by Jim Dutton
“She may have skipped, Ana. Have the marshals stake out her bungalow and her classes. She shouldn’t have much money. If she’s coming back to San Diego, it’s probably by bus. Have them go to the major bus companies and see if anyone remembers Felicia or if she shows up on any surveillance tapes over the last two days.”
“Nick, this may not be a good time, but I want to let you know what I think about our relationship talk awhile back. I know you said that we should stop seeing each other on a personal level until you get things worked out with your wife. You know better than I do, it can take months and months for your divorce. Nobody knows what’s going to happen in our jobs or our lives. I don’t want to wait an indefinite period for you to get your act together. Either we continue to see each other or we’re through.”
“Ana, I don’t need the extra pressure right now. There’s too much on my plate. Can’t we wait a few months or so for things to sort out?”
“No, we can’t. I’ll get moving on your Topeka demands, Mr. Drummond.”
“C’mon Ana, don’t be that way.” Ana didn’t hear Nick’s plea. She had already slammed his door on the way out. Nick could only think he was glad he understood investigations and prosecutions better than he understood women.
Jerry was the next one in Nick’s office. “After the meeting last week, I took over for Ana in checking out the two north coast drug cases. I summarized the two cases for you in this memo, and found a possible third case. Three months ago, Oceanside PD was busting a late night beach party when they saw a boat, powered by an outboard, with no running lights, heading for the beach. Oceanside PD shined their searchlight on the boat and saw two men with large plastic trash bags in the boat. The boat immediately swerved away from the beach, almost capsizing when a wave broadsided the boat. The PD wrote a field report on it.”
“Good work Jerry, ferreting out the Oceanside incident.”
“Thanks Nick, but that’s not all. I followed up on your suggestion and charted the three drug incidents with the tide tables and lunar cycles. All three events corresponded to a very low, middle of the night tide, and no moon or just a sliver of a moon. The next time the moon cycle and the low tide are in a similar juxtaposition is seven to ten days from now.”
“Fantastic! Line up the local PDs and the United States Coast Guard to work with us for night surveillances at likely beaches for the three night time slot.”
The final agent through Nick’s door that day was Pepe. “I have some news for you on the tracker for the van that makes weekly trips to the Missoula warehouse. It’s a commercial van with no windows behind the driver and front passenger’s seat. The van has already been tracked to a warehouse in Salt Lake City—about a nine hour drive from Missoula.”
“That makes sense Pepe. Salt Lake City is about halfway between Missoula and San Diego, off the same north-south interstate, I-15. Also, the east-west interstate, I-80, intersects there. I-80 goes from San Francisco to Salt Lake, and on through Nebraska and Iowa, to Chicago. Chicago could be part of a distribution route for the Baja Norte Familia.”
“Should I put out feelers to DEA in Des Moines and Chicago as to the cartel?”
“Go ahead Pepe and let’s get some help from Salt Lake law enforcement for surveillance of the Utah warehouse.”
Nick went to his apartment that night, poured a Jack Daniel’s and thought about his family and Ana. He must really be putting out a bad vibe. His tropical fish didn’t even follow him back and forth in the tank anymore while they were waiting to be fed. He was completely torn. Judy had meant everything to him at one time. They were raising two wonderful children. Nick was no longer as much of a part of his children’s lives. He didn’t get to hear what happened on the schoolyard or how they thought they did on the latest test. Nick used to tell the kids make-up stories at bedtimes. How he enjoyed and missed that. No matter how it worked out between Judy and himself, he promised himself that he would be a big part of his children’s lives. Ana was the X factor. Nick was so attracted to her. She was clever, provocative, and ever so sexy. Nick somehow had to get through the lust and determine if Ana and he could make a relationship work. It was better to put it out of his mind. Nick had a case to worry about. He poured another nightcap. Then dozed off in the recliner that he purchased at a used furniture store—listening to the smooth and soothing tenor sax of John Coltrane.
The next morning, Ana glided into Nick’s office and said, “Nick, I have an update on Felicia.” Nick thought, A good start to the day, Ana is at least calling him Nick again.
