by Pamela Clare
Tessa was almost afraid to hear the rest of this story. "Mama, I—"
"Hush, and listen! One day when she was bussing tables at the diner, she met a tall, handsome man—a truck driver out of California. He told her stories about the road, told her she was pretty, offered to show her the country. Well, she made it as far as the next truck stop before he'd gotten what he really wanted from her. She found herself standin' in the Texas heat, ashamed, alone, and tryin' to hitch a ride back to Rosebud."
As her mother spoke, Tessa couldn't help but think of Maria and the others like her who'd been kidnapped or lured from home by promises of a better life, only to find themselves enslaved. And she realized that something very similar had happened to her own mother—and that she was the result.
"That truck driver thought he'd gotten the better end of that deal, but he was wrong. The girl he'd left on the highway ended up with the most beautiful blond-haired baby girl, so pretty she looked like a baby angel come to earth. And she was smart and strong and brave. And when that baby girl grew up and left town and tried to build an honest life for herself away from the shame of her childhood, her mama's hopes and dreams went with her. I wanted you to run, Tessa. I wanted you run as far and as fast as you could."
Tears ran down Tessa's face, and she saw her mother for the first time not as her mother, but as another woman. Her mother had wanted to escape as desperately as Tessa had, but she hadn't made it. Instead she'd ended up with a baby. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I never told you because I didn't want you to feel bad, but I'm tellin' you now because you're grown up and you need to understand." Her mother's chin wobbled, tears misting her eyes. "I know you were ashamed of your grandpa, and I know you're ashamed of me."
Tessa shook her head, wanting to deny it. "No, Mama, I—"
"I know it, Tessa, and it's all right. It's all right." The look in her mother's eyes was as fierce as fire. "No matter that you didn't call, no matter that you were ashamed of me, I always thought of you and felt proud. I made a lot of mistakes in my life, but there's one thing I done right. And that's you."
Tessa swallowed the hard lump in her throat, tears blurring her vision. "I'm so sorry!"
Her mother wiped her tears away. "Baby, there ain't nothing to be sorry for. It's a new day, and we're together. You're safe, and that's all that matters."
In the sweet light of her mother's forgiveness, a weight Tessa hadn't realized she was carrying lifted from her shoulders and was gone.
Tessa was discharged later that morning. Her mother drove her home and came inside with her. Through the door that Julian had smashed. Into the elevator. Down the long hallway where John Wyatt had watched her. In through the door where Wyatt had taped the naked photograph of her. Into the kitchen where she and Julian had eaten together.
The garbage had long since gone over, as had everything in the fridge. Her plants were dead. Everywhere she looked there were memories. Memories of Wyatt. Memories of grim-faced detectives. Memories of Julian.
I'm half Italian.
Which half?
From the waist down.
"You got yourself a nice place," her mother said, hanging up her coat. "You just go rest, while I get rid of the garbage and those plants."
"You don't need to do that, Mom. I can—"
"Don't you give me any sass!" Her mother frowned. "If a mother wants to help her daughter, I reckon she can."
The signs of rot and loss were soon cleared away, the mail brought in, and the windows thrown open to let in the fresh, cold mountain breeze. Tessa filled her lungs, the scent of sunshine, snow, and pines lifting her spirits as much as her mother's friendly chatter.
It was over. She was home.
Just after lunch, the entire I-Team came over to check on her, together with Holly and Lissy. They crowded through her door, their smiles not quite masking the worry in their eyes— or their curiosity as they looked at her mother.
Tessa could tell her mother felt out of place, though she greeted them all with a ready smile. Why had Tessa been ashamed of her—this woman who'd survived so much so young, who'd worked so hard, who'd kept even her obligations to her drunk loser of a father?
Done with deception and shame, Tessa gave her mother's arm a reassuring squeeze. "I'd like you all to meet my mother, Linda Bates. She moved to Denver a few months ago from Rosebud, Texas, where I grew up."
