Justice for Sloane - Reina Torres

by Police

  The knot was suddenly a stone in her gut, weighing heavily on her.

  She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and stared at the screen.

  Vicente wasn’t running the sting, neither was Cruz. The Director of the local FBI Field Office, Jack Travis, was in charge to allow the others to focus on their specific functions within the command center.

  From what she understood, the operation wouldn’t start for at least another hour. Looking through her contacts she decided to call Cruz.

  If she called Vicente he’d only worry about her and she wanted, no, she needed him to focus.

  Sloane called Hildie’s name softly and her friend looked up with a smile. “I’m going to step out and go to the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

  Hildie rolled her eyes. “I can get you a police escort.”

  Groaning at the comment, Sloane moved into the hallway and when she was sure she was out of sight from all the windows in the conference room she looked up a name in her contacts and touched the icon

  The call was answered after a handful of rings. “Sloane? Is everything okay?”

  “Fine, Cruz. I just wanted to call and see how things are going. I didn’t want to worry Vicente, but it sounds like I made you worry too.”

  His laughter was warm and gentle. “Well, the longer you’re with Vicente, you’ll begin to understand. We have a network of friends in the San Antonio area and more, extending all the way across the country with not only First Responders but military units as well. We’re all what you might call… fiercely protective of our loved ones.”

  “So, you’re all stubborn as hell.”

  He laughed again. “Absolutely. And we don’t joke or play games with safety. Nothing would stop us from doing everything we could to protect our women.”

  “And you know that your women likely do just as much to protect you right back, don’t you?”

  Another laugh. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re too smart for your own good?”

  A cold chill passed through her. “I’ve heard that a few times in my life.”

  “You want me to deliver a message to your man?”

  Your man.

  The sound of it felt good and she reveled in it for a moment until the odd sensation coursed through her veins again.

  “No. I just needed to hear that things were going well.”

  “They are.” She heard the reassuring tone in his voice and latched onto it like a lifeline. “I think it was a surprise when Pilar walked in a little earlier.”

  “Pilar?” Sloane felt nauseous when wave after wave of fear rolled over her like waves against rocks. “She’s not supposed to be there.”

  “Well, things change on stings like this. One of the volunteer vice officers was unable to make it in and Pilar took her place. Don’t worry about Vicente’s sister. She’s tough as nails and she’s been trained well. Beyond that, she knows when to fight dirty.”

  “Can’t someone else step in for her?” Sloane’s head ached.

  “Sloane?” She heard the sharp edge of his concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “Pilar is his sister. Shouldn’t he want her out of danger?”

  “I think he felt that way when she was fresh out of the academy. Make no mistake, Sloane, Pilar knows what she’s doing. We all do.”

  “Oh, I know.” She felt horrible for making him think she didn’t. She just couldn’t manage to find the words to tell him what she felt.

  It seemed so odd to have these feelings again.

  The same unsettled stomach and pounding head the night that Kimberly died. What if she didn’t say something… try something… and Pilar was hurt or worse?

  Could she live with herself then?

  Would it kill the chance that they had at a future?

  Sloane pushed away the selfish worries and mumbled a reply to Cruz before she hung up the phone.

  She had no idea what she was going to do, but she knew she had to do something. For her to stay there and wait was no longer a possibility.

  Leaning back against the wall, Sloane started to formulate a plan.

  Chapter 13

  After Director Travis introduced Cruz and Vicente to the assembled group, he left it to his agents to go over the finalized plans for the sting operation.

  Cruz finalized the groups, dividing up local deputies and FBI officers, detailing EMT placement and distress codes. Once those details were covered, he turned to Vicente.

  “I’m sure all of you saw the coverage of the accident that started this whole operation,” he saw the group nod and exchange knowing looks, “we have one of the men in custody and the information he has given us is what’s led us to tonight’s sting.

  “They’ll be out trolling for women, looking for anyone alone… vulnerable. That’s where we come in. We’re going to be watching out for them. When they try to make their move, that’s when we’ll make ours. The important thing here is we all make it home to our families, our loved ones.” He tried to swallow down the lump in his throat but couldn’t get it down. “While you’re out there be sharp, be safe, and let’s get these guys off the streets.”

  The room erupted into movement. Groups formed up. Introductions were made, and the room began to clear. Vicente stayed back as the Director went with Cruz to go over the map again. Taking the moment to himself, Vicente pulled his phone out from his back pocket and stared at the screen. He’d taken a picture of Sloane sitting with his sister at the dining table. They were laughing over someone’s joke. The look of joy on both of their faces made this waiting easier.

  He was going to figure this out. He was going to put these men away and make San Antonio safer for everyone.

  And then Sloane could go back to her life, helping others and he could do the same. When they did spend time together, it wouldn’t be because someone was trying to kill her. It would be because they wanted to be together.

  That was the gift that Sloane had given him. A chance to look forward to time together.

  Cruz sat down on the desk beside him. “You thinking of calling Sloane?”

  Shaken from his thoughts, he shook his head and slid his phone back into his coat pocket. “I told Sloane that I’d call her when it was all over.”

