by Neal Griffin
Dazed but energized, Tia moved to the wooden stage. Pulling a knife from her pocket, she cut the ropes binding Delafield to the chair. His breathing was labored but steady. She hooked her arms under his and pulled him off the stage, laying him on his back on the dirt floor.
Without taking his eyes or his aim off their prisoner, Connor called out, “Top pouch, right side.”
Moving quickly while making sure she never got between Connor and his target, Tia ripped the first-aid kit off the Velcro that attached it to his harness. There wasn’t much she could do beyond packing the wound, but she did that and hoped the help Connor had mentioned would soon arrive.
In the silence that had fallen Tia could hear the faint whine of a siren in the distance. Good, she thought, listening harder. Then she heard something else. Something much closer.
Voices. Female voices. Coming from somewhere near the stage, somewhere … underneath?
Then another voice, with an entirely different sound, called out in a way Tia knew only she could hear.
Ella aqui.
THIRTY-NINE
Angelica was once again on the porch, her mother beside her shucking corn and singing a familiar song.
I came home once before, Angelica thought. Like before, the pain was gone. Her body felt alive and youthful. The world around her was full of color and the sounds of the country. She turned to her mother and implored her, “How do I stay this time, Mama? I don’t want to leave again.”
Her mother smiled, saying what a beautiful young woman she had grown into. How she had missed her sweet Angelica. How sorry she was to see her leave at such a young age.
“I don’t want to leave, Mama. I will stay here. I won’t go back.” She looked up and saw the hawk, circling high above her head. Angelica watched, waiting for him to dive down and scoop her up, but instead he soared higher into the sky.
Voices came from above, but she blocked them out. One was a familiar voice. A strong voice.
“Mija. Come to me.”
But no. She would stay here. The music of her mother’s singing filled her ears. She would not leave. The hawk flew higher until he was a small speck in a wide, blue, cloudless sky. She closed her eyes and breathed in the smells of home, nestling close to the warmth of her mother. This is where I will stay, she thought. This is where I belong forever.
“Mija. Ven a mi!” The voice sounded as though it came from a far distant place. Another world.
Angelica looked up. The hawk had disappeared and her heart was still and filled with peace.
FORTY
Tia looked down and saw that the stage was really nothing more than a wooden box set flush against the dirt. She bent down, took hold of the corner of the stage, and lifted. As she suspected, it wasn’t fastened to anything. It was heavy, but not too heavy to shift. She began dragging it backward, leaving ruts in the dirt floor. The box jerked in her grasp a couple of times, bumping over small obstacles of some kind, but continued to move.
As Tia cleared the stage out of the way, the trapdoor was revealed. When she saw it, she was shocked into immobility for a second, then pulled harder and faster to clear access to the wooden hatchway. Once she was certain there was room, she dropped the stage and rushed to the trapdoor, which was chained and padlocked. She could hear a woman shouting from below. A child was crying.
How many people are down there?
She exchanged a glance with Connor, who gave her a single nod, signaling the confidence he held in her. He kept his rifle trained on the prone figure of Kane. A dozen or more sirens wailed from the highway, growing closer by the second.
She dropped to her knees and shouted through the door, “Move as far back as you can!”
Tia pressed her ear to the wood and heard sounds of shuffling and hushed voices. She got to her feet and studied the lock, determining the safest angle from which to take a shot. She fired once, hitting the padlock dead center. Though damaged, the lock remained closed.
A second round did the trick; the metal exploded into pieces, scattering bits of shrapnel about the area. Tia rapidly pulled the chain through the hasp and threw back the trapdoor. She dropped to the ground, her head and torso projecting into the opening, and stretched one hand out in front of her, reaching into the darkness of the pit.
“Mija,” she called. “Come to me.”
When there was no answer, Tia yelled again. “Mija. Ven a mi!”
A woman called out in English, “Please. Help us.”
