by Alice Orr
“No, no,” Blue spluttered from the floor. “They told me about him. They told me how they hired him.”
Slater backed off a little, though he wished he could shut the old man up right there. Slater would take Phoenix somewhere quiet then. He’d tell her everything, and together they’d figure out a way to extricate her from the trouble she was in. But, he couldn’t do that. A man was bleeding on the floor. Slater McCain, the lawman, had to take care of Citrone Blue, the victim.
“Who hired Slater?” Phoenix was asking.
“A man named Sax and the one he works for from New York City,” Blue said. “They were both here just before you came.”
Slater froze in the act of kneeling beside Blue again. So, Laurent was in town. That struck Slater as very bad news. Laurent would have come here because he wanted the job he’d hired Slater for done and over with. Laurent would be determined to get his money back, and after that he’d want Phoenix dead. Slater was probably also included in that hit contract package by now. Sax would have told Laurent how Slater switched sides and was trying to save Phoenix. Despite all of that, a man was bleeding on the floor. Whatever Slater’s misgivings might be about Citrone Blue, he had to be the priority of the moment.
“We can straighten all of that out later,” Slater said, pressing forward again and onto one knee next to Blue. “Let me get a look at how badly hurt you are.”
“I said, don’t touch me.”
Blue cringed away. He even tried to raise himself from the floor.
“Slater, what is he talking about?” Phoenix asked.
She still knelt on the opposite side of where Blue lay. A bloodstain was seeping along one leg of her light-colored slacks. Slater could feel that stain creeping over him too, maybe never to be completely washed out again. Undercover work was like that sometimes. The good guys got permanently tainted by the bad guys’ dirt. Slater had never really cared much about that before. He cared now.
“We can talk about all of that later,” he said to Phoenix with his heart hurting almost as much as if he’d taken the bullet instead of Blue. “I’ll explain, and then you can explain your side, too.”
“My side?” She sounded truly confused. “I don’t have a side. What are you talking about?”
“He thinks you stole a lot of money from this New York City man, the one with the small eyes and the diamond ring on his finger,” Blue said. Oddly enough, he appeared to be stronger now rather than weaker. “That’s the man who said you worked for him before you came here to Mexico.”
“Beldon Laurent?” Phoenix stared from Blue to Slater and back again. “Beldon Laurent is here in Acapulco?”
Slater watched her carefully. He would have expected her to be fearful at finding out the man she stole from was hot on her trail. Instead, all that Slater saw in her face as she’d turned back to him was bewilderment.
“What is going on here?” she asked. “You know, don’t you?”
He couldn’t help but sigh. He felt the same heavy sinking in his belly as when, in his experience on the force, he’d had to tell families they’d lost somebody they love. This time, however, Slater was pretty sure he’d be the one doing the mourning. Before he could think what to say in response to Phoenix’s plea for understanding, Blue gave the answer. He even managed to prop himself up on one elbow to do it. From that, Slater concluded that the wound was probably not life threatening.
“I know the truth,” Blue said to Phoenix. “They talked in front of me, Sax and the man you call Laurent. I heard them say that Laurent had hired this man you’re with to find you. Laurent told him you’d stolen a lot of money from him. Sax told me that, too, when he first came to my house.”
“Money? What money?” Phoenix said. “I didn’t steal any money from anybody.”
Slater had heard that “I’m innocent, I didn’t do it” line a thousand times before. This time it sounded real, but that could be wishful thinking on his part. Still, he held on to the hope that it wasn’t.
“That’s what the other man, Sax’s boss, told him,” Blue was saying. “There never was any money stolen. Your boss had to get to you because of something you found out about him. He said you know too much.”
“Something I found out about Beldon Laurent? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Phoenix sounded more definitely bewildered still. Meanwhile, Slater felt suddenly elated. That might be a strange reaction given the overall circumstances here, but he couldn’t help it. She wasn’t a thief, after all. The whole thing had been a setup. Laurent told Slater the theft story to convince him to follow Phoenix without letting him know she’d uncovered some kind of dirt on Laurent He’d have been taking precautions against Slater worming that incriminating information out of her then using it himself against Laurent, probably to extort money out of him. Crooks like Laurent were always worried about things like that. They thought everybody they ran into was made of the same foul stuff they were.
“The one you call Laurent said you were poking around in his past where you had no business to be, and you found out something about him he doesn’t want anybody to know,” Blue continued.
“I was doing the job he hired me to do,” Phoenix said. “Researching his past was part of that job, but I didn’t find anything significant enough for him to go to all this trouble over. I realized he wasn’t a very nice man and probably had been involved in some shady dealings, but nothing more specific than that. I decided I didn’t want to work for him because of what I suspected might be true, but it was a suspicion, nothing more.”
Slater’s elation mounted higher. She really was innocent. She really hadn’t done anything wrong, definitely not anything against the law. He could hear that in her voice and see it in her beautiful eyes. He’d stake his reputation on it.
