Call of Duty 02 - Sworn to Protect

by DiAnn Mills

  “Don’t discard it. I understand you live with this, but be careful.” Shannon took a sip of her own Diet Coke.

  “I’m trained, and I trust my instincts, my supervisors, and God.” Danika hesitated. “I should have listed God first.”

  Shannon laughed lightly. “Good save. What about the new man in your life who is saying and doing the right things?”

  “Doesn’t sound like much of a love potion, does it? I’ve tossed the odds of a relationship working back and forth with no solution.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  Danika preferred to keep the comments and suggestions light, but this was a haven for honest emotions. “I’m torn, but I like Alex. Perhaps caution is the key word here.”

  “I agree. Let’s keep this an open dialogue. Look for areas that are positive as well as negative. Remember what our moms told us? Trust has to be earned.”

  Maybe Shannon’s mother, but Danika’s mother expected her to already know life’s lessons from watching the mistakes in their church. “I saw the Hispanic woman who was at Toby’s funeral, the one who didn’t want to talk to me. Not sure if you remember, but she ran when I approached her.”

  Shannon nodded, and Danika continued. “When I tried to talk to her this time, she took off again. She climbed into a car, but I was able to get the license plate numbers and trace it to a Geraldo Romas. Nothing’s been done with it. I just want to know if she has any idea who killed Toby.”

  “So you feel like you’re juggling slippery bottles of nitro.”

  “Several of them.”

  “Don’t try to do this all alone. In the time we have left today, let’s make a list of priorities and talk about how God wants us to rely on Him. We’re going to list feelings and emotions as well as how you best handle stress.” Shannon walked to her desk and grabbed a legal-size notebook. She handed the notebook and a pen to Danika. “God gave us a left and a right side of the brain to understand and interpret our world. You can make it through this crisis, and you can distinguish what active roles you are to be involved in.”

  “One of the things to toss aside is pursuing a relationship.” Danika didn’t have to list Alex as a priority. It was ludicrous.

  “Have you and God talked about him?”

  Danika gripped the armrests of the plush chair. “In fact, I have.”

  “And?”

  “I can’t tell if what I want is the same as what God is telling me.”

  Shannon nodded. “I suggest you keep asking for direction. God has a habit of giving us what we need when we least expect it or when we feel we least deserve it.”

  Chapter 29

  A truth that’s told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent.

  William Blake

  Alex pulled up in front of Danika’s house. He looked forward to an evening with the two charmers who had quickly snatched up his heart, but not the inevitable conversation about his and Toby’s friendship. He should have told her about knowing Toby from the start. Trust. How would she feel about the doctor who had deliberately kept important information from her? And if by some miracle their relationship proceeded after tonight’s conversation, he should venture to the topic of his previous marriage. Hmm. No, he’d save that for another time. His blood pressure might not take it.

  Had anyone written a book about twenty-first-century dating? What about a book dealing with the relationship between a Border Patrol agent who’d been widowed by a killer and a doctor who believed the U.S. immigration laws had room for improvement? He was not a policy maker. Neither did he have a solution. He simply believed the laws warranted examination.

  Danika met him at the door, wearing a lime green sundress. “You’re stuck with just me tonight. Tiana has a runny nose, and I think it’s best she stay in.”

  “I’m sorry. Can I see her? And by the way, you look gorgeous.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled and didn’t seem quite as nervous as the last time they were together. He wished he could say the same about himself.

  After a brief visit with Tiana to confirm the little girl didn’t have a fever, the two left for dinner—and conversation. Once he opened the door to the passenger side of his truck, he realized he needed a topic that would lead up to the subject. He closed the door and struggled with what to say. After buckling his seat belt and starting the engine, he led in with the obvious.

  “Do you like seafood?”

  “Love it. Especially if I don’t have to catch it.”

  “I have a great place in mind. Afterward, I thought we could spend a little time at Barnes & Noble and have dessert at the café.”

  She turned to face him. “You’ve guessed my weaknesses—coffee and books.”

  “I was hoping it was this certain doctor.” This might not be so difficult after all.

  “You mean Tiana’s pediatrician?”

  “Wrong answer. But we’ll work on changing your mind. How’s work?”

  She turned to face the street. Not a good topic. “It’s been hectic. Lots of things going on.”

  “Do you need to talk?”

  “I can’t. You know, protocol and all that.”

  He pulled away from the curb. “I should have known better than to ask.” He’d find a neutral subject. “Tell me about your parents.”

  “They live in LA.”

  “I bet they spoil Tiana. Probably wish you two lived closer.”

  “They’ve never seen her.”

  Great. He’d tripped onto another sore subject. “I’m sorry.”

  She smiled. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I can’t discuss work, and you didn’t know about the situation with my parents.”

  He was striking out, and he had his own grim topic to discuss. He’d try something else. “What caused you to choose the Border Patrol?”

  She grinned. “Are you thinking there might be a vaccine for it?”

  Good comeback. “Possibly. I know different agents have various motivations for dedicating their lives to protecting our borders. Just curious about yours.”