'Texas?" Holly looked at her confused. "I thought you were from Georgia."
"That's what everyone thinks," her mother said. "She lived there so long she picked up the accent, bless her heart."
And without words the message was sent from daughter to mother and back again.
You're my mother, and I'm welcoming you into my life.
You're my daughter, and I'm standing by you.
"We all pitched in and got you this," said Sophie, holding out a extra-large latte. "Three shots of Mexican organic, one extra pump of vanilla—just the way you like it."
"Oh, God!" Tessa took the cup, raised it to her lips as if it were a silver chalice, certain she was in heaven. "You all are the greatest!"
They settled in the living room, Kara helping Tessa's mother to bring them cups of tea and glasses of water while the rest of them brought her up to speed on events in the newsroom. Tom and Chief Irving had been fighting every day, most of it having to do with Tessa. Some drunk had walked into the lobby and taken a piss in a potted plant. A guy from Lakewood was threatening to sue because Joaquin had photographed his dog without his permission.
Then Holly brought the conversation to a screeching halt. "So, are you going to tell us what happened, or do we have to wait to read it in the paper?"
"Holly!" Kara scolded. "I thought we agreed—"
"It's okay." Tessa had known they would ask. They were investigative reporters, after all. They were hardwired to stick their noses into other people's business. "I don't mind."
Leaving out Julian's name, she told them what they didn't already know, from her discovery of Burien's identity to the moment when Burien at last lay dead on the floor. Somehow it was easier to tell the story this time, perhaps because she was surrounded by friends, perhaps because she'd told it before, or perhaps because her mother stood in the background watching with sympathetic eyes.
When she finished, there was silence.
Kara stood, hugged her tight, her voice breaking. "God, Tessa, I am so grateful you're alive!"
Matt nodded. "Way to go, Novak."
Sophie was too busy dabbing her eyes to speak.
"Where I come from, we'd slaughter a mutton and hold a feast." Kat smiled. 'Tessa Novak, warrior woman."
That made everyone laugh and broke the tension.
"This is why I write for the fashion section." Lissy rubbed her pregnant tummy. "No one threatens to kill you for writing about handbags and wedding dresses. I don't know how you did it, Tessa, but you deserve to have your picture on the cover of Newsweek"
Holly smiled. "I want to hear more about Mr. Secret Agent Man. When are you going to see him again? And when do we get to know his name?"
"I don't know."
And just like that Tessa's spirits dropped a notch.
They dropped even further when her mother had to go work the three-to-eleven shift, reluctantly leaving her alone in her apartment. They dropped further still when a squad car arrived late that afternoon with her suitcases, retrieved from Julian's house, and her computer and files, which had been found intact in Burien's office. Amid the boxes the officers had carried up was one that held the espresso machine Julian had bought her.
She had expected her clothes and files. But the espresso machine?
Of course he sent the espresso machine. He bought it as a gift for you, and he's moving your stuff out.
She set it on the kitchen counter and went into her bedroom to unpack her clothes, a melancholy ache settling in her chest. Why it hurt so much Tessa couldn't say. They hadn't really been living together, after all. He'd taken her to his
house only to keep her safe. It made perfect sense for him to send everything that belonged to her over to her apartment now that Burien was dead. And yet…
Some part of her had hoped. She'd seen the look in his eyes in the emergency room. She'd felt his tenderness when he'd held her. She'd tasted his fear for her. And she'd dared to hope that she meant more to him.
Hadn't he all but said as much? Yes, he had.
/ thought I'd lost you, and it seemed to me the whole world had died.
It wasn't the same thing as saying he loved her, but wasn't it close?
Then again, he'd sat in this living room less than two weeks ago and told her he never planned on getting married.
Remember that part, Tess?
She hung up her bathrobe, found an unopened condom in the pocket, held it.
Warming Sensations.
