Distortion (Moonlighters Series)

by Terri Blackstock

  What was she trying to do to their family?

  He wiped his tears on his sleeve. His shirt stuck to him from a cold, clammy sweat. He wanted to run upstairs and get into bed and cover his head with his pillow so he wouldn’t hear any more. But he had to hear. He had to know what other lies they were telling about his dad.

  He stayed where he was, desperate to hear everything, but dreading every word.

  CHAPTER 21

  Special Agents Clement and Blue seemed to be aware of most of what Juliet told them, but they still wanted her to repeat it. When she was finished, Agent Blue said, “Mrs. Cole, did you have any inkling that your husband was involved in the drug trade?”

  She sucked in a breath. “No, of course not. This is shocking to me. I never had any reason to believe anything was out of the ordinary. Even after he was shot, I thought it was a random shooting. That he was an innocent victim.”

  “Did you know about the investigation the DEA had under way regarding your husband?”

  “Absolutely not. Nobody ever questioned me before the shooting. I’ve told you everything I know.”

  Darren got to his feet and walked around the room, looking at framed family photos on Jay’s shelves. They weren’t even hers; Juliet felt like shouting that Jay’s pictures had nothing to do with her husband. He slid his hands into his pockets and turned back to her. “Juliet, we have reason to believe that Bob was brokering shipments of cocaine from Colombia.”

  “Brokering? What does that mean?”

  “Brokers arrange the purchase and transport of drugs from other countries, then get them into the hands of distributors when they arrive.”

  “No, that’s not possible. He’s never been to Colombia. He doesn’t know anyone there.”

  “We think his shipments were coming via one of the Caribbean islands,” Blue said. “Customs officials usually stop boats coming from Colombia, so the traffickers often route them to some other point and ship from there.”

  “Somewhere like the Bahamas?” she whispered.

  “Yes, maybe the Bahamas. We’re aware that he traveled there this year. He may have set up a contact to receive the shipment and then ship it again to the US, with Bahamian papers.”

  Juliet got up and crossed her arms. “I still can’t understand . . . why would he do this? And why cocaine? Painkillers he prescribed regularly, but cocaine wasn’t even related to what he does. Why would someone like Bob do something so dangerous? He made plenty of money. He would never join some Colombian drug cartel. That’s ridiculous.”

  Darren sat down, set his elbows on his knees, and leaned toward Juliet. “Cartels are a thing of the past, Juliet. Now the drug trade is made up of people who don’t know each other but who perform certain functions in the chain. Farmers who grow the drugs in Colombia, someone else who processes it into cocaine, brokers who set up the purchase, someone involved in transport, someone to receive the shipment, the distributors who supply local dealers.”

  “And the money laundering,” Blue said. “We think Bob may have started out that way—handling the money and sending it through several other companies, then paying off Colombian sources.”

  “Money laundering? He was a doctor, not a banker! How would he know anything about that?”

  “We’re not sure,” Darren said. “But it would have been a clean way to make a lot of cash. He never touches the drugs, never meets or talks to the transporters or distributors, never gets his hands dirty. But he makes a lot of money.”

  Juliet sat back down, her head throbbing. “This is just too crazy. I can’t even picture him doing something so evil. He was my husband. I lived with him for fifteen years! I knew him.”

  Cathy seemed unruffled. “You said he was a broker. Now you’re saying he laundered the money?”

  “We believe he might have taken a bigger role after he was successful with several deliveries. There was even more money to be made if he brokered the deal.”

  Special Agent Blue turned her sharp eyes to Juliet. “Did you know of any accounts that your husband had overseas? Any businesses he owned, other than his medical practice?”

  “No. He wasn’t a businessman. He was a surgeon. A busy surgeon. He wouldn’t have time to run businesses.”

  “Yet we’ve been able to find at least three businesses that he owned—in St. John, in Mexico City, and in the Dominican Republic.”

  Juliet didn’t know how much more she could take. “That’s impossible. What kind of businesses?”

  “An auto parts wholesaler, a consulting firm of some kind . . . things that don’t have lots of customers coming and going. But we don’t think they were legitimate businesses. They were most likely dummy corporations created for the purpose of laundering the drug money.”

  “It feels like we’re talking about two different people.”

  “Juliet,” Blue said, “did you and Bob own any other property here, other than your house and the medical practice?”

  “No. We helped my sister Holly buy her house, but our name isn’t on the deed. We just gave her some money for the down payment. But no, no other property. Why?”

  “Because the drug shipments were delivered somewhere. We need to find out where, and who else was involved.”

  Juliet felt sick again. “Well, I can’t help you. I have no idea.”

  “Breaking this ring will significantly affect the amount of cocaine on the streets of Panama City and northern Florida,” Darren said.

  Juliet looked at him. “I can imagine. If I knew, I’d tell you. I want to get drugs off the streets. I have two boys, and the threat of their getting drugs at school or anywhere is terrifying to me.”

  “Then we’d like you to help us,” Blue said.

  Exhaustion—both emotional and physical—took hold. “What do you mean? Help you how?”

