Above the Law

by Carsen Taite

  Dale walked to the other side of the room and did her best to tune them out. Her role for the next however long was babysitter, which was fine by her. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her emails and texts. Peyton had sent a text confirming another poker game for the next night, and Bianca had sent a text to make sure she’d make the off the books meeting she’d scheduled for that evening. She texted them both back and started sifting through her growing email inbox. She was in the middle of reading through a report of the forensics from the raid on the barn when Lindsey’s voice cut through her concentration.

  “What assurances can you provide that the drugs you collect won’t wind up in the hands of criminals? Isn’t it true you’ve had trouble over the past year dealing with fallout after several of your senior detectives were caught selling contraband they’d collected from crime scenes?”

  Holy shit. Dale pushed off the wall and started walking toward the conference room table where Chief Turner and his team sat like rotisserie chickens at the grocery story under the bright lights of Lindsey’s interrogation. She tapped Elaina on the shoulder and whispered, “What the hell is she doing?”

  Elaina raised one shoulder and put her finger on her lips. The dismissive gesture pissed Dale off and she strode over to stand directly behind the kid with the camera. She was out of Lindsey’s view, but Chief Turner made eye contact and didn’t bother to hide his annoyance at Lindsey’s probing questions. No surprise there. This supposed puff piece had soured with the very first on-camera interview. Despite his obvious annoyance, Turner handled the question like a pro, telling Lindsey and her viewers the scandal that had rocked his department had been a wake-up call about the need for better protocols in handling the collection and storage of contraband evidence.

  “Every mistake is an opportunity for us to become a better, more efficient force for justice in the community,” Turner said. “While we would love to report we have no problems, I’m happy to report the issues we’ve had in the past make us stronger for the future.”

  Dale nodded. Well said. Thankfully, Lindsey didn’t press the point and moved on to the specifics of the police department’s involvement in the Take-Back day activities. A couple of the officers, including DeJesus, already participated in the department’s DARE program in the local schools and would be offering several sessions at city hall on the official day. DeJesus explained what the sessions would entail, and Dale enjoyed watching the excitement on her face as she talked about working with kids.

  Maria had enjoyed visiting schools and talking about the importance of law enforcement as a way to keep communities safe. She had been a perennial favorite at the local high schools and appeared every year on career day to tout the challenges and benefits of working with the US attorney’s office. Her love for the job was at the top of the list of things Dale loved about her.

  The rest of the interview was uneventful, and Lindsey ended the session on a high note by getting each of the officers to relate the event to something personal in their lives. Dale watched carefully for any signs that Lindsey might try to twist their words, but at this point in the process she seemed bored with the interview—a stark contrast to the way her eyes blazed with excitement when she was grilling the chief. Need to be careful with that one—she feeds on drama.

  Dale followed the film crew out of the building, waiting until they were in the parking lot to say her piece, but instead of directing her comments to Lindsey, she spoke directly to the producer. “I was under the impression these interviews were about the DEA’s program, not a witch hunt on the local police force.”

  “Sometimes our reporters ask questions to round out the story,” Elaina said. “Don’t worry. Everything will go through edits before it airs.”

  Elaina flicked a glance at Lindsey, and Lindsey frowned in response. Dale watched their unspoken exchange, certain she detected a push and pull between them that was at odds with the easy way Elaina had cuddled up to Lindsey when they’d arrived at police headquarters. Something was going on between these two, but she didn’t have the time or patience to sort it out. She needed to make sure Lindsey’s bulldog tendencies didn’t stray over to the side investigation she had going with Peyton and the rest of the covert task force. No more lunches and no more sharing personal details about her own life. Strictly business with this one.

  *

  Hours later, Dale walked into J.R.’s and spotted Bianca sitting in a corner booth. When she slid into her seat, she caught Bianca making a show of looking at her watch. “I know I’m late. Couldn’t be helped.”