“You must have found out something bad,” Blue said. “Bad enough for Laurent to want to have you killed.” He pointed a trembling finger at Slater. “He hired that man you call your friend to do that, to kill you.”
Phoenix stared at Slater. Her mouth had fallen open, but she didn’t speak. Something had crowded the bewilderment out of her eyes. He saw disbelief there now, and maybe the beginning of fear. He could almost hear the puzzle pieces of her experiences with him starting to click into a recognizable pattern in her head.
“It isn’t what you think,” Slater said.
He reached toward her, but she shied away. Blue had slipped back down to the floor between them. Slater knew he should be taking care of the bleeding victim. He had to do that now and explain himself to Phoenix later. It was Slater’s duty to behave like a cop. God help him, he wished he didn’t have to follow that duty call right now, but he was what he was. He couldn’t change that.
“How do you know all of this?”
She asked Blue that before Slater could act on his resolve to be a lawman first and a man second. He waited to hear the answer.
“Because they hired me, too.”
Blue sounded more exasperated than ashamed. The old guy had been working both sides of the fence and he’d ended up bleeding on the floor of this shack for it.
“Laurent hired you?” Phoenix asked.
Blue shook his head slowly. “No, not him. The other one. The one who works for him. Sax.”
“If Sax hired you, you were working for Laurent,” Phoenix said. She sounded pretty exasperated herself. “It seems that everybody was working for Laurent”
“But I did not agree to hurt anyone,” Blue protested. “I was only supposed to get to know you and see if I could find out anything about where you had the money. That is all he said he wanted from me. Then I came here and found out the true reason he wanted me to bring you to this place.”
He was weaker now, his voice less vehement than before. Slater could have stepped in then, but the cop part of him hung back long enough to hear what Blue had to say.
“What true reason was that?” Slater asked because he needed the answer for the report he’d have to be writing on a
ll of this soon.
“You know what I’m talking about already,” Blue snapped though his energy was visibly draining by the second.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Phoenix said. “Tell me.”
“They used me to get you out here to this remote place,” Blue said to her. “They paid off the brick makers to leave for the afternoon. Laurent was going to have Sax strangle you to keep you quiet about whatever it is they think you know. Then, I think they were going to put your body in the kiln. Mine, too, I would imagine. When I found out they were planning to murder you, I said I didn’t want any part of it and tried to get away. That was when they shot me. They would have shot me again if I didn’t lie still and pretend to be dead.”
Blue was breathing with more difficulty now. His long confession had obviously used up most of his remaining strength. Nonetheless, Slater had to take the interrogation a couple of steps further.
“Who specifically shot you?” he asked.
“Your friend, Sax,” Blue answered feebly.
“Where did they go?” Slater pressed on. “Why did they leave before we got here?”
“There wasn’t supposed to be any shooting.” Blue was managing only a whisper now. “Laurent said that to Sax. Laurent had wanted to keep everything quiet. He said they would get you later.” Blue was looking at Phoenix when he said that. He managed to lift his head a few inches off the floor once more. “That is why you must get away from this man.” Blue nodded toward Slater. “He is not your friend. He is one of them.”
Blue sank back into what looked like a faint, breathing raggedly. Slater reached to feel for Blue’s pulse, but Phoenix grabbed Slater’s arm.
“Keep your hands off him,” she commanded.
Her eyes had gone steely cold. He saw her gaze slide to the gun still in his hand.
“What he’s telling you isn’t true,” Slater said, aware that he sounded almost as feeble as Blue had a moment ago.
“It looked to me like he was telling the truth.”
The chill in her voice cut Slater to the bone. He felt a sudden stab of sorrow, too, as if something precious had just evaporated in his hand and was gone forever.
“He’s only telling you what he thinks to be true,” Slater said. He almost wished he didn’t know how to stay so calm in the face of tragedy, even personal tragedy. “The real truth is more complicated than what he’s saying.”
“More complicated? How could this situation be any more complicated than it is already?”
She sounded pretty subdued herself, deliberately controlled. Slater could guess that she was most likely still thinking about the gun in his hand. He was tempted to pass it over to her right then and say, “See? I’m on your side. I’m one of the good guys, and I’m giving you my gun to prove it.” Unfortunately, he couldn’t bring himself to do that. He couldn’t break one of the first rules he’d learned when he joined the force. A lawman never gives up his weapon, especially not to somebody who is looking at him as if she wished she could freeze him solid with her eyes.
“Believe me. This situation is a lot more complicated than you know,” he replied, keeping his voice calm in the hope that she’d stay calm, too.
Slater edged the gun further out of sight behind his body, as if he could get her to be less aware of its presence. He guessed she’d noticed what he was doing, even though she didn’t react to it. She was too smart to be thrown off her guard now. They were two cagey characters circling each other, watching every move. He’d been in this position many times before, but on those other occasions he’d never once found himself wishing both of them could end up winning.
“I’m a cop,” he said. “A federal investigator working undercover.”
There was no way he could tell her that but straight out, at least none he could think of at the moment. He could see the hesitation his words brought to her expression and just a hint of thawing in her eyes. He’d hoped for that, but the instant didn’t last. When she spoke, her voice was as cold as it had been before his revelation.
