by H. L. Wegley
No. The reality was matters couldn’t get any worse. Allie had said her final goodbye to him and her eyes had confirmed the goodbye was just that … final.
Was Lynchesky’s knife one that Jeff could leave stuck in his back like all the others?
No. Not this time.
Jeff turned to Larry and blasted out a sharp sigh. “I’m going to the holding room.”
* * *
A darkness she had never known settled over Allie when the guards pushed her up the steps into the big van. It seemed to obscure everything—hope, faith, even love. And when she landed in Mexico, the darkness would claim her life.
Allie slumped onto a hard, straight-backed seat in the van.
Papa and Mama sat across the center aisle from Allie, engaged in soft conversation.
From beside Allie, Benjamin’s gaze kept seeking hers, seeking some kind of assurance.
The only assurance she could give him is that they would be promptly killed upon entering Mexico. With this cruel cartel, death may not be so prompt. Allie refused to dwell on that likelihood.
When she couldn’t stand the haunted look of Benjamin’s eyes for another second, the van door popped open and a guard stuck his head inside.
“You four are to come with me.”
“Sir, if you do not tell me what you are doing with my family, perhaps we will not go.” Papa’s words came slow and controlled, but the tone of his voice said he was ready to take on the guard.
She couldn’t let the situation turn violent. Allie sprang from her seat and grabbed Benjamin’s hand. “Come on, Papa. Maybe the judge has reconsidered sending us to Tacoma.”
“If he tries to send us to Nogales, I will—”
“Don’t say it, Rafael.” Mama put a hand on his shoulder. “Larry said he could not do that.”
When they left the big, white van, two guards escorted them back into the building. Once inside, the guards turned toward the holding room.
Were they being held for another court appearance? Until she knew, Allie dared not raise her hopes. They would only be dashed again just like they had been with Jeff. People, even God, couldn’t be trusted. Not with the important things in life. Once again, she had been let down by those she trusted the most.
Inside the holding room, Allie sought a place to be alone to nurse her wounds and to steel herself for what might be coming. She and Jeff had read about the horrors of large ICE detention facilities. The nearest thing to alone she could find was to take a seat part way across the room from her parents and Benjamin.
The muddle of depressing thoughts swirling through her mind froze when, across the room, the door clicked open and Jeff stepped in.
She stared at him across the room. But the man she saw wasn’t the same Jeff. Had the judge’s words changed him? What had happened to the confident, strong athlete who took on a drug cartel with his bare hands?
Regardless, his presence sent her defenses on high alert.
Don’t trust anyone, Allie. They will always let you down.
As much as her heart wanted to, Allie couldn’t squelch the annoying voice in her mind. The voice spoke the truth that she had pushed aside when she tried to believe Jeff’s lies. No. It wasn’t his lies; it had been Allie seducing herself into believing lies about Jeff. She should have known that the Jeff she had fallen for was too good to be true. No one could maintain such a façade forever. And it had finally been proven to be just that … a false front on a flawed man.
Girl, if you’d never trusted him, you’d be dead.
Allie squelched the second voice in her mind and looked across the room at Jeff.
He stood with slumped shoulders, putting his hands in his pockets then pulling them out again. Now, he put them back in. Jeff was a man at the mercy of his past and of events he could no longer conceal or control.
Don’t talk to him, Allie. You said goodbye. Stick to it.
But when their gazes locked, the tug on Allie’s heart pulled her across the room to toward Jeff. As she approached him, her stomach grew queasy.
I can’t do this.
“Allie, I need—”
“What you need, Jeff, is to get out of my life. I’ve made enough mistakes already, and I can’t let what might be the last thing I do be the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”
Jeff opened his mouth, but closed it again. His gaze met hers. His eyes held the same look she’d seen in Benjamin’s eyes on the van, the look of a little, lost boy.
Had she transformed the incredibly strong man, the leader and conqueror of international criminals, into this? That thought ripped through her heart like a dull knife. Tears blurred her vision.
Allie looked away so Jeff wouldn’t see her cry. She left her questions unanswered and her eyes overflowing.
When Jeff turned toward her family, she glanced his way.
He wheeled and strode toward the door where he’d entered.
You’re wrong, Allie.
Where had that thought come from. Or, was it a voice? It held her attention because the voice held authority.
As Jeff reached for the door to the room, Allie’s voice spoke, though she wasn’t sure she had willed it to. “Jeff, wait.”
Jeff jerked to a stop and pulled his hand from the door handle. He turned to face her and studied her for a moment.
“Please … come back. We need to—I need to—” Her voice broke. Allie fought hard for composure.
Slowly, Jeff walked her way. Hesitating with each step as if he might bolt and run away.
She needed to say something. Anything to restart their conversation. But she couldn’t address the main issue between them. Not yet.
Hands in his pockets, Jeff closed the distance between them and stopped in front of her.
Maybe he knew why her family was taken off the van. It was a starting point for their discussion. “Do you know what’s happening, Jeff? The guards put us on the van, then came and took us off.”
Jeff’s frown seemed to question her attempt to break the ice. He sighed and pulled his hands from his pockets. “Something changed when McCheney walked into the court room. But, Allie—”
“McCheney? What’s he doing here?”
