Blurring the Line

by Kierney Scott

  “Yes.” She never doubted how much her mom loved her or how proud she was. When God was handing out moms, Beth had obviously gotten in the “kick-ass Mama” line. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you too, Bethy. Maybe I could come see you next week. I’m sure your little sister told you I got fired. The silver lining is I have more time to come and see my girl.”

  Beth smiled. Only her mom would find a silver lining in getting fired or having Alzheimer’s. “I would love for you to come see me, Mama, but not next week. This case has taken over my life.” That part wasn’t a lie. Everything else she was saying was, but at least she was telling her mom the truth on one small point. “As soon as it’s over, you should come out.”

  “Or you could come out to Sacramento just for the weekend. We would love to see you.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Always.”

  Beth paused. She was swimming in uncharted waters. “Did you ever try to stop yourself from loving Dad?”

  “Why do you ask, Pretty Girl?”

  “Because your life would have been so much easier if you didn’t love him.”

  “I have two beautiful smart wonderful daughters who I adore. My life turned out pretty great.”

  “But you could have had so much more,” Beth pushed.

  “I know you think I’m stupid for sticking with your dad.”

  Beth opened her mouth to correct her mom, but she was right. She adored her mom but she thought she was stupid for staying with her dad. Somewhere deep inside Beth realised the number of coherent conversations she could have with her mom was limited. If there was a time for honesty, this was it. “Yeah,” she admitted.

  “Your dad is a deeply flawed man. I’m not blind or stupid. I know it. I see it. There was a time when I thought I could have a clean break. Right after he was arrested the second time I thought no, I can’t do this, so I told him it was over. I even started dating again.”

  Beth listened silently. She didn’t know her mom had dated anyone else. “What happened?”

  “I cried. The first time I had sex with another man, I cried. I think you’re old enough for me to tell you these things, Bethy. I cried. Don’t get me wrong. He was a lovely man, nice and gentle. We could have had a nice life, he would have given me everything I wanted, but I cried because he wasn’t your dad. I realised I would always want your dad; always wish it was your dad. I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “No. I understand.” She understood a little too much. “So you know Dad is a deadbeat?”

  “Of course I do. I’m not stupid,” she laughed.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  Beth chatted with her mom for another hour, talking about anything and everything, including the recipe for mushroom gravy. Beth wanted to make it with meatloaf for Torres. He might not like it, but she wanted him to see what her childhood tasted like and there was no way she could get her hands on any government cheese.

  When she finally hung up, Beth was feeling more upbeat than she had in a long time. She was also determined not to let herself become any more emotionally involved with Torres. She wasn’t sure how exactly a person went about not letting themselves become more fond of another person. A good place to start was focusing on his negative attributes.

  Beth grabbed a notebook, determined to make an extensive list. The first item came instantly: need for revenge. Torres would always put that first. She circled the words and put an asterisk next to it. That was a big one; it was hard to compete with loyalty to a dead man. She shook her head. There was no competition there: Archila had already won.

  Beth tried to think of more reasons, but every time she wrote something down, she remembered why she actually liked it, and had to score it out. Like liked that he was scary looking and scarred and tattooed. She liked that he scared her and challenged her and made her lose control. She liked that he stared at her in silence. She liked that she spilled her guts to him.

  The list wasn’t working.

  Beth closed her eyes. What if they found El Escorpion? What if they didn’t have Archila’s death between them any more? What if it was just Beth Thomson and Armando Torres?

  She tried to imagine the alternate universe where it could happen.

  Beth’s lids flew open. The realisation hit her like a kick in the gut.

  He would be gone.

  They were together; they were friends because they had a common goal. They were travelling together on this part of their journey but the road would fork soon and Torres would take the other path.

  Beth took a deep breath. She had her answer. She didn’t need a list. She ripped out the page and scrunched it up.

  Beth stood up and tossed it in the garbage before she went into the back yard to play with Alejandra.

  “Hola, mija,” Beth called from the patio.

  Alejandra looked up. She held up an earthworm for Beth to see and smiled.

  “No pongos eso en la boca.”

  Alejandra took the words as a challenge and dropped the worm into her mouth.

  “No, mija. Que voy a hacer contigo?” Beth scooped her up and kissed her on the nose and then scooped the worm out of the baby’s mouth. Alejandra reached for the worm again but Beth had anticipated the move and tossed the worm behind her.

  “She likes you,” Cynthia Rodrigues said.

  Beth nodded to the nanny. “She is just a good-natured baby. She likes everyone.”

  “No, she smiles more when she is with you.”

  A sadness pulled at Beth’s heart. “What do you think will happen to her?”

  Cynthia shrugged. “Larry hasn’t said one way or the other.”

  Beth nodded, realising that the woman was on first-name terms with her boss. The short hairs on the back of her neck stood taut. “How long have you known Jessop?” She tried to keep her voice casual.

  Cynthia shrugged again. “I don’t know, thirty years. My late husband was partnered with him when they first started. I have been friends with Andrea for years. Our children grew up together.”

