by Kirk Russell
“Why not?”
“Some of them have crossed the country to mind-meld with Indie. They’re living a different reality. They won’t give up easily. I’m repeating myself, but I’d turn them back or arrest and release. But that’s me talking, not the FBI.”
Mara and Esposito walked in on the last of the call.
“I’ll call you back when I get a chance,” I said.
“Please do.”
ASAC Esposito I’ve known forever. I shook his hand.
“Good to see you,” he said, without any inflection at all.
“Likewise.”
Mara said, “We just got off a conference call with Metro police. Your pharmacist, Gary Potello, was apparently arrested and charged yesterday. He’s named you as one of those he supplies illegal drugs to. Painkillers. The conversation you described to me may have been recorded. It sounds like he’s trying to use you to trade for lesser charges.”
“Aw, no . . .”
“I didn’t know that when we talked. We just found this out and really shouldn’t be telling you anything. His lawyer wants to cut a deal that the DA’s office is receptive to. We can’t talk about that here, but now you know. Talk with your lawyer, and you aren’t obligated to talk anymore with us if you choose not to. You can leave this meeting without any repercussions.”
“I’d like to know anything you’re willing to tell me,” I said.
“Potello claims he can name cartel middle managers operating in the Las Vegas area. He’s also said through his lawyer that he can provide proof of illegal drug buys you’ve made. He’s kept records and has you down for quite a lot of OxyContin in the last eighteen months. You’ll need to work through your lawyer from here, but do you want to say anything to us now?”
“I’ve never bought illegal drugs from Potello. I’ve done business with him for eighteen months with the belief that he was getting prescriptions renewed through my primary care doctor. If an undercover officer has videotaped me buying, it wasn’t illicit drugs. Potello has a pharmacy business and makes home deliveries and has—”
“We know he does deliveries. We know about his business,” Mara said.
“Do you? He told me once he has seven hundred clients. Some are shut-ins, some are disabled, and some are like me, regulars who don’t want to wait in line at a pharmacy. I have payment records that I’ll turn over to my lawyer, but I could also bring a copy here. I haven’t made any illegal drug deals I’m aware of. He doesn’t have anything on me. He’s just looking for an out, something he can trade.”
“We’re not going to suspend you today, Paul,” Esposito said. “But neither do I have to explain how serious this is. And complicated. The reality is you’ve been in more obvious pain lately than any of us can remember. You may think you’re handling it, but we see something else. In that light, the painkiller questions are fair to ask. You’ll provide a urine sample after this meeting. Do you have an issue with that?”
“None.”
“You keep your badge, creds, gun, and car. You’re not suspended, you’re still active duty but with restrictions we’ll figure out. If the DA brings charges against you, you get suspended until it’s resolved. If not, we’ll still have to restrict what you investigate because we don’t know yet whether you’ll be around in a year to testify in court on cases you’ve worked. At this point it follows the usual path. Right now, we’re telling headquarters a suspect who’s admitted he’s a Zetas cartel operative pushing counterfeit pills has accused you of buying substantial quantities of painkillers from him and is trying to trade on that.”
“He’s framing me.”
“I believe you,” Mara said. “We both do or wouldn’t be having this conversation. Even so, we’re walking a tightrope keeping you on active duty.”
Esposito stepped back in, saying, “Wake up, Paul, this one is on you. You’ve been FBI as long as I have, and you made the decision to buy from this jackass. You know perfectly well what it looks like when you meet him on the street and exchange pills for money. Then add to that Potello’s claims of large quantities. It couldn’t come at a worse time. Right now, we need everybody. You used bad judgment with Potello and let the Bureau down. That’s where we’re at. You’re angry at Potello, but I’d bet I’m angrier at you. You of all people should have known better—why didn’t you? I want an answer next time I see you.”
24
Jace
Jace wanted to reach out to Grale that night but didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t officially suspended, yet there was no pretending things were normal. Without giving her details, Mara had let her know Grale was headed for hard times. Probably gone.
She texted Grale, Want to meet for a drink and talk?
Twenty minutes passed without an answer, so she looked up his address and drove over. Grale said Jo had just bought a new four-door Toyota SUV, but the only car in the driveway was his Bu-car. That didn’t mean Jo hadn’t parked in the garage, and Jace didn’t want to disturb them if they were home together. She debated several moments, then parked and rang the doorbell.
When no one answered, Jace started to leave then turned when she heard footsteps from around the side of the house. Grale came out of the shadows.
“What’s up, Jace?”
“I came to see you. Did you get my text?”
“I didn’t think going out for a drink was a great idea. Are you sure you should be here? Because I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t.”
“You’re still active duty. We’re still working together. No one has told me otherwise. Mara even stressed that you’re still active duty.”
“My problems are my own, Jace.”
“Can we at least talk?”
He was in shorts and a loose T-shirt, a look she’d never seen on him. She showed him the bottle of red in her left hand.
