Call of Duty 02 - Sworn to Protect

by DiAnn Mills

  She pressed her lips together. “We were like family . . . but obviously not when it mattered the most.”

  “We’ve got to get you out of here so you can make a video call to San Antonio.”

  “Have you talked to Tiana?”

  “I did. She says for you to get better, and she loves you.”

  Danika brushed away tears. “Thank you. Did she ask about Sandra?”

  Alex hated telling Danika things that would upset her. “Yes, and I told her Sandra was needed here with important people. I didn’t want to lie to her. Neither did I want to tell her the truth.”

  “I couldn’t have done any better. Poor little thing. When this is over, I’ll make it up to her.” She released his hand and pulled a tissue from a box on her bed. “I’m sort of weepy this afternoon—with the news about the fire and Jacob’s arrest. The police told Barbara that Nadine’s fingerprints were on Jacob’s watch. No one is to know that part of it.”

  Frustration crept through him. He wished Danika hadn’t phoned Barbara, although he understood why. The whole unsolved murder and continued threat against Danika and her family had to end soon. “Do you think either of them tried to burn down the house with their family in it?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to. Barbara believes Jacob is innocent. Says he wants to put the family back together. I didn’t pry about Nadine.”

  Alex moaned. The situation with the Morales family seemed to get more and more complicated. “I understand he was questioned about where he was the night of your accident.”

  “Chief Jimenez didn’t reveal any of that. I imagine Jacob was in his apartment asleep.”

  “Right.”

  “I tried to get Sandra to agree to a phone call, but she insists our conversation has to be in person, which makes no sense. I think she’s being stubborn, maybe holding out to see if I have any clout that would stop her deportation.”

  Alex remembered earlier in the day when they had agreed to pray. “What do you say we pray and ask God for wisdom and guidance?”

  “Perfect.” She touched his hand, and he held it firmly. “Not so very long ago, I was so angry with God that I couldn’t pray or attend church. He’d taken Toby, and I wanted to know why. The tough realization came when I realized the why didn’t matter. People have free will to choose evil things, and I must forgive them. God didn’t stop Toby’s murderer, and I have to accept the reason is beyond my understanding. Rough realization, but true. Those nearly two years I spent away from God didn’t accomplish a thing but make me empty and bitter. I still want the killer found and brought to justice. Don’t think I’ve given up. I’m determined to find who is behind this nightmare and stop them before someone else is killed.”

  The blue-gray pools of her eyes brimmed with tears. “See what happens when I’m on pain pills? I spill my guts.”

  Alex leaned over and brushed a kiss against her lips. “You are such a blessing to me.” His whispered words connected to his heart, and the look he received from her said she understood.

  “Heavenly Father,” he began. “We don’t know which way to turn with all the problems around us. But we’re trusting You to bring the darkness to light. Give us wisdom and guidance and strength to see this through to the end. We’re scared, Lord. . . .”

  Chapter 50

  If a man hasn’t discovered something that he will die for, he isn’t fit to live.

  Martin Luther King Jr.

  Sandra hated being in jail even though she knew she’d broken the law. She wanted to believe she had a right to live in this country, even if her documentation papers were false. The thought of deportation churned her stomach. It would be different if she smuggled drugs or helped terrorists. After all, she paid taxes. She’d learned to read and write English before leaving her time of indenture to Lucy. Actually, forcing her to read was the best thing Lucy had ever done for her. Sandra consumed every book, magazine, and newspaper she could get her hands on. She worked hard to increase her vocabulary and keep up to date on current affairs, and she probably knew more about the politics in this country than the average American.

  Without Sandra, Danika would not have been able to work and provide for her daughter. . . . Without Danika, Sandra wouldn’t have a home or a purpose or a dear friend.

  Danika had given her so much love and devotion, and Sandra gladly returned it. But life and its complications were terribly unfair, and now the U.S. wanted to send her back to Mexico because she hadn’t entered the country legally? She’d do anything to stay in this country.

