The Choice (9 page)

Dev crossed his arms and rolled his solid shoulders back. His full mouth tightened so his lips resembled a thin line. “Take a look from my perspective. You walk away from some big undercover operation with the DEA after marijuana’s found stashed in your locker. And from what I understand not a small amount. And that’s after a tip was phoned into the Sheriff. You claim it was planted.” Dev shrugged his shoulders. His sparkling eyes steeled to something hard and accusing. “So Sam, how would it look to you that you just happen to be right behind some babe in my airport, who’s probably carrying something suspicious, add in the one guy who works here, who we suspect is involved in smuggling contraband, and he just happens to pass something to a guy who takes what she has—coincidence? I’m sure you’ll agree there’s no such thing. You have quite a history Sam. Not all of it good.”

“Whoa, whoa, Jesus Murphy, where are you getting all this bullshit?” Sam stood right in Dev’s face, flexing his fists, his back ramrod straight, as if getting ready to take on a street thug.

“Back off, Sam. I just happened to find out from Seattle PD when I sent a copy of this video segment to help your girl here find out who she is. Someone recognized you, and the detective I spoke with was quite free with his information. Apparently, you’re a hot topic this month.”

Uneasy tension rippled. “Time to go, Marcie.”

She had no time to respond. Sam snatched her hand and pulled her up behind him, hustling her out the door. His arm slid around her shoulder and propelled her forward, one step from a jog. Her sandals flopped on the tile floor down the narrow corridor as she struggled to keep up.

“Sam, what’s going on? What was that about drugs in your locker? I knew you were a cop, but I didn’t know… Hey, wait a second. Why’d he imply you were following me? Sam, slow down.” This was all wrong. Sam wasn’t supposed to be in trouble. It was her—all her. And that awful man, Dev, trying to turn all this on Sam. “Sam what’s going on, why won’t you answer me?”

Sam pushed open the security door taking them into the main terminal. “Marcie, we need to get out of here, now. Don’t say anything else until we’re in the car.”

She caught a glimpse of his hard jaw. He looked around, maybe not conspicuous, but he watched for someone or something as he rushed her along. This wasn’t good.

Almost at the exit, when two uniformed officers marched through the busy sliding glass door. Sam steered her into a crowded tour group and squeezed out the bank of doors a few yards away. Another NOPD car pulled to the curb, behind a line of cabs. Sam propelled her into a lineup of travelers waiting for cabs and then crossed over to the parking garage.

“Keep walking, don’t look around.” Marcie clutched Sam’s arm with both hands before she tripped while trying to keep up.

Sam hurried Marcie to the passenger side of his late model, dark blue Camaro. He opened the door and pushed her in. “Put on your seatbelt.”

Her hand trembled while she buckled up. Sam yanked open his heavy door and gunned the engine before his door closed.

He backed out so fast Marcie jolted in her seat. The tires squealed when Sam shifted gears. The speed with which he accelerated pinned Marcie back against the soft leather. She gripped the hard vinyl dashboard and stared through the thick windshield. Sam weaved in and around slower moving vehicles.

“Sam, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?” And she was scared. It wasn’t just the questions surrounding what Marcie carried. Speculation about Sam’s own character and his link to drugs had been dumped right in the middle of this.
A dirty cop
. Wasn’t that what Dev implied? This wasn’t reasonable, and only now did the implication sink in.

His cheek twitched. He held his emotions so tight. His furious glance sliced a hole in her heart. Was she supposed to know the answer?

“Sam, spill it, what’s going on? What Dev said about drugs in your locker? And why did we have to leave so fast? He focused on the road, continuing to swerve in and out of traffic.

“Let’s start with one of your answers, darling. I suspect the police are interested in talking to you. And two, just so we're clear, Marcie sweetheart, for some reason I think you may be right. You’re involved in something. The guy on the video expected you. And I suspect the plan changed, and you weren’t consulted. My guess, whatever you stashed in your backpack, these guys knew about and were waiting. If it was drugs or other contraband, how the hell did you get it past security? And three, I bet my last dollar you’re a mule, darling. And just so we're clear, I’m no drug dealer. Those drugs were planted in my locker. How Dev even found out about that…” He yanked the wheel so hard Marcie’s shoulder bumped the door. Sam cut off a minivan who responded by blasting their horn.

