by DiAnn Mills
The car sped off, leaving bedlam in its wake.
“Alex. Oh no. You’ve been shot. I’m calling for help.”
He listened to her 911 call, noting she was amazingly calm. But she was trained for emergencies. He was trained to treat them.
He glanced at his leg. Blood seeped onto the pavement, and the pain increased. Being tossed by a bull or a horse seemed like child’s play next to this. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, thanks to a hero.”
He attempted a smile. “So you’ve accepted my apology?”
“I’m thinking about it.” Her sad voice relayed her apprehension. Was it about them or the shooting?
“Hey, I’m good. Just a scratch.” He clamped his teeth down on his lower lip to cover the agony tearing through his leg. Later he’d think through all the happenings tonight from what he’d confessed at dinner to the drive-by shooting. “Do you know those guys?”
“Couldn’t get a good enough look to place them.”
“I got part of the license plate number.” He moistened his lips. Lately his expertise had been partial numbers. He’d never make it in police work. “Can you write it down before I forget it?”
She pulled a pen from her purse and opened her palm. While she jotted the first three digits of the number on the inside of her hand, he caught sight of folks gathering around them. A woman handed Danika a package of tissues. A teen offered a bottle of water. A man knelt beside them and prayed. Alex wondered if he might be hurt worse than he thought.
“Promise me you’ll call Ed Jimenez,” he whispered.
She took his hand. “Sure—after you’re at the hospital.”
An ambulance wailed in the distance. Alex fought the dizziness threatening to envelop him, but he wanted to see whether the wounds were a graze or required surgery.
“Lie still.” Danika’s tone implied he’d better obey.
The siren grew louder. What if this had been Danika?
Chapter 31
A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself.
Joseph Campbell
Danika paced the surgical waiting room. How long did it take to remove two bullets? Had the doctor run into complications? With her fledgling relationship with Alex, she had no idea about his medical history. Her mind was bombarded with urgent questions. Who were the shooters? The same people who had threatened her must have been following her. Her mind continued to spin with who, what, and why.
In all the pandemonium, she forgot to make the requested call to the chief until long after Alex was wheeled into surgery. Granted, Alex and Chief Jimenez were friends, but it seemed strange Alex preferred a friend to be notified before a family member.
“I’m on my way,” Jimenez had said. “How bad is he?”
“He’s lost a lot of blood. The good news is the bullets are not near a vital organ or artery.”
Closing her eyes, she prayed again for Alex’s recovery and the doctor’s wisdom. He’d taken those bullets for her. She’d been the target, not him. The evening had been a conundrum of events; the beginnings of a pleasant dinner, then Alex’s confession, and finally the shooting all bewildered her. How did she really feel about him?
Reality hit hard—a wicked punch to her heart and mind. Someone was stalking her, someone who wanted her dead. She replayed the conversation with the man who had threatened her. He claimed Jacob was the rogue agent giving confidential information to drug smugglers. He’d gone on to say Jacob had killed Toby and was out to kill her for supposedly going to the supervisors about his alliance with drug smugglers. To make matters worse, the caller said Jacob blamed her for wrecking his marriage.
Tiana. How could she ensure her daughter’s safety? Where could Danika send her? She had no siblings or friends outside of McAllen who would take in a four-year-old. Neither could Mama and Papa Morales, who were ill and struggled to care for themselves. Neither would Danika want to put their lives in jeopardy. Somehow this had to be linked to Toby’s death—some intricate labyrinth of treachery that she’d not been able to untangle. Tomorrow night after Tiana went to bed, she’d resume searching through police records, newspaper reporting, court records, and the coroner’s finding. The clues were there. She simply had to find them.
She glanced at her watch and contemplated a way to keep Tiana safe. Her parents were night owls, and they’d still be up. She still remembered the number, but she needed courage to call them. This was for Tiana, not her. Surely they’d want to help.
Danika slid into a chair in a corner of the waiting room. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her cell phone and stared at it for several seconds before pressing in the old but familiar number.
Her heart pounded in time with her rolling stomach. Perhaps the years had melted the differences separating them. They’d never gotten along well, but adults should be able to work out their problems for the sake of a child. She was willing—oh, so very willing.
On the third ring, Dad answered.
“Dad, this is Danika.”
Silence met her ears.
“Dad.”
“Yes. What do you want?” His tone proved reminiscent of years gone by.
“I need a place for my daughter to stay for a few weeks.”
“Is this the daughter who’s deaf?”
Rejection swirled through her. “Yes, it is. She’s a sweet little girl and—”
“What kind of trouble are you wanting to bring us? First you leave law school for some grandiose dream of having a purpose with the Border Patrol. You disgrace us by marrying a wetback, and when he’s killed, you’re left to raise a deaf kid. What have you done now?”
Dad’s words spit like venom and with such force that she didn’t have an opportunity to explain. She couldn’t send Tiana there, even if Dad and Mom agreed. “Never mind. I see nothing’s changed.”
“What did you expect with all you’ve done?”
