Covert Lessons

by Mari Carr

  “You’re right about the apology. I was just trying to figure out how to work up to it when he comes in.”

  “Uh,” Meg started. “Actually, that’s why I stopped by. The office asked me to let you know that Mac called in and he won’t be here today.”

  Her heart fell to her feet. He’d taken her at her word. He was finished with her and the whole messy ordeal. As she stood here, he was probably gathering his team and trying to figure out how to collect evidence against the BT gang by other means.

  She’d wrecked his investigation just as he’d said she would on the first day they had met. Gang graffiti and violence was escalating in the hallways and just last night, a girl in the junior class had been rushed to the hospital due to a drug overdose. They’d pumped her stomach and she was apparently resting easier this morning, but Kelly knew in her heart the drugs had come from a gang member pushing the poison here at school.

  Her after-school sessions weren’t alleviating the problem at all and now she’d destroyed the school’s single best chance at wiping out the social disease that was infecting and slowly killing it.

  “Earth to Kelly.” Meg’s voice disrupted her thoughts.

  “Sorry.”

  “Call him tonight. Just pick up the phone and make it all right again. I’m sure whatever it is the two of you are fighting about isn’t as dire as you think.”

  She forced an agreeable nod. “I’m sure you’re right,” she lied. Meg had no idea just how dire their situation really was.

  * * * * *

  “Miss?” Kelly glanced up, suddenly aware of how many times José had tried to get her attention. Unfortunately, since her conversation with Meg that morning, her feelings had gone progressively downhill, fluctuating between misery, nervousness, regret and complete panic. She needed to talk to Mac, but the thought of actually having that conversation scared the hell out of her.

  “I’m sorry, José. My head is about a million miles away today.”

  “I noticed. You okay, Ms. Finch?”

  She pasted on a fake smile she hoped looked genuine. “I’m fine. Was there something you needed?”

  She was surprised to look around the room and find all the other students had gone home. As far as after-school sessions went, this was no doubt her worst. She’d forgotten to prepare a snack and then fretted and worried so much about Mac that she’d failed to converse with a single student.

  José shuffled his feet nervously and she forced her attention to remain focused. Clearly something was bothering the young man.

  “José,” she said. “You know you can trust me. Is everything okay? You aren’t having any problems here at school or at home, are you?”

  “It’s my mama.”

  “Your mother?”

  “Sí, she is very sick.”

  “Oh I’m sorry. What’s wrong with her?”

  “She has a bad cough. It’s getting worse. She can’t sleep more than a few minutes at a time without waking up. Sometimes there is blood in the cough. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Oh my. What does the doctor say?”

  “We haven’t gone to a doctor.”

  She was alarmed at this admission. “But José, you have to take her to a doctor or even the hospital. She could be seriously ill.”

  He flushed at her insistence and she cursed her wayward tongue. “Is it money, José? Can you not afford the doctor? If it is, I have some money—”

  He shook his head and she watched injured pride cover his face. “We have money. It is my brother, Juan. He doesn’t like doctors. He says they can’t be trusted. He believes doctors want to kill Hispanics like us.”

  “Well, that’s ridiculous. That’s not true at all. Surely you must know that.”

  “I know that, but my brother, he believes different. When we first came to this country, my father became very ill. He couldn’t go to work, so he lost his job. We didn’t have money to pay the doctor. We went to a free clinic and the medicine they gave us didn’t work. He died.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your father, but José, that doesn’t mean the doctors are purposely trying to hurt your family.

  “I know that, Miss, but my brother, he doesn’t see things that way. He’s very angry all the time. Since my father died, he’s different. He says he is the man of the house and that we must obey him.”

  “But surely your mother could insist—”

  “She’s too sick. I’m afraid she’ll die too. Just like my papa.”

  “What do you want me to do, José?”

  “Come to my house. Look at my mother. Maybe you can tell me what’s wrong with her. Tell me what medicine to give her.”

  “José, I’m not a doctor.”

  “Just come look at her, please?”

  “I really can’t do that, José.”

  “Please, Ms. Finch! Please.”

  The pleading in José’s voice and the desperation in his face made her mind up for her. She would go check on Mrs. Alvarado and with any luck, she’d be able to convince the woman to allow her to drive her to the hospital.

  “Where is your brother, José?” Self-preservation seemed to be ruling the moment. She definitely did not want to run into Juan Alvarado. She’d heard stories about the boy’s violence while he was a student at the school. That, compounded with Mac’s belief that the young man was one of the ringleaders of the BTs and his refusal to seek medical attention for his mother, was enough to have her common sense kicking in. Hell, every instinct in her body was screaming at her to change her mind and refuse José’s request.

  “He won’t be at the house today. He has a big meeting,” José paused before quickly adding the words, “at work.”

  “You’re sure?” she asked again, wishing she could convince herself she wasn’t making a mistake of mammoth proportions.

  “Yes, Miss. He’ll be out very late. He won’t come home, I swear.”

  Obviously realizing his brother would be out of the house was the only reason José had felt secure enough to request her help. She nodded, quickly grabbing her coat and purse.