  “That sounds like a plan.” Cruz gave him a smile. “Once this is over, Mickie wants to have you both over for dinner.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Vicente admitted. “It’ll be nice to take Sloane somewhere that isn’t just going from one room to another or to her work. I’m looking forward to the opportunity to take her dancing or maybe even away for a weekend.”

  Cruz’s smile only widened. “I like this look on you.”

  Vicente narrowed his gaze at his friend. “What look?”

  “Happy.”

  Sloane did her best to keep her promise. She put her butt in a seat and tried to make small talk with Hildie. Tried to eat some of the snacks she’d brought and find a way to talk herself out of believing in her ‘premonition.’ After all, it wasn’t even really a premonition, just a feeling that something was going to go wrong.

  That didn’t mean that something was… right?

  Would’ve. Should’ve. Could’ve.

  Sloane had lived so many years with those words in her head.

  What if she would have called for some help to look for Kimberly when she’d first felt ‘that’ feeling?

  She should have. She knew that for certain.

  If she had, and the police had gone looking for her earlier, they could have found her. Earlier.

  And if she read the coroner’s report correctly, a few hours would have made all the difference.

  Would have made all the difference.

  From that moment, it took a heartbreaking minute for Sloane to realize that she was going to break her promise to Vicente, but she couldn’t see that she had any other option.

  The feeling of dread that had taken root in her belly wasn’t going anywhere and there was no way that she was going to let something hap
pen to his family just because her luck was always bad.

  The cloud that had followed her for years had no right to latch itself onto Vicente. She wasn’t going to let it.

  If he was angry with her later, she’d deal with it, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that if she didn’t do anything, something horrible was going to happen to Pilar.

  Unlocking her phone, she double checked to make sure she had Pilar’s phone number in her contacts and then opened up the FriendTrack app. Turning it on she recognized the map immediately. Mr. Ordonez was more than happy to close his bar for a few days in exchange for having his rental fee cut in half for the month. The FBI had staged their command center in his bar.

  Sloane wanted them to be as close to their Undercover operatives as possible to give them every opportunity to make the sting successful. As she watched, Pilar’s icon moved out of the back door of the bar and continued down the back alley making her way to the next big cross street.

  The alleyways in that part of town were narrow, barely wide enough for a smart car to drive down and back again. The buildings hadn’t changed much since the early 1900s when building were made of brick and were closer together than they were in a more modern era.

  While she wasn’t sure where Pilar had been assigned to work that night, this app would give her a chance to find her friend.

  She just had to get down there.

  A deputy passed her in the hallway and gave her a curious look. “Do you need any help, Miss King?”

  “No,” she shook her head, “I just needed a moment to myself.”

  The man nodded and continued down the hallway.

  Sloane knew she couldn’t ask the deputies for a ride, they knew why she was there. Surely one of them would call Vicente if she tried to leave.

  Tucking her phone away she went back to the conference room. When she opened the door a solid cloud of acetone assaulted her. Sloane leaned back and away from the smell. “What are you doing?”

  Hildie looked up with the cotton swab still pinched between her fingers. “I brought everything we needed for a mani-pedi. When you were outside for forever I thought I’d start.” She waved the cotton swab over her foot. “I know I’m usually such a spaz when it comes to doing my own nails, but I was feeling particularly awesome tonight and gave it a try.”

  “What happened?” Sloane moved closer and craned her neck to see. There was a large explosion of purple polish that started on one toe and then moved halfway onto the other. “Did you spill it from the bottle?”

  Hildie rolled her eyes. “Did I spill it? Of course not. I was using the brush and then my iPod started that new Country song, you know the one that I can’t stand and so I reached over to change it and when I leaned back, I’d apparently painted my toes.”

  “Like Tom Sawyer painting the fence?”

  Hildie’s eyes narrowed. “Is that some home improvement show?”

  “Never mind.”

  Hildie had already moved on. “I put a ton of acetone on it, but it’s still there. All over my skin. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

  Neither did Sloane, but it was best to leave the worry to Hildie.

  “Oh, I think I have something in the car that’s stronger.” Using her elbow, Hildie nudged the keys in her direction. “Here, do you think you could get me my tackle box out of the trunk.”

  “Tackle box?”

  Hildie shook her head. “You know… my makeup kit.”

  “Oh, that. Sure.”

  Picking up the keys, Sloane was a step away from the door before she realized that Hildie had solved her problem. Looking from the office outside to Hildie’s new make-up bunker, Sloane felt one piece of her plan fall into place.

  Then again, it wasn’t so much of a plan as it was a crazy random happenstance, but she was going to take hold of it and run. Moving back into the room she crossed to the far side and reached up for the pulley ropes along the side of one window. She had it completely down by the time Hildie noticed.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Well, the station is supposed to be for law enforcement. If we’re going to sit in here and do our nails someone from the street might walk in and think we’re fooling around on the public dime.”

  “I see,” Hildie agreed. “Go ahead and shut the rest of the windows. I’ve got some movies on the phone we can watch when you get back from my car.”

