Hidden Agenda

by Lisa Harris

  She hung up the unanswered call, then dropped the phone onto her desk. She might have made the conscious choice to face the ugly realities of this world every day, but that decision had not included Tess. The realization that she wasn’t in total control of her daughter’s life had struck hard, and the aftermath of the ordeal had been just as traumatic as the ransom and kidnapping.

  She shifted in her chair, the gunshot wound in her leg still aching. Both she and Tess had been left with emotional as well as physical scars. Healing would come, but the fact that her daughter had been forced to deal with issues no thirteen-year-old should have to face had added another layer of guilt to what she already carried as a single mom. Guilt that highlighted her own weaknesses and fears, pushing her to the place where the only way she could hang on some days was to rely solely on God’s strength.

  Avery fiddled with her engagement ring while staring at the stack of paperwork she needed to tackle. Moving up her wedding to Valentine’s Day had sent Mama into a tizzy, but while Mama might believe that the words “simple” and “southern” couldn’t be uttered in the same sentence, this was her wedding. She and Jackson had cut the guest list to a minimum, settled on a quiet, cozy setting, and started writing their own vows.

  She picked up the family photo sitting on the edge of her desk and ran her finger across the glass frame. They needed to take a new one to include Jackson, but a photo without Michael would make his death seem all the more final. She still missed him. Still thought about him every day. Knew that her mother was still grappling with losing her only son.

  Mason knocked on the open door of her office, wearing his typical jeans, T-shirt, and leather jacket. She motioned him in. Not too long ago, she would have objected to the undercover cop’s presence in her office, but that was before he’d helped save Tess’s life and stolen the heart of her sister, Emily. Today, he was once again a part of the Hunt family.

  She studied his sullen expression as he moved in front of her desk, his laptop under his arm. “You don’t look happy. What’s wrong?”

  Before she could answer, the captain stepped into her office behind Mason and shut the door.

  Avery pushed her chair back and stood up. “Captain Peterson.”

  “I need you to watch something.”

  The familiar feeling of unease welled up inside her. Emotionally, she’d barely made it through the past couple of weeks. She wasn’t ready for another bombshell to hit.

  Mason flipped open his laptop while she sat down again, and set it on the desk facing her. Seconds later, video footage began playing on the screen. The black-and-white recording of the inside of a convenience store captured the cashier and a woman paying for her purchases.

  She watched as a man wearing a beanie came up from behind and pressed a gun against the woman and started shouting at the cashier.

  Avery looked up at Mason. “Why are you showing me this?”

  Mason glanced at the captain, then back at Avery. “I’m not sure how to ease into a conversation like this.” He paused, adding to the unspoken tension in the room. “We believe Michael is on this video.”

  “Michael?”

  Mason froze the footage as a second man moved into view on the left of the screen. “Right there.”

  Avery blinked, trying to process the information. She’d seen the rubble of the warehouse where Michael had been killed in the explosion. She’d read the medical examiner’s report and watched them carry his empty casket out of the chapel. There might not have been enough left of Michael to identify, but she’d never doubted that her brother was dead.

  She braced her hands on the desk, her fingers gripping its edge, while an eerie numbness spread through her. “You know that’s not possible. The ME was able to positively identify his remains. We buried him eight months ago. Both of you were there.” Avery leaned closer to study the picture. “I’ll admit it looks like him, but Michael’s dead. This doesn’t even make sense.”

  “We found his prints. The captain called in a few favors so I could personally hand the prints over to the lab for a rush job. They confirmed that the prints were Michael’s, based on ones we have on file.”

  Avery shook her head, still not buying it. Someone could have tampered with the evidence. Tampered with the fingerprints on file …

  “Where did you find his prints?” she asked.

  “On the fifty-dollar bill he handed the cashier.”

  She drew in a slow breath, feeling as if she’d just stepped into a nightmare. But for now, all she could do was keep asking questions. The more she knew, the faster she could find a way to untangle this mess.

  “Where did this footage come from?”

  “A local gas station and convenience store about thirty minutes from here.”

  “Play it again.”

  Avery watched as the video played a second time. Moments after Michael—or whoever the man was—appeared on the screen, the other man shot at him. Michael shot back, and the man dropped to the ground. Michael put a bill on the counter, then grabbed the girl. A second later he was gone.

  “What about the man he shot?”

  “He’s a local drug dealer. He should make it, but he’s not talking yet.”

  Avery stopped the footage and sat down in her chair, refusing to believe what she’d just seen. Michael was not alive. He hadn’t just shot someone. Hadn’t just grabbed some girl in the middle of the robbery and dragged her out of the store. It couldn’t be Michael. Because Michael would never betray his family and cause them such heartache.

  “This is crazy. It can’t possibly be Michael.”

  She’d worked for months to clear her brother’s name and ensure that the rumors of him betraying the department were laid to rest. Michael had been working undercover before his death, assigned to infiltrate a group of suspected drug and arms dealers. He’d been killed in a bomb explosion, but instead of hailing him as a hero, the department had criminalized him, accusing him of selling sensitive information to the dealers.

