Beth entered the eleven digits of her sister’s cell phone number but hung up before the call went through and returned the phone to the cradle. Paige would be in the library studying or at the clinic. Beth shouldn’t bother her, not so close to finals. God knew she would be up to her eyeballs with only a trimester left before graduation. But that wasn’t the real reason Beth couldn’t make the call; she just didn’t want to know. If she could put off making the call forever, she would. If it would keep her mom the same strong vibrant woman, she would never make or receive another phone call for the rest of her life.
Beth chewed on the pad of her thumb as she tried to decide what to do. She couldn’t actually pretend nothing was wrong, as much as she desperately wanted to; it wasn’t fair to her mom and it wasn’t fair to Paige. Her sister had borne the brunt of it, mostly because Paige still lived in Sacramento, but also because Paige seemed to be able to handle it. Paige faced everything head on. There was no hiding or pretending for her. Beth should be more like that. Was April too late for a New Year’s resolution?
Beth picked up the phone and dialled the number before she could talk herself out of it.
“I was wondering when you would call,” her sister said when she picked up the phone. Even across a thousand miles, Beth could see the cheery smile on her sister’s face.
“Are you busy? If you’re busy I can call back later.”
“No, I have a few minutes. A cat just bit me so I could use a break anyway. People think it is dogs you have to worry about, but cats are the real menace. If I could get away with it, I would totally open a no-cat practice,” Beth said.
“A cat bit you? Are you OK?” Beth’s throat tightened as visions of her baby sister being attacked by a feral cat ran through her mind. She would have far preferred her sister to have gone to medical school because at least people don’t bite, but Paige had had her heart set on being a vet since Beth had read her Black Beauty when she was six. So in actuality it was Beth’s fault. She would add that to her list of things to feel guilty about.
“I’m fine; nothing that a shot of penicillin won’t fix. Funny enough that is also what I said about my last date.”
Beth laughed. “Don’t tell me these things. You know I worry. How bad is the bite? Text me a picture.”
Paige sighed. “No, I’m not going to send you a picture. I’m fine.”
“Well if you’re fine, send me a picture to prove it.”
“Or what?” Paige asked.
“Or I will get the next flight to Sacramento and see it for myself.” They both knew she would do it.
“For God’s sake, Beth. Give me two seconds.”
A few seconds later her cell phone chirped to let her know a message had arrived.
Beth winced when she opened the attachment. “That isn’t a bite that is a mauling. Honestly Paige…” Her voice trailed off. There was so much she could say, but she had said it all before. If worrying about her sister were a job, Beth would be pulling double shifts every week.
“Animals are far less vicious than humans. I’d be far more worried about the people you work with than the cranky pussycats I see.”
Beth let out a breath. Her sister had a point.
“So,” Paige asked after a long silence. “Are you going to ask about Mom?”
“Yeah, how is she?” Fresh guilt gnawed at Beth. She was the older sister, she was the one who should be taking care of all this, not Paige. For the third time that day, Beth contemplated quitting her job so she could move back to California. She could easily take a pay cut and move back to the Sacramento office. She would happily deal with the meth cookers of the central valley if it meant she could be near her family. But she couldn’t afford to move back to Sacramento. Paige couldn’t afford it. Beth’s promotion was paying for vet school. She tried to think of it in those terms, but every way she looked at it, she still felt like the shithead who abandoned her family.
“Well to tell you the truth, she is pissed off. I would rather deal with a room full of cats than her, most days. She still feels like we’re all in it against her and that there is nothing really wrong.”
“Well some days she is fine,” Beth interjected. There was still the possibility they were overreacting. “When I talked to her Thursday morning, she was totally with it. She could have just been really run down before.”
“Don’t, Beth, I don’t need another Thomson woman in denial. She was fine Thursday morning because she is always fine in the morning. But by dinnertime she is out of it again. It’s worse than we thought. She hasn’t been paying her bills or cashing her cheques. I found a jar of money in her house with at least $2000. She has been stashing all her tips in there, God knows why. I can’t tell if she has stopped trusting banks or has forgotten how the banking system works, I just know that PG&E want their money. It has taken me all day to get her electricity turned back on.”
Pressure built behind Beth’s eyes. This wasn’t her mom; this wasn’t the loving vibrant woman who raised her. Her mom was fearless, in charge of everything. She was their mom and dad and best friend all rolled into one. Beth wiped a tear from her cheek. “Is there any chance she will improve? What did the doctor say?”
“She refused to speak to him for the first forty-five minutes. Then a nurse came in and started speaking with her. She asked Mom to help her with some work and of course Mom helped her, Mom would help anyone. Of course it was actually the test. By the second question it was clear there was a problem. Mom couldn’t even draw a face of a clock. She couldn’t remember all the numbers or which order they went in and she couldn’t manage to write the numbers in the circle. It was a total mess. At that point she twigged what was going on and freaked out.”