Sam’s lips thinned. He was furious. “I was set up. But you weren’t, and I sure as hell wasn’t following you for your backpack.”

“I believe you. So why’d Dev imply you were somehow involved with trafficking marijuana? He didn’t come right out and say the words, Sam. But just the same, he suggested you’re a dirty cop?” She struck a nerve the way his hard eyes fired back at her. “Don’t get mad at me, I’m just trying to find out what’s going on.”

Sam shut down. His face could’ve been made of stone for all the emotion it showed. She may have lost her memory, but she was no fool when someone held onto something. Why wouldn’t he talk? What really happened?

“Shit. Hang on, we’ve got a tail.”

Marcie whipped her head around, searching out her side window at the hundreds of cars all fighting their way down this crowded side street. “Where?”

“Two cars back, beat up four door piece of shit only an underpaid NOPD detective drives.” Sam turned right and then left down an alley and right again on a busy side road. He weaved in out of traffic and finally slowed from his erratic speed, blending in with a single line of traffic. Harsh lines deepened around the deep focus in his eyes, which were divided between the rearview mirror and the road in front of them.

“Did you lose them?”

“Maybe.” Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead. His hard gaze glued to the rearview mirror as if it was their only guide to safety. Sam’s cell phone buzzed from his shirt pocket. “Carre here.” What an odd way to answer. But it gave her tummy a little tug to realize she didn’t know his last name. “Jesse, give me twenty minutes, and I’ll be there.”

Sam clicked off his cellphone and fumbled it back in his pocket.

“Where are we going?”

Their eyes met briefly but for the life of her, she didn’t know what he was thinking.

“To meet Jesse.”

What she did pickup in his brooding silence was some need to ponder the situation quietly. And she supposed that’s what he did now while he circled two city blocks three times before reaching the turnoff to Algiers. Her gut burned, and she told her head now would be a good time to bring back her unwanted memory. Release all those dirty secrets; at least it could help Sam. Then she’d know for sure if Sam was right. Was she carrying drugs? She prayed it wasn’t true. Except, deep down her gut pinched, screaming its ugly accusation.
Guilty!

The car lurched and snapped Marcie’s wandering mind back. Her seatbelt dug deep into her shoulder when Sam yanked the wheel, a sharp right at a turnoff across the four lane steel bridge. He pulled up alongside a lone dark sedan in a deserted dirt and gravel lot. Average rundown houses were scattered in the distance.

Car doors squealed open and clattered shut. The crunch of gravel and muffled voices met behind the car. Marcie didn’t wait for an invitation. She pulled the inside handle and leaned her shoulder into the heavy door, giving a good shove. The hinges creaked. Marcie stepped out and joined Sam and Jesse.

“Thanks for meeting me.”

“It’s starting to get a little hot. What the hell’s going on Sam? Derek, my Captain, your former boss, has gone ballistic. And Dev called; told me you took off. He also said a couple of uniforms showed up and took Reggie in for questioning. And get this—Derek’s now overseeing the interrogation because you’re back in town, and you just happened to be behind mystery girl when she was robbed. This is all crashing in on you, and Derek’s really pushing your connection with Marcie. He suspects you two are transporting drugs together. Why the hell didn’t you tell me a sack of marijuana was found in your locker up north?” He didn’t give Sam any opportunity to respond. He paced his heavy body back and forth, kicking up dirt. “You know Derek’s got it in for you. And I don’t like the direction this is heading. Did you know her up north?” Jessie jammed his stubby finger in the air at Marcie.

“I didn’t know her. She was attacked and robbed. I stopped to help. There’s nothing more. You know me, how could you even think…”

“How could I think? You should have told me about the weed, especially when we knew she was up to no good. Yes, I’m your friend. And as your friend, I’ve watched your back over and over. Every time you did some lone ranger stupid ass move, always because of a woman, but before it was Elise.”