“You don’t have to patch up anything with me,” Grale said. “I figured out they asked you to help determine if I was buying illicit drugs from Potello. I had to do something like that ten years ago. It’s a lousy feeling, but there’s not much you can do about it. You were doing your job. I’m also betting Mara told you to keep miles away from me until this is sorted out. Am I right?”
“If he’d said that, I wouldn’t be here. He said we’re still working together.”
“Until tomorrow morning or afternoon or whatever it is.”
“Until Metro brings charges, if there are charges. I just want to talk without getting into details.”
Grale hesitated, then said, “Then you’d better keep this flyby to yourself.”
“It’s between you and me, no one else.”
Grale led her around the side of the garage and through an open patio gate to the back where the view beyond the fence was desert and mountains. She got why he chilled out here. She saw the lap pool and the outdoor shower and the patio lounge chairs she remembered he said he sometimes slept on when his back hurt.
“I need to tell you I’m sorry,” she said.
“You might need to make yourself feel better, but you were just doing your job. Don’t fault yourself.”
“I want to talk.”
“All right, let’s talk. Hang on while I get a couple of glasses and a corkscrew.”
Grale opened the wine and poured two glasses. He handed Jace a glass as she said, “I’m sorry this has happened.”
He was quiet, then said, “We’re good, Jace. You and I are fine, and what I’ve told Mara is the truth.”
“If I didn’t think that, I honestly wouldn’t be here,” Jace said.
He nodded, and she got the feeling he believed that.
“Let’s clear up a couple of things between us,” Grale said. “When we talked about you and Mara asking the same drug questions, did you know Potello was going to get busted and charged, and that he would implicate me?”
“You mean when you took o
ff for Pancake Lake without me?”
“Panguitch.”
“I was looking at Potello’s hole-in-the-wall pharmacy.”
“Then you saw the pharmacy board license in the window.”
“I saw it. They think it’s fake.”
“It’s not. I’ve checked every so often that it’s still valid. I’ve called the pharmacy board to find out how to file a written complaint.” He paused then looked hard at her. “We’re talking about what we can’t talk about. You could get yourself in trouble.”
“Well, supposedly we’re still working together, so they must know we’ll talk. What can you tell me about you and Potello?”
“Before we go there, when did you learn Potello was plea-bargaining?”
“After you did.”
“Okay, that matters to me. Thank you. Potello’s story as I knew it before all this was that he started off delivering prescriptions mostly to people who didn’t have a way of leaving their houses. For me, like I said, it was about convenience, and in a sense, it was the same for people who were shut-ins with no relatives or friends to pick up their prescriptions. Plus, I knew him.”
“You’ve told me.”
“Right, but I’ll say it again because it figured in. I knew Potello and had for a decade. He worked in a mall pharmacy near here for a long time. But . . . everything for me has some root in me not wanting to be seen buying painkillers. I was ashamed I needed them. I didn’t want to be recognized buying them.”
“But you knew buying from Potello on the street didn’t look good. You had to know that.”
“Sure, how could I not? But I’ve never kept it secret. He delivered to the FBI office before I was told to get him out of there. I used to meet him outside and pay him. I didn’t see it as bad. Unorthodox, sure, but Amazon deliveries were unorthodox when they started out. Things change.”
Jace said quietly, “Mara believes you.”
“No, Mara likes it that I work investigations and get results. But he’s a career climber, and I’m tainted no matter how this comes out. He’s a good guy, but he’s taken a step back from me and will never risk it again. It’s about the Bureau’s reputation. Everyone he supervises is a reflection on him. I’m in a very bad spot, but we’re not talking about that tonight.”
“I’m like you. Nothing is real until there’s evidence.”
For some reason, that made Grale smile.
“Okay, we’re not talking. I get it, but just tell me what happens next,” Jace said. “I’ve never been around something like this.”
“Two things, if they haven’t happened already. First, it goes to the Office of Professional Responsibility and the ASAC tells the SAC there’s some bad press brewing that they have to get ahead of, a serious problem that could make the Las Vegas FBI look bad. The ASAC also cuts Mara loose from the investigative end and takes his statement. It becomes strictly OPR, which is a dark cave many never return from.”
She mulled that over. Agents talked about getting OPR’ed like it was worse than hell, but Jace didn’t know much about it. One agent had told her that radium has a shorter half-life than an OPR investigation.
“Could surgery fix your back?” she asked.
He was slow answering the change of subject.
“I don’t know, I’m hoping so,” he said. “The surgeon I’m talking to is very careful about predicting success. And it’s not just one but three or four surgeries and no guarantees.”
“Whatever you do, don’t quit,” she said.
She drank another glass but didn’t feel any better when she left. She knew Grale understood she’d been asked by Mara to help, and she’d done what she’d had to do, yet Jace felt sad driving away.
Grale was up against it, and she was part of taking him down. No matter what, it was just as he’d said: he’d become the agent who bought pills on the street.
