The Cartel Lawyer: A Legal Thriller

by Dave Daren

  I waved as I drove past him with the AC on full blast, and he glared at me but was able to merge into traffic after a couple of cars. He followed me in and out of the cars, down side streets, and through shortcuts that I knew would get me to the hospital faster than the highway during rush hour traffic.

  I finally saw the white and blue sign for Jackson Memorial, and I made the turn for the emergency room just ahead of the red light. I spotted two ambulances beneath the awning near the unloading zone, but I couldn’t see either my mother or her best friend.

  I swung my car into the first spot I could find, and a few moments later, I saw the goon who had been assigned to follow me park a few spots away. It took me forever to pull the keys from the ignition, and when I finally made it out of the car, the entrance looked like it was two miles away.

  “Everything alright?” my shadow asked as he strolled up to my car.

  He had on black slacks, dress shoes, and a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He had another cigarette in his mouth, and he made no attempt to hide the gun on his hip as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned against the hood of my car.

  “My mother collapsed,” I snapped while I locked my ancient Honda. “Are you going to follow me in?”

  I know I sounded testy, but I couldn’t help it. The idea of letting this thug anywhere near my mother, especially after she’d just collapsed, was not acceptable. Hell, I’d call Osvaldo directly and chew him out if this guy thought he was coming inside with me, and I didn’t care how many visits from Alvaro that resulted in.

  “Nah,” the guy said with a shrug. “Can’t smoke in the hospital.”

  He took a long drag of his cigarette and then blew the plume of smoke up into the air with a sly grin.

  “Of course,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “You know, you don’t have to follow me around. I’m going to get Camilo out with or without the constant surveillance.”

  “Sorry, man,” the goon said with an apologetic smile. “Boss’ orders.”

  “Right,” I muttered. “Well, enjoy your cigarettes. I might be a few hours.”

  “I’ll be here,” the goon responded. “I wouldn’t try to take another car to get away. It’ll only piss the boss off.”

  “I’m going in to see my mother,” I snarled. “Not trying to get away. If I wanted to do that, I would’ve gone to the police station, not a hospital.”

  “Just letting you know,” the man grinned as he lifted his hands.

  He held his cigarette between two of the fingers on his right hand, and it left a thin trail of smoke around him as he waved his arms.

  “Sure,” I sighed and ran my hand through my hair. “Can you make yourself scarce when I come out with my mom and her best friend?”

  “They don’t know who you work for?” he mused.

  “No,” I sneered. “I thought it might be detrimental to her cancer treatment to know her son was being followed and threatened because some judge made the wrong call.”

  “Damn,” the goon’s grin fell away as he stood up straight. “Cancer’s a bitch. My Tia went through that a few years ago. I’ll do what I can to stay out of the way… but I still have to follow you.”

  “I’ll take it,” I said with a sigh. “See you later.”

  “See ya,” the man gave me a little salute and then strolled back over to his black car.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I steadied myself. I couldn’t march into the ER when I was this angry, and if it was my son in a juvenile detention center, then I would probably do what I could to motivate the lawyer to hurry it along. Still, to follow me to the hospital when my mother had just collapsed was a bit too much, and the next time I talked to Osvaldo, I would kindly ask him to have his goons stalk me from a bit further away.

  Once I felt more prepared to face my mother, I forced a smile onto my face, cleaned my glasses, and then marched toward the ER. I could feel the goon’s eyes on me as I walked across the parking lot, but I made myself ignore it as I focused all of my attention on finding my mother.

  Cool air washed over me as the sliding glass doors parted to let me into the ER. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, like someone had cleaned ten minutes ago, but there were no janitors in the expansive lobby.

  There was a wall of windows behind me as I entered, a tall desk with monitors and nurses directly in front of me, and metal chairs with black cushions to the left and right that were filled with patients in various forms of need.

  One had his arm wrapped in a white shirt that had been stained red by blood from what I assumed was a gash. Another was a young mother who rocked back and forth as she tried to comfort the wailing infant in her arms. There was also a young boy of about six who looked a good deal less concerned with his bloodied knee then his mother did, and an elderly couple who held hands as they blindly stared at the local newscast.

  “Can I help you?” a middle-aged woman behind the desk asked when I stopped in front of her.

  She wasn’t unfriendly exactly, but I could tell from the puffy eyes and the tight lines around her mouth that she was probably at the tail end of a long shift. Her long, black wig had given up some time ago, and she now wore the long tresses pulled back with a plastic clip. There were remnants of dark wine-colored lipstick along the edge of her mouth, and acrylic nails that were so long I wasn’t sure how she could type. Her dark-blue scrubs spotted a coffee stain that looked even less fresh than the nurse.

  “Yes,” I said with a nod. “My mother was brought in on an ambulance just a few minutes ago.”

  My stomach did a flop as I said the words out loud, and my anger at Osvaldo’s goon was quickly replaced with concern for my mother.

  “Name?” the nurse asked as she stifled a yawn. “Sorry about that. It’s been a long day.”

  “It’s okay,” I responded. “It looks crazy in here.”

  “It always is,” she muttered. “So what’s your mother’s name?”