“I … I called him. He’s in Lynchesky’s chambers having some sort of conversation with the judge.”
“Why did you call McCheney?”
“Because I … I’m not sure why. No. I called him because I was desperate. But when I called, he said to stall the hearing and he would get here as soon as possible. But, Allie, I need to talk to you. I need to explain—”
“Explain about Jeff Jacobs, Olympic gold medal contender? Why didn’t this come up before now?” Questioning Jeff to his face sent her stomach churning, ready to give up its contents.
“Allie, I tried to talk to you at the hospital and again at my house.”
She had cut Jeff off when he tried to tell her something about himself before the explosion.
“I need to explain, to tell you the whole truth.”
“You mean Judge Lynchesky didn’t?” Allie paused and tried to interpret the look in Jeff’s eyes. The pain in them put her in a quandary.
Trust him, Allie.
She couldn’t, could she?
But you can, if you want to.
Did she want to? That depended on Jeff, a man she’d already said she couldn’t trust.
From somewhere deep inside of Allie, words came, words that expressed her deepest concern. “Are you about to break my heart, completely, Jeff Jacobs?”
“I hope not.”
Jeff's answer did little to quell her queasy stomach. But maybe she should let him tell his story and hope, or pray, for the best.
Pray? How could she do that when she was this heartsick? And why had God deserted her and her family?
When her mind framed the question, God, Papa, and Jeff swirled together, first blending then separating in a confusing mixture of identities and characteristics.
“Let me tell you the story, Allie. You can a
sk questions anytime you want. I don’t want to hide anything from you.”
“Don’t want to hide anything? If this was so important, why didn’t you tell me before I—”
“Probably because it wasn’t a matter of life and death.”
“But it was a matter of life and love. We did talk about love.”
“Yeah. While we were running for our lives.”
“Is it a matter of love, Jeff?” She looked into his eyes, expecting to find reluctance or deceit. Gentleness, concern, and love were the only things in his eyes.
“Love? That's for you to decide, Allie. For you and you alone.”
“You're scaring me again.” She was in too deep to back out, now. “Just start your story.”
He gestured toward a cheap, fake leather couch along a wall across the room from her parents.
They walked to it and sat.
Jeff sighed and looked across the room as if he was staring into space, or through time. “Since I was a kid I had the dream of making the U.S. Olympic team. The problem was, I couldn't find any one thing I was good enough in to be world class, except maybe the javelin throw. But I was pretty good at several track and field events.”
Jeff started out portraying himself as a little boy. People often used children in stories to gain sympathy. Was he trying to play on her emotions to get her to—no. Jeff had never done that. She needed to let him talk. “It was a good dream for a boy to have. There are some who have much worse dreams, like Hector Suarez.”
“Can we leave Hector out of this. Where was I? … I tried all the decathlon events and found I was pretty good at all of them. We had this track coach at my high school who was really gifted at developing athletes. He trained me until I went off to college and the university track coach tried to stop him. The college coach didn’t like my high school coach’s methods. When I heard about that, I quit the university track team and resumed training under my former coach.”
“How did your college coach react to that?”
“He was insulted and livid. I think he had a swollen head because he had been selected for a U.S. Olympic coaching position. Regardless, I found out he wasn't such a nice man. But back with my old coach my scores improved. I posted the second highest score in the nation early in my junior year.” He paused. “The next year was an Olympic year. During the eight months leading up to the Olympic trials, I went from obscurity to an athlete posting the highest scores in the world.”
“I’ve seen you do things I didn't think were possible. So that doesn't surprise me.”
“Well it surprised me. It brought me some unpleasant scrutiny. But it also brought probes from several companies regarding advertising contracts.” He wiggled his left hand and winced at the pain. “After being shot in the arm, I probably won't be world class anymore. Well … a week before the U.S. Olympic trials my sore left elbow developed a raging inflammation. I couldn't throw, jump, vault, I couldn't even drive with my arms when I ran.”
Allie could see where the story was headed. “That's awful, Jeff. When dreams are dashed, that hurts more than anything.” Except maybe losing faith in someone. “What did you do?”
“There are drugs that athletes are only tested for just before competitions. Stimulants, prescription steroids, and some other drugs, like narcotics. If an athlete has a legitimate medical need to take a substance on the WADA prohibited list of—”
“Whatta list?”
“World Anti-Doping Agency list. With a legitimate need, athletes can apply for an exemption. The application requires a physician’s explanation of the athlete’s diagnosis and reasons why the medication is required.”
“I went to a doctor I trusted, but it turned out that he wasn't up on all the Olympic requirements, at least not some of the fine print. He said the only thing that would give me a chance to compete was to shoot my elbow up with a steroid, one of the gluco-corticoids.”
“A steroid? You mean something like prednisone?”
“Yeah. I knew there was a danger that it would show up in the drug tests. This was a legitimate use of the drug and, Allie, I just had to have a chance to compete.”
She nodded.
“I told the doctor to shoot me up and give me a note telling what he had given me and why. But I didn't know I needed to file a TUE.”
