Above the Law

by Carsen Taite

  *

  “You two should eat something too. Come on. We’ve got plenty.”

  Dale looked up from watching Neil scarf his way through a plate of pot roast into the welcoming eyes of Helen Davis and wondered, not for the first time, how one woman had given birth to two such incredibly different children. Peyton was one of the most honorable people she’d ever met, and Neil was a selfish, entitled brat. She had no desire to break bread with him. She glanced at Peyton who nodded.

  “Mom, I’ve got to talk to Dale. We’ll be back in a few minutes.” Peyton motioned for Dale to follow, and they walked out front and sat on the front porch. “She pushes food on people. It’s her way.”

  “Sorry if I was rude, but I actually do need to talk to you about something and I couldn’t do it in front of your brother.”

  “Sounds serious. Shoot.”

  Dale hesitated for a second before plunging to the heart of what she wanted to know. “Did you know Gellar is shutting down the task force?”

  “What?”

  “It’s true.”

  “It can’t be. He can’t do that.”

  Years of experience talking to liars told her Peyton’s reaction was genuine. The next question was what they were going to do about it. “Diego told me. He got the word from the director. I expect you’ll hear about it firsthand when you meet with Gellar tomorrow. In fact, that’s probably the real reason he wants to meet with you.”

  “We can’t let this happen. Not now when we’re just starting to make headway.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir. Diego’s got me lined up to work with some reporter who’s doing a piece on the agency for Spotlight America. It’s a PR thing about our drug Take-Back program. Supposed to make us look good after all the fallout from the hooker deal last year. Guess the director needs to go to Congress for more funding. Anyway, I can probably shake her to get some work done. Think you can sneak around if needed?”

  “If I’m not out of a job entirely. They transferred me back here to head up this task force. If Gellar dissolves it, he may not see his way clear to keeping me on.”

  “You’ve got to stay on. Bianca’s good, but she needs more experience, and she won’t stand up to Gellar. If we’re going to prosecute the Vargases, we need you.”

  “I hear you, but maybe it’s for the best. My dad is getting sicker by the day, and there’s the whole conflict with Lily’s father.”

  Dale heard what she was saying, but she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “I get that it’s a sacrifice. My wife died fighting these people. Your relationship with Lily, the fact that it’s personal, just makes you more suited to the job. People fight the hardest when they’re fighting for something they care about.” She’d seen the concept in action every day that she’d served in active duty, and she believed it to her core.

  The creak of the screen door interrupted Peyton’s response. Helen stuck her head out. “I’m officially declaring your business on hold for now,” she said. “Come on in and eat before everything gets cold.”

  Dale looked at Peyton who merely shrugged. What the hell, she was starving and it did smell wonderful. “Yes, ma’am.” She started to walk through the door, but Helen placed a hand on her shoulder before she could get past.

  “Dale, don’t you worry about Peyton. She’ll do the right thing. I can always count on her that way. Her daddy may be sick and her girl may be caught in the middle, but Peyton won’t leave you hanging.” Helen delivered the last words with a pointed look at Peyton, and Peyton offered what appeared to be a grudging smile. Dale made a mental note never to assume a conversation in the Davis household was private.

  A few minutes later, they were seated around the table with Neil. Lily had excused herself to go make some phone calls, and Helen said something about checking her horses, but Dale suspected they both wanted to give them some privacy to ask Neil the hard questions. She and Peyton had agreed that Dale would do most of the talking.

  “Like I said at the office, you’re not being charged with anything. Frankly, I don’t know if you’ve done anything illegal, but I have to say you sure are acting like someone who has something to hide.”

  Neil dropped his fork and let it clatter against his plate. “Maybe you’re just overly suspicious.”

  Dale leaned back in her chair, purposely meeting his aggressive stance with calm tones. “Maybe. But I’ve got an eye for folks in trouble. They start hiding things, like the financial condition of this ranch and the fact they’ve made sketchy business deals, from loved ones. They miss important meetings and go on the run. And they get themselves tied up and left as bait for a bunch of federal agents.”