“The drugs weren’t mine. For six months, I … we … my team investigated one of the most powerful drug dealers on the west coast, a guy by the name of Lance Silver. This is big time. He’s no little guy. He’s got houses across this country and down into South America, connections all over the world. He’s the largest marijuana grower in the Pacific Northwest, if not the country. Our team was big. We had everybody investigating this guy, and I put everything into nailing that bastard. He trades marijuana for guns and cocaine. I don’t know how he did it, but someone on our team’s his informant. He knew we were coming. Because when we showed up pounding on his door with our warrants, all the marijuana was gone. He must’ve had quite the team working all night to move the amount of stuff he had. And we knew it was there. We have informants too. But suddenly no one saw anything. His marijuana hadn’t even been cut the day before. How’s it possible to clean up that quickly? And the marijuana in my locker was planted. Don’t you think it was pretty convenient during our raid, an anonymous call just happens to go into the Sequim detachment to check my locker at the gun club?”

“So what happened? You’re suspended, under investigation, which is it?”

Marcie’s expression had to be agog; she knew her mouth was. Her mind spun trying to make sense of what Jesse said. And that name, Lance Silver, it churned butterflies and fired chills inside her stomach. Why did it sound so familiar?

Sam leaned against the back of his car and rapped his knuckles on the trunk. “I left.”

“What do you mean you left?”

Sam crossed his arms and shrugged.

“You just walked away, said nothing. You’re kidding, right?”

Sam didn’t answer.

“Are you under investigation for the drugs in your locker?”

“I don’t think so. I was pissed off. I threw my badge on my boss’s desk and walked out.”

“You quit or did he ask for your badge? I want the whole story Sam. Christ almighty, is the DEA looking for you?” Jesse ripped off his tie and tossed it through the open window of his beat up brown Olds. He was so livid she could see his veins bulging on the side of his neck.

“Look, I’m not under investigation. My boss knew I was set up. So did my partner, Diane. I was angry about how Lance Silver screwed me. I wanted a break, that’s all.”

“So why’d you turn your badge in.”

This time raw emotion flooded Sam; he shut his eyes. When he opened them, a tinge of pink colored his face. He took a hard, deep breath and then honestly faced his friend. “I wasn’t planning on going back.”

Jesse must have recognized something in his expression because he grabbed Sam’s shoulder and shook hard. “You fucking idiot. You’re planning to take care of it yourself. Maybe looking to do some kind of vigilante justice, handle the problem the cops can’t. Huh? Yeah, I know I’m right.”

“I’m not going to let him get away with what he did to Elise.”

“Elise! What the hell does any of this have to do with her?”

Sam scrubbed his hands down his face as if trying to wipe away a layer of skin. Then he looked upward and closed his grief stricken eyes. “Elise was investigating some smuggling ring of guns and drugs flowing down from the north. For months, this case with the ATF distracted her. After she was killed, I found notes in one of her home files about the case, including a mention about Leon, Mama Reine’s grandson—how he distributed for this broker in New Orleans, receiving this endless supply of marijuana and guns. She didn’t come right out and say in her notes it was Lance Silver, but the leads and stakeouts I’ve done since I went up north; I know in my bones he’s the guy.”

“Sam, where are you getting this? Elise was killed by Della, Leon’s mama. A grief stricken woman who wanted simple justice after Elise killed her baby when she apparently tried to bust him on illegal possession of firearms and drugs.”

The way Jesse said it, even Marcie knew there was something he wasn’t telling.

“What are you saying? That her shoot wasn’t justifiable?”

Jesse stalked two steps toward Sam and then stopped. “Maybe it’s time this all came out. You’ve been angry with me for years. Even cut our friendship because I couldn’t get you to wise up. Elise may have joined the academy before you and me, but her motives were not to help those in need and make this city a safer place. She wanted things. I don’t know what. Even her ATF team members started to wise up to her. She was no team player. And that so-called case with Leon and a smuggling ring up north, she wasn’t working on anything like that with her team, I checked. Forensics didn’t jive with what she said happened in the shoot either.”