Just Beyond Reach

by Candace Irvin

  Must have been some call.

  "Tess?"

  She snapped her attention to Gray.

  Genuine warmth stared back. That ol' Doc Daniels persona wasn't much of a stretch. She had a feeling that soothing blue saw a lot more than people gave the surrounding rugged features credit for.

  "Sorry." She lifted her legal pad and the manila folders stacked beneath from the edge of the map, setting them all down in front of her. "I was just reviewing the facts of the morning."

  "And those would be?" Again, Gray.

  Apparently, Joe didn't feel like adding to the conversation.

  Another shocker.

  Too bad. It was time to get down to business. "How much do you know about organ transplantation?"

  Gray shrugged. "Not much. But I'm a quick study."

  "Good, you'll need to be." Tess pulled the first of the six folders from beneath the worn pages of her legal pad and pushed it across the map. "Your cheat sheets are in there. But here are the basics: contrary to urban legends that have been floating around for years, it's not that easy to herd up a passel of unsuspecting citizens on either side of the border and start slicing and dicing—at least not without leaving a trail of crumbs."

  "I take it those crumbs assume the form of bodies in this case."

  "You take it right. Dead or alive, we all know full well that most bodies tend to talk when found, especially when they're light a few vital organs. Even if the bodies didn't turn up, there'd be the ever-present mystery of missing relatives."

  Gray tapped the top of the file she'd passed over. "From your voicemail, I gather these guys may have solved that particular problem."

  She nodded. "They may have. Several other problems as well. By taking destitute Mexicans and turning them into illegal aliens—the very type of citizen least likely to come forward, for obvious reasons—they've managed to circumvent the squeal factor. Even if someone wanted to talk, he'd risk deportation back to the very life he was so desperate to leave—if he was lucky. And when you add on the fact that the participants we appear to be dealing with consist of a core family group…"

  "It's brilliant. As twisted as shit, but brilliant."

  "Agreed. And it gets better." Or, rather, worse.

  "How so?"

  "We suspect the vultures may have the cooperation of the San Benito de Nursia Kidney Dialysis Center."

  Gray frowned. "Never heard of it."

  "Not many folks have—yet. It's been billed as state-of-the-art, but low-key and very private. The medical complex is located several miles south of Tijuana. The center opened their doors about ten months ago. I heard about them around six."

  "Why do I get the feeling it wasn't a good introduction?"

  "Because it wasn't. I was working a case at La Jolla General at the time. Renal-cell cancer, but only one kidney was affected. The patient had a damn good chance with surgery and a follow-up treatment with a drug called interferon. The husband talked her out of it. Some quack convinced him to drag his wife down to the Center for a four-course treatment of shark's cartilage. It's an…alternative treatment at best. Three months later she was urinating blood. By then, both kidneys were affected. She died two months after that. There have been other incidents as well." Tess shifted the legal pad to trace the circle she'd drawn on the map beneath. "So, while it's possible the organs are ending up somewhere else—"

  "This place looks like they're most likely to look the other way."

  "Agreed. But we can't be certain. When properly prepared and packed in ice, kidneys are viable for seventy-two hours. However, most surgeons won't transplant after forty-eight. But with a set of wings and a jet engine, a kidney could end up pretty much anywhere in the world in that amount of time. Except to do that, they'd have to enter the system." She finally glanced at Joe. "You come up with anything yet?"

  He shook his head. "No. I am waiting on a return call from the registry."

  Gray glanced at Joe, obviously confused. "Registry? As in UNOS, the national organ procurement registry?"

  Joe nodded.

  "I don't understand. If these guys are operating under the table, so-to-speak, why would they want to enter the registry?"

  "They would not. However, Teresa believes there is a chance we may trace the participants in this ring not by who has received an organ recently, but rather by who has not."

  Gray frowned. "I'm afraid you've lost me again."

  Tess tapped the map. "Think about it. What would happen if someone on the national waiting list had already received an illegal transplant by the time their number came up?"

  "They wouldn't need it."

  "Exactly. And if we can locate someone who's been removed from the list but is not dead—"

  "Then they might have received a kidney from this place."

  Gray hadn't been kidding on the quick-study bit. The man was going to make an excellent addition to the team. Tess pulled the second folder off the stack beneath her legal pad and slid it to Gray with a nod to pass it on to Joe. "Here's how I want us to divvy up. Gray, you take the immigration angle, since we've yet to make a solid inroad beyond the fact that Eddie's contact works out of San Ysidro." Not to mention that as DEA, she and Joe had worked with Customs and Border Protection quite a bit—and, hence, risked being recognized at the CBP offices. "Though they're not great, I've included the sketches that Joe and I had made of both booth officers—just in case."

  Gray nodded. "I'm on it."

  "Good."

  As to whether or not the booth officers knew about the kidney racket, she and Joe suspected not. More likely, the officers believed they were turning a paid blind eye toward yet another drug conduit into the States. But that would be something else for them to verify once they identified Eddie's San Ysidro CBP connection.

