Pipeline

by Brenda Adcock

  "But we got all the evidence and we'll find the kid. You worry too much."

  "One of us has to worry. When there's that much money at stake, you can't be screwing around playing Pancho Villa."

  "Don't talk to me like that, Bradley, or..."

  "Or what, Felix, you'll tell the police about Julianne?"

  "No statute on murder, my friend."

  "Well, there is a statute on blackmail, and I'm pretty fucking tired of paying for a dumb mistake."

  A moment later I heard two gunshots, followed by the dull thud of a body falling to the ground. Blinking to clear my blurring vision, I saw Camarena's dead eyes looking at me and watched as blood from his body quickly pooled and moved across the floor to mingle with mine. The thought of it made me feel even sicker. Footsteps were moving away from me, and I managed to turn my head to follow them. Susan still carried the revolver as she approached Cate. She knelt down next to her and removed the gag from her mouth. Cate gulped for breath through her mouth as tears ran down her face. Susan reached up to wipe them away, but Cate turned away from her.

  "I'm sorry, Cate. I never intended for it to end this way," she said.

  Cate's head jerked back toward her. "Why, Susan? I don't understand. You have everything. What could you possibly hope to gain from all this?"

  "Felix has been blackmailing me for years. While I was in law school, I got drunk and a girl died, accidentally. He knew and helped cover it up in exchange for money. He was scum, but what choice did I have?"

  "You could have gone to the police. If it was an accident..."

  "And throw away everything I had worked for? No, thanks."

  "You were covering up what he was doing at ABP, too, weren't you?"

  "He forced me to, Cate. I wish you could understand."

  "I understand you tried to have my son murdered. If he had exposed Camarena, you might have been able to get out from under. You're a respected attorney, Susan. No one would have believed him."

  "You're right, but I needed Camarena as a middleman with Escobar." She laughed and stood up. "You can't believe that he was the brains behind the illegal smuggling," she said as she pointed at Camarena's body. "Shit, I practically had to tell him how to set it up. It's worth millions every year and is virtually risk free if it's handled right. But then Kyle had to start poking around. I couldn't take the chance he would stumble onto something. Camarena and Escobar would have turned on me in a heartbeat to save their own asses. Now I only have to worry about Escobar since your dear, departed ex killed Camarena for me."

  "You'll be caught eventually. You know that."

  "Yeah, but by the time the police sort all this out, I'll be relaxing on a Caribbean beach somewhere. Now you're the only witness. This part I hadn't planned, but good old Jo there didn't leave me any other way out except through you. You're good, Cate, but not good enough to give up millions for."

  "And who will get blamed for my murder, Susan?"

  "Does it really matter now?" Susan asked as she raised the revolver toward Cate.

  Mustering all the strength I could, I hoarsely called her name. She spun around and saw me looking at her.

  "Well, you're tougher than you look, Jo," she said as she moved a couple of steps toward me and took aim.

  A loud noise assaulted my ears, and I thought she had fired and missed. The noise was followed by the sound of voices yelling. I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. The last thing I heard was Cate calling my name.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  MY EYES FLEW open, and I felt drenched in sweat. I looked around, trying to help my brain figure out where I was. Then I smelled the scent I hated most in the world and knew instantly. Another fuckin' hospital. My hearing caught up with my sight, and I heard a beeping sound. As I scanned the room, the rate of the beeps increased. I took a deep breath and listened as they slowed. A few seconds later I was blinded by a light and clamped my eyelids closed. Fingers began poking at me, and I heard a strange voice.

  "She's awake," a woman said.

  "Turn off the goddamn light," I croaked.

  The light went off, and I felt warm fingers enclose my right hand. I would have known that touch anywhere and was glad I was still alive to feel it. Warm, sweet breath flowed over my ear.

  "Welcome back, Jo," Cate said. "Where have you been?"

  "Dreamin' about you and groundhogs, baby," I said.

  Her laugh was better medicine than whatever they were pumping into my right arm. I would have given anything to wrap my arms around her and hold her but even small movements made me wince as the tape securing a bandage on my right side pulled against still-tender skin. A dull, throbbing pain assured me that the cast I saw engulfing my left arm and hand wasn't going to allow much mobility for a while either.

  "They got anything to drink in this joint?"

  She held a straw to my mouth, and I have never tasted better water in my life. The nurse left the room, and we were alone for about ten seconds. Cate left my side and opened the blinds partway to let a little light into the room. Just then the hospital door flew open, and the bulk of Wendell Pauli filled the opening. He came to the side of the bed and patted me hard enough to make me clench my teeth against the pain. "You scared the shit out of us, Carlisle," he said.

  "I see you survived," I said.

  "Sorry we were a little late gettin' in there. You've missed a bunch since then."

  I looked at Cate. "How long?"

  "Five days."

  "And thanks to that new metal rod holdin' your arm together you can look forward to bein' stopped at every airport security checkpoint in America. You've got a lot of catchin' up to do, girl. You uncovered the ass-kickin' story of the year," Pauli said with a smile.

  "Kyle's story."

  "Yeah, whatever. Anyway, there are so many people duckin' for cover, you'd think it was huntin' season."

  "Just give me the Reader's Digest version."

  Cate took my hand again, and I barely heard what Pauli was saying. I hadn't ever seen him so excited. Retirement didn't become either of us.

  "We got Lopez and Escobar for attackin' Sarita. We got Lopez for bringin' illegals in and Escobar for sellin' phony documents. Escobar rolled on Camarena's part in the deal, but Camarena already received his sentence. Man, I haven't seen this much finger-pointin' since the last time I went to the symphony. Escobar's talkin' so fast they had to hire an extra stenographer to get it all. He's pointin' all ten fingers at Lopez for Lena's murder, but Lopez ain't goin' down alone. He's takin' Susan Bradley with him on that one. She's gonna wish she'd been killed at the warehouse instead of gettin' a measly flesh wound."

