The Lies That Save Us (The Broken Heart Series) (12 page)

Chapter Sixteen

The two men approached the warehouse quietly, stalking the building as if it would come to life at any moment.  Cayman had the lead with Patrick following close behind.  A group of
four agents watched the back of the warehouse for anyone who may try escaping that way.

Cayman signaled with two fingers to watch the door, and cover him as he went in.  Their guns were drawn, knees slightly bent, eyes following the barrel of their guns, they kicked open the door and shouted, “FBI, drop your weapons!”

The building was empty, with no sign anyone had been there in months.  Cayman lowered his gun and kicked an empty chair over in his anger.

“That’s not going to find her, Cay,” Patrick reminded his brother.

“How many of these empty shells do we have to search?  It’s pointless.  They can’t have left the city; there are agents at every gate in the airport, on every concourse, roadblocks on every road out of the city.  Someone would have seen them.  They have to be holding her somewhere in the city.”  Cayman was agitated and with each passing hour he became more so.  He knew the statistics, he’d told the family of victims many times, and he knew he was running out of time.

“Every empty one we find is one building closer to finding her, Cayman.  We’re not the only ones, looking.  There are more than
two hundred agents doing the same thing we’re doing.  We’ll find her.”

Cayman looked at his brother with eyes full of doubt.  He wanted to believe, he
needed
to believe.  His arms ached to hold her, to smell her hair and touch her face again.  He felt lost, and couldn’t separate his feelings for Alexa from the job at hand, because the job at hand
was
Alexa.  He needed her back and if she rejected him, he would be happy just knowing she was safe.

  His misery was interrupted as Patrick called to the other agents.

“Clear!” 

They all responded with the same call, signifying the area to the back of the building was empty as well.

They all went to their cars.  Cayman and Patrick were riding together.  They crossed off another warehouse and headed to the next one on the list.  Cayman was quiet and let Patrick drive this time.  It was as if all the wind had been knocked out of him.  He was losing hope and Patrick could see it in him.

“Cayman, you have to separate Alexa from this search.  You are going to have to think of the group we are after, try to forget Alexa is part of this.  You’re not going to last if you don’t and I need to know I can count on you, that you have my back.”  Patrick waited for him to respond.

“I know, Patrick, I know.  And I’m trying, but what you’re asking me to do is like suddenly losing an arm and then being told to just forget I ever had one.  You know?  How do I do that?  I’ve only known her for a short time, Patrick, but I
know
her…what’s she’s thinking at any given moment, what a certain look on her face means, I
know
her, and now I could lose her, without her ever knowing how I really feel about her.”  Cayman rubbed his forehead as if it might help him think clearer.  “Where’s the next warehouse?”

Patrick handed him the list.  The next place wasn’t a warehouse at all but a building comprising several offices.  Often this particular set of offices was home to more than one drug and/or gun runner.  Though they hadn’t been seen there, the agents had to be sure they weren’t there, which was why they were checking all the buildings on this list. 

Cayman considered it pointless, futile.  He needed to be in the middle of the fray, shooting something.  He needed to feel like what he was doing was actually accomplishing something.  As the hours dragged on into the afternoon, he felt more and more like he was useless.  It was going on eight hours now, and hope was waning. 

The radio crackled and the voice on the other end said, “Sit. Rep. back at the office in fifteen, round ‘em up and head back.”  No one had found anything.

As the agents filed in and took their seats, Cayman and Patrick stood near the back.  Cayman was too full of nervous energy to sit, so he paced back and forth across the back of the room.  When the lead agent, Agent Grantham entered, the room became very quiet.

William Grantham was considered the ‘old man’ of the agency.  He was everyone’s father, kind and gentle with an air about him of having experienced heartbreak and then using that heartbreak to lift others.  His compassion for the agents, or as he referred to them, ‘his kids’ was unsurpassed.  The men revered him and on not a few occasions, sought him out for his wisdom with problems at work and at home. 

“Okay boys and girls; we have some news, thanks to Cayman and Patrick, and it’s actually quite disturbing.”

He hung an enlargement of the photo Cayman and Alexa found in her photo album. After working to sharpen the pictured and clean it up, it was clear there was someone in the backseat.  Whispers of ‘who is that?’ rolled through the room as the group buzzed with speculation.

“This is why Agent Menetti needed us to see this picture.  Take a good look at the face in the back window.  That face belongs to Agent Carl Dixon.”

Disbelief hung heavy in the room.  No one said a word.  Cayman stiffened and stopped pacing.

“It’s one of us…one of our own?”  Cayman called from the back.

“Yes,” said Grantham, “it is, and my guess is this is why they’ve been a step ahead of us since the onset of this investigation.  It may be easier for us to find him, now that we know who we’re looking for, but be warned:  he is the leader of this drug ring.    He’s not the man we thought he was, and he’s incredibly dangerous.  You are authorized to use deadly force should it come to that, but as always, we want him alive if at all possible.

“The intel we have at this time supports our belief he is still in the city.   We have reason to believe he is holed up in a smaller building at the airport.  He may be waiting for the situation to cool down to make his escape.  Joller, Smythe, Danner and Hepworth; I want the four of you to take one agent with each of you, but the Richards boys are to stay put, for obvious reasons.”