Nick responded, “Don’t keep me in suspense, what’s going on?”
“We found out from surveillance videos and records at the main bus terminal in Topeka that Felicia got on a bus two days ago, headed for Las Vegas. A surveillance camera has her getting off the bus in Vegas at 10:15 last night. We don’t have video of her getting on any other bus. Maybe she knows someone in Vegas or someone is meeting her. Earlier this morning I went to Felicia’s aunt’s house and pretended that I was from the apartment complex where Felicia used to rent from. I don’t know if the aunt bought it, but I told her I had a five hundred dollar security deposit check to return to her.”
Nick commented, “Kind of weak, but I can understand there wasn’t anything better you could come up with. Did her aunt give you any information about her whereabouts?”
“No, but I got the strong feeling they have been in contact recently. The aunt was very nervous. She insisted vehemently that she hadn’t any contact with Felicia—protesting too much.”
“Ana, you and Pepe better get over there and surveil the aunt’s home. We don’t know of any other place she would go. We’ll have some other agents take over the surveillance by late afternoon. If she shows up, bring her in with as little fanfare as possible. I’ll fill in her attorney.”
“Thanks Nick. I need to get off early, I have a date tonight. Don’t look so downcast, it’s with my cat. We’re going to share a bowl of ice cream. I eat the ice cream trying to get over you, the cat licks the bowl and spoon.”
“Ana, keep your eyes open out there. Be careful.”
“Oh Nick, I didn’t know you cared.”
Pepe wasn’t too thrilled pulling surveillance duty when he had so much other work to do. When Ana filled him in about talking to Felicia’s aunt earlier that day and believing that the aunt had recently spoken to Felicia, Pepe said, “We have to assume Felicia told her aunt she was coming back to San Diego. If the aunt knows, who else may know? We better play this smart.
“How do you look in a bullet proof vest?”
“Well, it doesn’t do anything for my curves, but you can still tell that I’m female.”
Pepe looked her up and down, “I don’t think that will ever be a problem.”
“At least someone around here notices that.”
Pepe responded, “Is there something I don’t know?”
“There’s a lot you don’t know Pepe and will continue to not know.”
Felicia’s aunt lived on a one block street between two busy thoroughfares in Chula Vista. Pepe and Ana were in an unmarked Camaro, parked a few houses down and across the street from the aunt’s house. Pepe told Ana, “Call me paranoid, but I don’t like this. We’re too exposed with busy streets on either end of this block. Maybe we should call in two back-up units, to sit on the thoroughfares.”
“You’re too paranoid. If anybody, only the aunt knows.” A couple of monotonous hours passed. They went through their favorite movies, songs, and whether the Padres would ever go to the World Series again. They had just agreed it would never happen in their lifetimes when Pepe saw a woman with a scarf over her head, get off of a local bus at the corner of the thoroughfare in front of them.
Pepe asked, “Hey, check out the bus, could that be her?”
“Hard to tell with the scarf over her head, but she’s walking this way.”
�
��Yeah,” responded Pepe, “and she’s not walking like any old lady. I have a feeling it’s Felicia. Let her walk closer to the house and then we’ll get out real casual-like, to not scare her off. I don’t enjoy foot races anymore.”
They got out of the Camaro when the woman was two houses away from the aunt’s house. Pepe was closer to the woman as they approached. From behind them they heard the high rev of a motorcycle coming toward them. They both turned in unison and saw two men on a motorcycle, with the man in back holding a submachine gun. Pepe yelled, “I’ll grab her” and ran towards Felicia, knocking her down as he heard the staccato of bullets whiz over their heads. Pepe heard Ana’s Glock firing rounds. The machine gun was now directed towards Ana. Pepe’s body was covering Felicia. He heard the motorcycle continue down the street. He lifted his head up just in time to see the motorcycle scream around the corner onto the thoroughfare down the street.