  "What?"

  "Bradley was in the car with Camarena in Mountain View when you and Lena were talkin' to Juan Doe. Lopez says she ordered you killed, but they got Lena instead. Also chargin' her for conspiracy to kill Kyle. Cate here has turned over all of Bradley's records on ABP to the Feds, and there ain't enough toilet paper in the universe to wipe all the shit off the company managers. They're swearin' on a stack of Good Books that they didn't know nothin' about it, of course. They'll probably get a humongous fine, minimum. Kyle was right about the Reagan-Contra-type thing."

  "He's a smart kid," I said. Cate squeezed my hand and smiled.

  "Oh, and here's the killer. You ready for this? Susan didn't have a goddamn thing to do with the McCaffrey murder."

  "But she said she killed her."

  "It was Camarena," Pauli said, shaking his head. "Escobar, during one of his nonstop confession sessions, said Felix told him that he killed the girl. It seems that Susan was drunker than the proverbial skunk that night. When the girl's boyfriend returned her early to her apartment building, Susan made a serious pass at the girl. McCaffrey rejected her and threatened to tell the sorority about Susan's sexual indiscretion. So Bradley smacked her, the girl fell, hit her head, and was out cold. Unfortunately for Bradley, Camarena had finished his shift at the party and was walking home when he saw the argument between Bradley and
McCaffrey in front of the building. Being the Good Samaritan and upstanding citizen that he was, he told Susan the girl was dead and offered to dispose of the evidence in exchange for a financial consideration. It turns out the girl wasn't dead until Camarena raped and strangled her."

  "Susan paid all those years for something she didn't do," Cate said.

  "Correctimundo," Pauli said in triumph.

  "I promised to call Mr. McCaffrey," I said.

  "Already taken care of. Kyle called," Pauli said with a wave of his hand. He looked at me and smiled. "I got a few things to do, Jo, so I guess I'll let you get back to restin'. Let me know when you're ready, and I'll sneak in some enchiladas and a Corona for you."

  "Thanks for everything, Pauli," I said as I shook his hand.

  After he left, Cate picked up a newspaper. She helped me hold it up with my good hand as I read the headline "Feds Bust Illegal Smuggling Operation." Beneath the headline the byline read: "Kyle Hammond and Joanna Carlisle."

  "It's not my story," I said.

  "Don't tell him that. He fought like hell to get your name on the byline since you're not an employee."

  Kyle's story recounted the pipeline operation from Mexico to Texas and detailed the involvement of Camarena and Susan Bradley in Lena's death. In a statement issued by the federal prosecutor in San Antonio, managers in five states would be indicted for hiring illegal workers for ABP production lines and attributed the scheme to a "corporate greed-driven, national conspiracy." As expected, a spokesman for American Beef and Pork denied accusations that the company had conspired to recruit and smuggle illegal workers into the United States. If such actions had occurred, however, they were done without the knowledge of the executives at the Nebraska-based Corporation.

  "He was asked to hold to story until today to give authorities a chance to act," Cate said, giving my free arm a gentle squeeze. "It was just released today."

  I wanted to say how proud I was of our son, but the muscles in my throat constricted as the unfamiliar emotion overwhelmed me. Finally managing to clear my throat, I asked, "Where is he?"

  "He spent every night here for the first four days. He left this morning to pick up Sarita in Dallas. They're flying back tonight."

  "They're moving to Colorado, you know."

  "He told me, and it's probably for the best. But don't worry. I'm sure you two will work out your differences. He does love you, you know."

  "What will you do now, Cate?"

  "I haven't decided, but as long as the federal agencies are going over our files, Bradley and Hammond is closed for business."

  I wished she would take my hand again.

  "You're going to be in here a few more days. What are you going to do after the doctor releases you?"

  "Go back to the ranch, I guess. Try to put my life back in order again."

  It wasn't just the tubes in my body that were making me uncomfortable. She was making me uncomfortable, and I felt like the rest of my life depended on saying the right thing. The trouble was I didn't have a clue what the right thing was.

  "You know," I finally said, "it seems like every time we're together I don't know what to say to you, Cate. But I don't know why."

  "Maybe you won't let your mouth say what your brain wants it to say."

  "Probably," I said with a chuckle that made my side ache beneath my bandage. "I've never had a way with words."

  "You used to." She smiled.

  She turned to pick up her jacket, but I grabbed her arm to stop her. She turned around, brushing hair away from her face.

  "Are you leaving?" I asked.

  "I thought I'd go back to my hotel and take a long hot shower and a quick nap. I have to pick up Kyle and Sarita at the airport later."

  Using whatever strength I could find, I pulled her closer to me. "Please let me have Sundays again," I begged.

  She kissed me softly and, placing her lips close to my ear, whispered, "Sundays have always been yours, Jo."

  About the Author:

  Originally from the Appalachian region of Eastern Tennessee, Brenda now lives in Central Texas, near Austin. She began writing in junior high school where she wrote an admittedly hokey western serial to entertain her friends. Completing her graduate studies in Eastern European history in 1971, she worked as a graphic artist, a public relations specialist for the military and a display advertising specialist until she finally had to admit that her mother might have been right and she earned her teaching certification. For the last twenty-plus years she has taught world history and political science. Brenda and her partner of ten years, Cheryl, are the parents of three grown children and one still in high school. They also have two grandchildren. Rounding out their home are three temperamental cats and an occasionally conscious Bassett Hound. When she is not writing Brenda creates stained glass and shoots pool at her favorite bar. She may be contacted at adcockblO@yahoo.com and welcomes all comments.