Above the Law (7 page)

As Dale watched the exchange, she was more certain than ever that Peyton was the right person to bring the Vargases to justice. She’d never let personal conflict trump her desire for right over wrong, and that was exactly why she had to keep the task force alive. But if she was going to ask Peyton to make it work, she had to be willing to do the same which meant dodging Lindsey Ryan, and that wouldn’t be easy.

She was familiar with Lindsey’s work, respected it even. Lindsey asked tough questions and went to great lengths to bring realism to her stories. Unfortunately, the qualities she admired in Lindsey were the ones she would have to be most wary of because if Lindsey figured out she was working off the books, she wouldn’t rest until she uncovered the details. And that was the problem with investigative reporters—when they sifted through other people’s dirt, their goal was to sling mud. Nothing sold like a full-fledged messy scandal, and no one sold it better than an intelligent, attractive reporter like Lindsey Ryan.

She pictured Lindsey as she’d been when she met her at the office. She was as vibrant off screen as she was on, but what Dale noticed was her bearing. Stance confident, eyes sharp—Lindsey was unapologetic about asking questions, and she grilled her subjects for the details behind the answers. If she were going to pull off working double duty, she’d have to figure out how to keep Lindsey both close and distant at the same time. But for now, she turned her attention back to the exchange between Neil and Peyton.

“Cyrus Gantry isn’t what you think he is,” Neil said.

Peyton rested her hands on the table. “Enlighten me then.”

“He’s a good man who’d do anything to protect his family.”

“You care to define ‘anything’?”

Neil flicked a glance at Dale. “Do I need a lawyer?”

“Your sister’s a lawyer,” Dale replied. “If it were up to me, I’d have found something to charge you with already since I understand you skipped town with money that belonged to your family after you got mixed up with Cyrus. Your best bet is to start talking and tell us something we don’t already know.”

Neil took a breath and blurted, “The Vargases told Cyrus they would kill Lily if he didn’t do as they asked.”

Dale leaned in closer. “That’s what we’re talking about. Tell me more.”

“I don’t know how it started, but a few years ago, when oil prices were tanking, they approached Cyrus about a way he could make extra cash off the books by laundering money for their drug operation. He told them no fucking way, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer. They sent him close-up photos of Lily in all kinds of places at different times of the day to show him they could get to her anytime they wanted. Finally, he gave in.”

Dale would’ve had a hard time believing Neil’s story, if Peyton hadn’t told her about how the Vargas brothers had forced Lily’s mother to give her up to be raised by Cyrus. And then, just last week, they’d tried to kill Sophia for telling Lily the truth. She wondered how much, if any, of the sordid backstory Neil knew. “Why didn’t he reach out for protection? Seems like that would’ve made a helluva lot more sense than throwing in with drug dealers.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Most of his contact with the Vargases was through go-betweens. They were careful not to deal with Cyrus in public, where he could take any action against them. What was Cyrus supposed to report? All I know is sometimes a man has to take things into his own hands when he’s threatened.”

His pointed glance at Peyton spoke volumes, but Dale wasn’t interested in helping them explore their family dynamics. “Okay, so tell me what you do know, starting with why he trusted you with this information and what you were doing to help Cyrus.”

“I didn’t have to do much. He wanted to lease the land out by the north pasture for drilling. He had his engineers do some preliminary testing, and he showed me a report that said there was a viable oil source. Peyton and Zach ran his team off before they got a chance to put a hole in the ground.”

“That’s it? That was your only involvement?” Neil ducked his head, and Dale knew there was more to his story. “This only works if you tell us everything. You hold out and I’ll haul you back to my office.”

“He’d already advanced me a big sum of money.”

“Let me guess—you didn’t have it anymore.”

“I didn’t have most of it.”

“So, you owed him.”

“Yes.”

“And what did Cyrus have you do to work it off?”

“He wanted me to get him information about Peyton. What she was working on and if it involved him.”

“So you spied on your sister?”

“No, I told him there was no way Peyton would confide in me and I had to stay gone a while, until the family cooled off about the investment with Cyrus. I offered to try to flush out the Vargases instead. And I found them, but they were waiting for me. Guess I’m lucky to be alive.”