Without hesitation Tia scrambled into a sitting position on the edge of the opening, feet dangling into the hole. She jumped into the blackness of the pit, landing hard on the dirt floor but staying on her feet, gun at the ready. A small child rushed toward her and encircled her legs in his arms. Tia heard the cries of the others and tried to sound reassuring.
“Calm down,” she said, half-shouting. She scanned the area with her flashlight. “I’m Detective Suarez, Newberg PD. I’m here to help you.”
The woman, her once-bright dress covered in dirt, began to cry. “Where is my husband? I need my husband.”
Tia aimed her flashlight in the woman’s direction. “Who are you?”
“I’m Elaine Delafield. My husband is Agent Curtis Delafield. Do you know where he is?”
The sirens were close. It sounded like every cop in Wisconsin was headed their way. “Your husband is going to be okay, ma’am. Please stay calm. Help is coming. I’ll get you out of here.”
Tia scanned the small enclosure. A storm shelter, not unlike the one on the farm where she’d grown up, less than ten miles away. Basically a featureless box in the earth. Tia turned to Mrs. Delafield.
“Ma’am,” Tia said gently, more in control of her voice, “is there anyone else here? A young girl? About the same age as your daughter?”
When Mrs. Delafield spoke, her voice was hesitant. “In the corner.” She gestured toward a dark corner of the pit. “But she—”
Tia spun, shining her light into the corner, revealing a figure under a blanket. She flew to it.
The familiar face was quiet and serene. Tia stroked her hair. “Estoy aqui, mija. Estoy aqui.”
Tia pulled back the blanket and saw that the young woman’s slender body was covered with bruises. She took the girl’s cold hand in her own, noting how pale it was, how still the body was. A trail of blood ran from the young girl’s ear; Tia could tell from the way it reflected the beam of the flashlight that it was still moist, not yet dry.
“She died about an hour ago,” Mrs. Delafield said quietly, close behind. Tia glanced back and saw that the woman had drawn near, leaving her children on the other side of the space
In the same soft tones, she continued, “I’m a nurse. I did all I could, but…” She paused to stifle a cry. “She protected us. She fought one of them and he beat her terribly.
“I tried to stop him—” Her voice broke then and she turned away. Her daughter stepped forward and embraced her.
Tia sat still, stroking the dead girl’s long black hair, pushing it away from her face. She heard a dozen voices overhead, men shouting. A ladder was dropped into the pit and a moment later the space was full of Waukesha deputies and officers of Newberg PD. One of them was Travis Jackson, who pushed through the group to Tia’s side.
“Tia, are you all right? What the hell happened up there? We need to get everyone out of here. This is a major crime scene.”
Tia looked at the girl’s face and saw peacefulness. Serenity. Her skin was dirty but still smooth. Her mouth was shaped into a slight smile as if something had brought a happy thought to her mind.
“Tia, come on,” Jackson said. “We’ve got to clear this area.”
“Leave her alone, TJ.” Ben Sawyer’s voice, conveying both an order and concern. Tia did not look around.
“But Chief,” Jackson said, “you saw what’s up there. Some shit went down.”
“I know, Travis. Just leave her,” the chief said.
Tia could hear TJ continuing to protest as he c
limbed back up the ladder. The rest of the officers and deputies followed him up, escorting the other captives. Tia could tell, by the woman’s scream, when Elaine Delafield first saw her husband. Her shouting was immediately mixed with the calming voices of paramedics who were undoubtedly already working on the injured agent.
The pit itself was silent and Tia thought she was alone until she heard Ben’s voice, thick with sad emotion. “You did all you could, Tia. You did all anyone could. Take all the time you need.”
Connor knelt beside Tia, still in his ghillie attire but with his face wiped mostly clean. He looked somber. He reached for her, but Tia leaned away and would not look at him. Expression unchanged, he waited for a long moment, then got to his feet and left. Tia felt nothing, not even regret that she had hurt him once again.
Tia stared into the quiet face of a dead girl whose name she would probably never know, whose brief life she would never fully understand. A girl who had begged for help … but no one had listened. Minutes passed and the voices above faded. Silence fell.
At last, the normal sounds of a peaceful night returned. Time went on.