  She glanced out the side window as though forming her words. “I’d always been interested in law. Did my undergraduate work at UCLA in political science and planned to go on to law school. But while volunteering at a mission that served a huge Hispanic population, I began to think seriously about law enforcement.”

  “What happened?”

  “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “I’d been tutoring a young woman in English, and I became very attached to her. Then one night she was killed in cross fire between two gangs. The arrested gang members were illegal. So was she. Another young man was killed, and he was a citizen.”

  Too much tragedy had happened in Danika’s life, and he hoped his news didn’t add to it. “So the loss of your friend caused you to apply to the Border Patrol?”

  “Eventually. Up to that time, I advocated open immigration—let them all come in from south of the border so they could have a better life. The more I looked into the situation, the more my views changed. If we were to allow everyone into our country with no restrictions, we would be inviting gangs and drug smugglers and those who have an agenda against the U.S.”

  Alex nodded. He’d heard this argument before, and he had to agree it made some sense. There was also a flip side, of course. If the government set up a reasonable legal procedure for people to enter the country, only those with something to hide would take the risk of entering illegally. The Border Patrol’s job would be much easier, in his opinion. They’d only have to watch for the lowlifes. But this was not the time to get into those particulars with this particular Border Patrol agent.

  Danika went on. “I still had—and have—compassion for hardworking, decent people who are struggling just to provide for their families, and I hope our government makes some changes in our laws to help the poor have a better life. After all, that’s how our country was formed. But in the meantime, the senseless killings of my friend
and the other young man gave me a new awareness that led to a strong sense of truth and justice. I decided to serve my country and its citizens by doing my part to enforce the immigration law.”

  “Sounds noble to me.”

  “My father thought it sounded stupid. But that’s another topic. Another day.”

  “Ever thought of getting out?”

  “You mean when my husband was killed?” Danika turned on the radio, and when a male singer strummed his guitar to Spanish lyrics, she switched it off. “At first I drowned my grief in my work. Then two things shook me back to reality—I had a daughter who needed me, and I needed to find who killed her daddy.”

  “Why don’t you leave the latter to the authorities?”

  “They’ve written him off. Human beings deserve more dignity than unsolved stamped across a death certificate.”

  * * *

  Jacob unlocked the door to his apartment, a furnished one-bedroom where his only company was cockroaches—a miserable hole, much like his life. On the balcony, children played and a mother scolded them in Spanish. A motorcycle revved up its engine, then sped through the parking lot to the street. The driver probably didn’t pay taxes or have a valid driver’s license. It scraped at his gut to think of the billions of tax dollars spent to educate and take care of illegals.

  The stench of garbage permeated the air, and the grit of desperation clung to his fingertips. He knew that with the setting sun, those inside the apartments would be out looking for something to steal, a dealer to feed their habits, and a hundred other ways to raise the crime rate.

  And now he lived among them. Probably the only legal citizen in the bunch.

  With a newspaper in hand and a stack of mail that he’d picked up from the house, he tried to tell himself life would get better. But hope had disappeared, leaving nothing but perpetual heartache in its wake.

  The silence produced an offensive ringing in his ears, not like riding the line alone at night or during the late hours when everyone in the house was asleep. This was different, a terrifying solitude that nearly paralyzed him. He no longer had a career or a home or a family. At forty-eight years old, his life had fallen into quicksand. His means of support was now constructing furniture, what he’d depended on to put Nadine and her sisters and brother through college.

  Powerless to save his daughter.

  Powerless to salvage his career.

  Powerless to restore his marriage.

  Powerless to bring Toby’s killer to justice.

  Where had it all gone wrong? Had Danika and Toby worked together to undermine the work of the Border Patrol and shift the blame to him?

  He tossed the paper and mail onto the bed and sat down on the lumpy mattress.

  “If the board decides to fire you, that’s a signature on Nadine’s death certificate.”

  Jacob buried his face in his hands and cried. His body shuddered. A vise seemed to squeeze his heart, and for a moment he willed the pressure to end his life.

  God, if I can’t make any of this right, let me die now.

  Chapter 30

  The greatest homage to truth is to use it.

  Ralph Waldo Emerson

  Alex parked his truck at one of McAllen’s finest steak and seafood restaurants. He needed a thick prime rib to boost his courage. All through the appetizer, salad, and entrée, they talked about his college rodeo days and more about Danika’s decision to enter the Border Patrol academy instead of practicing law.

  “Once on the job as an agent, I realized I had to prove my mettle. My goal was for the male agents not to look at me like a woman but as a capable agent who could handle herself on their level.”

  “You succeeded.” He lifted his water glass.

  “I think so. Hope so.” She paused, and in an instant, sadness passed over her face.

  Alex understood the meaning, but he was bound by his word to Ed and the trust Homeland Security had placed in him. “I have to tell you something. Should have told you right from the beginning.”

  She lifted a brow. “This sounds like serious stuff.”

  “It is. Toby and I were good friends.”