  “Sketchy business deals?” He stabbed his finger at Peyton. “She’s talking about the father of your girlfriend. If you think Cyrus Gantry is bad news, then what are you doing dating his precious daughter and the heir to his fortune?”

  The only sign he’d gotten under Peyton’s skin was the hitch in her breath, but she quickly took control. “Spare me the lecture. If fathers and their children were exactly the same, you’d be more like Dad and be content to earn your money through hard work rather than gambling with the wealth of others. You sold rights you didn’t have to Cyrus Gantry and took a nice little bonus off the top.” Neil’s expression told them both he hadn’t expected her to find out about his side deal. “The question now is, why did you get paid in cash? Maybe all that money wasn’t for the drilling rights. Have you been helping Cyrus launder money for the Vargas brothers? All I want is information, but if you don’t pony up what you know, then I’ll be after blood.”

  As Dale watched the exchange, she was more certain than ever that Peyton was the right person to bring the Vargases to justice. She’d never let personal conflict trump her desire for right over wrong, and that was exactly why she had to keep the task force alive. But if she was going to ask Peyton to make it work, she had to be willing to do the same which meant dodging Lindsey Ryan, and that wouldn’t be easy.

  She was familiar with Lindsey’s work, respected it even. Lindsey asked tough questions and went to great lengths to bring realism to her stories. Unfortunately, the qualities she admired in Lindsey were the ones she would have to be most wary of because if Lindsey figured out she was working off the books, she wouldn’t rest until she uncovered the details. And that was the problem with investigative reporters—when they sifted through other people’s dirt, their goal was to sling mud. Nothing sold like a full-fledged messy scandal, and no one sold it better than an intelligent, attractive reporter like Lindsey Ryan.

  She pictured Lindsey as she’d been when she met her at the office. She was as vibrant off screen as she was on, but what Dale noticed was her bearing. Stance confident, eyes sharp—Lindsey was unapologetic about asking questions, and she grilled her subjects for the details behind the answers. If she were going to pull off working double duty, she’d have to figure out how to keep Lindsey both close and distant at the same time. But for now, she turned her attention back to the exchange between Neil and Peyton.

  “Cyrus Gantry isn’t what you think he is,” Neil said.

  Peyton rested her hands on the table. “Enlighten me then.”

  “He’s a good man who’d do anything to protect his family.”

  “You care to define ‘anything’?”

  Neil flicked a glance at Dale. “Do I need a lawyer?”

  “Your sister’s a lawyer,” Dale replied. “If it were up to me, I’d have found something to charge you with already since I understand you skipped town with money that belonged to your family after you got mixed up with Cyrus. Your best bet is to start talking and tell us something we don’t already know.”

  Neil took a breath and blurted, “The Vargases told Cyrus they would kill Lily if he didn’t do as they asked.”

  Dale leaned in closer. “That’s what we’re talking about. Tell me more.”

  “I don’t know how it started, but a few years ago, when oil prices were tanking, they approac
hed Cyrus about a way he could make extra cash off the books by laundering money for their drug operation. He told them no fucking way, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer. They sent him close-up photos of Lily in all kinds of places at different times of the day to show him they could get to her anytime they wanted. Finally, he gave in.”

  Dale would’ve had a hard time believing Neil’s story, if Peyton hadn’t told her about how the Vargas brothers had forced Lily’s mother to give her up to be raised by Cyrus. And then, just last week, they’d tried to kill Sophia for telling Lily the truth. She wondered how much, if any, of the sordid backstory Neil knew. “Why didn’t he reach out for protection? Seems like that would’ve made a helluva lot more sense than throwing in with drug dealers.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Most of his contact with the Vargases was through go-betweens. They were careful not to deal with Cyrus in public, where he could take any action against them. What was Cyrus supposed to report? All I know is sometimes a man has to take things into his own hands when he’s threatened.”

