ONE SMALL VICTORY (7 page)

“The funeral’s day after tomorrow,” Mitchell
said, and Jenny welcomed his intrusion. “I could watch the store if
you want to go.”

She paused before responding, trying to
determine if she could even face another funeral, then almost
laughed when she remembered that she hadn’t exactly faced
Michael’s. And the Brennan’s had been kind enough to make an
appearance. Their presence in the far back of the church she could
remember. She could at least be as gracious.

“That would be nice,” she said.

Mitchell nodded and started to turn away.
Jenny touched his arm. She’d been looking for just the right
opportunity to talk to him. If she made the task force...no, make
that when she made the task force, she’d need him to cover for her.
“I might need you to hold the fort now and then over the next few
weeks.”

“Oh?” The single word was pregnant with
curiosity that Mitchell was obviously too polite to voice aloud,
but Jenny ignored the inferred invitation to explain. What was she
going to tell him? That she needed time off to learn how to make
drug deals?

“It won’t be often,” she said. “And I can let
you leave early sometimes to make up for it.”

“Sure. I can be flexible.”

“I appreciate it. But you should check with
Jeffrey. Make sure he doesn’t mind. I feel like I’ve taken quite a
bit of advantage already.”

“No problem. And we could use the extra
money.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Jenny’s muscles turned to Jello. She felt the
quiver and knew her arms were about to give out. She struggled to
hold, but knew there was no way she was going to push her weight up
one more time. Damn. I was so close.

Steve stood on the other side of the mat but
didn’t say anything when her arms collapsed and she fell flat on
her face. He threw her a towel. “Come on.”

Wiping the sweat off her face, Jenny followed
him out of the gym. “Twenty-two was pretty good, wasn’t it?”

He didn’t answer. What’s this? I flunked so
I’m given the bum’s rush? She headed toward the locker room and
that’s when he spoke. “Come to the Chief’s office as soon as you’re
changed.”

She waved an acknowledgement before stepping
into the locker room and closing the door. She quickly mopped the
rest of the sweat from her body with the towel, and then pulled her
sweats on over her workout clothes. She wasn’t comfortable using
the big open showers.

After putting her hair in some semblance of
order, Jenny went through the door that led to a long hall back to
the office area of the station. She stopped at the door to
Gonzales’ office and knocked. His distinctive voice told her to
come in, so she pushed the door open and stepped through. Steve was
leaning against the wall beside the desk. Gonzales motioned her to
close the door. “Steve was waiting for you before he gave his
report.”

Jenny nodded, afraid if she opened her mouth
she’d whimper.

Gonzales turned to face Steve.

“She passed.”

Jenny almost fainted. That was not what she
expected to hear. Obviously, Gonzales didn’t either. He looked at
her, dark eyes wide with surprise. “She did?”

Steve stepped over and passed a sheet of
paper to his boss, avoiding eye contact with her as he stepped
near. “Got the results right here.”

Gonzales studied the paper for a moment, then
shook his head. “Now what the hell are we supposed to do?”

Steve stepped back from the desk. “I think we
sign her up.”

“She’s a civilian for Pete’s sake. We can’t
sign her up.”

“A deal’s a deal.”

Gonzales huffed and his face turned an
alarming shade of crimson. He turned to her. “Uh, give us a few
minutes. Tracy can get you coffee.”

Jenny stepped out but stayed by the door. She
could hear Gonzales clearly, “I never dreamed she’d actually do
it.”

Did that mean he was just stringing me along?
That thought made her want to storm back in the room and confront
him, but practicality held her back. Venting her anger would
probably destroy any chance she had - slim as it was. She put her
ear to the door, trying to make out what Steve was saying, but his
response was muffled.

She had to step back when Gonzales shouted
again, “Christ, it’s my ass if she screws up and gets injured. Or
worse.”

Again, she couldn’t hear what Steve said, and
for the next few minutes both voices were muffled. A short, scrawny
officer in blues stepped out of the break room, stopped and stared
at her. “Can I help you?”

She motioned to the door. “Just waiting for
Steve.”