Grale was the one who’d once told her, if you have to explain yourself, you’re doing something wrong. That had stuck with her, but here he was buying from Gary Potello, ex-pharmacist, new inmate. Maybe it was like he’d said, he was ashamed of his injuries. Or something that came from the struggle with his back. But either you can do the job, or you find something else. A basketball star doesn’t blow out his knees then expect a higher salary and a starting role next season.
If it’s murky in any way with Potello, they’ll wash Grale out, she thought. Grale was right about that. If that happened, then it would be what Mara had told her. It’ll leave Grale in his midfifties with a reduced pension and few prospects. That, and dealing with multiple surgeries. But if Grale was innocent, then she’d figure out how to help him. Were his buys legit or was the pain so bad he’d gone down the drug road?
Jace knew what she wanted to believe, but to learn the truth she needed Potello. And what if Potello has convinced the DA’s office and Metro police of something that wasn’t true? Then what happens? Does Grale get framed?
Potello was squirming around trying to please everybody. Someone has to stand up for Grale. It wasn’t going to be Mara or the ASAC. Jace decided it would be her. Even as she thought about her next move, she knew it was a bad idea. But she couldn’t just stand by and do nothing, so maybe she’d just have a quick conversation with Potello, nothing crazy. She pictured the scene in her mind and knew what she was going to do.
25
I was outside near the lap pool in the warm night air when Jo got home. She gave me a quick kiss, picked up the wineglasses, and asked, “Who did I miss?”
“Jace. She had a role in trying to figure out whether I was buying illicit drugs. It was tough on her.”
“Don’t ask me to feel sorry for her. How are you?”
“Not as good as I could be. It’s strange to feel like an outsider at the office. Everybody seems to know what happened, and I’m sure they were told not to talk to me about it. I get the feeling Mara and Esposito expected a confession. Other than Jace, everybody has me at arm’s length—”
“She feels guilty. That’s why she came over. You’ve been a mentor to her, and now she has to decide whether to distance herself. She’s unsure what to do and trying to play both sides. You need to get the drug questions answered definitively.”
“There’s not a lot more I can say. There’s a process that’ll take place. If we didn’t have the heightened threat alert, I think they would have sent me home.”
“What about other agents on the squad? Isn’t anyone sticking up for you?”
“I’m sure they are, but it’s out of their hands, and my supervisor will be very careful with what I work on. If I’m working an investigation where my testimony is critical later and a defense attorney can say I was suspended or under investigation for illegal drug buys, the whole case could get thrown out.”
“Are they really going to suspend you because a discredited criminal pharmacist accused you?”
“I have to prove my innocence.”
I didn’t want to have this conversation with Jo. I’d sought advice and turned over my situation all day. I didn’t want to continue it tonight, but I owed it to her.
“Do you blame yourself?” she asked.
“I do and I apologize. You’ve always warned me to verify my prescriptions were refilled by my doctor.”
“But it’s not just about that.”
“No, it’s not. It’s connected to whether I’m fit enough to be an active agent and whether my judgment is up to Bureau standards. Metro police have evidence Potello has moved thousands of counterfeit pills for the Zetas cartel. I’ve been in association with him. That won’t go away.”
“I know who you are,” Jo said. “Have you eaten?”
“Not yet.”
She showered, and I made omelets and a salad. We sat outside under the stars near the pool and drank what was left of the bottle of red, then opened another.
“Do you
really think they want you gone?” Jo asked.
“I’m asking myself that. I’ve got a very good solve rate, so if Potello admitted to lying, that could turn things around. Otherwise, there’s nothing the FBI protects more than its reputation. I’ve hired a lawyer I like, but I’m not clear yet on the right moves.”
“I am. Start by kissing me.”
I leaned over and she leaned toward me, but it was an awkward kiss. I was in a bad way. I was very blue tonight. She moved closer. I smelled the shampoo in her damp hair. I love the feel of her.
When I leaned back, she kept hold of my hand and said, “Did you really think no one was noticing your limp?”
“Sure, they have. Everyone has, but I’ve had flare-ups before that have come and gone. I’m supposed to get back to Dr. Yandovitch soon. He called my situation a fragile balance where a few back muscles were overcompensating to hold it all together. What would you do? I’m asking, Jo.”
“I’m not sure, but I know you. You wouldn’t have gone to Yandovitch if you didn’t believe this was different than previous flare-ups.”
In bed she probed along my back with her light, cool fingers so I could tell her where the pain was sharpest. I don’t have words for why her touch nearly always calms me.
“This may get into the media,” I said. “It probably will. If it does, it’ll burn hot and fast, in which case headquarters will step in and quarterback the response. If I’m charged with anything, I turn over my badge then try to save my reputation.”
“You mean your sacred honor,” she said in a quiet voice. “As long as I’ve known you, nothing has mattered more.”
“You matter more.”
“I don’t think so, and I love you for it. You’ll get cleared,” she said and slid nearer and went quiet.