My soreness, emotions, and weariness make me feel like I just came out of a boxing match with Muhammad Ali and took the best beating he could give.
But even with all this, I don’t know where to go. For some reason, I don’t want to return to my apartment or go to the station. All I know is that I need to be somewhere where I can get my thoughts together and find some peace. I’m not even half a mile away from Mary’s house when my heart makes its decision. With everything that’s happened, there’s one place that I need to be. It’s the only place where I can find solace no matter what is happening to me.
Without hesitating, I turn the car around.
***
There isn’t anybody else in the graveyard today. But I don’t mind. In fact, I like it when I have the place to myself; there’s nobody here to disturb my conversations with my sister.
I take a seat on the ground a few feet from the tombstone. My gaze is focused on its engraving. The sun beats against my back and my shadow falls onto the base of the headstone.
The skies are clear and the sun is high up on this late summer day. But I hardly feel the heat. Just like every time I visit here, all I sense and all I feel is one thing: Angela’s presence. I feel as if she’s all around me, surrounding me, and smiling down with her loving gaze. I don’t know if it’s real or not. It’s likely just my mind playing tricks on me, believing what it wants to believe. It wants peace so badly that it’s willing to lie to itself just to feel a bit of comfort. But I don’t give a damn if it’s real or not. That doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that when I’m here, I feel safe from everything else. I can forget what I lost all those years ago and forget what reality is. And for as long as possible—even if it is just a brief moment—I can be a younger sister again, confiding in my best friend.
With a sigh, I read the engraving on the tombstone—the name, the date, and the inscription—for the millionth and first time. Even after all these years, I can’t comprehend seeing Angela’s name on a tombstone. It continues to feel surreal. I’ve spent more years without her than with her, a thought hard enough to believe, but my heart and soul refuse to accept the fact that I’ll never set eyes on her again.
It’s been a while since I’ve been here. Too long. Perhaps that’s why I feel so lost. I know now that rushing to meet Vinny the Rat was idiotic. I should have listened to Bryan and Cap. Instead, I was so consumed in my duty that I forgot about myself. It ended well and the life of another was saved through it all, but the outcome had nothing to do with me. It was all pure luck. If fortune had not been involved, I would be dead.
But perhaps worse than being dead, I now have blood on my hands… even if it was in self-defense. That is a weight that I will carry with me until the day I die.
However, coming here and sitting before my sister, I’m home again. Everything feels so right now that I’m isolated from the world. I look down at the bottom of the gravestone, continuing to feel Angela’s presence.
Some people go to a priest to confess and speak their fears. My mother does and so does my father. But me? I come here. I confess to my sister. “I bet you never imagined seeing me like this… all beaten up and doing the things that I do. But then again, I bet you never imagined me buying drugs for a living either.”
The tombstone remains silent. I take a long moment to study it. It’s been weathered down by the years. When we lowered Angela into this grave over a decade ago, the headstone was smooth—as smooth as they come. But now it’s rigid and coarse. There are several small cracks along its surface. It’s lost its innocence, just as I have. The more I’ve delved into the shadows, the more its worn down.
“I’ve done everything I said I would when I came here all those months ago… even killed.” I say the last words so softly that I barely hear them. “I wish there had been another way. And God, it’ll haunt me forever. But to know that by almost dying, a girl was saved and reunited with her family, it makes it all worth it. To know that another sister will not go through what I did makes me know that something good came out of it. I hope that God sees that as well. And I pray you do to.”
There is a pause.
“I hope you’re not looking down at me, disappointed in what I’ve become—disappointed in what I’ve done. I’ve tried everything else to find a purpose for what happened to you. But all I found were unanswered questions. But here—here I can justify what happened to you. I can say that your death led to countless good things: all the criminals off the streets and all the lives that have been saved. I would give it all up if it brought you back… but I can’t.”
As I speak, I hear Bryan’s words echo in my head: we can’t bring back the dead.
“All I can do is keep moving and make your sacrifice worth something. And this is the best way—the only way—I know how, Angela. It’s… it’s the best way I can make sure what happened to me won’t happen to anyone else.” I take a deep breath and let it out, calming myself. “It’s the only way I can take all the unanswered questions and sorrow that I was left with and try to make something good come out of—”
Beep!
I instinctively jump back. My thoughts abruptly disappear when my pager suddenly goes off. After being thrown off for a moment, I snatch the device off of my belt. As expected, it’s Bryan who’s trying to get in touch with me. And it can only mean one thing: there’s been a breakthrough with the interrogations.
Without hesitating, I rise to my feet and leave.
***
“Thank you for coming, Ana.”