Still Tia sat there, in the black pit, dimly lit by the beam of her flashlight. What a lonely place it must have been to die.
Tia pulled her knees up high under her chin, lowered her head, and cried.
FORTY-ONE
“Hey, Tia. How you holding up?”
The familiar voice seemed to reach her from a thousand miles away and she was reluctant to even acknowledge it. She’d managed to drift away to a place where there were no consequences for failure. No shame or death. No unnamed bodies to bury. But she knew all those things mattered, so she allowed herself to be pulled back to the present.
She was sitting at her desk, facing a blank computer screen, just like she had been for almost an hour. No idea what to write, how to summarize recent events.
Beyond exhaustion, she gave just the slightest nod of her head when she turned to face the speaker. “Hey, TJ.”
“Chief’s asking for you. He’s got that Stahl guy in his office. Along with the sheriff and some other guy I don’t know.”
Tia nodded. Here it comes, she thought. “Thanks, TJ.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. Tough couple of days, but I’ll be all right. Thanks for asking.”
“Sorry about the girl. I should have–”
“Not now, TJ.” Tia shook her head and put her hand up, then realized she’d come across as harsh. “Sorry. I just mean, don’t worry about it for now. There’s a whole long list of people, me included, that are going to say something that starts with ‘I should have.’ Just not now.”
“Yeah, okay,” TJ said. She could tell he understood. “Well, be careful talking to those guys. I mean, don’t go off on anybody. And, don’t say any more than you need to.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Counselor, but I’m good. Sawyer’s got my back.”
Tia took the familiar walk, thinking of the two days since her last summons to the chief’s office. That time, she’d thought she was going there for the last time. She shook her head at herself. She’d survived that and everything else they had thrown at her. Now she thought, Here we go again.
Tia walked in to see Ben behind his desk and Sheriff Solo standing nearby, looking out the window. On the couch, Lester Stahl sat, staring at her with the sort of look he might give to a dog with mange. Next to Stahl was Elliot Gage practically glowing with self-righteous satisfaction.
When Tia entered the room, Ben stood up and the sheriff turned around. Both seemed at a loss for words. Stahl and Gage whispered to each other. Tia decided to set the tone. She did her best to mask her exhaustion as well as the overwhelming sadness that she had not been able to shake.
She addressed her boss.
“We’ve cleared the crime scene, Chief. Last I heard, Agent Delafield was conscious and responsive. He was headed into surgery, but his prognosis is good. I don’t think we’ll be talking to him until sometime late tomorrow.”
Tia looked at Stahl, then back at the chief. “From what he was able to tell me, the case we have against Kane will be strong. Multiple counts of kidnapping. Conspiracy to commit rape. And, of course, now we have him dead to rights for murder.”
Stahl frowned slightly at Tia before turning to the chief. “Kane will be transferred to federal custody. I am here to initiate the process.”
Tia didn’t wait for Ben or the sheriff to respond. “No, he won’t. He’ll be charged in Waukesha County Courthouse on state charges. Kane is my prisoner. And you should know, your informant, Jessup Tanner? He’s being taken into custody as we speak.”
Stahl stood and closed the distance between them. “The federal government has more than three years invested in this case. It is a major case of domestic terrorism. National security dictates that—”
“Your case is shit,” Tia said defiantly. “Hell, you don’t even have a case. All you have are the rifles, which were recovered from Tanner’s property. Kane is already claiming no knowledge.”
“We’ll charge him with conspiracy to purchase, along with the assault against Agent Delafield and the kidnapping of his family.” Stahl faltered and his voice turned sheepish. “And of course, he’ll be charged with the death of that girl.”
Tia glared back. “He’s in state custody. For murder. That’s where he’ll stay.”
“Chief Sawyer,” Stahl said, turning to the local authority, “this is obviously a situation that should be handled at an executive level. Perhaps we should dismiss the rank and file—”
“Shut up, Stahl,” Ben said crisply.