“You can’t--” Cayman started, but before he could get any more out of his mouth, Patrick pulled him into the hallway. 

“Don’t ruin your career over this Cayman!  You know better than to question a superior.  Think what you would be doing if someone else were in your position.  You’re a mess!  Look at you!  Cayman, you can’t even think straight, and these agents are walking into a nest of drug runners.  They need men with them that don’t have an agenda, men who have one thing in mind and one thing only.  You
know
this is the right call.”  Patrick was inches away from his face.

Cayman pushed Patrick back and stalked to the windows overlooking the city below.  His fists were white knuckled and he co
uldn’t look at the agents as they filed out of the room.  Logic told him it was the right call, emotion was pushing him to run after them, force them to let him go.  He had been trained that emotion was wrong in almost every instance.  Acknowledging that fact was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

Cayman felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned to see Agent Grantham standing beside him.

“I know how you’re feeling, Cayman.  I do.”

“With all due respect, sir, how could you possibly know what I feel?”  Cayman was bitter and it showed in his voice.

“Thirty-nine years ago next month, our baby was kidnapped from our backyard.  He was three years old.  Agents just like these went out and found our son and brought him back to us.  Trust me, I know what you’re going through.”

Cayman swallowed.  “My apologies, sir, I had no idea.”

“I know you didn’t, that’s why I told you.  Had I gone out with those men, someone would have been killed because I would have been looking for my son.  Nothing else would have mattered to me but finding my boy; not the lives of the men who were trying to rescue him, not rules and regulations, nothing.”

The lump in Cayman’s throat refused to let him respond.  He just nodded his head and returned to looking out the window.

Agent Grantham left him there with Patrick and a warning for Patrick to keep an eye on his brother.  Cayman tried not to scoff, but even with the story of Grantham’s son, it was difficult to stay put, and he wasn’t sure it was something he could do. 

Chapter Seventeen

Once the men finished their conversation in the other room, Alexa heard them enter her room.  She was pretty sure the voice she’d heard was the agent everyone called Dixon.  She couldn’t be sure, as she was still blindfolded, but the voice sounded like what she’d heard briefly in the airport.  Admittedly she wasn’t paying a lot of attention to any of them.

Dixon strode quickly up to her and asked her the same questions she’d heard a dozen times.

“Where is the picture from your album?”  he demanded.

“I turned it in to the FBI.”  She was being totally honest with him, just like her dad had told her to be.  She’d lost count of how many times they’d asked her the same question.

There was a sound
slap
across her face.  She refused to give him the satisfaction of a painful response, which only served to make him angrier and he slapped her again.  Her head started to swim, and she slumped forward, pretending to have passed out. 

Dixon scoffed and walked away from her.  “Leave her.  We’ll deal with her when we get back.”  She heard retreating footsteps growing softer, as another command was given.  “Hunter, watch the door, we won’t be long.”

Her captors left, leaving her alone in the room.  Try as she might to wiggle even one finger free, she was bound tightly and could not move. 

Alexa thought of Cayman, about how she had hurt him so many times with her mistrust and her suspicions.  She thought of the look on his face when she told him to get out of her flat that first morning and when after he left
, she’d dumped his food down the disposal.  These things broke her heart and she wished for just one chance to tell him how sorry she was, to tell him how she would never hurt him again.  Her heart ached to see him.

Tears filled her eyes as she realized that was never going to happen.  She didn’t care that she would die when the men returned, she cared that her dying meant she would never see Cayman again.  She would never feel his arms around her, hear his heart beating in time with her own.  The tears soaked her blindfold, but she could not stay them.

***

Still at the windows, Cayman watched the city, knowing Alexa was out there, alone, possibly fighting for her life.  

“I know what you’re thinking, Cayman,” said Patrick.  “Forget about it.  I’m not letting you leave this building. 

Cayman felt like a caged lion, ready to pounce…
needing
to pounce.  How could anyone expect him to stand by and do nothing?  He turned and started for the door.  Patrick stepped between him and his escape.

“Don’t make me deck you, Patrick,” he warned.  “I’m not staying here, waiting.  If you want to stop me, you’re going to have to shoot me.  I’m going.”

“Cayman, be realistic.  You don’t even know where to look.  You’ll wander around out there without a radio, without any contact with the team; you won’t even know where they are.”

“I would know if you came with me,” said Cayman.

“You know I can’t do that,” replied Patrick.  He turned away, unable to look his brother in the eye. 

“What would you do if you were in my place?” Cayman asked.

“I can’t answer that Cayman, you know I can’t.  I’ve never loved anyone the way I see you love Alexa.  I have nothing to even compare it to.  I know you love her, I knew it from the minute I saw you two in the airport.  So in all honesty, I don’t know what I’d do.”

Cayman’s face was hard, angry, but full of pain.  His eyes flared with a passion Patrick only wished he could know. 

“Cayman, you can’t ask this of me.  We’ll both lose our jobs; don’t ask me to do this.”