Dale drummed her fingers on the table as she contemplated whether Neil was telling the truth. Seemed pretty implausible that he’d turned from rancher to wannabe oil baron to drug informant in the space of a few months. Still, something about the way he delivered the details of his tale rang true. She turned to Peyton. “You have something he can write on?”

“Absolutely.” Peyton walked over to a drawer and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen.

When she placed them in front of Neil, he asked, “What?”

“Start writing,” Dale said. “I want every detail of every conversation you’ve had with anyone at Gantry Oil and the Vargas brothers on that paper before you leave this room.” She stood and motioned for Peyton to follow. When they were out of hearing range, she asked, “You buy any of this?”

“I don’t know what to buy anymore, but I do think it’s possible Cyrus was acting out of fear. He may be a sorry ass example of a father, but he loves Lily in his own twisted way.”

“Do you think Cyrus really believed Lily’s uncles would harm her?”

“Hard to believe, I know, but they think Lily is a blight on the family. Ironic, right?”

Dale nodded, and the hard steel in Peyton’s voice made her pause before saying, “We should probably talk to Lily’s mother. Seems like she could shed a lot of light on the family dynamic beyond what she’s already told you.” She jerked her head toward the kitchen. “What do you want to do about your brother?”

“I don’t know. You have any ideas?”

“I say let’s cut him loose and see what he does. If he’s a patsy, he’ll steer clear of Cyrus and the Vargases, but if he’s on the payroll, we’ll know soon enough.”

Less than an hour later, Dale left the ranch. She didn’t envy the folks around the Davis dinner table that evening.

She drove back to the office and spent the rest of the day clearing her desk ahead of the busy next day. The first thing she’d do in the morning was meet with Lindsey Ryan and get her set up so she could work on her own, and then she planned to duck out and catch up with Peyton after her meeting with Gellar. If Gellar really was determined to dismantle the task force, they’d have to come up with a plan to keep their investigation going and keep their work secret.

When she finally looked up, the sky was pitch-dark and the clock on the wall read eight o’clock. She reached for the phone, but withdrew her hand before punching the familiar buttons to tell her dead wife she’d be home late. A year later, old habits still trumped the reality that she had no one to go home to anymore.

C
HAPTER
S
IX

Lindsey shut off her alarm and stretched. She’d slept later than she’d planned, but hotel rooms with their freezing temperatures and blackout curtains did that to her. The bonus was she was well rested and ready for a packed day. She reached for the phone and ordered breakfast: eggs, pancakes, bacon, and coffee. Lots of coffee. She’d need a ton of fortification today since she planned to spend it with her reluctant liaison, Dale Nelson.

Dale. While she waited for breakfast to be delivered, she tugged on shorts and a hoodie and fished through her bag to find her laptop. Once it powered up, she typed in Dale’s name. With no other identifiers, the search results were a mixed bag, and she scrolled through stories about a line of fancy yachts, a Canadian mass murderer, and a renowned meteorologist without any mention of Special Agent Nelson. She punched her way back to the search engine and added more words: DEA, Dallas, Marine, and several pages of stories appeared. All of them mentioning the enigmatic woman she’d met the day before, but the first one—the only one with a photo—seized her attention.

The photo was black-and-white, and Dale was in profile, standing in front of a ranch-style house. Several reporters with microphones clustered around her, and Lindsey could tell by the set of Dale’s jaw, she was angry. The caption simply said: Crime Hits Home for DEA Agent. Lindsey’s gut wrenched at the combination of the expression on Dale’s face and the foreboding words. She scrolled through the article, skipping through phrases faster and faster, eager to know what happened yet dreading what she might learn.

AUSA Maria Escobar…apparently surprised by gunman…body riddled with dozens of blasts from automatic weapons…known for her ruthless prosecution of members of the Texas Mexican Mafia…survived by her wife, Special Agent Dale Nelson.

No small wonder Dale looked angry. There she was standing in front of the house she’d shared with her wife, mere hours after Maria had been assassinated on the front lawn, and reporters were vying for her attention. Lindsey wondered if she would’ve risked Dale’s wrath to get a quote?