  “Oh!” I gasped as I realized I hadn’t told her. “Sorry… her name is Jasmine Torres.”

  “Okay,” the woman muttered as she began to tap her long acrylic nails on the keyboard faster than I ever could. “Right, here she is.”

  She glanced around her desk and then flashed a smile as she found her star-shaped sticky notes. She jotted down a room number before she tore off the top piece of paper and handed it to me.

  “Thanks,” I said as I took the offered sticky note. “Room one-eighty-one?”

  “Yeah,” the tired nurse said. “It looks like all of her vitals have been taken, and the doctor should be with her soon if he’s not already.”

  “Perfect,” I said with a bob of my head.

  I glanced around at the various doorways that fed into the emergency room and tried to sort out which one would take me to the assigned room.

  “The door on the right,” the woman answered my unasked question. “You’ll take a left at the first hallway, and it should be down on the right.”

  “Great,” I replied. “I really appreciate your help. Have a great night.”

  “You, too,” she muttered before she grabbed her coffee and took a long swig.

  The nurse’s instructions were perfect, and I found the room without any problems. I spotted Laura first, as she hovered near the foot of the bed and patted what I assumed was my mother’s foot beneath the blanket. Laura spotted me before I could enter the room, and she quickly scurried over to me.

  “Roberto,” the petite Cuban woman said as she pulled me into a hug just outside the door. “Your mother con el doctor ahora. I came out to buscarte.”

  “Thank you,” I told her as I wrapped an arm around her. “I appreciate you keeping an eye out. You’re truly a great friend.”

  “Of course, I am,” the older woman preened as she flipped her long curly hair over one shoulder. “Let’s go see what this doctor says.”

  “My hijo,” my mother greeted the second we walked through the door. “You made it so fast. You
didn’t speed, did you?”

  “Only a little, Mama,” I said as I walked over to give her a kiss on the forehead.

  She looked so tiny in the large hospital gown, and the fluorescent light made her cheeks look sharper. The hand she patted me with seemed skeletal, and I wondered how long she had been this thin. But she still had a smile even though she was in the hospital, and she sat with her back straight thanks to the pillows stacked behind her.

  “You should be more careful,” my ama muttered.

  “That’s the pot calling the kettle black, isn’t it?” I teased as I lifted an eyebrow at her.

  “You do what I say,” the Cuban woman warned as she narrowed her eyes.

  “Hi,” I said as I turned away from the frustrating woman to the doctor who stood silently to the side. “I’m Roberto Torres, her son.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” the man said with a slight inclination of his head. “My name is Dr. Nguyen.”

  He was shorter than me, but he had an air of confidence that came from making life and death decisions every day. But he was missing the haughtiness that so many doctors seemed to carry around, and I took that as a good sign.

  “Do you know what happened?” I asked as I laced my fingers through my mother’s.

  “Your mother’s collapse was a side effect of her medication,” the man said with a solemn look.

  “So it’ll happen again?” I questioned.

  “I’ll be fine, mi hijo,” my mother said with a tired smile.

  “We suggest that your mother have an in-home care aid until we find an acceptable dosage for her medication,” Dr. Nguyen said.

  “That’s too expensive,” my ama huffed as she shook her head.

  “We’ll do it,” I responded. “Don’t argue with me, Mama. I will take care of this. Remember, you promised to listen to the doctors.”

  “I said I would think about it,” the stubborn woman countered. “Mi hijo, that will cost a fortune. Laura can just come stay with me.”

  “But she has to work,” I said.

  “Yes,” her best friend agreed. “Necesito work y no puedes estar alone.”

  “Exactly,” I said with a nod. “You can’t be alone. You need to have someone there just in case this happens again.”

  “I’ll go make the arrangements,” the doctor said with a reassuring smile to my mother and an approving nod to me. “Your son is doing what’s best for you.”

  “Bah,” my ama huffed as she pulled her hand away from mine. “You are spending too much money on this old woman.”

  “Never,” I said with a grin. “It’s just payback for all of the times you’ve helped me.”

  “That’s what familia es for,” she said.

  “Exactly,” I countered.

  “You,” she grumbled as she narrowed her eyes at me for catching her in a trap. “Fine. But they will only stay until I have gotten used to my new medication.”

  “I can agree to that,” I said.

  I was pretty sure she would need the live-in aid until well after her chemotherapy was complete, but that would be a battle for another day. For the moment, she had agreed to have someone come help, and that was at least a foot in the door.

  “Thank you for taking care of me,” my mother muttered as she folded her hands in her lap. “You are a good son.”

  “I have a good mother,” I told her. “I’m glad that I can finally help you.”

  I leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, and I had to push down on the wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm me. I cleared my throat and stood as I looked around for the doctor.

  “We’ll go back a casa in tu carro?” Laura asked as she sat in the chair next to my mother’s bed.

  “Yes,” I said. “Though the old Honda may be a tight squeeze.”

  “It’s okay,” my mother’s friend grinned. “We’re pequenos.”

  “You are very small,” I teased. “You could both fit in the trunk.”

  “Mi hijo!” my mother exclaimed as she swatted my arm while Laura burst out laughing.