Beth’s heart constricted painfully. The thought of her mom in distress made her want to scream. Beth wiped another tear away with the back of her hand. “So they didn’t finish the test?” She could not keep the optimism from her voice. There was no way anyone could give a conclusive diagnosis without finishing the assessment.
“There was no need. It was clear at that point. She has Alzheimer’s. You know it, I know it, her doctors know it. Everyone knows it except Mom.”
Beth’s breath caught. Her throat burned. Alzheimer’s. They had never said the word before. They alluded to it, but hid it carefully, always talking in terms of Mom’s memory and Mom’s coordination. But they never said Alzheimer’s because words have power and there was no going back once the problem was named. “Are they sure? I have been reading about diseases that are sometimes mistaken for…that.” She didn’t mean to whisper but her voice failed her.
“Yes. She has an official diagnosis.”
“Are you sure? It’s all so sudden. She was fine last time I saw her.”
“No she wasn’t, Beth. She got lost on the way to the airport—”
“She had just worked a double shift.”
“She’s not fine and she hasn’t been fine in a long time. You’re just not here to see it.”
Beth winced. The words were like a kick in the gut. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She took in long slow breaths. The tears were coming faster now, but she would not let Paige know she was crying. She couldn’t speak because her voice would crack and betray her. Every choice Beth had made since she graduated from college had been for her family, but apparently they weren’t the right choices. They needed her and she was a thousand miles away.
Instantly Paige realised what she’d said. “That’s not what I mean, Beth, I’m sorry. Don’t be like that. I am so grateful for everything you do. We both are. I love you, Beth. You’re our strong one.”
Beth fought the urge to laugh. She wasn’t strong; she wasn’t even that great at faking strength any more. She rubbed her eyes frantically, telling herself to get it together.
“Beth, are you still there?”
Beth cleared her throat. “Yeah I’m here. It’s just my allergies are acting up. I seem to be allergic to the Lone Star State.” She tried to joke but her voice lacked any merriment. Beth shook off the sadness that clung to her. She could deal with this; she could deal with anything. She just needed to face it the same way she faced things at work. She would focus on facts and not let herself think about the people involved, her people. “OK, what’s next?”
“Maybe try to get her on Disability. I don’t know, whatever gets her insurance.”
“What? Did Max cut her benefits?” Beth could barely control the anger in her voice. Her mom’s insurance plan was crappy at the best of times but at least she had a policy.
“Beth, Mom lost her job.”
“What?! When did that happen? Max can’t fire her for a medical condition. There are laws.” The anger was rising in her. If Max wanted a fight on his hands, he would get one. Ruth Thomson had worked for Max’s chain of diners for almost thirty years. Was there no loyalty in this world?
“He had to fire her, Beth. She can’t work any more. She doesn’t know the menu. She gets confused and then she gets mean.”
“No!” She didn’t mean to shout but her indignation got the best of her. Her mother was never mean. Ruth Thomson was the kindest woman on the planet, and that was not just a daughter’s bias talking, her mom was loving and gentle and considerate of everyone. Even if she did have Alzheimer’s and did get confused from time to time, nothing would change the person she was. At her core Ruth Thomson was kind: no disease would change that.
“You haven’t seen her in a while. Things have gone downhill.”
Beth couldn’t tell if Paige was having a go at her about not visiting often enough. She had not been to California since Christmas but that was only because she did not have a single day of vacation time to spare. She always saved her days to come out for two weeks at Christmas. It wasn’t ideal but it was the best she could do. “I speak to Mom every day. I call her before work. It’s not like I am entirely out of the loop here. I’m in Texas, not Mars.”
“That’s right. You call her every morning. She is good in the morning. Call her now, Beth, and see the person that answers the phone.”
Beth shook her head. The truth settled painfully in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want to call her mom now. “What are we going to do?”
“I’m not sure. She can’t live on her own any more. I’m going to move in with her. She needs someone there to make sure she eats and bills get paid.”
“She agreed to go to San Diego with you?” Surprise was the mildest of Beth’s emotions. She never thought she would see the day her mom would leave Northern California. She always needed to be near Folsom for her weekly visits to see her dad. Bile rose in the back of her throat when she thought of her dad, or the “sperm donor” as she preferred to think of him.
“No, I decided to move back in with her.”
“No!” Beth shouted. “What about the specialist programme in San Diego?”
“I’ve been offered a job at Foster’s.”
“The crop and doc guy?! You said his practice was a joke. You’re totally against that. Paige, no! You’re better than that.”
“And you’re better than the DEA but we’re a family so you do what you got to do, right?” Her sister’s voice had lost its usual sparkle.
“No, Paige. We’ve worked too hard. I’m not going to let you throw it all away.”
“Don’t start getting dramatic. I’m not throwing it away. I will still be a vet. I just will be working with smaller animals than I expected. And chopping bits of them off… But you get that. Your dream wasn’t the DEA.”