  Not once had she believed the unsubstantiated reports to be true. And with Charlie’s death, the true identity of the informant had been revealed, which only cemented in her mind that her brother was innocent. She wasn’t going to let them drag his reputation through the mud again.

  “Avery?”

  She glanced up at Mason and caught the concern in his voice. Mason and Michael might have been best friends for years, but even he couldn’t fully understand what her family had gone through because of the accusations marring her brother’s name.

  Mason sat down on the edge of the desk. “The higher-ups believe he’s been working for the cartel, and that he shot and killed a rival. I don’t believe any of it, but—”

  “You can’t be serious.” Avery shoved her chair back and stood up, ready for a fight. “Before Michael died, he was trying to take down the cartel, not work with them. And he certainly wasn’t a dirty cop.”

  “I’m doing everything I can to keep this quiet,” the captain said, “but there’s a reporter barking up this tree, which means the video is eventually going to hit the news.”

  Avery’s temples pulsed as her mind scrambled for an explanation that would counter the accusations against her brother. “Who’s the woman in the video?”

  “We’ve identified her as Olivia Hamilton. Her father’s name is Antonio Valez. He’s a real estate broker with rumored ties to the cartel Michael was investigating. There are even rumors that his role goes beyond possible money laundering and that he actually is the notorious La Sombra. But even with half a dozen federal agencies breathing down his neck, he’s managed so far to avoid any kind of conviction.”

  “So, back up. You’re actually telling me that my brother somehow faked his own death and has spent the last eight months working for Antonio Valez, aka La Sombra?”

  “Until we speak to Michael,” the captain said, “we can try to interpret the video however we want, but that’s what it looks like to me, and I’m not the only one. Unfortuna
tely, you and I both know that this isn’t the only evidence we have against your brother.”

  Avery’s anger dug into her at the captain’s clipped words. She’d seen the “evidence” they’d used to identify the mole. Michael had been involved in several key operations that had allowed him access to sensitive information. After his death, the police had discovered this information on a laptop hidden in his apartment.

  “The only evidence found against my brother was circumstantial and you know it. Planted, most likely, by Charlie Bains, who is now dead. That case is closed.”

  “What if it’s not?” Mason asked.

  “You were his best friend,” Avery shot back. “You know as well as I do that Michael wasn’t capable of this. He loved his job. Loved his family. Loved his country, and he would never betray any of them. In fact, if you want my opinion, if that really is Michael, it looks like a robbery to me, and he just saved a woman.”

  “I agree that Michael wasn’t capable of doing anything criminal,” Mason said, “but I also know he was working undercover and none of us know at this point exactly what he was involved in.”

  “There are those who are going to say that your brother killed a member of the cartel, then grabbed Valez’s daughter to use her as leverage,” the captain said.

  “And they’d be wrong,” Avery said.

  The captain cleared his throat. “Avery, I know your family is close, and I know that Michael always had a pristine record, but money can change people. The cartel’s gross profit easily exceeds DuPont and Coca-Cola. How hard would it have been for him to say yes to an offer that would bring in ten times what he made in a year?”

  She would never believe that. “Not Michael.”

  “Listen,” the captain continued, “I wanted to come to you personally, before all this hits full force, because you’re going to be caught in the middle. You’re going to be asked if you’ve heard from your brother. If you’ve seen him. If he’s really dead.”

  “I’ve told you the truth this entire time.” Avery clenched her fists, ready to strike the next person who tried to convince her that her brother was guilty. “We buried my brother eight months ago. As far as I know, he’s dead.”

  “Just know that I’ll continue to back you up, but if I find out you’re lying—or protecting a fugitive—you’re going to have a hard time saving your career.”

  The captain’s comment stung, making her feel as if she were boxing in the dark, with no way to see who she was fighting against.

  Avery skirted around her desk and faced the captain. “You’re saying that Michael walked away from his home, his family, and his career all for a paycheck, but I don’t buy that. Michael loved what he did. He believed in what he did, and nothing you can tell me—no video or any piece of so-called evidence—can convince me otherwise. If this is true … there has to be a logical explanation to what he’s been doing these past eight months.”

  The captain took a step toward the door, then paused. “Here’s the bottom line. We’ve been looking for a way to bring down the cartel working in this area for a long time, and innocent or not, I believe your brother is the key. We need to bring him in, and I need you to help me, because while he wasn’t worth much to us dead, he’s worth everything to us if he’s alive. He could mean access into the cartel.”

  Avery started to speak, but the captain wasn’t finished.

  “We also think Michael was shot, which means he’s going to need medical attention. And if I’m right, he might be contacting you soon. So while I’m putting you in charge of this investigation, it’s not because I think it’s the wisest thing to do, but because you know this case inside and out. And just so we’re clear, I expect to be kept in the loop. Because whatever the truth ends up being, your brother’s in way over his head.”

  Mason broke his silence as soon as the captain left the room. “I’m sorry. If I could have warned you—”

  “This wasn’t your fault.” She looked up at him, wondering if any of her arguments were worth anything. “It’s just that I spent months trying to prove his innocence, and I meant what I said. No matter what kind of evidence they have, no matter what kind of proof, nothing will convince me that he sold us out.”