  Beth looked away. If she really did wear her emotions on her face as Torres suggested, she didn’t want the woman seeing them. Was it a coincidence that Jessop had assigned a family friend as Alejandra’s nanny? Was she there to watch Beth too? She had screwed up in Mexico. Was that what this was about? Or was Beth just paranoid and overly suspicious?

  Beth cleared her throat. “I need to get some work done. Enjoy the morning. It is a beautiful day.” Of course it was a beautiful day, it was Texas in May, anything other than sunshine would be an aberration, but it gave Beth something noncommittal to say. She really needed to work on her small talk; Patterson was right, she was really bad at it.

  Beth excused herself and went in to get some work done. She opened her email and there was nothing, not a single new message, not even from Patterson who delighted in sending her sexist jokes. She refreshed the page, but still nothing.

  Beth’s eyes narrowed. Maybe she was paranoid but this wasn’t a coincidence. She was being shut out. “Shit,” she said between gritted teeth. This was her case. She had given her life to it for two years and now she was being edged out.

  Bitterness rose in the back of her throat. Someone had to take the heat for what happened in Culiacan. The wagons had been circled, and not around her. What happened with Alejandra was on her, but she didn’t kill Sanchez. She didn’t let Martinez escape. This was as much on Patterson and Jessop and every other agent. Pressure burned behind her eyes but she was too angry to cry.

  Beth slammed her computer shut and reached into her bag for the M&M’s Torres had left for her.

  ***

  Beth sat intently pretending to watch the made-for TV movie. She wasn’t sure what was happening beyond a woman returning to her hometown only to find herself in the middle of a murder investigation. She couldn’t remember if she had seen the movie before or if all the movies on the channel seemed the same. May
be they had one writer who recycled plots with new B-list actors to change it up.

  Beth shifted position, tucking her legs under her. It was hard to get comfortable with Cynthia Rodrigues sitting beside her. She wished the older woman would go to bed already. Every night for nearly a month she had gone to bed with a book as soon as Alejandra went to sleep, but tonight she was up watching Beth watch TV.

  She definitely wasn’t being paranoid. Beth was in trouble. There would be a formal investigation into her conduct and disciplinary action. Everything she did, had done, was being documented. Someone dropped the ball in Culiacan. Someone needed to pay. Beth had made it too easy for them when she freaked out and took Alejandra.

  At 9:00 Beth’s phone rang.

  “Hi,” she said expecting Torres at the other end but it was a telemarketer.

  Beth explained that she hadn’t been in any accidents and would not be needing the services of a personal injury lawyer before she hung up the phone. She looked up to see Cynthia smiling at her.

  “Hoping it was your boyfriend?”

  Beth’s eyes narrowed in question.

  “The agent you had over last night?” Cynthia asked pointedly.

  Shit. She was watching her. The agents last night wouldn’t have just mentioned it to Cynthia in passing. Someone was keeping tabs on her.

  Beth didn’t have time to answer. The phone rang again.

  “Hi,” Beth snapped.

  “Hola, Gatita.”

  “Mmm, hi Mom. How are you?” Beth asked, praying Torres would get it.

  “Not alone?” he asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Are you safe?” he demanded.

  Her skin warmed at his protective tone. She had no doubt the lengths he would go to make sure she was safe. “I’m great, Mom. I don’t have the recipe in front of me. Just give me a second. I think it is upstairs.”

  Beth took the stairs two at a time. She closed and locked her bedroom door before moving to the bathroom. Even if Cynthia stood outside her bedroom, she would be hard pressed to hear Beth in the bathroom. “Hey,” she breathed a sigh of relief as she sat down on the edge of the bath.

  “What’s going on?”

  Beth considered not telling Torres, not because she didn’t trust him, but because she wanted to handle this on her own. Normally she was completely self-sufficient, but her reflex now was to run to him, spill her guts and take whatever comfort he could offer. He felt like her safe place, but he wasn’t. And she needed to remember that. This would be over soon and they would both go their own ways. She was already going to miss him: she didn’t want to need him too. Beth sighed. “I need to stop challenging the universe. Maybe if I stop pretending like I have it together, I will stop being sent reminders that I really don’t.”

  “What’s wrong?” Torres asked softly.

  Beth told him everything. She had only planned to tell him an abbreviated version of why her life sucked, but it all came out. Every detail about her work and her mom. Torres just let her talk, never once interrupting. When she finished he said. “I’m five hours away. I will be there by 3:00.”

  Beth squeezed her eyes together. It took all her strength to answer him. There was nothing she wanted more than to have him hold her. Her favourite thing in the world were his arms wrapped around her. “No,” she said softly. “You can’t. I don’t need to add booty calls from undercover agents to my list of offences.”

  “It is hardly an offence. We work together. It is normal for me to see you.”

  “In the middle of the night. In my bed.”

  Torres laughed. “You can’t get fired for sex, Gatita. Unless I press charges.” Beth could hear the smile in his voice.

  “When are you going to tell me I screwed up and I brought this on myself?”

  “That would be a dick move, is that what you expect from me?”

  Beth shrugged. “No.”

  “But it would be easier because then you could be mad at me for being a dick and you could stop being mad at yourself?”

  “Seriously Torres, stop watching Dr. Phil. I don’t need to be analysed.”