“Paige Lynne Thomson. We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you.” Beth switched from one foot to the other like a boxer preparing for a fight. “No, scratch that. We’re talking about me too. I took a job with the DEA because it paid our bills because my dream, yes mine, is to see you become a vet. So don’t you dare go throwing that away, or God as my witness… I don’t know what. All I know is I’ve had a shitty last couple of days and you better not pile anything else on me.”
“I love you, Beth.” Her sister’s voice cracked.
“I love you too, Paige. Why are you crying? Don’t you dare cry on me! I’m barely holding it together here. You know…with my allergies and everything.”
“I’m crying because your dream is to see me achieve my dream. You’re a good sister. No, you’re just a good person.”
Beth’s throat burned. She didn’t feel like a good person. She had left too much to her baby sister, allowed Paige to shoulder most of the burden alone. But that was going to change. Financial support wasn’t enough. “Promise me you’ll go to San Diego when you graduate.”
“But someone has to take care of Mom. I need—”
Beth cut her off. “You need to listen to your older, and wiser, and bossier sister. I will take care of Mom. Your job it just to finish school and start your dream job on the beach with the surfers and sailors and whatever else they have in San Diego.”
“Mexican food. They have great Mexican food.”
“Paige, if you want great Mexican food move into my spare room. Texas has the best Mexican food outside of Mexico. And we have animals that need vets, lots of them.” She was only partially teasing. She would love for her little sister and her mom to move to Texas so she could look after them and be a family again. No matter how old her sister got, she would always be her baby sister. “Promise me you’ll take the internship.”
“I can’t.”
“Don’t be stupid. Of course you can. We’ll figure it out. I just heard today there is a promotion in the Sacramento office. I’m a shoo-in. I can come home and take care of Mom. Everything is going to be fine.” It was a bald-face lie but Beth felt no shame in telling it. She would tell her sister anything to keep her from giving up her dream. The truth was that the only way she would get a job at her pay grade in the Sacramento office was if someone died or retired. And they were a surprisingly sprightly and long-serving bunch. “Just promise me you’ll take the internship.”
“You’re coming home?” The joy in Paige’s voice made her heart hurt.
Beth closed her eyes. She was digging her own grave, Paige would be pissed when she realised Beth was lying to her. But she would be pissed in Southern California, practising neurology on four-legged creatures, what she had dreamed of for more years than Beth could remember. Beth silently counted to five before she answered. “It is just a formality at this point, you know the bureaucracy. So much paperwork.”
The rest of the conversation was a blur, with Beth only registering a few words from every sentence. She was too busy planning her return to California. There was no job at her level, she wasn’t even sure if she could take a pay cut to get back in the Sacramento office. She might be able to manage something in the San Francisco office but that would mean a 200-mile round-trip drive every day. Or she could look at the Fresno office. She shook her head at the thought; there was a reason Fresno was known as the armpit of California. But then again, beggars couldn’t be choosers and all that crap.
Beth finished the conversation and put down the phone. What was she going to do? She pulled out her laptop and starting looking up decent places to live between Fresno and Sacramento. Maybe her mom wouldn’t object to moving away from Folsom, if they split the difference. A twinge of resentment niggled at her, but it was immediately replaced with a tidal wave of guilt. She had no right to be annoyed. Her mom didn’t choose to be sick. God she was a shitty daughter. Her mom had a debilitating disease and Beth had the audacity to feel inconvenienced.
Beth looked at the website set up by the city of Fresno to encourage tourism. What a colossal waste of money that was! No one in their right mind would go to Fresno by choice. Unless of course you had no choice because your ill mother refused to move too far away from your incarcerated father. Suddenly Beth realised the one silver lining of her mother’s Alzheimer’s was that she may eventually forget about the deadbeat she claimed to love.
“God I’m a shitty person,” Beth said aloud. She was actually looking forward to her mother’s illness progressing so she would have a clean break from her father once and for all. Beth hung her head. She did not bother wiping away her tears because as soon as she wiped one away, another fell in its place.
***
Torres stopped when he saw her. From the darkness of the sidewalk he could see her sitting at her kitchen counter, working on her laptop. It was too far to see if her face was contorted in concentration, but he was certain it was. In his mind he saw her with two deep lines between her eyes.
She was alive.
Unexpected relief washed over him. He tried to shrug it off, but he could not shake the feeling of gratitude. It couldn’t be because he cared about her as an individual, he just didn’t want to be responsible for another death. He already needed a lifetime to make amends for his transgressions. At least she wasn’t going to be one of them.
He paused before he knocked on her door. He still had time to leave; cross the border into Nuevo Laredo and never look back…but her death would always be there in his mind, chasing him. He had a shit chance of finding peace as it was. He could not let her die too, even if it meant leaving Martinez to the DEA. He closed his eyes and apologised to Moses. He had been his best friend, would he understand?
There wasn’t time to think any more. It was time for action. Torres pounded on the black gloss panel of the front door.