“What’s going on?”
Bryan is waiting for me right outside the chamber that leads to the interrogation room. And right next to him is another officer—Joel Rivers. Based on Joel’s reputation with questioning, I assume he must be leading up the interrogations.
Besides the three of us, the corridor is nearly empty. There are a few other personnel meandering further down the hallway, but they are well out of earshot.
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“Are you feeling okay?” Bryan asks.
I nod before repeating myself. “Any breakthroughs on the interrogation?”
“We got them all.”
“They all confessed?” The words fire off and my eyes widen in excitement. But even as they do, I can see that there’s something in Bryan’s gaze. He should be happy that they all gave in so quickly—anybody else would. But instead, where there should be a sense of accomplishment, there is a look of hesitancy.
Bryan nods as Joel speaks with a slight smile. “This must be some kind of national record. One of us may be getting a promotion from all this.”
“Did any of them talk about Quee—Ebony?” I quickly ask.
My partner shakes his head. “They didn’t bend on that end—none of them.”
“They’re definitely scared of something,” Joel adds.
“Are you going to push them more?”
“They aren’t going to say anything that can link Ebony Thorne as the head of Los Familia,” Bryan answers. “They probably don’t know anything that could. Everything that they’ve told us about the organization itself is nothing that we didn’t already know.”
“Except—”
Joel hardly says the word before Bryan cuts him off. “Why don’t you give us some privacy, Joel?”
With a quick nod of understanding, Joel goes to the far side of the corridor, leaving the two of us alone. I watch him leave without a second glance. What was all that about?
“Ana…” Bryan looks down at his feet for a quick second. “There’s one thing that we learned and it’s something you should know.”
“Shoot.” Is this what he was hesitant about earlier?
“Six of the perpetrators that confessed are in the lock-up. But the seventh—Cedric Wilson—is still in the interrogation room. He already confessed to a couple of recent murders and will get a minimum of life in prison. But that’s not why we are still working him. He said something.” Bryan awkwardly clears his throat. “And what he said concerns you. It’s something that… that I think you should hear from me.”
Cedric Wilson? Why does that name sound familiar? “Tell me.”
“He claims to have been working for the same cartel—Los Familia—for eighteen years now. We know Ebony Thorne heads up the cartel, even though we and the FBI can’t ever connect all of the evidence to prove it.”
Where is this going? I stare at him intently—almost blankly. A hint of fear creeps into my eyes as I hear his tone. Why is he so afraid to speak right now?
“Fifteen years ago, he went to prison and he got out after a four year stint. He had been locked up on the charges of murder, attempted murder, illegal possession of weapons, and destruction of property.” Bryan pauses. “All these crimes occurred when he partook in the drive-by shooting of a soup kitchen. But since he was a minor, he was tried as such and couldn’t be put on death row. Instead, he got off easy.”
Wait… a soup kitchen? Is… is he saying—
“Two hours ago, during the interrogation he claimed that the soup-kitchen shooting happened on the orders of his boss—the head of Los Familia. The… the sole person murdered during the shooting was—was…” Bryan pauses. His voice is shaking and he can hardly look me in the eyes. “Angela… Rocha.”
The world stops.
My face is pale. Deathly pale. Angela Rocha. The name echoes through my head again and again and again. No… no. This can’t be true. It can’t.
“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, Ana. But you have the right to know… I would want to know.”
Is this happening? I—I can’t think. I can’t comprehend any of this.
One of the punks responsible for killing Angela is in the same building as me. He’s breathing the same air. He’s seeing the same walls. And the one who ordered the hit that caused Angela’s death is Ebony Thorne. It’s the woman that nobody can touch. No, this has to be some sort of twisted nightmare. Any minute now, I’ll wake up and it’ll all be over. This can’t be true—it can’t be…
But I don’t wake up.
“That bastard!”
My blood-curled scream shakes the entire building. Bryan powerfully grabs me and stops me from breaking into the room that holds the killer. My hysteric voice echoes loudly through the empty corridor, startling every person in ear-shot. Bryan’s large hand grips mine, keeping me from drawing out my gun. With all my strength, I try to break free to come face-to-face with murderer, but he restrains me.
My eyes are wild. My voice is violent. Veins are popping out of my forehead. And my mind is only focused on one thing: to end Cedric’s life—to put a bullet in that pig’s head. But I cannot even take a step as Bryan tightly holds me.
“Let me go! Let me—!”
“Ana! Please. You need to calm down.”
I don’t. I can’t hear him right now. If anything, I intensify. But no matter what, Bryan is too strong for me. He won’t let me move a muscle as he holds me against my will.