  “Don’t tell me, poor you, having to spend the day with Lindsey Ryan. Do you know how many women, and men for that matter, would trade places with you in a heartbeat?” She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together like a tiny violin. “Listen hard for my nonexistent sympathy.”

  Dale bit back the harsh response that rose to her lips. Bianca was only teasing and she didn’t mean anything by it. The worst thing she could do was let her or anyone else know how much Lindsey had gotten under her skin. “She’s okay, I guess.”

  “You guess?” Bianca bent closer. “Seriously, is she as totally badass in person as she is on TV?”

  Badass. Not the word she would have used to describe Lindsey. Smart, engaging, well-spoken, but badass? She hadn’t seen enough of her on TV to know if Bianca’s characterization was accurate, but the questions she’d asked Chief Turner seemed designed to foster a tiger-like reputation. Even the producer had seemed a bit thrown when Lindsey strayed from the script. And speaking of that producer, what was her deal? Dale hadn’t missed the possessive way she led Lindsey around. Something about the way she touched her, the glances she gave, signaled more than a work relationship.

  Shit. Why did she care? Just a few more days and she should be able to escape the whole crew for good. She shook out of her musings to find Bianca staring at her with a playful grin. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  It wasn’t nothing, but she wasn’t in the mood to hear what Bianca had to say unless it was about work. “Okay, you called this little powwow. What’s up?”

  “I have an idea, but Peyton’s not going to like it, so you’re going to have to talk her into it or we have to go behind her back.”

  Grateful for the change in subject, Dale said, “Spill.”

  “I think it’s time we stopped trying to hunt down Sergio Vargas and get him to come to us.”

  “And how do you propose we do that?”

  “We have the perfect bait. His sister. Sophia.”

  “Lily’s mother?” When Bianca nodded, Dale smacked her hand down on the table. When several of the other patrons looked their way, she waved them off and whispered to Bianca. “Don’t let me ever hear you refer to her as bait again. Do you understand me?”

  Bianca nodded, looking appropriately contrite. “Sorry. Bad choice of words, but the theory’s sound. I’ve been thinking about this a lot. We get her to go see Arturo in jail and imply that she can help him. I haven’t thought it all through, but she could tell him something to get his curiosity piqued. I have no doubt Arturo can get word to Sergio, and we’ll just follow the trail from there.”

  “Except what happens when they figure out Sophia did this for us? What happens when they hack her into a bunch of tiny pieces and leave them for her daughter to find? What do you think Peyton will say then? Aren’t you forgetting that we already have one witness under protection because we tried to use her for bait and it backfired?”

  “It didn’t backfire entirely—we have Arturo Vargas in custody, and it wouldn’t have happened without Carmen’s help.” Bianca referred to one of the defendants they’d managed to flip in exchange for leniency on her case. “I respect Peyton as much as you do, but she’s not in a position to make the hard calls on this. We may have to do it for her.”

  Bianca had a point. Whichever way she turned, Peyton was conflicted. Her brother, her lover, her lover’s mother—all of them stood between her and the tough choi
ces that had to be made to break this case. She trusted Peyton with her life, but Peyton’s loyalty meant they all paid a price, and that price was the inability to do what needed to be done, to hell with the cost. She knew what it was like to have something personal at stake, but her case was different. Her desire to find and punish the assholes behind Maria’s killing wasn’t a roadblock. It was a catalyst. She didn’t like going behind Peyton’s back, but the idea of catching Sergio Vargas was a strong incentive to do just that.

  “Okay, but we need to come up with a solid plan since, in your own words, you haven’t quite thought this through.” Dale rubbed her forehead as she considered how to proceed. “Get me transcripts of all the phone calls Arturo has made so far, and let’s tailor something believable for Sophia to offer. Whatever we do has to be ironclad because we’re only going to get one shot at this. If it goes wrong, Sergio will go deep underground and we may never see him again.”

  “I’ll have something to you by morning. Where should we meet?”