A few seconds later, Beth opened the front door. The widening of her eyes told him she did not know who she was opening the door to. He clenched his jaw at the thought.
“Hi,” Beth said, clearly confused by his presence on her doorstep. But no one was more surprised than him.
Her dark blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with scarlet circles, which served to intensify the pale blue colour of her eyes.
“Do you always open your door to strangers?”
Beth shook her head. “I thought you were my neighbour, Anna.” She looked past him to the darkened street. “What’s wrong? Why are you here?”
Torres pushed past her, turned on his heel and closed and bolted the door behind him before moving to the kitchen where he turned off the lights and let down the blinds of the large picture window that faced the street.
“Is your back door locked?” he demanded.
“Yes of course. But what are you doing.”
Torres did not stop to answer. He moved to the living room, again closing the curtains and turning off the lights, before checking the locks on the remaining windows.
Beth followed closely behind him. “Torres, what in the hell is going on?” she demanded, her voice rising.
Finally when the house was secure and darkened, he turned to her. “You need to get out of here; it’s not safe.”
“What are you talking about? Is it Flores? Did he make you? Is your cover blown?”
Torres shook his head, forgetting the room was black. “No, worse, Los Treintas”
Beth didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure if she had heard him. He needed to see her face again to know what she was thinking. “Do you have any candles?”
“In my dining room.”
Torres followed the sound of her footsteps.
Beth struck a match and lit the two taper candles at the centre of the large oak table.
“Tell me what’s going on. How did the Treintas make you?”
Torres shook his head. There was no easy way to tell someone a hit had been taken out on them. No doubt she would cry, maybe scream. Christ, he didn’t do emotion, his or other people’s. He reached into his back pocket, and paused before he handed her the photo Flores had received. “Maybe I should have brought M&M’s. You might need them.”
Beth reached for the photo. The furrow between her eyes deepened as she examined the picture. She dropped the photo to the table. “This needs to be dusted for prints. Who else has touched it?”
“Just Flores.”
“Flores?” Beth scrutinised the photo. “Could he have taken it?”
Torres ran a hand over his shaved head as he considered the possibility for the first time. “No…I don’t think so. I doubt it.” Suddenly he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure of much any more. Surely Flores would have killed him at his apartment if he had made him…unless he wanted Torres to lead him to Beth: two birds with one stone. Shit. Had he led Flores right to her? His gut clenched at the thought.
Beth shook her head. “No, I don’t think it was Flores. Look at the angle. We can’t tell the distance it was taken from but we can work backward and see where it was taken. Obviously the photographer was across the street, on the same side as the diner, but this was taken from East of the gas station and the diner is to the West. I guess it would be possible for Torres to have walked up the street but I would have seen him, or you would have. No, I don’t think it was him.”
Beth tapped her finger on the table. “See how the scorpion circles my head. Its tail is pointing at me. This is personal. This hit was ordered from the top. It was El Escorpion. We’re getting close.” Beth’s eyes widened and there was a hint of a smile on her face. He expected tears and shrieking, but she was happy.
“Someone has ordered a hit on you.” Torres spelled it out just in case Beth had missed the point. She was either the bravest or strangest woman he had ever met.
Beth looked up briefly. “Yeah I get that.” She returned her gaze to the picture, studying intently, as if it held a vital clue.
“I think you might be in shock.”
She did not bother looking up. “I’m not in shock. Though I doubt I would know if I was, but no, this isn’t shock. This is me working.”
“You need to get out of here, go into protective custody.”
Beth’s head shot up. “No! This is my case. I have been on El Escorpion’s tail for two years. I’m not going to let someone else get the collar while I’m being babysat. There is a reason I’m heading this task force.”
“Then go back to California. Work the case there. Stay with your family.”
Beth shook her head. For the first time there was a look of panic in her eyes. “I’m not going to bring this shit storm to my family’s doorstep.”
She was more worried about her family’s safety than her own. Torres’ chest tightened as he considered the information; he understood that feeling.
“You can’t stay here.” She may not care about her safety, but he wasn’t going to let her martyr herself for a cause. He really shouldn’t give a shit about what Beth Thomson did or didn’t do. It was her life, but…but, shit, even he had enough sense to consider self-preservation.
“I know.” She stood up and crossed the room to where Torres was still standing. “We’re almost there. We strike now. Martinez is the key. Patterson thinks he’s a dead end, but he’s not. I need to re-interview him. I should have gone with my gut. It’s no coincidence that we find out Archila’s killer and then El Escorpion hires a hit. We are very close. We’re almost done.” Beth threw her arms around Torres and squeezed with a pressure that defied her frame. She was small but she was strong. “It’s almost over.” Elation and relief coloured her words. Torres stood rigid as she embraced him. He could not remember the last time someone hugged him. He remembered the last time he’d had sex, but that didn’t count, there was no emotion in that, no joy at least, just two people finding release.