Maybe, once upon a time. When she’d first started out, Lindsey had believed nothing should stand between a reporter and the whole story, no matter how messy, no matter how ugly the truth was. Years later, her ideals had been tempered by the inhumanity she’d seen in the world. There was more than enough meanness, cruelty, and atrocity for her to document without having to stoke the flames of her subject’s pain. She might always report the truth, but there was enough pain in the world without her creating more of it. The photo of Dale was striking, the caption provocative, but her heart ached for the way their intrusion had robbed Dale of important moments of quiet grief.

She glanced at the date of the release. Just over a year ago. Were the shades of Dale’s past still casting shadows over her life now? Curiosity drove her to click open a few other stories, and she devoured each one. Dale served as a MP in Afghanistan and she had been awarded a Navy Cross for an act of heroism that appeared to be classified. She’d met Maria, who was serving as a JAG officer, during her time in the service, and they married soon after they both returned to the States. They’d both been working on a task force formed by the local US Attorney, Herschel Gellar. Their mission was to curb the tide of crime and violence perpetrated by the Zeta Cartel whose members were engaged in high dollar drug deals and a host of other violent crimes.

After scanning a dozen articles, Lindsey leaned back in her chair. So, now Special Agent Nelson was assigned to show her around town and educate her on the agency’s drug Take-Back Initiative? Could there be any assignment more toothless than that?

She flashed back to her first look at Dale yesterday—jeans, boots, a tight black T-shirt, badge and gun on her belt, her unruly dark waves sticking out all over. She hadn’t tried to hide her distaste at being assigned as a liaison to her crew. If the agency was set on redeeming their reputation with PR about public outreach, Dale wasn’t buying the script. Something else was going on with Agent Nelson, and Lindsey was convinced whatever it was had to be the hook for this story.

A knock at the door jerked her out of her musings. She moved her laptop to make room for her huge breakfast, but when she swung open the door, instead of a room service waiter, Dale stood framed in the threshold, looking almost exactly the same as she had the day before. Lindsey stood stock-still for a second while she tried to process what was happening. Had they made an appointment and she’d forgotten about it? No, she was meticulous about details, and she hadn’t even had a chance to give Dale her number before Dale ditched her at the DEA office.

“Are you going to invite me in?”

Lindsey snapped out of her reverie and looked down at her clothes. Dale caught her looking and said, “At least you aren’t in your pajamas.”

While Lindsey laughed off her embarrassment, she took a moment to reflect on Dale’s tone. Not an ounce of flirtation had accompanied any of her words. Too bad. She looked as handsome today as she had the day before. If she wasn’t considering Dale as the subject for her story, she might try to take advantage of the fact a bed was steps away, and it had been way too long since she had sex. She shoved away the thoughts before they went too far. “Come in, Agent. It’s nice to see you, although I’m sure you can tell, I wasn’t expecting company.” Dale strode into the room, and Lindsey watched her eyes track the entire suite.

“Nice room. Big,” Dale said. “You having to bunk with anyone else?”

“Uh, no, just me.” Lindsey pointed at the large desk in the living area. “I’ll be doing a lot of the work for the piece here, so I need the space.” She didn’t have a clue why she felt the need to justify the size of her suite, but she did. Before she could give it another thought, another knock sounded from the door. She glanced over at Dale, who was headed toward the desk where her laptop sat open, the results of her Google search on display. Thinking fast, she said, “Hey, do you mind getting the door? I’m going to change.”

She didn’t wait for a response, instead making a beeline for the desk. Dale cocked her head, but headed back to the door. Lindsey closed her laptop, grabbed a pair of pants, and called out over her shoulder, “You can sign for me. Thanks.”

She practically dove into the bathroom. Once there she took a minute to catch her breath.
She probably thinks I’m insane
. One look in the mirror confirmed it. She hadn’t bothered to brush her hair this morning, and it looked like small animals had burrowed a new home in her tangled waves. A closer look revealed a long sheet crease across her right cheek, evidence of a super sound night’s sleep. She brushed her hair because that was the only one of the two problems she could solve and tugged on a pair of pants. If she were going to look like she’d just rolled out of bed, at least she wouldn’t have bare legs.