  Tess tipped her head toward Joe. "Since you and I are already in with Eddie, we'll stick with him. I'll continue to work the hospital angle. Joe, while you're waiting on the registry data and word on another border run from Eddie, I'd like you to drive back to LA and see if you can get anything out of the Mendoza family. Gray can forward the headshots of any potential CBP officers that he thinks might match those from the booth to you for further review. Also, pick up the classifieds from the Hispanic papers. It's a long shot, but maybe they're advertising the goods, or the need for them. In the meantime, I'll be heading to the hospital. I've managed to snag a half-shift from another nurse, then I've got my own." She scooped up the map and began refolding it. "Eddie's working today. I'll stop by the pharmacy and make sure he knows you and I had a rotten fight last night. Maybe make a pass at the man while I'm at it—"

  "No."

  She set the map on the table. "Excuse me?"

  Neither Joe nor that stiff frown backed down. "You heard me."

  "That I did. Perhaps you'd care to—" Tess broke off as Gray attempted to give what was no doubt his best invisible spook performance. Unfortunately, Gray's act wasn't faring any better than her hold on her temper. She forced a cool smile. "Why don't we discuss this after Agent Daniels leaves?"

  "Teresa—"

  "Later."

  Joe's jaw locked.

  Apparently Gray could take a hint better than Joe, because he cleared his throat as he stood. "Well, if that's all. I'll just find a corner and hole up with my file for a bit."

  "Fine, I'll show you where you can sit." Tess knew full well the man could sniff out an empty desk on his own, but she rose from her chair regardless and turned to follow the agent to the door, using the respite to adjust her shaky grip on her temper.

  Gray tucked the folder under his arm as they departed the conference room. "Go easy on him."

  Like hell she would.

  Gray waited until two of her fellow agents had rounded the corner at the end of the hallway and disappeared before he tipped her chin up and trapped her gaze. "I'm serious. The man's worried about you, honey. It's written all over him. And from what I already know of this case, he's got cause."

  Great,
now she had two mother hens. Tess sighed. "Gray—"

  "Uh-huh." He shook his head, his grin downright rueful as he released her chin. "I'm not shifting the bull's-eye to my chest. Just making an observation and a recommendation—as a member of the team. It's up to you to act on it or not. But I would try and find a compromise if I were you. That man does not look like he needs the added stress right now."

  His parents.

  Oh, God, how could she have forgotten? Tomorrow was the anniversary. And she'd laid into Joe today. This morning. Hard.

  The worse part was, she couldn't confirm or deny Gray's observations on Joe's stress level—because she'd been too busy trying to ignore Joe's presence altogether.

  Some friend she was.

  "Go on." Gray held up the folder. "I'll let you know if I have any questions about what's in here."

  Tess nodded as she turned back to the conference room, quietly shutting the door behind her as she entered.

  Unfortunately, Gray's observations—as well as her fears—were dead on target. While Joe was sitting at the table, staring down at the now opened file she'd left behind, she had the distinct feeling the words within weren't registering.

  And then there were the lines etched into his brow.

  Where had those come from? When? They hadn't been there when she'd watched him sleep this morning.

  This morning. She sucked in her breath as shame burned in again. Why had she lit into Joe today of all days? And so ruthlessly?

  Her shame and guilt were compounded as he shoved his hands through his hair, because she could see the tension gripping his shoulders now, too.

  Gray was right; it was up to her to diffuse it.

  But how?

  She was watching him.

  Joe pulled his hands down from his neck as the realization pierced the cloud of confusion, regret and self-doubt that seemed to cling to him so often of late. Despite Teresa's attention, he continued to study the reports she had generated a mere hour before. The level of detail was most impressive, especially in light of how little time she had had to prepare it—as well as how little sleep she had received beforehand.

  Sleep.

  Madre de Dios, that dream.

  Except…it had not been a dream, had it? He should have known. For it had been so very real. Much too real. If he lived to be a thousand years of age, the taste of her kiss would not fade from his tongue, nor the feel of her silken flesh from his hands.

  The sounds of her sighs.

  Truth be told, he had dreamed some variation or another of that dream more times than he could count since they had met, but not once had fantasy come even close to the bliss of reality. Though stopping had nearly torn him asunder, he had forced himself to do it. For he knew in his heart that if he was ever to make love to Teresa, he would never succeed in letting her go again.

  Not to another man, not to another job, not even back to her own space within her own apartment among her own things. As God was his witness, if he made love to the woman staring silently at him, he would need her by his side for the rest of his days.

  And that was the one place she could not be.

  He loved her too much.

  However, it was plain to see she did not believe him. Just as it was plain to see that she still did not respect his caution regarding Eduardo Hernández.

  Had she not spent the previous night examining six patients—each now without a left kidney? Must this man attempt to take her own before she would fear him?

  Unfortunately, he had no answer.

  Nor did he have time to search for one, because Teresa chose that moment to cross the room, the floral print of her nursing smock coming to rest beside him.

  "So…who called?"

  He flinched.

  Dios mío, upon learning of her renewed determination to serve as bait to the technician, he had almost forgotten about the call.

  Evidently, she had not.

  And from the flush now darkening her cheeks, nor had she forgotten her misconception regarding his caller. He held his breath as her fingers grasped the back of the chair Agent Daniels had recently vacated, hoping against hope she would withdraw them and return to the more distant chair, if only to preserve his sanity.

