chapter fourteen

Dave spent the next few hours separated from Lisa, stuck inside a tiny interrogation room. He’d been inside plenty of rooms just like this one, but he’d had no idea what the view was like from the other side of the table. It gave him a smothering sensation, as if the room were closing in on him, growing smaller with every breath he took.

Right now he felt angry, frustrated, and humiliated. Already he’d been questioned repeatedly, and he was slowly coming to the conclusion that only a miracle was going to get them out of this one. He closed his hands into fists, then opened them again and ran his palms over his thighs, wishing he could hit something.

The customs agent didn’t believe the story Dave was telling. Not one word of it. And still he didn’t know how they’d known he and Lisa were carrying the drugs. It had been no random search. Those agents had come to their plane with information in hand, knowing what they were looking for. And they’d found it.

He wondered how Lisa was faring. Probably not very well. Patience and tolerance weren’t her strongest characteristics. He only hoped that she was keeping her voice down and her emotions to herself and that she was telling the truth, because right now the truth was all they had.

A moment later, the customs agent came back into the room. He was an older man, balding, wearing a cheap suit that said customs agents didn’t make much. But still he had a burn in his eyes, as if money was the least of what drove him to do his job.

He sat down in the chair opposite Dave, feigning a weary sigh. “Well, DeMarco, you’ll be pleased to know she’s letting you off the hook in there. She says you didn’t know she was bringing the drugs back across the border. Of course, you’ve already told me otherwise.”

So Lisa was trying to take the fall for him. Dave exhaled, rubbing his hand over his mouth.

“Am I confused, or is Ms. Merrick lying?” the agent asked.

“She’s just trying to protect me. That’s all. But neither of us is a drug counterfeiter. Robert Douglas is.”

“Now, that’s one point you do agree on. That Robert Douglas is the real villain here.”

“Yes.”

The agent sat back in his chair, tapping a pencil against his fingertips. “Yesterday an informant told border authorities to be on the lookout for you and Ms. Merrick. He suspected you would be transporting counterfeit drugs across the border.”

“An informant?”

“Yes. His name is Robert Douglas.”

Dave was so dumbfounded that for a moment he couldn’t speak. But as he thought back over the last two days, slowly the chain of events became clear, and fury welled up inside him. Robert clearly understood a very basic principle of fingerpointing: He who accuses first wins.

That son of a bitch.

“Don’t you understand what’s going on here?” Dave said. “Douglas couldn’t stop us from leaving town. He got worried that we’d make it across the border and tell our story, so he turned the tables on us.”

“I don’t know. That seems like a pretty ballsy move to me. How did he know for sure you were carrying the drugs?”

“He didn’t have to know for sure. If we weren’t, he was in the clear, because that meant we had no evidence that there was a counterfeiting ring at all. If we were carrying them, he could frame us. Either way, he wins.”

The agent nodded thoughtfully. “That’s an interesting scenario. Here’s another one.” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “Lisa Merrick gets herself caught up in a Mexican drug war. She wants a bigger cut, so she decides to double-cross the ringleaders of the operation and walk off with a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of the stuff herself. Easy to do, since she’s a pilot. She’s going to fly the drugs right out of there. Unfortunately for her, they find out what she’s up to and sabotage her plane.”

“With a huge shipment of their drugs aboard?”

“Maybe they didn’t know she had it with her at the time. Or maybe that shipment was a drop in the bucket to them and they were merely out for revenge. Those people don’t take kindly to disloyalty.” He sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “Somehow she manages to survive her plane going nose-first into that river. But now she’s trapped. She can’t show her face because the minute she does, she’s a dead woman. So who does she call? You. With some big sob story about drug counterfeiting, sabotage, and attempted murder. You bite, go to Mexico, get her out, but Robert Douglas finds out she wasn’t really killed in that plane crash and suspects she’s up to something. He finds out that she might be going back across the border with counterfeit drugs, so he tips us off.”

“That’s crap. He tipped you off because he was afraid of going down himself. Can’t you see that?”

The agent gave Dave yet another weary sigh, one of those that said, I’m being very patient here, but my patience is wearing thin. “The only person you say can back up your story is Adam Decker. Unfortunately, our information says that he was killed in the plane crash.”

“I told you he was never on that plane,” Dave said, his own patience wearing thin. “But by now, it’s possible that Douglas has killed him, too.”