  Darren’s eyes were sympathetic. “We’ve interviewed Amber Williams already, but we didn’t get much. I really hate to ask you this, Juliet, but we need you to make contact with her.”

  Juliet’s blood drained from her face. “I can’t do that.”

  “We believe she was involved in this drug ring. She may have even been the one who got Bob involved in the first place. We need to find out what she knows and what she has access to. She might be able to lead us to the others involved.”

  Cathy touched Juliet’s hand, as if to guard her. “What could Juliet find out from her that the DEA and the FBI don’t already know?”

  “We’re thinking that she might reveal something to Juliet inadvertently, out of some kind of emotional reaction,” Darren said. “It was a tight ring, and Bob covered his bases in every way imaginable. Amber Williams is our only clear doorway. She has a police record. She’s been to prison for mail fraud under another name. She’s a pro. She’s not going to give us anything now. There’s too much money at stake here.”

  “Why would she tell me anything?” Juliet asked.

  “We think she may be colluding with the people threatening you, because otherwise they’d be threatening her instead of you. Through her, you could send a message to these people. Tell them you’re ready to hear what they want.”

  “But if she’s involved, wouldn’t she already have access to whatever he had? Surely she knows more about all of it than I do.”

  “Clearly not,” Blue said. “She isn’t hiding, and her house hasn’t been invaded like yours has.”

  Juliet sighed. The thought of coming face-to-face with that woman made her nauseous.

  “Just let her know that you want to make contact with the others so they’ll leave you and your kids alone.”

  How would Juliet manage to get through a conversation like that? She would cry in front of that home wrecker. She didn’t want to give her that satisfaction. This was asking too much. “What if I say no?”

  Darren rubbed his face. “Juliet, if you say yes, we’ll give you immunity from any prosecution that may come.”

  “Prosecution?” Juliet cried. “I don’t need immunity. I have
n’t done anything wrong.”

  “Your husband has been implicated in a series of crimes,” Blue said. “You are connected to him. You could be implicated, your bank accounts could be frozen—”

  “Now wait a minute,” Cathy said. “My client has been forthcoming with you about everything.”

  “Immunity would be very helpful to you, Juliet. We can’t tell you what the DOJ might do. But this is a federal crime, and the people who are involved will face years in federal prison.”

  “But not me,” Juliet said. “Darren, you know I’m not involved!”

  “Your helping us is the only way to be certain that you’re not blamed.”

  Tears burst into her eyes. “It was one thing to try to find answers for myself, so I could protect my boys. But this?”

  Cathy tried again. “If she agrees, how will you protect her?”

  “We’ll be seconds away at all times. We’ll wire her, and if anything at all goes wrong, we’ll move right in.”

  “Move right in and do what?” Juliet asked, terrified at the prospect.

  “Protect you. Make an arrest if it’s warranted.”

  Juliet looked at Cathy, seeking an answer. Cathy seemed as uncertain as she. “I don’t want to help you prove Bob was a criminal. This is all out of control. My children are going to find out.”

  Darren spoke again. “The boys might find out their dad wasn’t what they thought, but their mother will be a hero.”

  “I don’t want to be a hero,” Juliet cried. “I just want to be left alone.”

  Cathy asked the agents a few questions about the immunity they were offering and what exactly they were asking Juliet to do. But Juliet couldn’t hear any of it. Her head was pounding and she felt sick.

  Finally, Cathy took Juliet’s hand. “Honey, I think you should do it. Take the immunity, just in case. We don’t know where this will lead, or what Bob might have done. You’re tangled up in this just by being his wife, like it or not.”

  “You want me to wire up and go visit my husband’s mistress?”

  “I don’t want you to have to do any of this. But as your lawyer, I recommend that you take the immunity.”

  Finally, Juliet did the only thing she could. “All right. I’ll help you.”

  “Not until we have the immunity agreement in writing,” Cathy said. “Signed by Department of Justice officials.”

  Blue met Clement’s eyes, and he nodded. “All right. We’ll get the paperwork right away.”

  CHAPTER 22

  As they waited for the paperwork for Juliet to sign, giving her the immunity that she was sure she didn’t need, Juliet sat on the bed in her dark guest room and tried to sort this out.

  Fifteen years. Her marriage had lasted almost half her life. She had met Bob in college, when she’d been a sophomore studying communications, and he had been a medical student. She’d worked in the library for her work/study program, and he came in each day to bury his head in his books. She’d been smitten since the first day he asked her for help. Though she knew less about the workings of the library than he did, even though she worked there, she faked it until she found what he needed.

  “Saved my life,” he said. “If you ever need a tumor removed . . .”

  “You’re going to be a surgeon?” she asked, impressed.

  “If things go like I hope. It all depends on whether I can get a residency where I want. It’s not always up to us what specialty we can go into.”

  “I’ll bet you can do anything you want.”

  He basked in her admiration, and sometime over the next few weeks, he began to return it. He asked her out the day of his third-year finals. He took her to the lab where cadavers lay in cold storage and showed her a real brain.

  She managed to put the gross factor out of her mind and fell in love with his enthusiasm for his subject. And he fell in love with her adoration.