Stahl went silent, his face taking on a look of shock and confusion. Tia was inwardly amused but kept her expression neutral. When Ben spoke again, she easily picked up on his anger, mixed with what sounded like disgust.
“You have screwed this case from the start,” the chief said. “You’ve got nothing but a questionable firearms deal and an informant who will be shredded on the stand. As far as your undercover agent being nearly killed and a young woman being murdered, all of that is a direct result of your incompetence. The last thing in the world your case needs is a courtroom.”
Clearly flustered, Stahl worked to hold his ground. “That isn’t your decision.”
“He’s right, Ben,” Sheriff Solo chimed in, stepping away from the window and staring at Tia. “It’s my decision. Most all the crimes were committed in county jurisdiction.”
Stahl lifted his chin with satisfaction and opened his mouth, but Solo put out a hand. “It’s a county case and it will stay a county case. But obviously, we’ll work hand in hand with Newberg PD.”
Solo turned to Tia, his manner serious. “Detective Suarez, if you wouldn’t mind coordinating the investigation from this point forward? Interviews, evidence collection, liaison with the district attorney? It would all be much appreciated.”
“Of course, Sheriff.” Tia nodded. This was a victory, but not one to take pride in. It was a chance to do the job right.
“Apparently you’ve both forgotten,” Stahl said, “that Detective Suarez was involved in a shooting on Jessup Tanner’s property a few days ago. A man was killed. The federal government still has an interest in that case.”
Stahl turned to Ben and went on. “It is my understanding, Chief, that you had been told of Detective Suarez’s instability, that she was not fit for duty. I believe this whole situation calls for some federal oversight.”
“He’s right, Chief,” Gage piped in. “There is no way Detective Suarez should have been put in that situation. She was in no condition to be working in the field. I think I made that clear in my report.”
“A report,” Stahl said, “that I have read in its entirety.” In a condescending tone, he said to Tia, “My, you have had a tough time of it, haven’t you, Detective?”
Ben shook his head as if annoyed with the games. “Well, until someone tells me different, this is still my department and it is sure as h
ell my office. Gage, you can leave.”
“Chief Sawyer,” the doctor said, “I think you—”
“Leave, Doctor,” Ben repeated curtly. “Or I can have you escorted out.” He reached for the phone on his desk
Gage got up from the couch. He brushed by Tia without looking at her as he headed out of the room.
“Just so you know, Stahl,” Ben said conversationally, “I’ve already spoken to your assigned counsel, Ms. Graham. Based on the facts as they stand now, she has no interest in pursuing federal charges.”
Tia saw Stahl’s eyes widen fractionally in shock.
“Tell you what, Stahl,” she said. “I’ve got a few crates of M4 machine guns and ammunition you can have. We’ve got no need for it.”
Clearly furious but thwarted, Stahl walked to the door. “This is not over, not by a long stretch.”
“That I agree with,” Tia said. “But we’ll do our best to keep your name out of it. I think we’ll all be better off that way.”
Stahl left, practically slamming the door behind him. Tia turned around to look at the sheriff and the chief. She knew they each realized that there would be no victory celebration at the end of this case.
No high fives. No gloating over showing up the feds. There would be no sense of vindication coming out of this. Tia nodded at the sheriff, then addressed her boss.
“I’ll get back to my desk then, Chief. I’ve got a good bit of paperwork to get through.”
Ben looked at her quietly for several seconds, then nodded. “Get to it, Detective. Let’s wrap this up.”
FORTY-TWO
With stomachs full from a dinner of roasted pork, refried beans, fresh tortillas, and jicama sprinkled with lime and chilies, Tia and Connor walked out onto the front porch of the farmhouse. There was a coolness in the air and Tia wondered if it was the first hint of an early fall. She looked up into the trees in the dying light of the sun and, sure enough, a half-dozen leaves were tinted with orange. Ringo came up the steps, back from some sort of adventure, his beet-red tongue hanging from his mouth. The dog pushed past Connor to put his head under Tia’s hand. She dropped down and pulled at the loose skin around his head. He leaned into her, tail beating.