Wariness controlled his expression and he
made no move to leave. “I can show you to his office.”

“No need.” Jenny turned and walked down the
hall, feeling the officer’s eyes on her as she went. The door to
Steve’s office was open and she stepped in, nodding to the officer
who still had not moved.

The perpetual coffee pot on the tall filing
cabinet was half full of what looked like sludge, but it was better
than nothing. She found a Styrofoam cup and poured it half full of
the dark liquid that flowed like two-year-old motor oil. She
doctored it with two creamer packets, and that made it almost
drinkable.

Fifteen minutes later, she was contemplating
another cup of the coffee. Just to keep her hands busy so they
didn’t respond to the temptation to read some of the case files
strewn on Steve’s desk. The Wanted posters tacked to a bulletin
board had only provided five minutes of interest.

Her stomach was given a reprieve when Steve
stepped through the doorway. She looked at him, letting her
expression ask the question.

“Come on. The Chief wants to talk to
you.”

She tossed her empty cup in an overflowing
trashcan and followed Steve back down the hall. He opened the door
to the Chief’s office, and Jenny walked in. Gonzales still sat
behind his desk, and he motioned her to sit in the chair facing
him. Steve pulled up another visitor chair and sat beside her.

“You have to sign this waiver.” Gonzales slid
a document across to Jenny. “You’re still a civilian and the
department can’t be held responsible.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “You mean I’m
in?”

Gonzales nodded toward Steve. “You’ve got
quite an advocate.”

Jenny shot Steve a quick glance and noted the
little smile that softened the hard planes of his face. She
whispered a thank you, then picked up the paper. It had a bold
heading:

CONFIDENTIAL INFORMANT

“It’s not too late,” Gonzales said. “You can
still back out.”

His tone made the statement sound a plea and
she glanced at him, realizing it would probably be easier for him
if she did. Too bad, Chief. You’re stuck with me.

She scanned the document. It had general
wordage to the effect that should she be injured or killed while
acting in a limited capacity for the Little Oak’s police
department, there would be no compensation. Short, sweet, and to
the point.

Jenny put the paper back on the desk. “Where
do I sign?”

“Right here.” Gonzales pointed to a line at
the bottom of the page.

“May I borrow your pen?”

After the slightest hesitation, Gonzales
pulled a thin silver pen out of the inside pocket of his jacket and
handed it across to her.

As Jenny scrawled her name in the space, he
kept up a running commentary. “You call in every day. Even if you
don’t think you have anything important to report. Despite what it
says on this paper, we are responsible for you. It doesn’t look
good if people die on our watch.”

“I’ll be your contact,” Steve said, handing
her a piece of paper. “Here’s my cell number. Use it to set up a
time and place for a meet or a secure phone call. When we do meet
it will be out of this area. A different place each time.”

“Pretty cloak-and-dagger kind of stuff.”

“It’s essential. We’re dealing with the worst
of the bad boys.”

The seriousness on his face kept her from a
flip comment about chewing the paper after she memorized the
number. And she wasn’t quite sure why her mind was going in silly
directions. Maybe to keep from latching on to just how dangerous
this could be? She’d been so busy just getting in shape; the effort
had crowded out any scary thought that dared raise a monster head.
But she couldn’t ignore the reality today and a tight fist of panic
squeezed her stomach. What on earth have I done?

An instinct for self-preservation tempted her
to back out of the room with some lame apology for wasting their
time. But the desire to squash the drug-dealing vermin held her
resolute.

“When do I start?” she asked.

“After I show you what you’re facing.” Steve
took her arm and led her to a conference room that had several long
tables with a multitude of chairs. “This is our version of a
roll-call room.”

He disappeared for a moment, then returned
with coffee in two heavy, ceramic mugs. “Got this fresh from the
break room.”

“Good. I’m not sure I could stomach another
cup from your office.”

Steve set the mugs down, then motioned for
her to sit across from him.

“I saw you at the funeral yesterday,” he said
as he spread a folder on the scarred surface of the table.

“You were there?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “Way in the back on the
other side. Made it easier to slip out when I wanted to.”