A heaviness pulled at his heart as he realised the last time he was embraced must have been at Archila’s funeral; when he promised Moses’ sister that he would make things right. For a moment he could not breathe as the memory transported him back to the day. His arms felt like lead. He could not lift them to return the embrace.
But he did not fight it either. He closed his eyes and let himself feel the comfort of another body. She was closer than anyone had been in a long time, and it felt…good. This was what normal people did. They shared their joy…and their pain.
Too quickly it was over. Beth pushed herself away from him. Had he had the strength, he might have put his arms around her and not let her go until he had burned in the memory of what the simple act of embracing felt like.
The elation on her face was replaced by embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I got carried away. It’s just we have been working on this so long. I can now start to see the end. Martinez knows who El Escorpion is. I can feel it. I should have seen it before. I should have known Martinez wasn’t a dead end. We need to follow that lead. Patterson will get on board once he sees this.”
Beth stopped, suddenly her face changed, like she remembered where she was. “I’m sorry about that… I shouldn’t have done that. I mean I wish I hadn’t, so let’s just pretend I didn’t. Hell, maybe I am in shock,” Beth said awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.
“Yeah maybe,” Torres said, managing to keep the bitterness from his voice. Of course she didn’t want to be hugging him, who could blame her? She knew too much about him to think that was a good idea.
Beth’s mouth opened and then snapped shut again. She turned and left the dining room, stopping after a few steps. Even in the dim light he could read her features as she struggled to find the words. “I’m sorry,” she said again.
Torres’ jaw tightened. “Me too.”
He followed, aware that she had still not agreed to go into protective custody. Beth walked through to the kitchen, opened a drawer and pulled out a flashlight before walking to the back end of the house, to a room he presumed was her bedroom. Her room was just as he would imagine it. The walls were painted a light yellow. Her bed was a wooden white four-poster. There were fresh blue bonnets in a vase on the table beside the bed along with a stack of books. Everything about the room was feminine and sweet. Nothing about it said DEA agent, it was just the room of a normal sweet woman. She didn’t fit in his world, and he didn’t fit in hers.
Beth pulled out a black carry-on bag from the bottom of her closet and sat it on the bed. She opened the top drawer and pulled out several pairs of underwear and bras. She did not bother closing the first drawer before opening the next.
“Have you decided where you want to go?”
Beth continued opening drawers and throwing clothing at her suitcase. If there was a system in place, it did not involve folding the clothes. She stopped briefly to look past him to the kitchen. “My passport is in my purse. I have a copy of my birth certificate. I’ll text Anna from the airport to ask her to watch my cat. I’ll call Patterson and tell him we’re following the Martinez lead. He can meet me at the airport.” Beth spun around, hand on hip, her fingers frantically tapping on her side as she ran through her to-do list.
“My gun.” She turned the dials on the black metal box on her dresser. “It’s such a pain to fly with a gun…I don’t want to leave it here… No, if Martinez knows we are looking for him, he could leave Mexico. If he crosses into South America, we will lose him. We need to find him. I need to speak to the Mexico City office. I wish I knew the agents there better. I don’t know any of them well enough to trust them.”
Torres doubted she knew anyone well enough to trust them. Every time he saw her, the more she reminded him of a skittish cat. He was confident she would do everything alone if she could. It must kill her to have to work in a team.
Beth spoke quickly, asking and answering questions as she planned.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he finally asked after watching her open every drawer.
She did not look up from shoving clothes into her bag to answer. “Mexico. I’m going to find Martinez.”
Torres ran a hand over the stubble of his shaved head. She was insane, certifiably insane…with a death wish. “You’re not going to Mexico.”
For the first time, she stopped and looked at him. A flash of defiance shot through her eyes. “Because you want Martinez.”
Torres let out a long breath. Martinez had nothing to do with this. He didn’t want her to go…because…shit…why didn’t he want her to go? He didn’t give a shit about her, but he could not let her go…hell if he knew why. He shook his head. “We’re not talking about spring break in Cancun. You’ll stand out like a sore thumb. It’ll take all of five minutes before you get yourself murdered…or kidnapped …or God knows what.” He knew exactly what kind of danger waited for her on the other side of the border and he was not above spelling it out for her if she didn’t stop being stupid.
“Don’t. Don’t try to scare me. I know what happens down there. I have read every file ever written about every cartel operating in Central and South America. I trained you after all. I know how they operate. I also know today has been the shittiest day of my life until ten minutes ago. I finally see a way out so I don’t care what horror stories you tell me, because I am going to find El Escorpion and I am going to get moved back to California. Hell, I will be running the Sacramento office, if we pull this off. This is win, win, Torres. We both want out. Neither of us wants to be dealing with the Treintas or Zetas any more.”
She was pleading with him, her voice thin and panicked.
Torres narrowed his eyes and considered her words. God he wanted out, more than she could ever know. “Why do you think Martinez knows who El Escorpion is? No one knows who he is. The guy they shot in Mexico City was his bodyguard. We can’t even cobble together a composite sketch because all eyewitnesses end up dead. Now that all Treintas have the scorpion tattoo on their hand, we can’t even rely on that for an ID.”