  Over the next year, they grew to be a couple, spending more and more time together. He studied most of the time, so she did too. But they came to depend on each other. She had never been more comfortable with anyone.

  He served his orthopedic residency out of state at Duke University in North Carolina. They said temporary good-byes until she could finish her senior year. But the night after her last final, he showed up at her house with a ring and a question.

  She said yes, and they married quickly. She joined him in North Carolina, where she supported him by working for a newspaper. She missed her mother and siblings terribly and felt as though she had somehow betrayed them. They needed her, and she wasn’t there.

  But as soon as he finished his residency, they returned to Panama City and she stepped back into her role of substitute mother to her younger siblings. Once he was in practice for himself, she was able to quit working and start having children. They found a church where the people embraced them as family, and he served as a deacon.

  One day, after they’d attended a funeral for a friend who’d died suddenly, Juliet cried on the way home. When they pulled into the driveway of their home, Bob sat there with her. “You know, it’s almost impossible to get out of this life without suffering,” he said. “There’ll be bad days and good days for all of us.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss on her lips, whispering, “But for us, right now, these are the good days.”

  That became a phrase they exchanged often, when gratitude found its way into their hearts. But had they really been good days? Or distorted illusions?

  The life she had known wasn’t just over. That would have been somewhat bearable. Instead, it had been erased. Her memories seemed like holograms, transparent and foggy. How would she sort through it all?

  She heard a knock on the door and called, “Come in.”

  Zach opened it, and light spilled in from the hallway. “Why are you in the dark?” His tone suggested he was battling anger and disgust.

  She hadn’t even realized it. “Am I? You can turn on the light.”

  He flicked on a lamp, and she saw his puffy, red eyes. “Honey, come here.”

  He shook his head and closed the door. “I don’t want to. I want to talk.”

  She sat up and leaned back on the headboard. “Okay, we can do that.”

  His chin was shaking. “I want to know why you’re trying to ruin Dad.”

  “What?”

  “I heard some of what was going on today. You talking to . . . all of them. The police or FBI or whoever they were.”

  She closed her eyes. She should have known. “How much did you hear?”

  “Enough to know that you’re trashing Dad and telling lies about him.”

  “No, honey. That’s not what I’m doing. You don’t understand.”

  “I understand enough. You’re making him out to be some kind of drug dealer. Why would he do that? He was a doctor! He took that oath.”

  “The Hippocratic Oath. You’re right.”

  “He said he wouldn’t hurt anybody. I don’t believe any of what you told them.”

  Tears assaulted her again. This wasn’t fair. God, what are you doing? “It’s okay if you don’t. Just . . . remember your dad the way you need to.”

  “I can’t! Because if you’re going around telling police and people that Dad was a criminal, how do you think that will make us look?” He lost control of his emotions, and tears ran down his face. “Dad was a good man. He would never do what you said. They murdered him. How come now he’s the bad guy?”

  “I know it’s complicated, baby. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for all of it. But right now, the FBI is investigating, and they’ve told me that if I don’t help, I could be implicated.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that I could wind up going to jail for whatever your dad was suspected of doing. They would think I was doing it too.”

  Zach backed against the wall. “Mom, he wouldn’t lie to us. I know he wouldn’t. He was a truth-teller. He taught us not to lie.”

  How could she explain that his father had l
ied anyway? That he’d had another family . . . a secret life? “Honey, there are things that have come out. Things he wasn’t honest about. The people who killed him said that he had something of theirs. Something he was hiding from them.”

  Had he heard about the mistress and the baby? Why hadn’t she taken the conversation outside or insisted on doing the interview somewhere else? What had she been thinking? Of course Zach would have listened.

  “But that doesn’t mean he was a criminal,” she said. “If he just had a chance to explain, I bet it would all make sense. But he can’t. He’s not here.”

  “Mom, quit looking for dirt on Dad!”

  “We’re not looking for dirt. We’re trying to protect you from these crazy people . . .” Her voice broke off. “Honey, trust me. I want even more than you do to find a good explanation and . . . rescue all our memories. I don’t want to believe that your dad lied to us.” Her words trailed off, and she buried her face in her pillow, hiding it from her son.

  Zach just stood silently, waiting. Finally, she felt him climb onto the bed next to her. Juliet lowered the pillow and put her arms around him, wishing he didn’t have to grow up so fast.

  CHAPTER 23

  Juliet read through the paperwork the FBI agents had brought her to sign, the pen trembling in her hand. Cathy sat next to her. She had already reviewed the documents and agreed to them. Juliet would have to trust her sister, because right now she couldn’t even think. A slow burn had started in her stomach, and acid filled her chest. She was having trouble breathing and her head felt light.

  Had she really agreed to go visit her husband’s mistress, to look her in the eye? What have you done to me, Bob? How had she gotten to this point?

  “You can do this,” Cathy whispered.

  Juliet shook her thoughts back to the form in front of her. She had helped Michael solve at least a dozen cases. She had helped solve her sister-in-law’s murder. Yes, she could do this.

  She just didn’t want to.

  She shook the pen, retracting the ink, then clicked it again. She signed the document and looked up at Darren and his partner. “So when do I visit her?”