  His pointed glance at Peyton spoke volumes, but Dale wasn’t interested in helping them explore their family dynamics. “Okay, so tell me what you do know, starting with why he trusted you with this information and what you were doing to help Cyrus.”

  “I didn’t have to do much. He wanted to lease the land out by the north pasture for drilling. He had his engineers do some preliminary testing, and he showed me a report that said there was a viable oil source. Peyton and Zach ran his team off before they got a chance to put a hole in the ground.”

  “That’s it? That was your only involvement?” Neil ducked his head, and Dale knew there was more to his story. “This only works if you tell us everything. You hold out and I’ll haul you back to my office.”

  “He’d already advanced me a big sum of money.”

  “Let me guess—you didn’t have it anymore.”

  “I didn’t have most of it.”

  “So, you owed him.”

  “Yes.”

  “And what did Cyrus have you do to work it off?”

  “He wanted me to get him information about Peyton. What she was working on and if it involved him.”

  “So you spied on your sister?”

  “No, I told him there was no way Peyton would confide in me and I had to stay gone a while, until the family cooled off about the investment with Cyrus. I offered to try to flush out the Vargases instead. And I found them, but they were waiting for me. Guess I’m lucky to be alive.”

  Dale drummed her fingers on the table as she contemplated whether Neil was telling the truth. Seemed pretty implausible that he’d turned from rancher to wannabe oil baron to drug informant in the space of a few months. Still, something about the way he delivered the details of his tale rang true. She turned to Peyton. “You have something he can write on?”

  “Absolutely.” Peyton walked over to a drawer and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen.

  When she placed them in front of Neil, he asked, “What?”

  “Start writing,” Dale said. “I want every detail of every conversation you’ve had with anyone at Gantry Oil and the Vargas brothers on that paper before you leave this room.” She stood and motioned for Peyton to follow. When they were out of hearing range, she asked, “You buy any of this?”

  “I don’t know what to buy anymore, but I do think it’s possible Cyrus was acting out of fear. He may be a sorry ass example of a father, but he loves Lily in his own twisted way.”

  “Do you think Cyrus really believed Lily’s uncles would harm her?”

  “Hard to believe, I know, but they think Lily is a blight on the family. Ironic, right?”

  Dale nodded, and the hard steel in Peyton’s voice made her pause before saying, “We should probably talk to Lily’s mother. Seems like she could shed a lot of light on the family dynamic beyond what she’s already told you.” She jerked her head toward the kitchen. “What do you want to do about your brother?”

  “I don’t know. You have any ideas?”

  “I say let’s cut him loose and see what he does. If he’s a patsy, he’ll steer clear of Cyrus and the Vargases, but if he’s on the payroll, we’ll know soon enough.”

  Less than an hour later, Dale left the ranch. She didn’t envy the folks around the Davis dinner table that evening.

  She drove back to the office and spent the rest of the day clearing her desk ahead of the busy next day. The first thing she’d do in the morning was meet with Lindsey Ryan and get her set up so she could work on her own, and then she planned to duck out and catch up with Peyton after her meeting with Gellar. If Gellar really was determined to dismantle the task force, they’d have to come up with a plan to keep their investigation going and keep their work secret.

  When she finally looked up, the sky was pitch-dark and the clock on the wall read eight o’clock. She reached for the phone, but withdrew her hand before punching the familiar buttons to tell her dead wife she’d be home late. A year later, old habits still trumped the reality that she had no one to go home to anymore.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Lindsey shut off her alarm and stretched. She’d slept later than she’d planned, but hotel rooms with their freezing temperatures and blackout curtains did that to her. The bonus was she was well rested and ready for a packed day. She reached for the phone and ordered breakfast: eggs, pancakes, bacon, and coffee. Lots of coffee. She’d need a ton of fortification today since she planned to spend it with her reluctant liaison, Dale Nelson.