“Ms. Merrick makes the same assertion. But you have absolutely no evidence of Douglas’s involvement. She says she had the defibrillator that contained the drugs in the plane with her, yet she escaped the cockpit with only her backpack. No defibrillator. On the other hand, we have all the evidence in the world that you’re involved. You’re holding the merchandise.”

“We were shot at as we left Santa Rios,” Dave told the agent. “The local cops are on Douglas’s payroll.”

“So you said. But do you know that for sure? Or did the local cops merely spot Ms. Merrick on her way out of town and go after a member of a local drug-counterfeiting operation?”

Dave knew he was fighting a losing battle. If only they’d been able to hand over the drugs voluntarily and tell their story as they’d planned, the agents would have assumed they were telling the truth. But once the agents approached the plane, guns drawn, their theory already in place, he and Lisa hadn’t stood a chance. And now, no matter what story they told, the customs agents could twist it around to fit any scenario they wanted.

“The truth is that you really don’t know where Adam Decker is, do you?” the agent asked. “For all you know, he could have died in that plane crash and Ms. Merrick is feeding you a line of bullshit.” He kept tapping that pencil against his fingertips until Dave wanted to rip it out of his hands. “Actually, when it gets right down to it, you don’t know a damned thing about this situation outside of what she’s told you. Isn’t that true?”

Yes. It was. And in Dave’s mind it didn’t change a thing. “What did Lisa supposedly do to make Douglas suspect her of being in the middle of a counterfeiting operation?”

“We don’t know the whole story yet. But when we get a tip from a credible source, we act on it. He’s a doctor running a humanitarian organization. I’d call that credible.”

“And I’m a cop, for God’s sake! Doesn’t that count for something?”

Another sigh, accompanied by a rub to the back of the neck. Then the agent leaned forward and dropped his voice.

“Just between you and me, DeMarco, I don’t think you’re a drug smuggler. I think you believed her story. I think you’re just one hell of a bad judge of character. In the future, you might want to think twice about the women you keep company with.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Really?” the agent said, feigning surprise. “Tell me. How well do you know Ms. Merrick?”

“She was a friend of mine in high school.”

“Have you seen her in the interim?”

“No.”

“Then you’re not really sure what she’s been up to since graduation.”

“No. Not specifically.”

“Can you say for sure what she actually planned on doing with those drugs when you landed in San Antonio?”

“Yes. Turning them in to you.”

“You’re speculating.”

“Come on! Wouldn’t it be pretty stupid of her just to walk off with those drugs instead of handing them over as she said she was going to? Wouldn’t I have questioned that? I’m a cop, for God’s sake!”

The agent smiled knowingly. “But you’re a man first, aren’t you?”

“What the hell are you saying?”

“A hot little number like that could lead a man to believe just about anything, now couldn’t she?”

Dave stared at him evenly, willing himself not to react, when what he really wanted to do was vault over the table and take this sarcastic asshole by the throat.

“Tell me what’s going to happen now,” he said, barely able to grind out the words without adding a string of profanity.

The agent looked exasperated, but this time there was no faking it. “We did a field test of the drugs. As a police officer, you’re probably aware that on cursory examination we can identify only about six of the usual suspects—amphetamines, Valium, that kind of thing. So we found what we expected to find. Nothing. It’ll take further testing to determine whether they contain an illegal substance, but I fully expect that to be ruled out. I think they’re simply Lasotrex knockoffs, just as you and Ms. Merrick have been saying, and there’s a counterfeiting operation going on.” He tossed his pencil down on the table, blowing out a long breath. “Unfortunately, it’s not a crime to possess look-alike drugs. You can go to your basement and make as many phony Lasotrex as you want to. It’s only a crime if you choose to sell or distribute them, which is exactly what I believe Ms. Merrick intended to do. But since we have no evidence at this point to support that, we can’t hold either of you.”

Then the agent leaned toward Dave, a no-nonsense look on his face. “But make no mistake. There will be an investigation. And the moment that investigation implicates Ms. Merrick in a drug-counterfeiting conspiracy, which I fully expect it will, we’ll be back to see her. And if it turns out that you really are part of it, we’ll take you down right along with her.”

The good news was that Robert apparently hadn’t given the authorities any information to further implicate Dave and Lisa. But he had no doubt it was coming. Not only would Robert be covering his tracks, he’d undoubtedly be planting evidence to frame them. Once the heat was off, he could reopen business in another area and proceed as if nothing had ever happened, leaving them to take the fall.