If she were pregnant, would a baby change his mind? Would she want a baby to change his mind? Would she want him in her life knowing he hadn't stayed for her?
The answer scared the hell out of her.
She loved him. She wanted him nearby no matter what.
The phone rang, interrupting her thoughts.
She hurried out of the bedroom, hoping it was Julian.
It was Tom. "Glad it's over, Novak. When will you be back at work?"
Dressed in full body armor, Julian got into position, adjusted the weight of the HK MP5 submachine gun in his hands, and glanced at his watch. Two-twenty-eight a.m. After God knew how many years and how many lives and how much suffering, it would all come down to the next few minutes.
It had taken a team of FBI computer experts more than forty-eight hours of nonstop work to sort through Burien's files and uncover the locations of his cribs, stash houses, and strip joints. It had taken another forty-eight hours to mobilize, putting each location under surveillance and pulling together local cops, county sheriffs, state patrol, federal agents, and U.S. marshals for what was one of the biggest law enforcement actions in the history of the country.
It had been Julian's job to coordinate strategy. Involving eight states—Texas, Colorado, Utah, Arizona, New Mexico, Nevada, California, and Washington—Operation Abolish was synchronized down to the last second. In two minutes, law enforcement officers in more than a hundred cities would make their move, neutralizing anyone who resisted and setting victims of modern-day slavery free.
There had never been any doubt in Julian's mind where he would be when the action came down. Not only did he want to stay as close to Tessa as possible, he had unfinished business at Pasha's. He'd taken a position near the strip joint's heavily guarded rear exit, his biggest goal the safety of the girls inside.
He adjusted his earpiece, checked his weapon one last time, and waited for the clock to run out. As he listened to the final countdown, he felt like he'd been waiting for this moment all of his life. His pulse slowed. His senses sharpened.
Three… Two… One…
"Freeze! Police! Drop your weapons!"
It was over in less than two minutes. Overwhelmed both in numbers and firepower, Burien's thugs threw down their guns and whined like dogs. All except Sergei, who grabbed an AK— and got a round through the shoulder for his efforts.
"Chet, is that you?" Julian bending over a prostrate form on his way to the basement. "You look like you could use a drink."
'Tony? Tony Corelli?" Chet lifted his head. "You bastard! You played me!"
"Yeah, I'm a shitty friend. What can I say?" Julian moved on, shouting back over his shoulder. "And my name's not Tony."
One by one the suspects were searched, placed in full restraints, and marched to the police wagon that would take them to the Denver jail. Ambulances and victims' advocates stood nearby, waiting to take the girls to the hospital for evaluation and to help them get started down the long road to recovery—and home.
As Julian suspected, Irena and the other girls were in the basement, where they'd obviously been living. He found them huddled together, in tears and terrified, hiding behind an old, battered sofa. He approached them slowly, not wanting to frighten them further.
"It's all right. It's over. You're safe now." He said it first in English and then in Spanish, knowing that it would take time for his words to sink in. "No one is going to hurt you."
Irena met his gaze above the back of the sofa, pale and trembling, then gaped at him in amazement. 'Tony Corelli?"
He heard gasps, whispers.
Five more heads slowly lifted, five sets of eyes staring at him in astonishment.
"My name is Julian. I'm a federal agent, and I came to get you out of here."
Shock turned to relieved tears and smiles.
Then, wearing only a T-shirt and panties, Irena stood, walked over to him—and planted a kiss on his cheek. "I knew you weren't like the other men. You never touched me."
The girls were soon wrapped snuggly in blankets, hope restored to their young faces, EMTs and advocates escorting them up the stairs and into freedom.
And as Julian stood there, at last wearing his own skin, it hit him.
It really was over.
Chapter 29
Tessa slid her key into the lock and let herself into her apartment, shaking her head at the masked trick-or-treaters who stood by her door expecting candy. "Sorry, kids."