  “You know I don’t believe for a moment that he’d betray any of us either.”

  Avery leaned against her desk, fighting back the tears. She’d always been the protective older sister. The one who’d found a reason to keep going after losing her husband. The one who’d come up fighting after Michael died. But today … today she felt like everything she’d tried to do to prove his innocence was suddenly slipping away.

  She looked up at Mason. “Promise me you’ll do everything you can to keep this off the nightly news for as long as possible. I’d rather my mother not know what’s going on until we’re 100 percent sure whether he’s alive or not. Even if that was him on the video, he could be killed before this is all over.”

  “Of course.” Mason nodded. “But what are you going to do if Michael contacts you?”

  Avery tried to process the question, knowing all her options were unacceptable. If Michael turned himself in, he’d be arrested. If he stayed out there, there was a good chance the cartel would try to take him down.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I honestly don’t know.”

  10

  Michael shouted as the ground tore open beneath him. He slammed against the concrete as an explosion ripped through the building behind him, sucking up the air around him and leaving his lungs desperate for breath. Debris smashed against his back and thighs, smoldering embers looking for something to burn.

  And then nothing.

  An unsettling silence surrounded him. The air was hot and smoky as he tried to fill his lungs with oxygen. Light peeked through the corners of his eyes as he forced them open, the ground rumbling around him. He could see someone run past him. His face was plastered against the ground, and he could feel the heat from the burning warehouse.

  Someone dragged him from the pavement. Nausea swept over him as they lifted him into the car. He should be dead. Should be in that warehouse with Bruce. It wasn’t the first time he’d faced death head-on and won. But this time had been different.

  He shouldn’t be alive.

  Like Bruce. But instead of being able to save his partner Bruce, he’d only managed to save Valez. Pulled him toward safety the moment he’d realized the bomb was going to go off. Michael’s unconscious mind fought to unearth the truth. How had his dreams become more vivid than reality?

  His mind shifted. He was back on the veranda sitting across from Valez, staring once again at his own obituary.

  Valez was offering him a smug grin. “I felt like it was the least I could do after you saved my life.” He tapped the obituary with his finger. “I thought adding your love of the outdoors was a nice touch, though I realize it must feel a bit strange to find out you’re a dead man.”

  Michael had worked to temper the anger rising inside his gut. “I don’t understand. How did this happen?”

  “I suppose the reason behind your … exaggerated death … isn’t clear to you yet.”

  Michael bit back a sharp response. “No, it’s not.”

  “I’m worried, Michael. Between ongoing investigations by the IRS, the DEA, and every other organization they can drum up, they’re getting too close to discovering the truth. They’re all threats to this life I’ve created here. I can’t take a chance of losing it.” Valez smiled at him. “I need someone I can trust. Someone they can’t get to.”

  Someone who’s dead.

  “They were having trouble identifying what was left of the bodies, so I decided to give my friend at the ME’s office a bit of a friendly nudge,” Valez said.

  Michael tried not to panic. For months, this job had kept him tottering on thin ice, but what Valez was saying was about to send him crashing through the last layer of security.

  “Just think of it this way, Michael. How often is a man presented with a chance
to start over?”

  Michael’s frown deepened. How far was he going to have to take this charade? Valez was known to be eccentric, but even this seemed too far-fetched for him.

  “I don’t understand how this can work. What about DNA?” Michael countered. “What happens when the police do a little digging, find out the truth, and arrest me for falsifying my death and tie me to you—”

  “You, of all people, should know that a simple DNA test isn’t enough to stand in my way. You’ve seen my books. Shoot, you’ve doctored my books and laundered my money. Which means you should know what I’m capable of ‘arranging,’ shall we say.”

  Michael heard Valez’s veiled threat. As far as his boss was concerned, Michael’s hands were just as dirty as his own.

  “Of course, it does present one or two problems,” Valez continued. “A dead man means frozen accounts.”

  “You just essentially killed me off and you’re worried about your accounts?”

  “Your job is to launder money for me, in case you forgot. I’ve just ensured you’re able to do it without getting caught.”

  Michael forced himself to smile. “Access to your accounts won’t be a problem.”

  “Good. Because as you know, unloading narcotics in the US has never been my problem. It’s moving the cash.” He lit another cigarette. “Which is why I have a proposition for you. Not only are you good at what you do, you saved my life. With Michael Linley dead, I realize you’ve lost a lot, so I’m willing to set you up with a new identity.”

  Michael flipped the newspaper over, then leaned back in his chair. Minutes ago he’d been planning a trip home. A long weekend with his family, away from all this. If he was supposed to be dead, going home would be too big of a risk. Which left him with a choice between continuing to seek justice or simply walking away.

  Valez shifted in his chair. “Your new name is Liam Quinn. A rather nice name, I think.”

  Michael frowned. Life with Valez had always been like walking a tightrope on a windy day. One false move and the obituary he’d just read would end up being the real thing.