“I don’t know, Dad. Compassion? A desire to see your granddaughter? A relationship? Isn’t that what you preach on Sunday mornings?”
He hung up, and she slipped her phone into her purse. Fresh tears pooled in her eyes, but she refused to give in to them. She and Dad always managed to bring out the worst in each other.
The doctor exited the surgical doors. “Miss Morales?”
She stood and hurried into the hallway. “Is Alex going to be all right?”
“He’s in recovery. In about twenty minutes, you can see him, but just for a few minutes.”
Praise God. No matter what she’d learned about him tonight, he’d saved her life . . . and she did care. Must be her destiny.
Her first glimpse of Alex’s pale face and the assortment of monitors attached to his body reminded her of Jon Barnett’s ordeal. Although Barnett had been worse, he hadn’t taken the bullets for her. Alex would not see her cry, especially when she hadn’t figured out where he fit—if anywhere—in her life.
“I wanted to make sure you were really okay,” he whispered.
“That’s my line.” She reached for his hand. She’d offer compassion for any man who’d been shot while protecting her. “How are you feeling?”
“Pain free for now. And sleepy. ”
“Good. Who else can I call?”
“I hate to bother you.”
“It’s already on my list.”
He closed his eyes. “In my contact file on my phone, you’ll find my mother’s information—Karen Price. Make sure she understands it’s a flesh wound, nothing more.”
“Can I expound on your supernatural abilities to save a damsel in distress? hint of a Purple Heart?”
“Hardly.” He was pale and fighting to keep his eyes open.
“Consider it done. I can stay for only a few minutes, so I’ll make the call when I leave.”
He smiled but didn’t open his eyes. “Oh, the ways of a woman when she’s in the company of her hero.”
“Something tells me you’re never going to let me forget this.”
>
“That’s right. Did it convince you of my sincerity?” His response triggered the memories of earlier in the evening.
“Not now, Alex. Let’s get you on the road to recovery first.”
Danika sensed another person in the room. She turned to see Chief Jimenez beside her. She seldom saw him in street clothes. He looked . . . nearly human.
Worry lines creased his eyes. “How’s our resident doctor?”
“After the surgeon pulled two bullets from my leg, I’d say I’m ready to do the rodeo circuit.”
“Did either of you recognize the shooter or driver?”
She opened her palm. “Alex caught this much of the license plate numbers.”
Jimenez flipped out a small pad of paper and jotted down the numbers. “I sure would like to know where Jacob was tonight.”
Danika attempted to respond, but the words failed her. Although Jacob wasn’t in the shooter’s car, the same question had been planted in her thoughts too.
Alex opened his eyes. “Hey, Ed. I bet you wondered which one of us was the target.”
Danika’s gaze flew to Jimenez’s face. What did Alex mean by that remark?
* * *
Sandra read Tiana one more bedtime story, an increasing chore as the little girl’s interest in longer books grew and the signing became more difficult. But all too soon, Tiana would be able to read herself, and the cherished time with the dark-eyed beauty would be gone forever except in memories.
Tiana lifted Sandra’s chin. “Where is Mommy?”
“At the hospital with a sick friend.”
“Who? Mr. Barnett?”
“No, honey. He’s fine and at home getting better every day.”
“Did Dr. Alex get sick at dinner?”
Sandra toyed with what to say. “I’m not sure. Mommy will tell us when she gets home.”
“Can I wait up for her?”
“What if I ask her to wake you up when she comes home?”
Tiana tilted her head, her hands in her lap, her typical pose for thinking before signing. “Okay. Can you read me one more story after this?”
Sandra kissed her cheek. “One more, then off to bed.”
An hour later, Sandra sat in the living room with the TV muted, no sound, just the picture. It merely offered her company. When she first came to live with Danika and Tiana, she watched TV this way to gain a connection into the child’s world. Tonight was different. Suspicions had crept into Sandra’s mind about Toby’s death, Nadine’s disappearance, and tonight’s shooting, and she craved answers like Tiana craved stories.
The idea happened upon her this afternoon while Tiana climbed on her gym set. The little girl struggled to reach the top rung of a ladder. Tiana was afraid of heights, and the only way for her to reach the top was to close her eyes and take one step at a time.
The scene reminded Sandra of Lucy—determined to reach the top, even if her eyes were closed. Sandra would catch Tiana if she fell, but no one would catch Lucy. She made sure those under her power knew she was in control, and they all hated her for it. The evil in the woman made Sandra cringe. The women who worked for Lucy, especially those who were illegal and paid only half fare to cross the border, were often beaten into submission.
That’s when Sandra’s thoughts turned to Nadine. Did Lucy know anything about the girl’s disappearance? Would she use Barbara’s daughter for her own selfish purposes?
Sandra’s stomach tightened. She had no proof that Lucy had been involved, and she refused to think about it a moment longer . . . but it made sense. And if Lucy was connected to Nadine’s disappearance, did that mean she had her dirty fingers in the other tragedies of the Morales family?