“Okay, Patrick, I won’t ask you, but I’m leaving, and you can go ahead and shoot me, but you better aim to kill, because if I have an ounce of breath in me, I’ll keep going, and I’ll find her.  Whether she’s dead or alive, I’ll find her, and when it’s done, I’ll come back and kick your butt for shooting me.”

Patrick paused and stared at his brother.  He turned to his pack, grabbed his radio and tossing it to Cayman said, “I’ll drive.”

***

“You know, I bet I can get you to talk,” came the menacing voice of the guard as he moved slowly in her direction.

Alexa said nothing.  The only man left behind when the others left was the one Dixon called Hunter.  She didn’t have a clue what anyone but Dixon even looked like.

Suddenly the blindfold was ripped from her head.  The light was blinding and she blinked to try and focus.  Hunter grabbed her hair, yanking her head back hard against the back of the chair.  Alexa grunted at the effort it took to keep her head from being torn off the end of her neck.

“Yeah, cutie.  That’s right.  You’re going to talk to me, because if you don’t, they’re going to kill you.  So, let me just save your life for you.”

With a full fist he punched Alexa in the face and her chair fell backward.  Her head hit the back of the chair with a thud and the room filled with stars.  Her ribs hit the arm rest and she groaned in pain.  She could feel the chair being righted.  She groaned again.

“You want some more of that, sweet stuff?  You’re not so tough with those knees of yours taped to the chair, are you?”  His voice was dangerous and angry.

So this was the man in her motel room.  The one she’d kneed in the groin.   She looked through her now swollen eye to see him pull his pistol from the holster. 

“Do you see this,
sweetheart
?  It can be very handy when I need it to be.  For example, it can do this.”

Taking the butt end of the gun he hit her hard on the side of her head and she heard her skull crack.  With the other hand he punched her again in the face, hitting her square in the mouth.  She tasted blood and felt it run down her chin.

Just as Hunter was about to throw another punch, the door swung open and a very angry and surprised Dixon yelled, “
What are you doing?
”

He rushed to Hunter and knocked him to the ground as he pulled his gun from his holster, finger on the trigger.

“I…I just thought…” Dixon stopped him.

“You just thought you were tired of living, so you decided to disobey me?”  Dixon’s finger began to slowly squeeze the trigger.  “I told you to guard the door, not beat the life out of the
only
person we have that can give us the information we need.  You must have some kind of death wish.”  Dixon was taking aim, his arm straightening toward his target as he spoke.

“No!  No!  I…I thought maybe a little more force would make her talk!  That’s all!  A little more force.”

Dixon was enraged.  He pulled Hunter to his feet, “A
little
more?  LOOK at her, you imbecile!  She’s no good to anyone now!”  He pushed Hunter back with disgust. 

“Get him out of here before I kill him. 
GET HIM OUT OF MY SIGHT
!!”

The others grabbed his arms and pulled him into the other room.

Dixon stood before her rubbing his lip nervously.  She thought about what he’d said; that she was ‘no use to anyone now’ and she knew what he was thinking.  But instead of killing her right there as she was certain he would, he spun on his heels and walked out the front door, away from the others.

Alexa could barely see out of her swollen eyes, her face was bleeding in several places and her ribs hurt.  Still, she breathed a pain filled sigh of relief.

What had they been talking about in the other room?  Her mind wandered through the past few days with pictures in her mind of Cayman laughing, of her wrapping his injured arm with her shirt, how he came to her father’s bedroom door and she’d answered in her underwear, so totally wrapped up in what she was thinking about she’d forgotten she wasn’t dressed.  She remembered pointing her gun at him on the road through Idaho.  Her dad…pictures of her father flashed through her mind, walks in the park when she was small, rides in the car, camping and horseback riding. 

The pictures ended abruptly with angry voices from the other room.  That must mean she was conscious.  Had she been unconscious before?  Breathe…pain, don’t breathe.  Who were they talking about?  A takeover?  Someone was trying to take over the cartel?  Locally?  She couldn’t tell.  They referred to him as…she couldn’t quite hear the name, but it was obvious they were all afraid of him.  It sounded like ‘snake’ or something like that.  His name was Snake?  What kind of a name was that?  Focus…focus…what were they saying?  Dixon shouted several times that he wanted to know who this man was that was “squeezing” him. 

Alexa tried to breathe but her ribs reminded her again that was not a good idea.  She felt like she was floating in and out of consciousness.  When conscious, she forced herself to listen, to hear what they were talking about.  She could hear their voices again, which meant she must be conscious.  It was hard to not feel the pulsing in her face, the pain in her ribs and the aching in her head.  If she could just force herself to listen, it often served as a distraction, taking her mind off of her pain.  If she died before she could tell anyone what she heard then it was all for nothing, but it helped her to not always think about how her legs ached and her arms tingled.

She heard snippets of conversation, threats and angry voices.  There was someone trying to take over Dixon’s spot, she was sure of it.  It seemed that even he didn’t know who it was, but it wasn’t clear to Alexa where he’d gotten this information.  From his voice, she was certain he was nervous.  Nervous was not good.  People did bad things when they were afraid, made rash decisions.  Heavy footsteps were coming toward her again.  How angry was Dixon now?