Dave sat up straight. “I assume I’m free to go?”

“Yes. But I suggest you leave by the back door. Don’t know how the press does it sometimes. They’re already here asking questions about this one.”

“What?”

“Hey, it’s interesting news. A woman flying for a humanitarian organization supposedly dies in a plane crash, only to show up alive at a San Antonio airport with a stash of illegal drugs? Doesn’t get much better than that.”

Oh, that was just great.

Dave knew every government agency had its informants who made a buck or two on the side by tipping off reporters to any big story that happened to come through. Only now, unbelievably, he was part of one of those big stories. It would be all over town in no time. Hell, what was he saying? With cable news, it could end up all over the freaking world.

“Of course,” the agent added, “your superiors will be notified of the detention, along with the fact that you’re a possible suspect in a counterfeiting case. What they choose to do to you in light of that is up to them.”

Dave pictured this going right up his chain of command all the way to the chief, his name being dragged through the mud. The very thought of that made him sick with humiliation.

He stood up, ready to get the hell out of there.

“One more thing.” The agent came to his feet and circled the table, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. “Let me give you a little advice, DeMarco. Back away from her. As far and as fast as you can. Your attorney will be able to make a strong case for you not knowing Ms. Merrick’s true motive in this situation.” He paused. “Of course, if you’d like to go ahead and give me something I can use against her, anything she might have told you that could help us, I can virtually guarantee that you won’t be charged.”

“There’s nothing to tell. Lisa is innocent. Sooner or later you’re going to see that.”

The agent gave Dave a sarcastic little smile of indulgence. “To tell you the truth, I think you’re the one who needs to see things a little more clearly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” the agent said, “that I’m not sure you know her as well as you think you do.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I might have cut her a little more slack. Maybe even been inclined to think there was a possibility she was telling the truth.” He paused. “Then we ran her priors.”

Dave felt a shiver of dread. “What?”

“Eleven years ago. She was convicted of cocaine possession.”

At four o’clock that afternoon, Sera parked her car in the lot behind Esmerelda’s, a tidy little bar and grill whose name was a holdover from three owners ago. The proprietor now was Ario Delmiro, a large man with a booming voice and a big heart who had owned the place for a year and a half but was probably going to lose it in a matter of months if he didn’t start collecting bar tabs. She hoped that didn’t happen, though, because he’d always been good to her, allowing her to slip away whenever one of her mothers-to-be went into labor.

She’d stayed close by Adam all day, monitoring his vital signs, becoming more hopeful the more alert he became. But she knew that his condition could turn around quickly if he developed any complications, and she was desperate to get him to a hospital as soon as possible. He still had a bullet in his chest. And what about his head wound? Was he as stable as he was trying to make her believe? Or was he a ticking time bomb waiting to explode?

I’ll stay in this room the rest of my life before I’ll let that kid die.

She knew Adam meant every word of that. But every moment he stayed in Santa Rios was another moment he could be discovered, so time was not on her side. She had to find Gabrio as quickly as possible and get both him and Adam out of here.

She went in through the kitchen door and grabbed an apron. Ario saw her and came over, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

“Sera! Thank God you’re back! Full house out there. I need you. Feeling better now?”

She’d felt bad lying to Ario about being sick so she could stay with Adam, especially since several of his other employees routinely feigned sickness for no other reason except that they didn’t feel like coming in.

“A little,” she said. “But I’m missing those tips, you know. Had to get myself back in here.”

She slid out the swinging door into the bar and immediately spotted Ivan sitting with a couple of the usual suspects— Enrique Flores and Juan Atilano. They were all good-for-nothing men who spent their afternoons and evenings drinking and playing cards, charging themselves up for late night mayhem. Unfortunately, she didn’t see Gabrio with them.

She edged up next to Gloria, one of the other waitresses, and told her she’d take over Ivan’s table. Gloria practically kissed her. The big tips they left rarely compensated for their sexual come-ons, and Gloria had clearly had enough of their wandering hands for one shift.

Sera went over to Ivan’s table with an offhand hello and an offer to bring them another round. Ivan gave her a protracted stare, shifting his eyes up and down, a lecherous smile seeping over his lips. He was one of those men who looked at a woman with one thing on his mind and one thing only. That little up-and-down glance was designed to intimidate her and at the same time indicate his considerable sexual prowess. Or so he thought.