  “Just kidding, Mama,” I said with a grin. “Mostly.”

  “Everything has been arranged,” the doctor said as he came in with a clipboard and a nurse right behind him. “Amy will have you sign all of the paperwork, and tomorrow we’ll send someone out to your house.”

  “Laura, can you stay with mom tonight?” I asked.

  “Yes, of course,” the Cuban woman said with a nod of her head.

  “Great,” I replied. “Then let’s get this done and get you home.”

  “I understand you’ll be paying?” the nurse, Amy, asked me as the doctor left us with a small wave.

  “Yes,” I said. “I believe you have my card on file.”

  “We do,” the woman said. “From when your mother visited the oncology clinic.”

  “Perfect,” I responded. “So we just need to sign the paperwork?”

  “Yes,” Amy answered as she turned her attention to my mother. “If you could just sign the highlighted areas. I understand you’ll have someone with you tonight?”

  The nurse handed the clipboard and a pen to my mother before she showed the Cuban woman where she was supposed to sign.

  “Yes,” Laura said as she stood. “I’ll be there.”

  “Good,” the nurse said. “You’ll need to make sure that she doesn’t walk around too much. The dizziness will still be present for the next few days.”

  “What time will the nurse be there tomorrow?” I asked.

  “She should be there by nine a.m.,” Amy replied as she double-checked all the places my mother needed to sign.

  “Great,” I said. “So we’re good to go?”

  “Yep,” she gave me a bright smile. “I hope you all have a wonderful night.”

  “Thanks,” I replied and then waved as the woman walked away. “Alright, mom, where are your clothes?”

  “Oh, I put them over aqui,” Laura said as she went to fetch the garments. “I’ll help her get dressed. You wait outside.”

  “Sure,” I said with a nod.

  “I don’t need help getting--” my mother began to protest as I shut the door behind me.

  It took a few minutes, but just as I started to worry, the door opened, and the two petite women shuffled out with their arms interlocked. My mother stood under her own power, but the bright lights of the hallway accented the purple bruises under her eyes, and as she started toward the neon exit sign, she leaned more on Laura than she usually would have.

  I followed after them, close enough that I could rush forward and catch my mother if she needed it, but not so near that she would yell at me for hovering. I stuffed my hands in my pockets as the three of us walked through the lobby and out into the soupy, humid night air.

  “Where did you park, mi hijo?” my mother asked when we had walked out of the double glass doors.

  “Right over there,” I said as I pointed toward the old blue Honda. “You two wait here, and I’ll bring it here.”

  “I can walk--” my mother started to protest.

  “No, you can’t,” Laura snapped before I could reply.

  As the two women started to argue again, I ran across the parking lot to the car. I hopped inside, backed out of my spot, and ignored the glow of the cigarette from the car that had followed me to the hospital.

  I pulled up in front of my ama and Laura and quickly jumped from the driver’s seat. I left my door open while I ran around to open the passenger door. I helped Laura climb into the back seat, and then I eased my mother into the front passenger seat.

  “Buckle up,” I told the two as I shut the door.

  As I trotted back to the driver’s side, I saw the goon back out of his spot and drive slowly toward us. I clucked like an old hen and then climbed into my seat.

  “Let’s go home,” my ama said as she leaned her head back.

  “I’ll have you there soon,” I said as I shifted into drive.

  The traffic had thinned between the hospital
and my mother’s house, and I was glad that the two women were too exhausted to notice the black car that trailed half a mile behind us. They were both almost asleep in their seats when I pulled into the driveway and put the car in park, but as soon as the car stopped they both perked up.

  “Let me help you into the house,” I said as I opened my door.

  “No, mi hijo,” my ama huffed as she got out of the car and moved the seat for Laura. “You go home and get some rest. Us old ladies will be fine.”

  “Si,” the other Cuban woman nodded after she climbed out and put the seat back into its place. “We’ll be fine.”

  “You’ll call me if you need anything?” I asked with a lifted eyebrow.

  “Of course, mi hijo,” my mother said around a yawn that made her rock back on her heels. “Now, go. You sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” I muttered as she shut the passenger side door.

  I watched as both of them went into the house, and I didn’t back out of the driveway until I’d seen the lights in the living room go out and I could be sure that they’d gotten into bed. I yawned as I put the car into reverse, but I kept myself going with the promise of coffee in my near future along with a hefty serving of arroz con pollo.

  The black car followed me all the way back to the apartment, where it checked in with its replacement while I went back inside with nothing more than a wave to the men. I braced myself as I opened my apartment door, sure that Alvaro would once again be on my couch with his switchblade, but I was alone this time, and I let out a sigh of relief that came from the depths of my soul.

  I walked over to the sink and splashed some cold water on my face to wake myself up enough to make my coffee. I had everything ready to go before I remembered that I still didn’t have any creamer. I contemplated a night of black coffee but settled instead on a nearby coffee shop that catered to the nightowls and college kids.

  Once I’d washed my face again, I switched my button-up for an old band t-shirt and then grabbed my briefcase. I checked to make sure that I had my laptop, pen, and paper inside before I stepped back out of the apartment.