  “Well, why don’t you go grab your stuff out of your locker? I’ll only be a second locking up here and then we’ll head over to your house.”

  José nodded his thanks and she prayed she would be worthy of the faith she saw enter the young boy’s eyes.

  Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her cell phone. “Please answer, please answer,” she muttered before cursing at the sound of Mac’s voicemail message.

  “Mac,” she said into the receiver. “I wanted to let you know I’m headed over to José Alvarado’s house. His mother is sick and needs help. Please come as soon as you get this message.” Unsure what else to add, knowing he would be pissed off at her regardless of her reason for going, she hung up.

  Meeting José outside her room, she offered a reassuring smile. “Well, come on, José. Let’s go see what we can do to try to make your mother feel better again. I’ll drive.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Kelly was mortified at the rundown condition of the trailer in which the Alvarados lived. The wooden stairs leading up to the front door sagged perilously and several of the boards were loose. There was as much rust as metal holding the house together and she could only imagine how much the draft and rain must affect the inhabitants during bad weather. No wonder José’s mother was sick.

  Despite all of that, however, she could see the love and attention someone tried to put into making the rickety trailer a home. Given the fact José had mentioned the length of his mother’s illness, she assumed the cleanliness inside the house was thanks to José himself. There were even fresh flowers in a vase on the kitchen table.

  José must have noticed where her attention had landed. “I can take the flowers for free from the grocery store when they get too old to sell. My mother likes flowers.” José blushed at the confession and Kelly was genuinely touched by the boy’s kindness. She’d helped him get a job at the local grocery store as a second-shift sto
ck boy. Most days when he left her after-school program, he went straight to work. She had graduated from high school with the store manager and he’d called several times to express his thanks to her for referring José to him. The boy was a hard worker and she knew his family needed every penny he made.

  “Where is your mother?” she asked.

  “This way,” José replied and he led the way down a narrow hallway. She tried to keep her eyes straight ahead rather than pry, but she couldn’t help taking note of the pictures lining the hallway. Two young smiling boys stood with their arms around each other’s necks, posing for the camera. In another photo, she saw a young woman she assumed was José’s mother holding a newborn baby.

  “Is this you?” she asked.

  He stopped to look at the picture she was referring to. “No, that’s Juan. That picture was taken before I was born.”

  She gestured to the other picture. “The two of you look like you’re very close.”

  He shrugged sadly and she got an immediate sense that perhaps that closeness had diminished over the past few years. She wanted to ask him about his brother’s involvement with the gang, but past experience with the young man proved that he was very private about matters pertaining to his family. He would never betray his brother.

  A low moan reached her ears and José quickly walked away from her to the bedroom located at the far end of the trailer. She followed—and fought to stifle a gasp at the frail woman huddled under the blankets of the small bed.

  “Mama,” José said as he bent down to press a light kiss on his mother’s forehead. “How are you feeling today?”

  The woman stirred slightly, her eyes barely opening. She started to respond but was quickly overtaken by a coughing fit that hurt Kelly’s chest just to listen to. She could only imagine the pain the woman must be in. When at last the spell subsided, Mrs. Alvarado weakly raised her hand to point at her.

  José answered the question behind the gesture. “This is Ms. Finch, Mama. My English teacher. She’s the one who helped me get the job at the store.”

  She stepped forward, kneeling by the woman’s bedside. “José is worried about you,” she said. “Mrs. Alvarado, I would like to take you to the hospital. You need medical care. I have a car and I could take you if you’d like.”

  The woman shook her head vehemently, rattling something in Spanish that she couldn’t understand.

  José responded in the unfamiliar language and she watched a small fight develop between mother and son. The disagreement ended when Mrs. Alvarado once again collapsed into a violent spell of coughing.

  “She’ll go,” José said at last.

  “She doesn’t seem to want to go.”

  “She’s worried about what Juan will say, but I don’t care. I’ll carry her if necessary. She is worse today and I don’t think we can wait any longer.”

  “For what it’s worth, José, I think your mother may have pneumonia. If we get her medical care right away, she stands a good chance of recovering.”

  “And if she doesn’t go?”

  “She’ll die.” Kelly wasn’t one hundred percent sure that was the truth, but from the looks of Mrs. Alvarado she didn’t doubt for a moment the woman was truly knocking on death’s door.

  José nodded and bent down to his mother. He whispered something to her in Spanish and she watched the sick woman’s face clear. She tried to lift her thin arms around José’s neck, but they fell limply back to the bed after only a few seconds.

  José gathered his mother in his arms as carefully as he would have carried a newborn baby and Kelly prayed they could get the woman the help she needed in time. José obviously adored his mother and she couldn’t stand to think what would happen to him if he lost his last parent at such a young age.

  She led the way back down the hall and was about to open the front door when it swung roughly back against the wall. A tough-looking young man entered, with several gold chains around his neck, an armful of tattoos and a bandana tied over his scalp.

  “Who the fuck is this?” he demanded angrily—and Kelly realized she was standing face-to-face with Juan Alvarado.

  “Juan,” José said quietly, his voice betraying his fear and causing her already-racing heart to escalate another notch on the panic scale. “This is my teacher, Ms. Finch.”