  Torres laughed. “Be there by three,” he offered again. “I will put the fear of God into both the agents. No one will be reporting anything.”

  She wanted to say yes. More than anything she wanted to see Torres but she couldn’t. She would see him and become even fonder of him, feel more connected, want more. She couldn’t afford to need him. “Your face hasn’t healed yet, what fun would that be? I only want you for sex anyway,” she joked.

  “My face is out of commission, but my hands are good to go. I remember you liking my hands.”

  “Mmm they were pretty good.”

  “High praise, indeed.”

  Beth shifted on the tub, moving to better distribute her weight on the solid surface. “Torres. Tell me everything is going to be OK.”

  “Everything will be OK in the end.”

  Beth smiled. No matter what he said she would believe him. “When will it be over?”

  “We won’t know that until everything is OK.”

  Beth smiled. Her mom always told her the same thing: things would be OK in the end. If it wasn’t OK, it wasn’t the end. “But we will get there, right? I will have a job in the Sacramento office and you will have your teaching job outside Austin. Everything will be normal and boring and perfect.”

  “Why Austin?” Torres asked.

  “You want out of Laredo but you won’t leave Texas, you will want to stay close to your roots.”

  “Now who is analysing who?”

  “I have had nothing to do except play with the baby and watch television. There may have been a few episodes of Dr. Phil.”

  “Well analyse away, Gatita, if it makes you feel better.”

  Beth smiled. “It would take more than a dozen episodes to figure you out. I’m thinking a doctorate would just about scratch the surface.”

  Torres laughed. “A dozen episodes. You do need more work.”

  “I know,” she said miserably. “You’re my only connection. And I don’t want to ask you because if there is anything dangerous I will get worried…and yeah well it is better not to know.”

  “I can tell you things about work that aren’t dangerous.”

  “Like what?” Beth asked dubiously. “Everything about your work is dangerous.”

  “Not everything. I told you I have a lot of down time.”

  Beth smiled. “I remember. Like building baby gates when you could have been sleeping with me.”

  “Yes like that. Or like today when I convinced Flores to let Ernesto have a chance with his sister. Better to give his blessing than lose her.”

  “Look at you, Torres. Such a romantic, looking out for young lovers.”

  “Actually just being practical. You’re right, I don’t have enough parts of my body left without scars. I don’t need their bullshit getting me cut again.”

  Beth smiled. “Mmm such a romantic. And don’t worry about the scars, I told you, chicks dig them.”

  “Not worried about chicks, just one high-strung Gringa. I need to impress her ’cause apparently my hands are only pretty good.”

  Beth made a shocked sound. “Did she say that? Get rid of her. She sounds horrible.”

  “She can be. But I like her. Don’t know why. Did I mention how high-strung she is?”

  “You mentioned it.”

  “Like beyond being wound tight, could do with being medicated.”

  “Oy!” Beth said.

  “I know, right. But I like her. I think about her all day. My favourite part of the day is when I call her.”

  Beth’s breath caught. She couldn’t speak. A familiar pressure built behind her eyes. Oh God, she was falling for him. She needed to stop. It would only make it harder when it was over.

  This, whatever it was, wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. She needed to change the subject. “How is your face?”

  “Still ugly,” Torres said, “but no bleeding. The scabs
have stopped opening every time I eat or speak.”

  “Good. One less thing to worry about.” Beth glanced down at her watch. “My God, we’ve been talking for two hours.”

  “I know. I could have been halfway there by now.”

  She sighed. She wished he were there. “Good night, Torres. Thanks for talking me off the ledge again.”

  “Good night, Gatita.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The house was quiet, too quiet. Cynthia had taken Alejandra to the zoo. The security involved rivalled a state visit. Beth considered going with them, but in the end she stayed home. She was going to use the time to call her sister. Paige wasn’t being put off with emails any more. It was time to call her, but first Beth was going to mop the floor and then maybe clean the toilets and then whatever else she could think of to procrastinate.

  Beth pulled out the mop and a bucket, when the doorbell rang. Beth ran to the door; it would be one of the agents needing the bathroom. Between them they drank enough coffee to give them arrhythmia, so it was no wonder that periodically one of them could not make it through a shift without using her restroom.

  Beth answered the door. “Torres!” she screamed as she threw her arms around his neck. God she had missed him. Their nightly phone calls weren’t enough. She wanted to hold him and kiss him and just be in the same room.

  “Stop answering the door without asking who it is,” Torres growled.

  “I have agents watching my door. No one comes up the path without them clearing it.” Beth’s hands dropped to her sides when she remembered the agents assigned to her.

  “It would have taken two seconds to shoot them. Then what?”

  Beth shook her head. “Fine, you’re right. You’re supposed to be in Nueva Laredo.” Beth only knew that because last week out of nowhere, her office had begun to include her. Every email exchange was sent to her. Even things she didn’t want to or need to know about. If someone on the Treinta task force farted, she got an email about it. They even included her in their morning meeting, which ironically had always been the least favourite part of her day. There was no mention of why they had sidelined her, it was like it had never happened. And Cynthia had even stopped trying to listen to her conversations.