  Dale drummed her fingers on the table. She’d committed to meet Lindsey and her team the next morning at Lindsey’s hotel to go over logistics for some additional interviews they planned to do later in the week. She’d rather chew nails than spend the valuable time she should be spending tracking down Vargas sitting around babysitting this fake news reporting. She couldn’t risk meeting with Bianca at the courthouse again, and if Bianca showed up at her office, Diego would be suspicious.

  “You have other plans in the morning?” Bianca asked.

  “Actually, I do, but I guess we could meet later.” But she didn’t want to meet later. If they were going to make this work, they needed to jump on it and fast. She cast about for a convenient solution, and bam, one appeared. “Wait a minute, I’ve got the perfect place in mind.”

  *

  Lindsey carried two drinks over to the table in the bar where Elaina was waiting. She didn’t have time to set the glasses on the table before Elaina started in. “What was the deal with you grilling the chief today?”

  “Maybe I’m dying of boredom.” She slid into the booth and took a deep swallow of the expensive scotch she’d ordered on the network’s dime. She might be spending her days drowning in mediocrity, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the complexity of a good whisky.

  “You know you’re being punished, right?” Elaina said in a know-it-all tone. “Even if Larry didn’t tell you as much, lots of people paid a price for the stunt you pulled with General Tyson.”

  “Nobody pays a price when the truth is told except the ones who tried to hide it in the first place.”

  “Are you really that naive? You had full access to Tyson and his team, and instead of doing the so-called substantive story you claim to be famous for, you chose to publicly embarrass him. Your little stunt shut down access for dozens of other reporters who are just trying to do their jobs.”

  “Give me a break. First of all, the network you’ve sworn allegiance to couldn’t air that footage fast enough. Their ratings skyrocketed. It wasn’t until the conservative backlash started that anyone, including Larry, had any second thoughts about the piece. Tyson is a douche and I’m not a bit sorry he showed his true colors. The only thing I’m sorry about is being stuck on this job, but once I pay this penance, I’ll be back out in the field reporting on real news instead of glorified PR stunts.”

  “That’s what you think this story is?”

  “Don’t you? You really think any good comes from these once in a while displays of community involvement? I’d bet every penny I have in the bank that not one of the DEA or local cops believe this Take-Back day has ever accomplished anything in the real war on drugs, as if there really is such a thing. You think people are going to show up carrying bricks of cocaine or baggies of heroin? The drugs that are killing people will never stop as long as there’s money to be made. Did you know the Medellin Cartel made so much money in Colombia they couldn’t even launder it all? They had to start burying it in fields. A farmer found some by accident when he was plowing. Did he take it to the police? No, he knew it had to be Cartel money and he went straight to them out of fear for his life.”

  “We’re not in Colombia, Lindsey.”

  Elaina’s condescending tone set her on edge. “Not yet. Mark my words, the Texas Mexican Mafia, the Zetas—they’re all here and working hard to make sure that changes. As long as the DEA is focused on all show and no substance projects like this one, the bad guys have a fighting chance.” She raised her glass and took another deep swallow, bracing for Elaina’s next parry.

  “I always liked your passion.”

  Lindsey laughed at Elaina’s response to her diatribe. “Until it got in the way of your career.”

  “Not fair. There’s no room in your life for anything but your work. If I’d asked you not to go back to Afghanistan, would you have stayed?”

  Lindsey started to point out that Elaina hadn’t asked. Elaina had only been annoyed that she was once again disrupting their normal lives in the city where bouts of work were sandwiched between dinners and parties designed to have them rubbing elbows with the in-crowd. To Elaina these events were networking, but to her they were a chore she could hardly wait to have done. Just like this conversation. “Let’s talk about this another time. I’m exhausted.” She swirled the last bit of scotch in her glass and downed it to signal the end of the conversation. When she stood up, Elaina stepped out of the booth.

  “I’m tired too. Let’s go.”

