Blood Runs Cold (29 page)

Ren made it down the dark hallway of the prison, then started to run. And run. By the time she got to the Sheriff’s Office, her breath was heaving. She made it into the bathroom, locked the door and collapsed on to the floor. Tears streamed down her face, soaking her shirt, wetting the tiles beneath her cheek. She lost control of the terrible, wrenching sobs. She paused to draw breath and could hear someone pounding on the door.

‘Ren, open up. Ren, please. You need to open up. Let me in.’ It was Gary.

Group One undercover employees are cut off completely from their regular life for as long as it takes them to safely do their job. Each UCE has a contact agent; ten years ago, Gary Dettling was Ren’s. Her colleagues then – and now – never knew. Paul Louderback never knew. Only a panel of senior FBI agents in Headquarters knew. Including Jeff Warwick and Tim Monahan.

‘Ren, come on,’ said Gary. ‘Please. This is not good. Please let me in.’

Ren waited, but he didn’t go away. She dragged herself to her knees and half crawled to the door. She managed to open it. Gary pushed in and locked it behind him. He knelt down beside her and took her in his arms. She let him.

When she calmed down, he finally spoke.

‘Your call, Ren. Can you do this?’

She looked up at him. ‘Yes.’

Ren sat again in front of Monahan and Warwick. She was wearing a fresh shirt that Gary had brought for her from the trunk of her Jeep.

‘I want to know,’ she said, ‘how Gavino Val Pando found me. Because I know Billy Waites had nothing to do with it.’

‘It was Domenica Val Pando’s minions that tracked you down,’ said Warwick.

Ren stood up and slammed her fists on the desk and shouted louder than even she expected.

‘I brought you Domenica Val Pando,’ she said. ‘You know the history. And in twenty-four hours, you blew it. And now that bitch … Jesus.’

No one spoke.

Ren held Tim Monahan’s stare. ‘I knew Domenica Val Pando like no other agent could have ever gotten to know her. I know the brand of strip wax her facialist uses on her. I know that, in spite of her cellulite, she wears only g-strings. Her plastic
surgeon is French. I know who the real father of her son is. And after one memorable evening, I know what the inside of her fucking mouth tastes like and what her left hand feels like on my right breast – two details that may not have made it into my reports, but by your faces, are clearly working now to illustrate my point.’ She flung her arms in the air. ‘But what the fuck do I know?’

Monahan glanced down at his notes. ‘I will remind you why you needed to be removed for your own safety. Two boys, Enrique Caltano, Paulo Salinas –’

The images returned, the faces swelled by humidity, the ugly, haunting looks. ‘Boys?’ said Ren. ‘Boys? Those
boys
were old enough to rape Domenica Val Pando, to hold me down and make me watch. Old enough to play drinking games to decide who would take me first. Old enough to toss a coin to work out which way. And old enough to be … stopped before they got the chance.’

‘You certainly stopped them.’

‘I certainly did,’ said Ren. ‘I certainly did not want to be raped. I certainly did not like how the coin fell. And I certainly remember being told when I trained for this job that no criminal was more important than the life of an agent.’

‘And you still think you shouldn’t have been pulled out?’

‘Yes – I still believe that,’ said Ren. ‘Everyone knows it was a fuck-up. Everyone. Not just me.’

‘They didn’t need to die,’ said Monahan.

‘
Two
of them were killed,’ said Ren. ‘Their buddy, the third guy, who arrived in as it was all over – he let me go. He told me to run. He had a gun, but he still let me go.’

Gary glanced at Monahan and back at Ren.

‘We had to pull you out, Ren,’ said Monahan. ‘We knew your life was in danger. We knew the rival gang was planning the attack on Val Pando’s compound.’

‘If you had informed me of that, I could have done something, I could have stayed, helped her to –’

‘Ren,’ said Warwick, ‘even with all your skills, the skills that got you handed this assignment at such a young age in the first place, you were still there on the ground with a boot to your head while Domenica Val Pando was being raped. She was looking you in the eye. That is a psychological time bomb. If you stayed, that woman would have bonded with you and you with her so deeply –’

Ren stood up. ‘Please, listen to me, all of you. Nobody deserves what happened to Domenica Val Pando that night. Nobody. But bond with her? No. Domenica Val Pando is a vile human being; a trafficker of women, children, drugs and arms, someone who was about to make a move into chem-bio to
sell to the highest bidder, a person just … absent of anything. You cannot bond with that –’

‘In a weakened psychological state –’ said Monahan.

‘Nobody listened to me!’ said Ren. ‘You cannot bond with something that is constantly mutating. But if you’re really good? You can fake it. But nobody listened. All you need for evil to triumph is that good men don’t fucking listen.’

‘We were concerned for your safety and your sanity …’ said Monahan.

‘Sanity is bullshit.’

Gary could smile because no one was looking at him.