  Danika stiffened and paled. “He never mentioned you.”

  He saw the hostility in her eyes. “Most likely because of the nature of his—”

  “Pro-immigration activities.”

  Alex took a deep breath and silently prayed for help. “He often brought people to the hospital for treatment.”

  Her now-emotionless face left him scrambling for words. “We talked about his wife and daughter and how much he loved them.”

  Danika placed her napkin on her plate. “Oh yes. He loved us so much that he went behind my back to help illegals.” She peered into Alex’s face. “I didn’t see you at the funeral.”

  “I had emergency surgery, a car crash.”

  She continued to study him. This was a side of her he hadn’t seen, a side that reflected her profession. “Are you an activist, Alex?”

  “Not at all. You’ve asked me the question before. I’m a doctor who believes in the sanctity of life. Every human being has the right to medical care.”

  “As Toby’s friend, did you assist illegals to find safe houses? give them food and water?”

  “No.”

  “What did you do in addition to treating their medical problems?”

  He’d sure hate to be on the wrong side of an interrogation with this BP agent. “Nothing. But if I had known someone was hungry or thirsty, I’d have made sure those needs were met.”

  She glanced down, then back at him. “I can’t go through this again.”

  Alex leaned over the table. “If you were standing on the banks of the Rio Grande and you saw someone drowning, what would you do?”

  She said nothing. He’d taken a gamble in posing that question, knowing many agents would not enter the toxic waters amid the waste and strongly rooted hydrilla for anyone—except maybe a child or another agent. To complicate matters more, an agent who jumped in to save a drowning individual was weighted down by her own heavy equipment. But Alex wanted Danika to see his commitment to saving lives was not much different from hers. They both had muddy situations in their lives.

  “I once watched two men drown,” she said. “They were midriver and called for help. People on the Mexican side threw an inner tube. I thought the two were okay, but they were washed downstream. I never forgot it. Toby would have gone in after them without hesitation.”

  “My immigration convictions focus on the people who are in desperate need of medical help. I’m convinced the current laws are in need of reform . . . but I have no solution. Like you, I have compassion for those who are misled and taken advantage of. But I am not an immigration activist. Neither do I agree with those who take the law into their own hands.”

  “Did Toby believe in violence?”

  Didn’t she know her own husband? “I really don’t know. Are you saying you two didn’t have this discussion?”

  “No.” She dabbed her mouth with the napkin and grabbed her purse. “I had no idea about his activities until the day he died. I’d like to go home now.”

  Her revelation sank in deeper. She’d been betrayed. How could Toby have kept his beliefs from her? “Our thoughts about immigration are not that far apart.”

  “I think they’re at opposite ends of the spectrum. You kept vital information from me. You befriended me and my daughter as though we were a curiosity. And because of your deceit, I can’t trust you.” She stood from the table. “I can call a taxi.”

  “I’ll take you home. But you have never been a curiosity. I was attracted to you before I knew who you were.”

  “I’m supposed to believe you? Did Toby tell you I was stupid, or did you assume my ignorance?”

  He needed to let her cool off. Imagine her anger if she knew he’d agreed to help Ed and Homeland Security find the rogue agent through his contacts at the hospital. More mortar to the bricks would be his awareness of her threatening phone call. Add
his knowledge about Sandra’s undocumented status and Jacob’s job loss, and Alex stood on a flimsy foundation of truth. He wouldn’t trust himself either.

  After paying the check, they stepped into the night air as hot as the fire leaping from Danika.

  “Don’t write me off until you think about it,” he said, breaking the silence between them. “I’d like to think we could discuss this.”

  “Fat chance, Dr. Price.”

  He had it coming.

  “What else haven’t you told me?”

  Great. “Like you, some things involve my job.”

  Danika stared straight ahead. “I’m angry, and I’ve been betrayed. A relationship with you is not feasible.”

  Unfortunately he agreed with her. The evening had been a total disaster, and it was his fault.

  A late-model Ford sped around the end of the parking lot, seizing Alex’s attention. It slowed several feet in front of him and Danika. He studied the car, noting the many dents and scratches as though it had been in its share of accidents. The Hispanic man on the passenger side glared, as if Alex had done something to offend him. He didn’t look like anyone Alex had ever treated at the hospital.

  Time seemed to move in slow motion. Alex shivered, questioning his reaction to seemingly nothing.

  The man lifted a gun to the open window.

  “Watch out!” Danika tugged on Alex’s arm.

  The screams of women and children roared in his ears and flipped the switch to his adrenaline. Grabbing Danika by the waist, he pulled her behind the shooter’s car and across the parking lot toward a line of parked cars. A shot cracked the air, and a piercing sting tore through his right calf. He started to stumble and braced his fall. For a brief moment, he caught a glimpse of the license plate numbers.

  Ignoring the pain, he urged Danika on, hoping and praying she hadn’t been hit. Another bullet ripped the flesh of his right thigh, and he fell between a pickup and an SUV, a shield between Danika and the shooter.