  Sandra buried her face in her hands. She missed Tiana, the precious baby she’d never had. What did she have in Mexico without Tiana, without her parents? She should have left McAllen months ago—like Cira had fled with her son. Then Danika would never have had to face the disappointment of her maid and nanny living a lie.

  Sandra’s one hope rested in Danika. After all, she was a Border Patrol agent, and she had access to those higher-up people who enforced U.S. laws. Besides, Sandra had valuable information about Lucy. Bargaining for her freedom seemed wrong, but Sandra had no choice.

  What Sandra knew about Lucy could send the evil woman to death row. She’d killed and beaten women who attempted to escape her abuse. Lucy dabbled in drug dealing and worked with gangs on both sides of the river. Yes, Lucy was her ace. Sandra would tell all she knew about the supposedly legal maid and nanny business and fill up pages of information for the police or Border Patrol or ICE or Homeland Security or whoever wanted it. But first she had to tell Danika the truth. Her friend deserved to know why Sandra had betrayed her, not just a confession. Only Danika knew how loyal Sandra had been.

  Sandra had suspected for a long time that Lucy was involved with Toby’s murder, and now she was certain of it. Especially after Lucy had Sandra’s parents killed. If Danika wanted Toby’s murder solved and all the terrible things happening to her and her brother-in-law’s family to end, then she’d have to ensure that Sandra never set foot in Mexico again.

  I don’t know what is right anymore. I’m afraid, and maybe Danika can help. But am I using my love and friendship like a selfish child?

  Sandra allowed the tears of regret to freely flow. As soon as she talked to Danika, she needed to request an audience with an attorney and a representative of the Mexican embassy. This was all going to work out just fine. Important people needed her and would make sure she wasn’t sent back to Mexico.

  Then why did fear stamp terror across her heart?

  * * *

  Alex wanted his relationship with Danika to deepen, but it would never happen until they confronted the elephant in the room. Oh, they could discuss Jacob and the fire, the missing niece, Sandra, and whoever had tried to kill them, but none of that was what should be—must be—talked through. Undocumented immigrants. Or as Danika would call them, illegals.

  He glanced at her, hooked up to IVs and monitors, her face pale and her body bruised. But she was out of danger, and he knew her mind raced as fast as his.

  “Do you think it’s time to stop dancing around the one topic that stands between us?” Alex wasn’t sure where it would lead them, but honesty was the only road to understanding.

  She blinked. “Why is it you seem to know exactly what I’m thinking?”

  “I work at it.” He chuckled and took her hand.

  She glanced away, then looked at him. “Okay. I’ll start. First of all, let me say that I grew up in church, and over the years I’ve examined every piece of Scripture about helping the alien and the poor and needy, and additional Scriptures about not moving our borders and obeying laws.”

  “Where do you hold your ground?”

  “I believe the laws are in place to protect our country. I’m against anyone stealing their way across the border for any reason. My heart goes out to those who risk everything they have—or don’t have—to get here. I know most of them are decent human beings, and I agree that they’re entitled to medical care and compassion before they’re returned
to their own country. When I’m responsible for those being escorted across the bridge, I pray their lives will be better. I pray their country will become a safer and healthier place for them to live. And I pray for an end to gangs and drug cartels on both sides of the border. But I still maintain that immigrants need to enter through lawful means.”

  He lightly squeezed her hand. “We’re very close in our beliefs. Despite what you might think, I’m not an immigration activist.” He winced as he realized that might hit close to home with her memories of her husband. But he couldn’t stop to worry about that right now. “My calling is to administer healing. I’m committed to that every bit as much as you are committed to the Border Patrol. I don’t ask for citizenship papers or green cards when I treat patients. I believe in understanding and respect. I hope we can come up with a way to reform the laws that will allow more compassionate treatment of the poor and needy who deserve it. But until that happens, my allegiance lies with the current laws.”