‘I’m serious,’ said Ren. ‘People prize sanity because of how much they fear
in
sanity. Sanity is like happiness; it comes, it goes, it feels good, it means one thing to me, something else to someone else, but, boy, do we all want it. So bad. It’s what keeps people showing up in shrinks’ offices every day all over the world. It’s like paying a weekly subscription to the Sanity Club. And all that happens there is a lot of talk. Well, screw that. It’s all wrapped up in negativity. And losing: lose your grip, lose the plot, lose perspective. Do I seem like a loser to you guys?’

‘Calm down, Ren,’ said Gary. ‘Sit down.’

‘The fuck I will.’

‘Come on,’ said Gary. ‘Sit down. No one thinks you’re a loser.’

Ren sat down and let her head hang. She ran her fingers through her hair and looked up. ‘I’m sorry, OK? I didn’t realize I still … I’m … Bottom line? You really fucked me over. I left Domenica Val Pando, violated by two different men in many different ways, lying with her seven-year-old son in their own waste, both their screams carrying through the trees behind me as I ran. The last thing she saw of me was my sweat-soaked back in my white Donna Karan silk shirt. And because of you, we never saw each other again. To Domenica Val Pando, I had been physically there to kill those guys, but I deserted her emotionally when it mattered most. I was so fucking good, you assholes, that it probably broke her fucking heart.’

Warwick paused. ‘Do you recognize this man?’ He threw down a color photo on the table, a Latino in his early twenties.

‘The third guy,’ said Ren. ‘The one who let me get away.’

Warwick nodded. ‘Mario LaQuestra.’

Warwick threw down another photo; a naked corpse, black, bloated and stripped of any way of identifying gender, race or age. Ren looked up at Warwick.

‘Him again,’ said Warwick. ‘The first photo is from ten years ago, taken around the time of the rape. He was, in fact, twenty-eight years old, but looked younger, like the other boys. Second photo?
Taken one month ago, when his body was found. He had probably been dead six months. He had been tortured. They left a nice snuff movie behind.’

Ren’s face was impassive.

‘He was an agent, Ren,’ said Monahan.

‘What?’

‘Mario LaQuestra was Agent Maurice Gallardo, worked out of the Nevada office.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ said Ren.

‘He was deep cover with the gang that stormed Val Pando’s that night. Like you, he got out of the undercover program shortly afterwards, but he left the Bureau. He was working as an accountant. But they caught up with him.’

Ren could feel her stomach tightening. ‘Did he know ten years ago that I was an agent?’

‘Yes,’ said Warwick. ‘He was informed before he went in. That’s how he knew to let you go.’

‘And … he was tortured six months ago …’ said Ren. ‘So they could find out about me.’

‘Yes,’ said Warwick. ‘I’m afraid so.’

Ren and Gary walked down the steps of the Sheriff’s Office.

‘I’m sorry, Gary … about Billy Waites,’ said Ren.

‘Jesus Christ, Ren.’ He shook his head. ‘He better show up like a shiny new pin. For the first time in a long time, I don’t know what to do. I’m in a serious situation here and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how far I have to roll with this. Where is Billy Waites? Why did he run? Is he about to go on a rampage? How much does he know? Am I going to be on the witness stand recounting the dumbest fucking conversation I had with you that day in my office when we talked around the whole thing and I sent you to Glenwood? Jesus, Ren. Tell me – what would you do right now? What’s your advice?’

‘What would
I
do?’ said Ren. ‘Well, I would be ignored, wouldn’t I? My advice would be ignored anyway.’

‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ said Gary.

‘Domenica Val Pando!’

‘Ren, you’re going to have to deal with that. Really deal with it.’

‘Deal with it? These psychopaths are after me and I’m supposed to …’ She shrugged. ‘Jesus. I don’t know
what
I’m supposed to do.’

‘Ren, you’re the safest you could be right now,’ said Gary.

‘I’m going to go with that, Gary, because I’m feeling a little tired. Even though I know it is total and utter bullshit.’

He said nothing.

‘I am sorry, though,’ said Ren. ‘I … but I do know Billy is a good person.’

‘Do you hear how naïve you sound?’

‘Yes, I do hear that. But that doesn’t mean that I am actually
being
naïve. I know you’re angry at me. And I understand that. But … please. Can you trust my judgment?’

‘Can
you
trust your judgment?’

‘That’s not fair.’

‘I apologize. But damn you. I’m mad as hell.’ He stopped. ‘And tell me about Erubiel Diaz,’ said Gary. ‘The guy shows up in hospital almost debilitated with no marks except for abrasions to the inner thighs and knees. His statement says, “Some guy jumped on me, poked me in the neck and the face, did some weird shit to my stomach and my privates …”’

Ren slowed, then stopped. ‘Hmm. Offhand? Sounds to me like Erubiel Diaz was loitering in the parking lot of the Brockton Filly with intent. He may have been wearing baggy work-out pants to conceal a Velcro-fastening groin guard. I would guess that an unsporting man like Mr Diaz would be wearing such protection only because he intended to rape a woman – a slight-looking, though deceptively strong brunette – who he expected to instinctively go for his “privates” to fend him off: his genital area would be covered, yet quickly exposed when he needed it to be. Which is why, in fact, the FBI trains us to collapse the knee of an assailant, so his own weight can be used as a weapon against him. Which leads me back to Mr Diaz. I’m guessing he received a downward kick to the left knee, which felled him. I believe his mention of “being poked” is related to pressure point jabs to the neck and face. Ouch. As for the abrasions to his inner thighs, it sounds to me like his groin guard was forcibly removed – to reveal a tiny penis – by either the woman he tried to attack or the “man” he says jumped on him …’

Gary rubbed his face. ‘Jesus Christ Almighty.’