Beth shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I won’t know if I don’t at least try. I can’t do this any more. I need to get out of Texas.”
Torres eyed her dubiously “You hate Texas that much?”
Beth shook her head. “Texas is fine.” She hesitated like she was trying to decide what to tell him. “My family needs me back in California.”
“Why?” he asked when she didn’t continue.
Beth’s eyes widened, clearly not expecting a follow-up question.
“Yes, why? You want to go off on a suicide mission, I’d like to know your motivation.”
Beth was silent for a long moment. “My mom is sick. She has…” She shook her head. Her lip trembled. He thought she would cry but she didn’t “She has Alzheimer’s,” she whispered. “My God that is the first time I’ve said it out loud. My mom has Alzheimer’s. My mom has Alzheimer’s” Her voice grew louder, stronger.
“I’m sorry,” Torres said. He remembered her bloodshot eyes when he had come in. She had been crying about her mom.
“Me too.” Beth sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing her eyes. “She can’t live by herself any more and my sister has a fantastic job opportunity in Southern California. I need to get back to California so I can take care of my mom. My chances of a spot in California at my pay grade are nigh on impossible, but if I could identify El Escorpion, I would be running the Sacramento office by the end of the month.”
Torres felt the need to point out the obvious. “Who would take care of your mom if you’re dead?”
Beth was silent for a long time. “I know…I shouldn’t say this…but…geez, I tell you stuff I shouldn’t, but if I was dead, it wouldn’t be my problem any more. I’m a shitty person. I know, feel free to judge me.”
Torres crossed the room and took a seat beside her on the bed. Had he ever been in a woman’s bedroom, other than of course to have sex? He hadn’t, as far as he could remember. But why would he? There was no need. Heart to heart conversations on the end of the bed were out of his realm. Ask him to dissemble a bomb on the roadside, or hit a moving target, he was your man, but talking was definitely not in his skillset. Luckily Beth didn’t seem to want comfort or platitudes, she just wanted to talk, and even he could manage that, he just needed to keep his mouth shut and let her keep going. Thank God she wasn’t crying. In truth he actually respected her for keeping it together. He assumed she would lose it. She wasn’t stupid or strange; she was brave, and despite himself he admired her for it. It wasn’t an attribute he had ever assigned a woman.
He realised that he had never had a female friend. There were plenty of women in his life, his mom and aunties, but no one he would call a friend.
“I get it,” Torres said.
Beth looked up. “What part? The being a shitty person part or the not really being worried about dying because life is pretty hard right now part?”
“Both,” he admitted. “But if you’re shitty, I’m diabolical.”
Beth smiled. She was pretty when she smiled. She did not do it often, but when she did her face brightened and the deep creases in her forehead became just a shadow. “To be fair, anyone short of the devil would seem like a decent person to you at this point. So I probably shouldn’t gauge myself by your standards.”
Torres nodded. “Fair point. But you’re still not going to Mexico.”
Beth gave a soft laugh as she stood. “That’s cute, you acting like you have a vote in what I do. This is my case, Torres. You’ve helped tremendously, but this is mine.”
This wasn’t a game and she needed to know that.
“What’s your plan, Gatita? Going to fly down to Mexico and start asking question? Going to take on a convoy with your six bullets?” Torres rose and in an instant he was beside her, his hand covering the worn leather gun holster. If he wanted he could have it out, and pointed at her. Beth pulled away, but his other hand had circled her waist. He pulled her in, crushing her against him. Fear flashed in her eyes and he pounced on it, used it against her. “Do I scare you, Gatita? There are plenty more just like me where you’re headed.” Torres pushed her against the bed, holding onto her as he lowered her against the mattress. He was on top of her, pressing against her, pinning her in place, his body hard against hers at every juncture. Her breath was coming in small frantic pants. She was trapped and at his mercy.
He lowered his head and whispered into her ear. “Remember when Flores had you? What do you think he would have done if I hadn’t stopped him?”
“Stop,” she whispered, her voice strained, as she struggled to turn her head away from him.
Torres held her head in place, a large hand on either side of her face, his thumb pressing into the delicate hollow of her neck where her heart beat fast against him. “Open your eyes.”
Slowly her lids rose. Far from the fear he expected, there was defiance. And something else…
“What would he have done to you, Gatita?”
Her lips pursed together. “He would have hurt me.”
Torres shook his head. “No, Gatita. He would have tortured you and then raped you, and then tortured you some more until you begged him to kill you.”
“No,” she said defiantly. “He would have raped me and tortured me, but I would have never begged him to kill me. I would have gotten through it and then I would have gone after him. And I wouldn’t stop until I found him and he begged me to kill him.” She barely had enough oxygen in her lungs to breathe but she spat the words out with enough force for Torres to know they were true.