Jenny flushed at his obvious reference to her
early escape. “It was just too—”

“I know.” His smile vanished. “It was nice of
you to show up at all.”

“It was the right thing to do.”

His expression turned so serious for a
moment, Jenny wondered if her comment had come across too pompous.
But then he gave her a slight nod and touched her hand lightly.
“Yes it was,” he said.

She shifted slightly and motioned to the
folder. “Maybe we should get started.”

“Yeah. Right.”

~*~

Later, driving home, Jenny’s mind swam in a
jumbled sea of all the information she’d tried to assimilate in the
past hour and a half. That big beautiful ranch just outside of town
that she’d always admired so much; Steve said it was the
headquarters of a Cuban man who controlled the drug business in
North Texas, Oklahoma and part of New Mexico. And here she’d been
naïve enough to think that the price of cattle must have taken an
upswing to support a spread like that.

She also realized how incredibly naïve she
was about the whole drug scene. Steve had bandied terms about -
mule, runner, dealer, distributor, and main man. Other than mule,
the rest sounded like they could be applied to any legitimate
business. When she’d voiced this thought, Steve had assured her
that except for the product and some of the means, the drug trade
was very much like a legal enterprise.

Her first challenge would be to make a
connection with the street dealers. She’d have no trouble locating
them. God knows she’d seen them often enough around town. But she’d
have to actually approach them and convince them she was a
customer. Not something she felt adequately prepared to pull off,
but then Steve had said they’d meet with someone from DEA tomorrow.
Maybe she could learn how to be a druggie in one easy lesson.

~*~

The back door banged open and Alicia bounded
in. She bounded everywhere. “Mom. You’re home.”

“Yep.”

“Something smells yummy.”

“Chile.”

“Real chile?” Alicia shrugged out of her red
warm-up jacket and hung it on a peg. “Not out of the can?”

“Real chile.” Jenny scrounged through the
cabinet and found a box of Jiffy cornbread mix. Maybe it wasn’t too
old to rise to the occasion.

Scott lumbered in and dropped an overflowing
book bag on the table.

“Guess what,” Alicia said. “Mom’s cooking.
Real food.”

“That’s nice, “Scott said to his sister, then
looked at Jenny. “Trying to fatten yourself back up?”

“I was never fat.”

“Oops. Sorry. Didn’t mean to insult.” Scott
opened the refrigerator and grabbed a carton of juice.

“But I am glad you noticed the new, improved
version of me.”

“How could I not? You were out running all
the time.” Scott started to drink from the carton and Jenny gave
him a stern look. He took a glass out of the cabinet. “Is that over
now?”

“Is what over?” Jenny dumped the cornbread
mix in a bowl and grabbed milk and eggs from the refrigerator.

“Frozen dinners.” There was just a hint of an
edge in Scott’s voice and Jenny gave him a searching look. ‘And you
missed two of my soccer games.”

“I like frozen dinners.”

Jenny had to smile at her daughter’s comment.
Dear Alicia. Always the peacemaker. How she must hate the extra
layer of tension that had lived in this house in recent weeks. Has
it only been weeks? It feels like years.

Pausing in the stirring, Jenny looked
pointedly at her son.

“I’m sorry I missed the games.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

His tone invited an argument, and Jenny took
a deep breath to avoid a sharp retort. You’re the adult here. Act
like it.

She crossed the distance to him and touched
his cheek lightly. “You know I’d give anything to make our life
normal again. But I don’t seem to know what that is anymore. We’re
all getting through this the best way we can. You’re moody and
sullen. Alicia escapes into her imagination. And I choose to be
active.

“So, no. It’s not over. And I don’t know when
it will be.”

Jenny hoped for some small concession from
Scott, but he stood as if made from wood. Neither moving into her
offer of comfort nor out of it. She consoled herself by relishing
the latter.

CHAPTER EIGHT

It was more like winter than autumn, and
Jenny pulled her leather jacket tighter against the cool night air
that left a trail of goose bumps where it touched her bare midriff.
Should’ve worn a turtleneck.