“Where you been?” Ivan asked. “Haven’t seen you around here in a couple of days.”

She picked up the empty beer bottles from the table. “I’ve been sick.”

“Well,” he said, slinking his hand around the back of her thigh. “You’re looking pretty good now.”

Sera eased away from him, fighting the disgust that swelled inside her.

“Come on, now,” Ivan said, his voice low. “You’ll like what I’ve got to offer.”

“I’m a busy woman,” Sera said. “No time for fun, you know?”

Ivan took a sip of his beer. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

No. Sera knew exactly what she was missing. And she intended to keep on missing it.

She emptied an ashtray. “So where’s your kid brother? He’s usually here with you.”

“Funny thing. He’s been sick, too. Flu or something. Hasn’t left the house in a couple of days.”

He didn’t run. Thank God. “So he’s at home?”

“Yeah. He’s at home.”

Sera felt a surge of optimism. This was better than she could have hoped for. She knew Ivan’s pattern. He’d spend a couple more hours drinking and maybe playing a few hands of poker, then head out for whatever evening activities he and his buddies had planned. If she left right now, she could slip over to their house and talk to Gabrio before Ivan even thought about returning home.

“Hey, Ivan,” Enrique said. “She sure seems interested in your kid brother. Think maybe she’s looking for a real man?”

Enrique and Juan laughed, and Ivan glared at them.

“A woman throws you over for your baby brother,” Juan said, shaking his head. “Pitiful, man. That’s really pitiful.”

The men laughed again. Ivan sat back in his chair with a scowl, gripping his beer bottle with white-knuckled intensity. He slid his hand along the back of Sera’s thigh again, but this time his fingers were spread, holding her in a bruising grip.

“So what’s the deal?” Ivan said. “Do you like boys, or do you like men?”

“I was just concerned that Gabrio was sick. Are you taking care of him?”

“I told you. It’s just a bug. What’s there to do? Stand around and watch him throw up?”

“I suppose you’re right.” She extricated herself from Ivan’s grip. “I’ll bring you another round.”

She could feel Ivan’s gaze boring into her as she walked away, but she wouldn’t be around much longer to have to deal with him. After she brought them their drinks she slipped into the kitchen and found Ario.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, putting on a pained expression at the same time she was pulling off her apron. “I thought I could handle working today. But, Ario, I feel lousy. Really lousy. I’m afraid I’m still just too sick.”

His face fell. “No! Sera! We’re so busy! I need you out there!”

“I really am sorry,” she said, grabbing her purse and heading for the back door. “Really. I hate to leave you like this, but I’m sure I’ll be fine again by tomorrow. I’ll see you then, okay?”

She hated lying to him, but she had no choice. Over his protests, she slipped out the back door and headed for her car.

In minutes, she’d reached Gabrio’s house—a tiny rundown cinder-block structure in a neighborhood nice people would take great pains to avoid. She parked out front and stepped up to the porch.

She knocked. Waited.

Nothing.

She knocked again. Please be home. . . . Please. . . .

She listened for any movement inside the house. She heard nothing.

When she knocked for the third time, she came to the ominous realization that this wasn’t going to be as simple as she’d hoped. Gabrio’s car was here, but he wasn’t answering the door.

Peering through the window, she saw the interior of the dilapidated little house. The television was on. An ashtray on the coffee table held the butt of a cigarette, still smoldering. Gabrio was definitely home, but he was nowhere to be seen. Sera looked through the doorway into the kitchen, then craned her neck around and managed to see part of the way down the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Nothing.

She believed that Gabrio might be sick, but she doubted that the flu had anything to do with it. She remembered the crushing fear that had been in his eyes when he’d brought Adam to her—the look of a person who’s in the middle of something dark and hideous and doesn’t know how to get out of it. Any sickness he was experiencing right now was probably the result of guilt and horror all meshed together until it had incapacitated him. He wouldn’t answer the door because he was afraid Adam was dead. Or that he was still alive. Maybe both.

She banged on the door again. “Gabrio! Please answer the door! Please! I have to talk to you!”

She tried the door. It was locked. She knocked on it again, then took one more look through the window.

Gabrio was peering through the doorway leading to the hall.