  She nodded, her gaze never trailing from his face. “Considering that there are those in my own church who hold vastly differing views on these issues, I’d say we are very close.”

  “Close enough to keep seeing each other?” Alex waited. He was determined not to say another word, despite his inclination to beg her on bended knee to give him a chance.

  “If we’re to remain friends—or more—we have to be able to talk. So many times I’ve thought back over that last morning with Toby. I drove off in a rage when he wanted me to stay and talk to him. I was furious. Couldn’t get away from him fast enough. If I had stayed and allowed him to express his feelings, he’d be alive today, and Tiana would have her daddy.” She shook her head. “Eventually I figured out he was just doing his best to follow Christ. I know he wasn’t setting out to undermine everything I stood for.”

  She glanced out the window. “In answer to your question, maybe we can keep seeing each other. I need a little time—time for the turmoil around me to subside.”

  Time he could give, if it meant a lifetime with her.

  Chapter 51

  You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.

  John 8:32

  Danika realized two things this morning: today she would be released from the hospital and see Sandra, hopefully resolving the tragic mysteries plaguing her life. Both made opening her eyes in a hospital bed a little easier. No more IVs. No more lab-coated technicians drawing blood—and reminding her of Rita’s killer—and no more open-ended gowns. After today, the turmoil would end.

  She’d miss Alex’s visits to the hospital, but she wanted to continue seeing him. In him, she saw a strength and an enduring faith that moved her to be a better person, to be more considerate of others, and to try harder. Soon, tonight even, she’d be able to see her sweet Tiana and talk to her via Alex’s computer.

  A pair of policemen would be posted inside her home 24-7 until the authorities arrested the shooter. What she honestly wanted to do was get back to work. The doctor said two more weeks before he’d consider it. Two long weeks of boring TV and reading months-old magazines. Maybe she could do paperwork at the station. . . .

  A knock on her door alerted her to Chief Jimenez’s noon visit. He’d been to see her every day since the accident, which had boosted his popularity rating with her. The flowers helped too.

  “Come on in. Is my escort ready? I’m so anxious to talk to Sandra and get this mess cleared up.”

  One look at Jimenez, and her enthusiasm plummeted. His forehead held the rutted lines of worry.

  “What’s wrong?” A hundred scenarios rolled across her mind, and none were optimistic.

  “There won’t be an escort to the jail.”

  “Why? Did Sandra change her mind?”

  He grabbed the back of a chair and pulled it to her bedside. He sat down, his shoulders carrying the weight of what she knew she didn’t want to hear.

  She’d shaken hands with disappointment before, and she could do so again. “Has something happened to Jacob?”

  “No.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “Bad news, Danika. Sandra Rodriguez is dead.”

  Danika’s ears hammered pain. She must have misunderstood. “Sandra’s gone? Was . . . was she killed?”

  Jimenez’s eyes narrowed. “Someone got to her inside the jail. A guard found her body in her cell.”

  Danika covered her mouth, the news too shocking, the grief overwhelming. Sandra was her friend, her sister. “We are like sisters in our hearts.” “Wasn’t she under special protection?”

  Jimenez frowned. “I asked the same thing. Looks like you and I weren’t the only ones who believed she was critical to the case.”

  Had it been such a short time ago when they stood in the kitchen and laughed over Sandra’s concerns about Danika not needing her? But later on, Danika realized Sandra’s fears that night were about Alex revealing her illegal status. The animosity for her deceit had mixed with pity and compassion for all she’d done for Tiana and Danika.

  This wasn’t supposed to happen. Toby had been killed. Jacob’s family terrorized. Nadine gone. Someone had tried to kill her. Now Sandra . . . Who would be next, Tiana? Was there any way to protect her from an evil being who seemed to know Danika’s every move?