‘The attacker at least drove him to the hospital, while avoiding the security cameras.’

‘Lucky for us, Mr Diaz does not want to press charges,’ said Gary.

‘And who would he press charges against?’

Gary shook his head. ‘Jesus Christ, is all I can say.’

They walked on in silence.

‘Don’t you feel bad when they talk like that, Warwick and Monahan?’ said Ren. ‘When they think all UCEs get really close to the bad guys? I’m like, shit, I’m not actually getting too tied up with these dirtbags. I couldn’t give a shit about them.’

He looked at her like she was nuts. ‘And then there’s little Gavino Val Pando …’

That night, Ren sat on the sofa in her suite, reading the same trash she’d tried to read the last time. There was a knock on the internal door that led down to the hot tub.

Weird.
‘Yes?’

‘Ren?’

‘Yes.’ She started to get up.

‘It’s Billy.’

She walked to the door and opened it.

‘Can I come in?’

‘Of course you can.’

‘I’m sorry. I thought the outside door would be watched.’

‘I’m not that important,’ she said, smiling.

‘Maybe they think I am,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what they think now.’

They sat on opposite ends of the sofa.

They talked their way around all the questions
they wanted to ask each other. They let the same playlist play on a loop – plaintive music, beautiful lyrics. There was a sweet, awkward silence.

‘Billy,’ said Ren, ‘this is terrible and I don’t know how to say it … but I guess I owe it to you. I know it’s not right, but I guess, I’ve wondered all along if you were …’

He waited. ‘Say it.’

‘Playing me.’

Billy frowned. ‘What, like I had other chicks on the –’

‘Well, that too, if I’m honest,’ said Ren. ‘But no – just that maybe you wanted something else from me. An FBI agent to, you know, cover your …’

She was not prepared for the hurt in his face.

He turned away, shaking his head slowly. ‘But, I’ve never even … why would you think that?’

‘I …’

‘Paranoia,’ he answered for her.

‘But look at how you came to be what you are …’
Oh no
.

‘What the hell does that mean?’ He stood up.

‘Well … drugs. Dealing. And wire taps. And codes. I’m sorry, but what do you expect?’

‘Shit, I don’t know – that someone who fucks me might give a shit. Might, maybe, trust me.’

‘
Fucks
you?’ said Ren.

‘Don’t go there,’ said Billy. ‘Don’t get all Little
Miss Shocked, so you can throw this back at me. You can
choose
your reactions, Ren. And your reaction to
fucked
is usually a pretty big smile.’ He reached out and held up her chin. ‘Look at me. Look. At. Me.’

She raised her head.

‘Do you want to know what you really saw hiding behind my eyes? I’ll tell you the truth, Ren. If you can handle it.’

‘OK. I like the truth.’

He smiled. ‘I know that. So here it is. You looked at me and what you saw was … fear.’ He let out a breath. ‘Because I always knew you would go.’

Ren opened her mouth. ‘But –’

‘I felt like you were on loan to me,’ said Billy. ‘It was like driving a Maserati on vacation across some exotic country.’ He let out a breath. ‘But no one can be on vacation forever.’

A tear fell down Ren’s cheek.

‘I’ve nothing to lose here,’ said Billy. ‘So I want you to know that I …’

She held her hand to his lips. ‘Don’t love me, Billy. Please don’t. I can’t handle it.’

‘Hey, neither can I. I’m like those women who write to Jeffrey Dahmer.’

Ren laughed loud. ‘
How
can you make me laugh? Jesus.’

Billy smiled. ‘I
want
you to laugh.’

‘Thank you,’ said Ren.

‘So stop beating yourself up,’ he said.

‘You are wonderful, Billy. Fuck the drugs, the violence …’

He smiled.

‘You put up with a lot of shit to be with me,’ said Ren.

‘I saw
you
. And I love
you
.’ He held a hand to her cheek.

‘I really wish I didn’t associate you with something I shouldn’t be doing,’ said Ren. ‘I wish you never came mixed with guilt and worry and secrets. It breaks my heart. But I can’t change that. All I can do is tell you that …’

‘That …’

‘I loved you, Billy. As much as I could.’ Tears streamed down her face.

‘Thank you,’ said Billy. ‘You’ve been the best vacation I’ve ever had.’

‘And you’ve given me the best hotels.’