“Prove it,” she demanded.
Slater couldn’t help but sigh at that, and shake his head a little. He could anticipate what was going to happen and how helpless he’d be to stop it.
“As I said, I’m undercover,” he repeated. He could hear his tone of voice reflecting that helplessness already. “I can’t carry any official identification. There are people I could have you talk to who would verify who I really am, but that would require a phone call. I don’t think we can manage that right now.”
This shack barely had furniture in it, much less a telephone.
“A phone call to where?” she asked, still icy and watching like a hawk.
“To Washington, D.C.” He could imagine how farfetched that had to sound to her, but he continued anyway. “I work for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. We have good reason to believe Laurent is hooked up with some South American gunrunning interests we’ve been trying to shut off for years now. My assignment was to get Laurent to trust me so I could infiltrate his organization and find enough proof of his involvement to make charges stick in court and maybe take some of his contacts down along with him.”
That was the whole story. It was the truth, but it came across like some cop show plot Slater might have picked up from T.V. He had no proof to back up what he was saying. Only her faith in his word could do that. He could see in her eyes that, if she’d ever had such belief in him, she didn’t have it now. He was even more certain of that when she didn’t question any of the details of his story further. That told Slater she didn’t believe enough of what he’d said to consider it worth questioning.
“What are you planning to do now?” she asked instead.
She was asking that because she was frightened of him. He was almost a hundred percent sure of that. She was just stringing him along now, hoping for a chance to get the upper hand somehow.
“We have to get this man to a hospital,” Slater said.
“I don’t think he should be moved. One of us will have to go for help.”
“I should stay with him,” Slater said. “I know quite a bit about gunshot wounds.”
“I’ll bet you do.”
The accusation was in her eyes as well as her words. She was telling him that he knew so much about violence because he was a violent man himself, an outlaw.
“I’m a federal agent,” he said. “You have to believe me.
He hadn’t meant to plead like that. It just came out. He could feel his position weakening further still with every word he uttered.
“Believe you?” she snapped. “Why would I ever believe you again? Even if this unlikely story of yours happens to be true. Even if you are some kind of policeman or investigator or whatever, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a liar. That’s the bottom line here, isn’t it? Whoever you really are, everything you’ve ever told me was a lie.”
“Not everything,” Slater said quietly.
But what truth had he ever told her? Had he ever told her the way he’d come to feel about her? Had he ever murmured that particular truth into her ear, even when they were making love? No, of course he hadn’t. He’d been too much the good cop to open up to the suspect even then, especially about anything personal. Now, it was way too late to open up to her about anything. She was too far past being able to hear what would only sound like another one of his lies. Slater felt the gloom of helplessness drop its shroud ever more closely around him.
“Well, if you did tell me anything that happened to be true,” she replied, “that doesn’t really matter now. All I care about is getting help for my grandfather’s friend. I wish I didn’t have to trust you to do that, but I have no choice. Otherwise, I’d have to leave you here alone with him and take the chance you might finish off what the others started the minute I was out of earshot.”
Such a direct statement of how little Phoenix thought of him pierced Slater as sharply as the steel that had returned to her eyes could ev
er have done.
“I’ll go then,” he said.
She caught his arm as he moved to drag his suddenly very heavy bulk up from its crouch next to the still unconscious Blue.
“Why don’t you leave the gun with me,” she suggested, managing a touch of sweetness in her tone. “I might need it to protect myself.”
Slater couldn’t believe her now, either, any more than she believed him. After all, there’d never been any trust between them before, at least not on his side. She must have figured him for a possible shady character all along. With that kind of history, why should they be able to trust each other now? Besides, rule number one still applied. A cop didn’t give up his weapon, not even to the woman he’d tried not to fall in love with but failed.
“You’ll be safe till help gets here,’ he told her.
“What if Sax and Laurent come back?”
“They won’t. This is the one place they’re sure to stay away from. They know the cops could be on their way by now. Sax and Laurent aren’t about to show up anywhere the law might be.”
“You know a lot about this sort of thing, don’t you?” she jeered. “You know a lot about the way criminals think.”
There was the accusing tone again, condemning Slater and his whole way of life, no matter which side of the law he happened to be on.
“Yes, I do,” he said. Unfortunately, there was no other answer.
He stood then. He thought about sticking the gun in the back of his waistband so she’d see him as less threatening, but he didn’t do that. She might be able to grab the chair next to her and swing on him hard enough to catch him in the legs and bring him down. He could see the wary wiliness of the adversary in her eyes. He had to think of her as that, as his enemy, and act accordingly, however much it sliced his heart apart to do it. He kept his gun out of sight, but he didn’t let it go.
“I’ll get help,” he said.
He turned toward the door. He didn’t want to leave her alone here, but he did believe the police were probably on their way right now. That thought quickened Slater’s step toward the door. He couldn’t afford the delay that was sure to be involved in explaining himself and proving who he really was.