Careful to lock the door behind her, she flicked on the lights, set aside her briefcase, and slipped off her shoes. Then she walked into the bedroom to change, wanting soft pajamas, fuzzy slippers, and mindless late-night television.
It had been a long, long day. She'd have been home hours ago if she hadn't joined the rest of the I-Team for dinner and drinks. They'd put the trafficking package to bed this evening, and everyone had been in the mood to celebrate—everyone except Tessa. Unwilling to drag her friends down, she'd joined them anyway and had done her best to have a good time.
There was so much to celebrate. She was alive and unhurt. She knew from her interview with Chief Irving that Julian had gotten safely through this morning's raid. She and her mother were getting reacquainted and were fast growing close. She had good friends, colleagues who cared for her and who'd been there for her. And her investigation was done.
It was the biggest package the Denver Independent had ever run, eating up half of the A section and beating Kara's pollution expos6 by a full twenty inches. Tessa's first-person account of being held captive by Burien, together with her article about Operation Abolish, took up the top half of the front page, set off by a sixty-point hammer headline. The articles jumped to the inside, filling all of page three and part of page four. Sophie, Matt, and Katherine had written sidebars, Matt doubling as fact-checker.
It had been more draining to write the articles, to relive the horror of it, than Tessa had imagined. She hadn't cared this time when she'd gotten teary, hadn't felt embarrassed when Sophie had come over and hugged her, hadn't cared one bit when Tom had put his hand on her shoulder. She'd known even while she'd been writing that it was her best work to date, and she'd felt a deep sense of satisfaction when she'd finally sent the last file to the copy desk.
How strange it had been to write the stories and not once mention Julian. He was the driving force behind all of it. He'd pursued Burien for so long, had hunted him relentlessly, had sacrificed years of his life to bring the bastard down, but his courage and heroism were credited to anonymous "investigators."
"experts," or "sources close to the investigation." He had saved so many lives, including hers. He had stopped a killer. But no one would ever hear of him.
Tessa slipped into her softest nightgown, dropped onto her bed, and stared at the ceiling, feeling utterly miserable. She knew she was going to be dealing with ragged emotions for a while—Kara and the victim's advocate had both warned her about that. But the feelings inside her weren't all due to her ordeal. Some of her moodiness was likely just hormones. She'd started her period this morning—right on time. As relieved as she'd been to know there'd been no innocent life inside her for the h
eroin to harm, she'd also been deeply disappointed. Having Julian's baby would have meant always having a part of him with her.
And that's what it really came down to—having him near. In the short time they'd lived under the same roof, she'd gotten used to waking up beside him, watching him get dressed, smelling his aftershave. She'd gotten used to sending him for groceries and cooking him dinner. She'd gotten used to reaching for him at night and feeling his arms close around her.
She could get along without him, of course, but only if she had no choice.
She hadn't seen or heard from him since late Friday night in the hospital. She'd hoped to hear from him today—a phone call, an e-mail, a text message. Still, she knew he must have spent every waking moment since he'd left her side working hard. To pull off an operation involving so many law enforcement agencies across eight states…
She couldn't imagine the effort that had gone into it.
Perhaps he was exhausted and asleep. Perhaps he wasn't finished yet. Or maybe he'd been called out of state. Hadn't he said that might happen?
I'll be back as soon as I can.
She'd held onto those words these past few days, clung to the hope they offered. He would be back. He'd said he would be back.
"You're being ridiculous," she told herself. "You know he's busy."
But knowing it didn't make her miss him any less. It didn't take away her uncertainty. It didn't stop the ache in her chest. One way or another she needed to know. Were they a part of one another's lives, or should she start trying to hack him out of her heart?
She closed her eyes, tears trickling down her temples into her hair.
Tessa must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew her cell phone was ringing. She jumped out of bed, made a crazy dash for her purse, dumped it out on the floor, and grabbed her phone. "Hello?"
"I woke you." It was Julian.
A surge of pure joy rushed through her at the sound of his voice. "That's okay."