He leaned in further until his lips brushed her ear. He breathed in deep, letting the clean scent of her wash over him. He shouldn’t be aroused. She was plain, even boring; she said it herself. There was nothing special about her. Her face was forgettable. Her breasts were small. But there was something…something there…his body responded to. It had been so long, he had almost forgotten what it felt like for the blood to pool at his core, for his body to strain almost painfully, ready for the slightest touch to ignite the fire. This time it was he who closed his eyes, not wanting to move. He wouldn’t let himself go any further. It was every shade of fucked up to even think about it. If she knew even a tenth of the depravity that he had been involved in since he joined Los Zetas, she would recoil. The desire he saw in her eyes before would be replaced with disdain and fear, maybe even hatred.
But he didn’t want to let go yet. Once it was over, there was no telling when he would feel it again, the normality of craving another person’s touch. He had had plenty of opportunities for sex over the last two years but any of the women that were willing to take him into their beds wasn’t a woman he wanted to be with.
He breathed in another deep scent of apple from her hair. He moved in closer, just a fraction, so his lips almost brushed her temple. She was so close but he wouldn’t go any further. He could almost feel the softness of her skin. He couldn’t let himself touch her but he could imagine what it would feel like.
And then she turned her head towards him, and he could feel her skin, warm and soft, exactly how he imagined. Her breath was hot on his neck, her body slack and supple beneath him.
“Don’t move,” he breathed against her forehead. Speaking allowed his lips to caress her skin without kissing her. He wasn’t crossing any lines. He was just speaking to her…holding her…letting himself remember what it felt like.
“I can’t, even if I tried.”
Torres closed his eyes again. He would move. He just needed another minute to feel her heart beating against his chest, another minute to smell her hair, and another minute to pretend this was something he could have.
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do normal any more, maybe he never could.
“You’re not going to Mexico,” Torres said as he shifted his weight, allowing her to wiggle free if she chose to.
But she didn’t.
“I have to. I’m out of choices, Torres. I need this. I know you want Martinez. And by all rights, he is yours, but I need this.” Her voice was strong but her eyes were pleading.
Martinez. At least the devil had a name now. For two years he had just been the man who had shot Torres and killed Archila. Why had Moses gotten involved with the Zetas? Why had his life deteriorated so much, that he felt that was a viable option? Guilt clawed at him. He should have been there for Moses. He should have tried to get him help sooner. If he had, none of this would have happened. “And then what?”
“Then we’re done. Both of us can move on. We go our separate ways and this all becomes a distant memory that we bore our families with.”
Torres rolled off her. God he wanted to be done. For two years “done” had meant avenging Archila’s death. He never kidded himself that “done” would be moving on. Where could he go where the guilt wouldn’t follow him?
“Martinez was last seen on the border of Sonora and Sinaloa,” he said. He told her as a warning.
Beth was quiet for too long. “You figured that out faster than I thought you would. But actually he is in Culiacan.”
Torres narrowed his eyes. The muscles of his back knotted uncomfortably as anger worked its way through his body. The taste of betrayal was bitter in his mouth. “You knew where Martinez was and you didn’t tell me. You said it yourself, Martinez is mine.”
Beth took a protective step back. The small movement was pointless. Torres could have her pinned again in an instant if he wanted. And he might if he trusted himself. He didn’t have the self-control, anger had robbed him of it.
“I told you enough to find him. I knew you would figure it out eventually. I gave you the gun, I wasn’t going to give you the bullets too.”
Torres nodded slowly. “Is this all part of your credible deniability? Or do you get off on control? What a nice world you live in, where you can get to pick and choose the truth. You get to decide what you know. You tell yourself lies and you actually believe them. Christ I wish the real world was that simple.”
“It’s not like that,” Beth started.
“It’s not like what, Beth? Tell me more. What else have you lied to me about?”
Beth took another step back. “I didn’t lie to you. You never asked where Martinez was. I knew you would find him and…” Beth stopped and took a breath before she continued. “I knew what you would do when you found him. Just because I know what you are going to do does not mean I condone it in any way. I wanted you to have time to consider your impulses before you acted on them.”
“Because the last two years weren’t long enough to think about it,” he scoffed. “That’s not why you didn’t tell me. You didn’t tell me so you could pretend you were not responsible for what happened. You don’t want to know what I am going to do. You’re happy that it gets done but you can’t be bothered with the messy part. And yes Beth, it will be messy. Let me tell you what is going to happen.”
Beth raised her hands. “No. Please don’t. OK…yeah, you’re right. I don’t want to know. I like pretending the world is fair and kind and people don’t get shoved into barrels and set on fire. I’m not going to apologise for that. I would go crazy if I let myself think about every detail of every crime I have read about. That’s how I cope, and it works for me. I am a good agent because I don’t get bogged down with the ugly stuff. The reason I can be in charge of this task force and not go bat-shit crazy is because I compartmentalise and rationalise.”