  * * *

  Jacob wondered why his life continued to be miserable when he’d made his peace with God. How could anything get worse? Yesterday he believed he and Barbara had a fighting chance of putting their marriage and family back together. They had cried and prayed together. Then in the wee hours of the morning, someone had blown up the SUV inside the garage, nearly destroying what he wanted to preserve.

  He glanced around the small cell. Reality had numbed him. Who could have set his home on fire and planted his watch? Why had Nadine’s fingerprints been on it? He remembered missing the watch at work and assuming it was on the kitchen counter of his small apartment.

  Today he stood before a judge and pleaded not guilty. A snot-nosed public defender fresh out of law school had been assigned as his lawyer. While the kid took notes, Jacob saw he couldn’t spell arson. How about spelling life?

  The light in the day came when he discovered Barbara sitting in the back of the courtroom. She rushed to him when the officer escorted him out.

  “I know you didn’t do this.” She sobbed. “I love you, and we’ll find out who is doing these terrible things to our family.”

  Jacob blinked away the tears. If he hadn’t been handcuffed, he’d have taken her into his arms. “Pray for me, Barbara. Pray for us and our children. I love you.” As he was led away, he swung back around to find her watching him. “Tell Kaitlyn, Amber, and Jake I love them with all my heart.”

  The look in her eyes had kept him from shattering today. Father Cornell had come by the jail later in the afternoon. Together they talked, and he offered to find a lawyer who could represent him better than a kid who mispronounced law terms instead of practicing them.

  * * *

  Danika’s house did not seem like her own. Oh, the furniture rested in its proper place, and the pictures on the wall were ones she’d selected, and the photos of Tiana smiled back at her. But the quiet had a voice—a voice of loss.

  One of the police officers carried her bag of belongings to the kitchen and set it on the table. She followed him. Sandra’s presence was everywhere. She’d loved roosters, and they were on the counter, the windowsill, on top of the refrigerator, and even on salt and pepper shakers by the stove. Danika wanted to hurl them all through the window. Instead, she determined to move them as soon as she had the strength. She opened the door to her garage and remembered her car had been totaled.

  Danika turned to the officers, a man in his late forties and a woman in her midthirties. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “That sounds wonderful,” the woman said. “My name is Angie, and if you’ll just tell me where things are, I’ll be glad to take over.”

  Danika pointed to what Angie needed, then walked into the living roo
m. Coming home had worn her out. Or was it the stress? If only Tiana would come running from her room and beg Danika to play a game. If only the smell of coffee came from Sandra’s handiwork.

  She was ready to quit. Leave McAllen. Change her and Tiana’s name and start life all over again. She paused for a moment and let the thought of running sink in. She had a child to think about, a child who deserved to grow up without fear.

  “Mrs. Morales, do you drink your coffee with sugar and cream?” The voice came from the other officer. She couldn’t remember his name—oh yes, Walt. “Just black, thank you.”

  He delivered hers, and the pair took their cups and stood by her exterior doors, one at the front and one at the back. Danika had been reduced to being a prisoner in her home. What had happened to dignity and the ability to grieve in privacy?

  “Officers, could I have a word with you, please?”

  “Can you speak to us from there? Our shifts have rolled into place.” Walt spoke with authority, reminding her of Jimenez. But she’d started to like the chief.

  “I’d like for you to leave my home. I can’t live like this.”

  “Pardon me, ma’am, but from what we’ve been told, you might not live if we don’t stay to protect you.”

  She trembled, but she must stand her ground. The pain in her abdomen was a reality, but so were her capabilities. “I really would like for you to go. I’ll call the police station and explain to them I don’t need protection.”

  “Mrs. Morales,” Angie began, “think about your health. You’ve just been released from the hospital, and there is substantial evidence that someone wants you killed.”

  From deep inside, Danika drew up the courage needed to dismiss the officers. “Angie, I’m a crack shot. My life is in danger every minute I’m riding the line for the Border Patrol. I don’t need protection. I need to be alone.”