  Dale. While she waited for breakfast to be delivered, she tugged on shorts and a hoodie and fished through her bag to find her laptop. Once it powered up, she typed in Dale’s name. With no other identifiers, the search results were a mixed bag, and she scrolled through stories about a line of fancy yachts, a Canadian mass murderer, and a renowned meteorologist without any mention of Special Agent Nelson. She punched her way back to the search engine and added more words: DEA, Dallas, Marine, and several pages of stories appeared. All of them mentioning the enigmatic woman she’d met the day before, but the first one—the only one with a photo—seized her attention.

  The photo was black-and-white, and Dale was in profile, standing in front of a ranch-style house. Several reporters with microphones clustered around her, and Lindsey could tell by the set of Dale’s jaw, she was angry. The caption simply said: Crime Hits Home for DEA Agent. Lindsey’s gut wrenched at the combination of the expression on Dale’s face and the foreboding words. She scrolled through the article, skipping through phrases faster and faster, eager to know what happened yet dreading what she might learn.

  AUSA Maria Escobar…apparently surprised by gunman…body riddled with dozens of blasts from automatic weapons…known for her ruthless prosecution of members of the Texas Mexican Mafia…survived by her wife, Special Agent Dale Nelson.

  No small wonder Dale looked angry. There she was standing in front of the house she’d shared with her wife, mere hours after Maria had been assassinated on the front lawn, and reporters were vying for her attention. Lindsey wondered if she would’ve risked Dale’s wrath to get a quote?

  Maybe, once upon a time. When she’d first started out, Lindsey had believed nothing should stand between a reporter and the whole story, no matter how messy, no matter how ugly the truth was. Years later, her ideals had been tempered by the inhumanity she’d seen in the world. There was more than enough meanness, cruelty, and atrocity for her to document without having to stoke the flames of her subject’s pain. She might always report the truth, but there was enough pain in the world without her creating more of it. The photo of Dale was striking, the caption provocative, but her heart ached for the way their intrusion had robbed Dale of important moments of quiet grief.

  She glanced at the date of the release. Just over a year ago. Were the shades of Dale’s past still casting shadows over her life now? Curiosity drove her to click open a few other stories, and she devoured each one. Dale served as a MP in Afghanistan and
she had been awarded a Navy Cross for an act of heroism that appeared to be classified. She’d met Maria, who was serving as a JAG officer, during her time in the service, and they married soon after they both returned to the States. They’d both been working on a task force formed by the local US Attorney, Herschel Gellar. Their mission was to curb the tide of crime and violence perpetrated by the Zeta Cartel whose members were engaged in high dollar drug deals and a host of other violent crimes.

  After scanning a dozen articles, Lindsey leaned back in her chair. So, now Special Agent Nelson was assigned to show her around town and educate her on the agency’s drug Take-Back Initiative? Could there be any assignment more toothless than that?

  She flashed back to her first look at Dale yesterday—jeans, boots, a tight black T-shirt, badge and gun on her belt, her unruly dark waves sticking out all over. She hadn’t tried to hide her distaste at being assigned as a liaison to her crew. If the agency was set on redeeming their reputation with PR about public outreach, Dale wasn’t buying the script. Something else was going on with Agent Nelson, and Lindsey was convinced whatever it was had to be the hook for this story.

  A knock at the door jerked her out of her musings. She moved her laptop to make room for her huge breakfast, but when she swung open the door, instead of a room service waiter, Dale stood framed in the threshold, looking almost exactly the same as she had the day before. Lindsey stood stock-still for a second while she tried to process what was happening. Had they made an appointment and she’d forgotten about it? No, she was meticulous about details, and she hadn’t even had a chance to give Dale her number before Dale ditched her at the DEA office.

  “Are you going to invite me in?”

  Lindsey snapped out of her reverie and looked down at her clothes. Dale caught her looking and said, “At least you aren’t in your pajamas.”