“No, you ignore it, Beth. There’s a difference. How can you think you can go to Sinaloa and get Martinez if you can’t even stomach the details of what I’m planning to do to him? Are you planning on just looking away at that part? Is that your plan? You’ll stay in the car with your fingers in your ears. Great plan. Ignoring things always makes them go away.”
Even in the shadows of the darkened room, he could see the lines between her eyes deepen as she thought. “You want to go to Mexico together? If I’ve been made, chances are you have too.”
He could almost see Beth running through scenarios as her eyes darted from side to side. She was scared of him. At least she had the sense to be afraid. “You still wonder if I’ve gone native. You’re scared I will get you down to Mexico and that will be the last anyone sees of you. It has happened to hundreds of women. It could just as soon be you. Maybe I made this all up. Maybe I am a Zeta now.”
Beth considered his words for a few moments “Maybe,” she admitted. “But even as a Zeta we have a common enemy.”
“That doesn’t make us friends,” he warned her.
“I don’t need a friend. I just need to find El Escorpion and get home.”
“Is it worth risking your life?”
Without taking a breath she answered, “Yes.”
Torres ran a hand over his shaved head. He recognised that determination. He couldn’t leave her here. And he sure as hell couldn’t let her go alone. Patterson was as good as useless. If he went with her, he would get them both killed. Why the DEA had assigned the two whitest people in America to lead the Treinta task force was beyond him. Neither of them even spoke Spanish for Christ’s sake. “We’ll take the next flight to Mazatlan. It’s faster and I don’t want to be driving through the Northern states.”
Beth nodded. “Yeah. OK, we’ll fly. I need to call Patterson. And my sister. I wish I had stocked up on food for Samson. I’ll just leave cash for Anna. I’m going to have to give the Mexico City office a heads up but I want to do it face to face.” Beth crossed the room into the bathroom. A stained-glass nightlight shaped like a windmill cast purple and red light across the white tiles. “I don’t have travel-size shampoo or toothpaste. I will need to buy those in Mexico. Must call my credit card company from the airport to tell them to expect foreign transactions.”
She was off again, mentally writing a to-do list. This must be here verbal equivalent of M&M’s to relax. He listened, letting her list every minute detail of their trip: where they would rent a car when they got to Mexico, what credit card to put the flights on in order to get travel insurance, how she would keep track of expenses. Everything was covered, but there was one thing suspiciously absent from the list.
“Going to call your boyfriend and tell him you’re going on vacation with the man you slept with last night?”
Beth closed the medicine cabinet but she didn’t turn to look at him. She cleared her throat a few times before she said, “It’s a casual thing. I’ll call him when I get back.”
“Good idea to keep it casual. None of my business but he hardly seems worth the effort if he doesn’t make you come.” He couldn’t resist baiting her, watching her squirm was one of the few pleasures he had left.
She cleared her throat again before turning to face him. “We’re not going to discuss Neil, now or ever.”
“You don’t have to discuss anything. Pretty telling that you listed a hundred things to do and he didn’t even get a mention.”
Her nostril’s flared slightly. “I just said we’re not discussing it.”
“How cute, you thinking you have a say in what I say.” He used her words against her.
Beth was silent for a long moment as she tapped her foot against the tile floors. “Fine, talk about Neil but it is going to be a monologue because I’m not going to be involved. I’ll just have my own conversation about Archila. I think I want to discuss your military service. You served two tours together, right?” Beth held her hand up. “No don’t answer. Remember we’re having separate conversations and I’m talking about how you got that scar.” She pointed at his chest. “Only two people survived that explosion, you and Archila. Now it’s just you. Talk about survivor’s guilt.”
Torres clenched his jaws together until his teeth ached. He never discussed the attack with anyone, ever. He had never even discussed it with Archila. Once they were home, it was over; there was no need to go back. She knew exactly what she was doing. If she were a man, he would grab her by the throat.
“Careful Beth. I might give you details and we both know you can’t handle that.” She knew exactly the buttons to push, but so did he. If he weren’t so annoyed with her, he would have been impressed that she was brave enough to stand up to him. He knew few men who would. They both knew he could overpower her in an instant; he hoped for her sake, she knew he wasn’t above it.
“I would make an exception for those details. The file left out a lot. I know there were two survivors. Did Archila pull you to safety? Is that how it happened? Is that why you feel so guilty? He saved you but you couldn’t save him? You think if you had been a better friend he wouldn’t have gotten involved with the Zetas?” She took a step towards him, showing she wasn’t scared.
Torres clenched his hands together into fists. It was a dangerous game she was playing.
She took another step. “I’m pretty good at details when I need to be, Torres. So don’t worry about me.” Her eyes brimmed with determination, her pointed chin pushed out defiantly.
Torres shook his head. She had no idea the things she was going to see in Mexico but suddenly he didn’t care about shielding her. The world was ugly and she needed to know. No amount of ignoring reality would change that. “Get your bag, Gatita. There is a big bad world waiting for you.”