“Please, Ana. You’re better than this.” His voice is shaking. It’s as if he can feel my pain. “Don’t do anything that you’ll regret. Think clearly.”
There are several other officers now in the corridor, staring at us. But they do nothing to intervene and simply watch the scene unfold with wide eyes.
My eyes are locked on the door between me and Cedric. “That—that pig is sitting there and—and he killed my sister!”
Bryan is silent, but still restrains me.
“And you want me to let this go!?”
Adrenaline is pounding through my veins. I can feel it. And it gives me the strength to inch closer to the door. I slowly begin to break out of Bryan’s grasp. But I suddenly feel Bryan’s powerful arm come from behind me and wrap around my neck. He constricts it a little, sending the message.
“Don’t make me do this, Ana.”
I continue to move forward and he squeezes a little more, beginning to narrow my air passages.
“Please…”
I feel the oxygen leaving my head. But I don’t relent.
“Ana!”
I don’t know if it’s his voice or actions, but my senses flood back in. As quickly as I started, I abruptly stop and my body relaxes. Bryan breathes a sigh of relief and lets me go. I immediately collapse to my knees, exhausted. However, my heart is on fire.
“Thank you, Ana.”
After a few deep breaths, I raise my quivering gaze to meet his. My eyes are filled with a rage—no, not rage. It’s a focused anger. “Ebony Thorne. I need her file. Now.”
***
“Absolutely not.”
Captain Scott stares at us from behind his desk. With his arms crossed, he keeps his gaze steadied on me while Bryan stands at my side. Hearing his stern words throws more fuel onto my already blazing fire. However, it’s what I expected him to say. He likely heard about the scene I caused less than an hour ago.
“Sir,” Bryan begins, “We need to see Ebony’s file.”
“No.” Cap shakes his head. “Right now, Ana needs to be at home. More so now, given the situation we have.”
“We may be missing something here, sir.” Bryan won’t let this go that easily. “With this last bust and all the evidence we have, all we need is one more good piece of evidence to link Ebony Thorne to Los Familia. One piece to show that she’s the mastermind behind the cartel that floods the streets with more drugs than any other gang.”
“If we’re going to bring Ebony down, we need something big, Bryan. You should know this already. One small piece of evidence won’t be enough. We’d need nothing short of a damn confession. Nothing less will do and nothing less will keep her behind bars for very long. She’s too well connected.”
“But we have to start somewhere.”
“We have started. We’ve been after her for a while. This goes higher up than me and a hell of a lot higher up than either of you.” Cap pauses for a few moments. “HPD’s Narcotics Division has tried everything and we’re still trying. But Ebony�
�s smart. Now the FBI has taken up the crackdown’s ropes. They’ve had agents go—and remain—deep undercover in Los Familia and work up the ranks over several months. Now they’ve been able to authenticate what we’ve theorized for so long.”
What? Is he serious? I knew the FBI was after her but I wasn’t thinking to this extent.
Cap’s gaze returns onto me as if he hears my mental question. He uncrosses his arms. “Ebony Thorne owns numerous businesses throughout Houston and Greater Houston. Legal businesses. Restaurants, bars, hotels, car washes, auto shops, and nightclubs form the majority. There are 70 in all. We’ve believed for a long time that drug money is being laundered from the businesses—especially the nightclubs and restaurants. Boxes of alcohol, napkins, supplies, and just about anything are used as a front to conceal the drugs and money coming in and out of the businesses. The FBI is now claiming that each of these businesses can contain as many drugs as a large stash house at any given time.”
“Why would the FBI be telling us this?” Bryan fires off. “They’ve never been one to share information with us. And we’ve searched these businesses before—”
Cap looks his way, cutting him off. “Because they are going to need our help.”
“How?”
“It’s always been hard to get warrants for Thorne’s businesses. They’ve always been clean from a legal standpoint and we’ve had to reach to find probable cause to search them. But we never find anything because she always seems to know which business we’re after.”
“Does she have an inside man?”
“I wouldn’t doubt it. Between all the officers, judges, and people involved, it wouldn’t be hard for her to find one weak link. Whenever we try and bust one business, she probably just moves everything over to a different one.” Cap briefly glances down at his desk before again focusing on me. “The FBI is about to run a sting operation—one of the largest any of us will ever see. And they’re not just hitting one of Thorne’s businesses. Not even two. They’re going to raid every single one of Thrones business simultaneously. All the restaurants, nightclubs, hotels, shops, carwashes, and even her damn fruit stands—we’re hitting them all in one sweep. And for this kind of operation, the FBI needs HPD’s manpower.”