As he came into the living room and walked slowly to the front door, her heart leapt with hope. The lock clicked, and he opened the door a crack. His face was tight and drawn, with dark circles under his eyes, and when he spoke his voice was coarse and raspy.

“What do you want?”

“Let me in, Gabrio. Please. I need to talk to you.”

He swallowed hard. “Adam’s dead, isn’t he?”

“No! He’s alive. For now, he’s okay. But I need to get him to a hospital in Monterrey. We want you to come with us.”

Gabrio blinked with surprise. “Come with you?”

“I know you’re afraid of your brother. You should be. Once it comes out that Adam is alive, he’ll hurt you. You have to get out of here.”

“No. My brother won’t hurt me.”

“When you brought Adam to me, you said he would.”

“No,” he said sharply. “I shouldn’t have said that. My brother would never hurt me. Never.”

“Then you’ve told him you saved Adam’s life?”

Gabrio’s jaw trembled. “N-no. Not yet.”

“If you’re so sure he’ll protect you, then why haven’t you told him?”

Tears gathered in his eyes. He tried to push the door closed, but she put her hand against it.

“Gabrio. Please listen to me. Adam refuses to leave unless you come with us.”

“No. It’s a trick of some kind. You want me to give my brother up for what he did. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“No! I just want you to leave with us! That’s all! We just want you to be safe!”

“I told you Ivan shot him, and now you want to make him pay for it. But I’m not telling anyone else what happened, no matter what! I’m not giving my brother up!”

Gabrio slammed the door and locked it. Sera pounded on it again. “Gabrio, please!”

“Go away!”

“Gabrio!”

She heard his footsteps fade away as he disappeared into the hall again. She turned and leaned against the door, frustration running wild inside her. She had no choice but to go home and tell Adam that she’d failed. And that meant that he would refuse to leave town and get medical attention, which meant he was still in danger.

This nightmare was never going to end.

Sera got into her car. Ten minutes later, she pulled up to her house and went inside. She heard the low hum of the television in her bedroom upstairs. She came into the room to find Adam propped up against the headboard, a look of hopeful expectation on his face.

He muted the television. “Did you talk to him?”

She came over and sat down on the bed next to him. “Yes. He refuses to come with us.”

Adam looked at her incredulously. “But he knows he might be killed as soon as I show myself!”

“He thinks we want him to come with us so we can force him to testify against his brother. And he refuses to do that.”

“Are you kidding? He ought to be telling the whole damned world what his brother did. And he ought to be running from him as fast as he can.”

“Adam, you’ve seen this before. I know you have. Kids always refuse to tell doctors what their abusive parents have done to them. All they want to do is go back home. It’s the only life they know, no matter how horrible it is. Gabrio is no different. No matter how much he knows in his heart that his brother will hurt him, he can’t admit it. And he can’t conceive of anyone wanting to help him, because nobody has ever given a damn about him before.”

Adam shook his head. “He’s so scared. The poor kid is so scared that he’s not thinking straight.”

“Yes. I know. I don’t want him hurt any more than you do, but right now he’s so lost and confused that we might never get through to him.”

“We have to think of another way.”

Sera sighed heavily. “There may not be another way.”

“God, Sera, how in the hell did this happen? He’s going to die, and I can’t do anything about it.”

Sera was silent. She had no idea what to say.

Adam nodded toward the television. “I was watching the news. You’ll be pleased to know my memorial service is scheduled for Thursday morning in San Antonio.” A look of anguish crossed his face. “My sister. I wish I could tell her I’m alive, but I don’t dare. Not yet. God, I can’t even imagine how she feels right now.”

She slid her hand over his arm. “Adam, I don’t want Gabrio hurt any more than you do, but the time may come, very soon, when you’ll have to think about leaving him behind.”

“I can’t.”

“You may not have a choice.”

Adam shook his head in frustration. Then his gaze drifted toward the television, and his eyes suddenly widened. “Sera. Look.”

She turned, shocked to see a familiar face on the screen.

Lisa Merrick.

Adam fumbled for the remote and turned up the sound.

“. . . pilot for a humanitarian organization who was presumed to have died in a plane crash in central Mexico two days ago surfaced alive and well today, only to be arrested in San Antonio on suspicion of drug smuggling. . . .”

Adam stared at the screen with an expression of shocked disbelief. “My God. It’s Lisa. She’s alive.”