  They didn’t speak in the elevator. Lindsey was certain Elaina was waiting for her to own up to her part in the demise of their relationship, but she wasn’t interested in rehashing it. They’d wanted different things, and to her, the things Elaina had wanted were too shallow to merit a second look. Maybe she’d judged too harshly. Maybe she was judging too harshly now, about Elaina, about this assignment.

  When the elevator dinged, they both walked out. Elaina’s door was just down the hall from hers and they reached it first. She was several feet away before she heard Elaina cursing as she rummaged through her purse.

  “Damn.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I can’t find my key. I bet I left it in the room.” Elaina glanced back at the elevator. “It’s such a trek back to the front desk. I don’t suppose you’d mind if I called them from your room?”

  Lindsey searched Elaina’s face for any signs she was trying to ignite some past flame, but she saw nothing to cause alarm. She could suggest Elaina call the front desk from her cell, but it seemed rude to make her wait in the hall. “Sure. Come on.” She led the way a few doors down to her room and invited Elaina in. “Help yourself to the phone. I’ll be right back.”

  She walked into the spacious bathroom and shut the door behind her. The bathtub was huge and featured spa jets and a basket full of essential oils. A hot bath was exactly what she needed after a stressful day. Funny how she considered the day stressful in light of the kind of days she’d been used to on her last assignment where long, hot baths were an unheard of luxury. Did burger-loving Dale take bubble baths?

  The thought came out of nowhere, but she reveled in the idea of Dale Nelson, stretched out in the tub, patches of muscled flesh showing through billowing foam. Damn. Maybe she’d downed that scotch too quickly. As soon as Elaina left, she’d run herself a bath and indulge in a little harmless fantasy. She set out a towel and robe and then brushed her teeth and hair. Finally, she decided she’d allowed Elaina enough time to take care of her business.

  When she walked out, she was surprised to find Elaina sitting at her desk. For a second, she was suspicious, and her gaze swept the area to see if anything was out of place before she decided she was making too much of it. Too long on the job made her question everything. She pointed at the phone. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes. I’m supposed to meet them at my door, but I was waiting for you to come out so I could say good night.” Elaina stood up and stepped close. “So, I guess this is good night.”


  Her voice was a whisper, and the question in her eyes signaled she was open to staying. She was a beautiful woman, no doubt, but if that were enough, they would still be a couple. Lindsey squeezed her hand, but then stepped back to put some distance between them. As she moved away, Elaina’s expression changed, but Lindsey couldn’t quite tell if it was sadness or relief. Didn’t matter either way. They wanted different things, and right now all she wanted was to be alone with her fantasies.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The next morning, Dale strode into the lobby of the Anatole and was surprised to find Bianca already there.

  “Tell me there’s somewhere nearby where I can get something to eat,” Bianca said as she approached.

  “Sure. There’s one of those coffee bar things.” Dale pointed to an area around the corner from the lobby. “Over there.”

  “Thank goodness. I could eat a dozen bagels right now.”

  Dale walked her to the coffee bar and watched with amusement as Bianca ordered the largest cup of coffee they had and a giant bear claw. Once they sat down, she said, “Wow, you really are hungry. I didn’t mean to get in the middle of your breakfast time with this meeting. Besides, you’re early.”

  Bianca took a huge bite of the pastry and washed it down with her complicated coffee concoction before responding. “I’ve been here for thirty minutes, but I didn’t want to leave the lobby in case I missed seeing you. This place is huge. I dropped my daughter off at school an hour ago. She kills me with her early morning track practice. Why did I have to spawn a sporting child instead of a bookworm like me?”

  Dale did a double take. “You have a daughter? How old is she?”

  Bianca smiled indulgently. “Yes, I have a daughter. She’s eleven. Just started the seventh grade—skipped a grade because she’s smart in addition to being athletic. And I don’t keep stuff like this,” she held up the remains of the pastry, “at home since it would be setting a bad example about a nutritious breakfast. Go ahead, tell me I’m too young-looking to be a mother of an almost teenager.”