Pepe ran over to Ana, who was lying face up, half on the sidewalk. She was conscious and blood was streaming out of her left arm and right leg. Pepe yelled for Felicia to call 911 and tell the dispatcher that an officer is down, shot, and give the address.
Felicia jumped up and ran into her aunt’s house. Pepe got Ana onto the sidewalk and applied pressure to both of the bullet holes. The blood seemed to be stopping. He was worried about Ana going into shock. She looked clammy and ashen. Her breathing was rapid. Pepe spoke calmly to her, telling her she was going to be all right, that an ambulance was coming. Pepe needed to raise her legs slightly above the rest of her body to make sure sufficient blood was getting to her vital organs. He put his jacket under her legs. A neighbor came out— an elderly man, who said he was a war veteran and was familiar with trauma. The neighbor kept pressure on Ana’s wounds while Pepe loosened her bullet proof vest. Pepe gave a silent prayer of thanks when he saw three bullet indentations in the front of her vest. He said to Ana, “You may not like how you look in a vest, but it saved your bacon. You’re going to have some deep purple highlights. I bet Nick will even give you a few days off.”
A slight smile came to her lips. “What a girl has to do for a few days off.” Pepe kept talking to Ana. He heard the sirens in the distance. The paramedics rushed over. They placed temporary patches on Ana’s wounds and gently rolled her onto a stretcher.
Pepe held Ana’s hand tightly as she was lifted into the ambulance. He kept whispering in her ear, “We won’t let anything happen to you. You’re going to get through this.” Pepe watched as the medics hooked up an IV and placed an oxygen mask over her face.
Police cordoned off the scene and kept the neighbors at bay. Pepe was on his phone as he hurried towards the aunt’s house. He told Nick that Ana had been shot and was being taken to South Central General’s ER. Ana had lost a lot of blood, but was still conscious. Felicia was inside her aunt’s house, unhurt. Nick said, “Stay with Felicia. I’ll send Jerry over to pick Felicia up. I want you to remain at the scene. I’m going to South Central to check on Ana. I’m counting on you to find out why the shit hit the fan.”
Inside the house, Felicia and her aunt were hugging on the couch. Felicia was sobbing and saying, “I didn’t know this would happen. They tried to kill me!”
Pepe went right up to her, his face just two feet from hers. “You have to tell me who you told that you were coming back to San Diego.”
“My Tia. Only my Tia.”
“When did you tell her?”
“Two days ago when I left. I said I was coming by bus.”
Pepe turned his head slightly to the right, to look Felicia’s aunt directly in her eyes. “Who did you tell Tia?
“Nadie, I, I, I told nobody.”
“Are you sure Tia? Why did a guy on the back of a motorcycle spray bullets at your niece and shoot my partner.”
“Well, I was so excited that Fellcia was coming home, I told my nephew Alan.”
“Where is Alan?”
“He’s a senior at Sycamore High. He and his mom, my sister, live a few blocks from here in an apartment.”
“I need his address and his and his mother’s telephone numbers. What kind of boy is he? Has he gotten into any trouble? Does he hang out with any gang members?”
“He’s a good boy. He does have a receiving stolen property conviction as a juvenile, but he said he really didn’t know the stereo equipment was stolen. The family always tell him to stay away from gangs. Gangs are all over.”
“I need to make a phone call Tia. Write down Alan’s full name, his address and all the telephone numbers right now.”
Pepe got on the phone with Mario and filled him in. Tia came over with the written information. Pepe read it off to Mario and asked him to go pick up Alan and find out whom he had spoken to. Pepe added, “If he is still on probation for the stolen property, see if you can round up his probation officer and bring the officer along. That should add some leverage and pucker the kid up.” Pepe went back to talking to Felicia about what happened until Jerry came to pick her up and take her back to the office.
Nick was going 90 miles per hour in his beat-up pickup on Highway 805, hell bent for the hospital. He heard the siren before he saw the red flashing light of the California Highway Patrol. Nick slowed, but kept going, and pulled out his badge from his wallet, placing it to the driver’s window. The CHP pulled along his driver’s side, both vehicles now going about 65. Nick mouthed the words, “Emergency, partner shot.” The CHP officer mouthed back, “Slow down, no more tragedies.” Nick continued on.