  She did not.

  She pulled the chair out from the table and sat, the curves he had caressed mere hours ago once again inches from his hand, leaving him uncomfortably aware of the underlying scent of the powder she frequently dusted with following her bath.

  "Look, it's none of my business who calls you or why. I just thought it must have been important, because you didn't have time to leave a note." Her flush deepened as she no doubt realized she had violated her own list of rules regarding their fellow agents. Rules she had stipulated that now pertained to him as well.

  Specifically, the prying into of personal lives.

  She retrieved her pen, as well as the legal pad she had used copiously before his arrival, and began boxing in the short list of Mexican medical facilities with kidney transplant expertise as yet another silence settled between them.

  He had hurt her. Again.

  His heart began to ache as she continued to draw that line of red slowly about the list, careful to take the corners of the box as sharply as the regret carving at his resolve. Why she continued to hold fast to their friendship, he did not know. Even now, after he had rejected her so shamefully in his shock, she continued to reach out to him.

  Even when she believed another woman held his heart.

  Though how she could believe so after he had plainly told her otherwise, he did not understand. Indeed, if he was the only one affected, he would let the misconception stand. But it pained her deeply.

  This he could not allow.

  He covered her hand with his, absorbing the sting as the tip of the pen skipped to the margin beneath her answering flinch. The thin line of red that bled down the side of the page only served to underscore his own pain.

  He waited until she raised her gaze to his. "Teresa, the call was not from a woman." The guilt cut as deeply as the relief flooding through those soft pools of temporary blue. He tried to seal it off, but he could not.

  No, he had not lied, but neither had he offered the whole of the truth. The call had not come from a woman.

  But it had concerned one.

  "I don't suppose you want to talk about it?"

  He shook his head, his regret as deep as the guilt.

  She nodded stiffly. "I understand."

  He tightened his grip on her hand as she attempted to withdraw it. "Tessa, you must believe me. I would, but I gave my word."

  "I said, I understood."

  She did not. This was as plain to see as the hurt. How could she understand when even he did not?

  Unfortunately, he had given his word. His brother had finally located a lead. Miguel had passed it to him for verification. All they possessed was a woman's name. A woman who claimed to be the niece of the man who might well have murdered their parents. But he and Miguel knew full well already that this man had no siblings.

  And hence, no such niece.

  But this was not the dilemma that tore at him so. What did was that in order to uncover this woman's true identity, he might well need to leave Teresa behind.

  But how was he to leave her side now?

  He had hoped, indeed had prayed, that learning of Hernández' true nature would cause her to take care with the man. It had not. All the knowledge had done was serve to strengthen her resolve. She was now more determined than ever to do whatever it took to accomplish her mission. He did not doubt her commitment.

  Indeed, he knew her well enough to fear such commitment most of all.

  "Teresa…about the hospital—"

  This time he could not prevent her from snatching her hand from his. She stabbed the pen into the center of her tablet and sighed. "Good Lord, Joe, I know you're under stress, but if you're going to start second-guessing me on Eddie again—"

  He held up his hand in surren
der.

  She was correct. He would gain nothing but her animosity by mentioning the technician again—directly. He drew his breath in slowly, carefully considering his path and the words that might place her upon it. "Tell me of this nurse."

  "The one at the party?"

  He nodded. "Sí, Señorita Kent. You think she is involved?"

  "I don't know. In the drugs? Perhaps. But with the kidneys?" She shrugged. "I'm not so sure."

  "Why?"

  "Her watch. Something about it…" Her brow furrowed as she picked up the pen and began to tap it against the tablet. "You know, I didn't realize it until this morning when I asked Reese Garrick for the time. Reese and Nicole have the same watch. She's wearing a man's watch."

  He frowned. "Many women do." He glanced at the leather band upon her own wrist. "You yourself have taken to wearing my old watch. You told me you like the larger face and second hand for your nursing work."

  She glanced at the watch. "I do."

  "And is this Nicole not a nurse?"

  "She is. But I don't wear your huge clunky watch when I'm also wearing two tiny bikini triangles held together by a thread and mini sarong tied to my hips."

  He averted his face as the image her words suggested slipped into his mind. It was bad enough to have woken in her arms, acting on that dream. He did not need to return to it here, now. Within a conference room at work.

  "Joe?"

  He exhaled slowly and turned back. "Sí, the watch. What does it matter when she wears it and when she does not?"

  She smiled. "You're such a man."

  He blinked. What did that have to do with—

  She sighed. "Joe, Nicole had pearl earrings in her earlobes. A fresh acrylic French manicure on her nails." Teresa lifted her own fingers and frowned at nails she tended to bite more often than clip. A habit he found oddly endearing. "Anyway, why a clunky sports watch with a nylon band that was practically frayed off?"

  Ah… "You think she injects beneath?"

  "I don't know. But I aim to find out. Somehow."

  "If she is addicted, why not—"

  "No, she's not harvesting the kidneys."

  Though her eyes reflected the incorrect color, they did reflect certainty. His own gaze must have revealed his confusion.