  “Good plan.” Sloane finished with the windows and came back around the table. She touched a gentle kiss on Hildie’s cheek. “You’re a really good friend, Hildie.”

  “I’m not, really,” her protest was a little weak.

  “Oh really? I thought you’d agree with me.”

  “I’m not a really good friend. I’m the best.”

  Sloane turned away and walked out the door with a smile on her face. This was going to work.

  She would make it work.

  When the bar’s phone rang, Cruz picked it up and listened. “Uh huh. Okay, hold on.” He pressed the button on the phone. “I’ve got you on speaker, Hayden.”

  “Hey, how is everyone else doing?”

  Vicente sat on the edge of the table and stretched his neck to one side. “It’s like a ghost town out there. What about you?”

  There was a non-committal huff of noise. “Bored. We haven’t seen a suspicious vehicle or a shady guy anywhere. A couple here and there. Three obnoxious college aged girls who have some kind of Greek Letters on their sweaters.”

  “Sweaters?” Cruz cringed beside him. “In this weather?”

  “Well,” Deputy Haskell piped in, “they were drunk… so-”

  “Anyway, Vicente, your sister is probably fifteen minutes away from either starting a fight with the next dude that palms her backside or taking out her phone and playing solitaire.”

  Vicente shook his head. “I don’t understand why we haven’t gotten even a bite.” He and Cruz shared a look. “We grilled him.”

  Cruz nodded in agreement. “He couldn’t have been that good of an actor. Besides, this is a Friday night. There should be more people.”

  “More action.”

  “I’m beginning to get a bad-”

  “Don’t say it.” Vicente stuck a finger into his friend’s chest. “Bite your tongue.”

  Hayden came back on the line. “As much as I love wearing this Kevlar vest,” she chuckled, “are we sticking to the schedule? Taking this to the bitter end?”

  Vicente saw Cruz’s hesitant look. Together they turned to the Director.

  “Sir?”

  Jack Travis reached a hand up and scrubbed the back of his neck. “We’ve got everyone mobilized and put in place. Let’s keep this going until the end. Every time we do an operation like this, we know there’s a chance that the fish won’t bite.”

  “Well,” Hayden huffed, “then let’s keep fishing and hope the bad guys get hungry.”

  Vicente nodded at Cruz and then his Director. “Okay, we keep going.”

  He ended the phone call and considered calling Sloane. He didn’t want to bother or worry her, but damn it if he didn’t feel like he needed to hear her voice.

  Sloane knew she couldn’t go back inside if she wanted this to work. So, she hoped that Hildie hadn’t cleared out her trunk to bring all her nail supplies to the station.

  Using the keychain fob she unlocked the little black Mini Cooper and lifted the trunk. One look at the boxes in the back of the trunk and Sloane let out a sigh of relief. Setting the keys down on top of one of the boxes, Sloane opened the crate that held clothing in it. Taking out a sweater, she pulled it over her clothes. The sweater was dark, and her pants were loose enough and dark enough to work in that neighborhood. There weren’t enough lights on the streets to make it safe, but that would suit her purposes tonight.

  The accessories crate had a bunch of different hats in it. Picking up the San Antonio Spurs cap and twisting up her hair onto the top of her head, she pulled the cap down to secure it in place.

  Looking into the refl
ection in the back window of the car she gave herself a good hard look and nodded. This could work.

  She was a heartbeat away from dropping the trunk down when she stopped. The small cardboard box nearest to the front of the trunk caught her eye.

  Pulling the cover open she looked at the pair of phones laying in the chargers. Reaching into the box she pulled the first one out and pushed the power button. The phone flickered to life and the readout said that the power was 100%.

  “All right,” Sloane whispered to herself, “this is good. I can use this.”

  Lifting the hem of her hastily donned sweater she lifted her blouse up too and managed to tuck the tiny phone into the bottom of her bra cup, under the swell of her breast.

  “Better safe than sorry,” she muttered to herself, “even if it’s uncomfortable as hell.”

  Shutting the trunk, she ducked around to the driver’s side and opened the door. She set her phone down on the center console and shut the door, quickly buckling her seatbelt in before inserting the key.

  “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  Cruz leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “Tell me I’m not the only one that thought this was going to be a slam dunk.”

  Vicente shook his head. “Maybe we waited too long. Maybe they realized he didn’t die.” He reached out for the phone and picked it up, dialing up the agent in charge of the safe house locations.

  “Bravo? What’s up?”

  He was glad they didn’t need to muddle through with pleasantries. “Our witness. Any news? Chatter?”

  There was a momentary pause on the other end of the phone. “Hmm… not that we’ve heard. His mother’s proceeding with funeral arrangements. She didn’t challenge the mortuary employee who told her that it had to remain a closed-casket event.”

  “That was one of our guys, right?”

  “Exactly. Henderson is getting so good at these appointments, the funeral home director asked him if he wanted a side job.”

  “Well, as long as they keep up appearances-”

  “When he told me about the job offer I had to think about changing professions.”