Nick pulled up by an ambulance at the emergency room doors and ran in. “The woman, Ana Schwartz, who was just shot! Where is she?”
The nurse replied, “You can’t see her. She’s in surgery. She has lost a lot of blood.” Nick told the nurse who he was and showed his badge. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to wait. I’ll ask the Doctor to speak with you when he comes out of surgery.” Nick turned away and sat down. He put his head in his hands and bent over. He berated himself for sending Ana and Pepe on the surveillance. First Pepe gets kidnapped in Tijuana and now this. If Ana comes out of this, he’d make it up to her.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nick spent a couple of hours in the waiting room, ruminating about what he could have done differently so that Ana wouldn’t have been shot. He felt he had been naive and too cavalier about how dangerous Baja Norte Familia was. Nick had thought that violence wouldn’t land at the team’s doorstep. He had believed that they just investigated violent acts against others and dealt with anguished victims, not their own. He hadn’t thought it could happen to his task force, to his friends, to someone he cared so deeply about. These cases were about men with money, power and unrestrained ego, which he now knew could strike out at anyone, any time. Nick wouldn’t underestimate them again.
Pepe walked into the waiting room. He saw Nick sitting in the far corner, with his head in his hands. It tore Pepe up. He owed this distraught man his career. Almost twenty years ago, when Pepe was a rookie cop, Nick supervised him on a task force raid of a meth lab. The cookers were known to be armed and dangerous. Pepe was assigned to clear the back, right bedroom. He burst through the door with his gun drawn. Pepe saw movement and a glint of metal out of the side of his left eye. He fired off a shot. A baby cried. The movement had come from the wind coming through an open window, rocking a metal cradle. The bullet missed the baby by inches, lodging in the window sill. Pepe, stunned, was still able to yell, “Clear.”
Nick told the other agents to stay at their assigned areas. Nick came in the bedroom and Pepe handed him his gun. “The cradle moved by the wind—I almost shot the baby.”
Nick liked the rookie officer—he was smart and eager to learn. Nick went to the window and opened it wide enough for a man to climb through. He then moved the cradle to the other side of the room. He handed the gun back to Pepe, saying, “You’re going to make a good cop. I won’t let your career be ruined by a rash act. An armed man was climbing
out the window as you came through the door. He had a gun. You fired a shot. You then had to check on the baby. The man got away.” The report was written that way and signed off by Nick.
Pepe, his mind back in the waiting room, interrupted Nick’s thoughts, “How is she?”
“Ana’s been in surgery for over two hours and they haven’t told me anything except she has lost a lot of blood.”
“We should all be proud of her. She got off her full mag of 15 at the attackers. I believe she hit one; there was a blood trail down the middle of the street.”
“Pepe, have all the hospitals and clinics checked in this county and Imperial County. I want to get these assholes more than anything.”
“I already sent out the requests.”
“Thanks Pepe. You always come through.”
Pepe added, “I believe we recovered the gun. Two blocks along the thoroughfare that the motorcycle turned onto after the shooting, Chula Vista P.D. found a semi-automatic rifle in the bushes. It’s an Israeli Taur Carbine. It looks like a small submachine gun. It just went on the civilian market a year back. Well-heeled gang-bangers like it because the gun is just 26 inches long and weighs only eight pounds. Easy for the scum to hide it under their jackets. It’s also very reliable—doesn’t jam. Unless modified, it shoots 15 rounds from a detachable magazine. We don’t know if the shooter got off one or two magazines. I think two, but it happened so quickly. I remember a pause before the shooter redirected the bullets at Ana.”
“They’re all bastards Pepe. The ones that fire those human murder weapons, the gun brokers who sell a killing machine like that with no background check on the purchaser, and the lawmakers who won’t ban them because they’re in the pocket of the NRA. The only use for these type of guns is to kill as many people as quickly as possible.”