* * *
Danika sat with Chief Jimenez in the surgical waiting room. No one was around, and she took advantage of the opportunity to settle some work matters. With all the happenings tonight, she wanted a few things cleared up.
“I need to be frank with you,” she began.
Chief Jimenez looked tired, and rightfully so. His job seemed to deepen the lines on his face. In the dim lighting, he didn’t look as formidable as she’d often found him. “Go ahead.”
“I’m tired of being under suspicion for whoever has sold out the Border Patrol. My record is clean. Eight years I’ve been there, and I’ve never been reprimanded or done anything against the rules and regulations of my job.”
“I agree with your record.”
“Have I been exonerated?”
“Unofficially, yes.”
Frustrated, she probed deeper. “Was Jacob dismissed because of the abuse incident or because you suspect him of being the rogue?”
Jimenez took a deep breath, blew it out, and leaned forward. “Do you really think I can answer that?”
She’d been pushing her luck, and she knew it. “I believe you did. Is there proof?”
“Are you in contact with him?”
“Just his wife. He moved out.”
“You need to be more careful. Your daughter needs a parent to rear her.”
Her thoughts exactly. “Are we talking about Jacob or the shooting tonight?”
“You have a way of bringing your point back around to the present.”
“I want to know if you suspect Jacob is behind the shooting.”
“I don’t know.”
Yes, you do, and I deserve an answer. “What did Alex mean when he asked if you wondered which one of us had been the target?”
“He’s on pain medication—delirious.”
Jimenez’s evasive attitude frustrated her. “Does that mean you won’t tell me or you can’t?”
“Both.”
“Would you like my resignation?”
“Don’t even consider it, because I’d refuse.”
Anger surfaced, leaving her body trembling. “I believe that’s my choice.”
He stood. “We need to talk in private. Do you need a ride home?”
Every bit of her wanted to call a taxi, but he obviously had more to say, and information was what she craved. They exited the hospital and walked toward Jimenez’s truck. She’d heard he hired, fired, and made his biggest decisions in that truck. Where did she fit since he refused her resignation?
She slid into the passenger side and watched him walk around the front. If she read his body language correctly, he was about to deliver a lecture.
He started up the engine and drove out of the hospital parking lot. “Danika, if you quit, then they’ve won.”
“Who’s won?”
“Those who are threatening you.” They stopped at a red light. “Look at it this way. If someone wants you dead bad enough, do you think it matters if you’re working for the Border Patrol or not?”
“I get your point.” She steepled her fingers and tapped them together. “I want to take a polygraph.”
“We can do that. And for the record, I’m working to keep you safe.”
His tone bothered her, as though he hid more information than he was revealing. “Do you have agents trailing me and watching my house?”
Jimenez eased through the green light. “Something along those lines. I’m glad you’re friends with Alex Price.”
“We ended it.” One journey down the road with a deceptive man had been enough. Granted, she was grateful for his protection and felt horrible about his being shot. But a personal relationship was out of the question. It had to be no matter how she felt.
Whatever he had going on with Jimenez could be their little secret. Those two could play their games with someone else. But Alex’s question still burned in her mind. Why would he be a target?
Chapter 32
A man’s character is his fate.
Heracleitus
Friday morning, Danika woke before dawn and began reading and rereading all of the information she had compiled after Toby’s death. The police reports and newspaper accounts spread across her bed should offer clues, but no matter how many times she read them, nothing new surfaced. His fellow teachers at the
high school had been equally shocked at the senseless murder. She’d spent time contacting parents and students to see if any of them could offer a lead. But they were either afraid to get involved or illegal and feared deportation.
Like a tenacious detective, she played the game of what-if. Toby had been murdered and his body found on a trail used by illegals to avoid the checkpoint. No suspects. No motive. No clues. A dead end.
From the threatening phone calls, she believed the shooters were connected to Toby, but how? Was he killed because he held pro-immigration ideals or because he’d been caught up in something out of his control? And if Toby’s killer was after her, why wait two years?
Until her conversation with Chief Jimenez, she thought perhaps she was overreacting. But Jimenez convinced her that the happenings were serious—and she should be careful. And if she should be watchful, how safe was her little girl? Tiana needed to be moved to a safe place. Her father had refused, which left her with no one to turn to.
Danika leaned back on her pillow and closed her eyes. Her father could preach like a white-haired prophet and call hundreds to repentance, but he didn’t know how to show love. How sad. His hypocrisy had nearly driven her away from God until she met her husband. Toby’s contagious love for the Lord had drawn her back into a right relationship. Even now, with unanswered questions and mounting bitterness aimed at Him for taking Toby, she understood that only God could restore her faith and keep her daughter safe.
Alex. According to the nurses’ station, he’d be released today. She’d phoned earlier in the week to check on his recovery, but she didn’t leave a message. Three days, and she missed him. Ludicrous. They’d shared only two dates, and all he’d done was mess up her mind and break her heart.
Glancing at the time, she shoved the file about Toby from her lap and lifted the heap onto her dresser. This morning she needed extra-strong coffee—more like a triple espresso.