  Juan smirked at the mention of her name. “The nosy bitch? The too-good-for the-likes-of-us teacher, eh? What the fuck are you doing here, whore? Slumming?”

  She tried to compose herself enough to speak, but Juan Alvarado was clearly no one to mess with.

  “Your mother is sick,” she said, cursing the weakness of her tone. “I’m going to take her to the hospital.”

  Juan spit on the floor, his face distorted with fury. “You ain’t taking her no place, bitch! José, take Mama back to bed.”

  She glanced over and silently gave thanks that Mrs. Alvarado had lost consciousness somewhere along the line. She could only imagine how the woman would react to the tension radiating between her two sons.

  “Juan,” José began, obviously hoping to change his brother’s mind, but Juan wouldn’t be appeased.

  “Take her back to her bed now!” Juan yelled.

  José lowered his head in defeat and turned back toward his mother’s room, his precious bundle held tightly against his chest.

  “You got no right to come into my home.” Juan circled her much as a tiger circles its wounded prey.

  “I didn’t mean to interfere,” she said softly. “I only wanted to help.”

  Her words were met with a hard blow to the side of her face. Shocked and in pain, she fought hard to stem the flow of tears suddenly blurring her vision.

  Reaching up, she placed her palm against the stinging skin as José came back into the room.

  “What are you doing?” José yelled at his brother.

  Juan turned on José, his malice-filled face frightening. “What’d you bring her here for?”

  “Mama is sick! Ms. Finch says she’ll die if we don’t take her to the hospital, Juan!”

  José’s words were met with the same violence she had suffered and she flinched as Juan rammed a hard fist against his younger brother’s jaw.

  “I am the man of the house! How many times I gotta tell you this? I know what’s best for Mama!” he yelled as he continued to rain blows on his much smaller brother. José put up a fight but his punches were easily parried, while Juan’s connected time after time. Clearly, the older brother had much more experience in the realm of brawling.

  Scared for José’s life, Kelly charged at the bully’s back. Jumping upon it, she hoped to knock Juan off balance enough to pull him away from José.

  Juan reacted to her attack with a finesse she didn’t expect. He reared quickly, slamming her back and head against the kitchen wall.

  Pain and bright lights flashed before her eyes before she succumbed to darkness.

  * * * * *

  Mac adjusted the dial on the recording device, careful to keep the sound level just right. They were hitting the jackpot in terms of evidence and he closed his eyes and silently said a prayer of thanks. After weeks of spinning their wheels, the speed with which things were moving now was dizzying.

  Rodney had called him Saturday as he and Kelly were returning from the conference. He’d been holed up in a small safe house they’d set up near BT territory. When Mac had arrived at the safe house, he’d been stunned to see Rodney sporting two black eyes, a broken nose and a split lip. There was such a variety of colors all over his body—bruises of black, blue, green, purple and yellow—that a couple of wiseasses on the team had taken to calling the poor guy Rainbow Rod.

  After a string of destruction and graffiti at the school on Friday, all of which Rodney had witnessed and even participated in, the BTs apparently decided to beat in their newest member. Before Rodney knew what had hit him—literally—he was an official member of the gang. Mac spent the rest of Saturday night and all day Sunday setting up the sting operation tha
t was currently taking place. The BTs’ big leaders had set up a planning meeting and Rodney, still working his way up through the ranks, had been assigned guard duty. Unbeknownst to his new “family”, Rodney was wearing a wire that was picking up every word of their meeting.

  “We’ve got movement at the back,” Jeff Rogerson said.

  “What do you mean ‘movement’?” Mac asked.

  “Looks like somebody’s leaving.” Jeff’s face betrayed his annoyance at having to report the fact.

  “It’s too soon,” he growled, his voice low with anger. “We can’t move in yet. Who the fuck is it?”

  Jeff spoke into a transmitter and waited a moment. “Juan Alvarado.”

  “Goddamn it!” Despite his anger, Mac kept his curse to a low whisper.

  Jeff held up a finger to request silence, obviously getting more information from the undercover cop they had stationed at the rear of the abandoned warehouse the BTs used as Thug Central.

  “Fuck,” Jeff muttered. “Looks like he had a car stashed in the back forty of the parking lot across the street. He’s outta there.”

  “Put a tail on him,” he ordered. “Shit. I wanted to gather them all up in one fell swoop.” He silently prayed that Mitchell Johnson was sitting in on this meeting as well. He owed that little punk a payback and he intended to see he got serious time for threatening Kelly.

  He hadn’t slept a wink last night, his mind racing over the thought that Kelly hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him about the attack. Then around three a.m. her words drifted back to him. She didn’t keep the secret because of a lack of trust. Kelly was trying to protect him. Surely that meant she cared about him?

  And it was with that happy thought that he was finally able to drift into a relatively peaceful sleep.

  “Do we have enough on Alvarado?” Jeff asked. “I mean, they’re just beginning to discuss the drug trafficking and now he’s bolted. The only conversations we have Juan participating in are the territory protection ones—not much there we can use to prosecute him. It was all conspiring. None of it’s happened yet.”