“A what?”
“A therapeutic-use exemption. He gave me the shot, and I was ready to go when the Olympic trials started. I finished first for the American team and then we flew off to Beijing. But there was a dispute about the drug test results. The tests were reviewed again and the TUE Committee accused me of using a steroid and said, regardless whether the use was legitimate, I didn’t get the shot approved.”
But that’s just a mistake, Jeff. A bad mistake, but …”
“It gets worse, Allie. My college coach was also one of our Olympic coaches. The man has held a grudge against me ever since I ditched him for my old coach. He leaked some misinformation to the media and they blew it all out of proportion. They said I’d used performance-enhancing drugs. Some sports writers said that was how I had posted such high scores over the past year. They were wrong, Allie. That was me performing at a level no decathlete has ever attained. But I had made a stupid mistake.”
Could she believe Jeff? Really trust him? The past three days came storming back, painting a picture of Jeff that fit what she had seen and it fit Jeff’s story. God, Papa, and Jeff seemed to settle into the places they belonged in her life. Different places, but each one filled with love. And that erased all of Allie’s doubts. “Maybe it was a stupid mistake, Jeff.”
Jeff raised his eyebrows. “Allie, you just … I mean … something about you changed.”
“Finish your story, please. It was an honest mistake. It doesn't mean that you are a dishonest person.”
“It didn’t' feel that way. I went from being a potential gold medal winner to a disgraced athlete. I was banned from the Olympics for eight years. Some people who knew me disputed the ruling. But the ruling stood, and now I'll probably never compete in the Olympics again.”
He shook his head. “Every time I read those press reports, I almost believe them myself. The media loves a good scandal and they can create them even when they don't exist.”
His gaze dropped to the floor. “The only good thing was that I didn't have to give up an Olympic gold medal like some have had to do. Only my spot on the U.S. team.”
He looked up and into her eyes. “It all happened less than two years ago. If you associate with me, you’ll probably have your integrity questioned at some point. Maybe in twenty years it will mostly be forgotten, but the erroneous charges will remain a part of recorded history. My history.”
Allie looked into Jeff’s intense eyes and saw the man who saved her life more times than she could count. “Jeff, you were treated so badly. What they did wasn't fair.”
“Allie, you haven't read the articles in the newspapers and sports periodicals. You've only heard my side.”
“I think Lynchesky gave us the other side.”
“Before you draw any conclusions about me, you need to read—”
“No, I don't. Without any drugs, you performed incredible things to save my life. When I sat on your couch and heard you casually refer to how you carried me home, I knew you had great athletic abilities. That's how you found me in the camp, wasn't it? You never told me, but you ran down their ATVs, didn’t you?”
“That's not quite what happened.”
The deep longing to be in this man’s arms, to share his life, returned, intense and consuming. “Jeff, to me you are a gold medal winner.” Allie stepped close to Jeff and pressed her cheek into his chest.
Powerful arms closed around her and pulled her snugly to him.
“Allie … remember, McCheney is still in the judge’s chambers and I don’t have a clue what their talking about. For you and I to have a chance, we need something good to come out of that conversation.”
Allie looked up into Jeff’s
eyes, still reeling from the pendulum-like swings of her most deeply felt emotions. “Yes, we do. But this has turned out to be a nightmare. I’m not sure that anything can—”
A loud click sounded as the door to the holding room opened.
A guard stuck his head in. “The Santiago’s are to return to the court room.”
As Allie entered the court room at Jeff’s side, voices coming through the wall behind the judge’s bench crescendoed, turning to loud shouts. McCheney’s voice drowned out the other voice, but the words were not distinguishable.
The voices in the other room stopped.
A few seconds later, McCheney opened the door behind the judge’s bench, stepped into the court room, and walked down the aisle to leave. But he winked at Jeff and Allie as he walked by.
Allie tracked McCheney noting that he stopped at the rear of the room, by the entryway door, and turned around.
“All rise.”
Judge Lynchesky entered. His face wore a different sort of scowl than she’d seen before. He focused on Larry. “Mr. Wendell, if you have justification for Mr. Santiago being set free on bond, I am prepared to hear it now.”
Jeff leaned toward her, “If he's prepared, I’m guessing McCheney prepared him.”
Allie drew a sharp breath. If Papa would be set free, then surely the whole family would be, too.
The judge folded his hands on his desk. “And you will report to this court once a month until you have a valid ID, then we'll review your case.”
“And Ms. Santiago?” Larry looked questioningly at the judge.
“She needs to keep her visa and ID with her at all times. See that you do, Ms. Santiago.”
Allie nodded. Finally, the nightmare had ended.
The courtroom door closed with a metallic click. McCheney had left.
Judge Lynchesky cleared his throat.
Allie looked up at his face, a face wearing an arrogant smirk.
“But, Mr. Jacobs and Mr. Santiago, this is all predicated on a certain condition.”
* * *
After Jeff saw the frown deepening on Allie’s brow, the meaning of the judge’s words sank in. With McCheney gone, no more Mr. Nice Guy. And now the judge’s menacing gaze had locked on Jeff.