Paint It Black (4 page)

Cougar gave up on the microwave. He opened his mouth, shut it again, and sat in one of the chairs.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “That was a seriously nosy question.”

He looked up and gave me a crooked half smile. “You really want to know?”

“Sure.” Feeling suddenly flustered and not knowing why, I fed a dollar into one of the machines. I bought a bottle of Aquafina and handed it to him, then tried the microwave before taking a seat. Definitely broken.

“We’re friends,” I said. “You can tell me anything.”

It struck me how little I knew about his past. It seemed strange, considering all the things I
did
know about him.

He studied me for a moment, then muttered, “Football.”

“What?”

“We don’t talk because of football. Did you bring plates?”

“No, I forgot. We can eat out of the containers.”

“You sure?”

I waved him off. “I don’t mind if you don’t. Now, what do you mean, you don’t talk because of football?”

“Grab a couple of those plastic forks by the— thanks,” Cougar said as I snatched one off the table and tossed it to him. He opened the packet, speared a piece of turkey, and gulped it down while I waited impatiently. Pointing his fork at me, he asked, “Do you know why everyone calls me Cougar?”

I hadn’t really thought about it, but it seemed much more fitting than the “Potter” nickname Barry Lavene had tried to tag him with during our rookie season because of the scar on his forehead. I shook my head.

“If you’re a boy in Texas, when someone asks who you are, what they really mean is who do you play for? Big football state. I was a Macaw Cougar. You know Lane Brentwood in Personnel? He’s from Houston, and his boy played against me in the state championship game my junior year. When I first came here, he started calling me ‘that Cougar kid.’ It stuck.” He shook his head and took a bite of green bean casserole. “Fifteen hundred miles from home, and I’m still a friggin’ Cougar.”

I dug into the stuffing. “State championship. Wow. Did you win?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, we won. My dad was our coach. We were down by seven with two minutes to go in the first half, and I threw an interception. Their player ran it all
the way back for a touchdown. When we went into the locker room at the half, my dad dislocated my jaw.”

I swallowed hard over a forkful of stuffing. “Oh, Cougar … what did you do?”

He laughed, and rubbed his chin. “I picked myself up off the floor, spat out a couple of teeth, and went back out there. I think the guys felt sorry for me. I overheard Bucky James telling the others, ‘Whatever he throws, you catch.’ They did. We came back and scored twenty-four unanswered points. People still talk about that game. I avoided the press and climbed in Dad’s truck afterward. I was expecting him to say something … I mean, he wasn’t big on either praise or apologies, but I thought I’d at least get an ‘attaboy.’ All he did was bitch about the interception and the fact that I’d caused him to lose his cool in front of the team. Something changed inside me that night. He put me in pads when I was a runty four-year-old, and it took thirteen years of busting my ass trying to please that man before I realized it couldn’t be done.”

“Why wasn’t that good enough? You won.”

Cougar savagely chewed another piece of turkey before answering. Waving his fork, he said, “See, he was a state championship quarterback, too. Plus, he had an undefeated season. That’s all I ever heard, how good he was, what he could’ve been … He didn’t get to play in college. His father got killed in an accident at the mill,
and Daddy had to quit high school before graduation to support his mom. He never got over it. From the day I was born, he had all these plans for me. I would play for the University of Texas. I would be just like him … but I never could measure up to the image he had in his head of what I was supposed to be. I was never fast enough, or accurate enough, or determined enough. At least until that night. I was only a junior that year. I had one more shot at it, but this time I wasn’t playing to please him; I was playing for spite. I didn’t date, didn’t hang out with friends—didn’t do anything except football. I got my undefeated season. I got my back-to-back championship. And one day, I got a visit from a University of Texas recruiter. You should’ve seen my father’s face …”

His mouth set in a grim line, and I knew whatever he was about to tell me wouldn’t be pretty.

“I told the recruiter I wasn’t interested. My old man and I had a knock-down, drag-out in front of everyone, then he kicked me out. I went to live with my grandmother, attended the University of Tennessee. Got a little financial aid and worked out the rest. I was scared to death, but I felt free. It may sound cliché, but that day, I started living for me.”

He laughed and took a swig of his water. “Man, I don’t know why I told you all that. I bet you’re sorry you asked.” He said it jokingly, but there was a vulnerability in his eyes I’d never seen before.

“Not at all.”

He smiled and chugged the rest of his water. Leaning back in his chair, he said, “So, that’s me. What about you? I’m going to feel like a jackass if your family isn’t as dysfunctional as mine.”

“Oh.” I exhaled. My past wasn’t something I talked about much, even with Grady. It was awkward, but after everything Cougar had told me, I felt obligated. “Well, there’s not much to tell, really. My father left before I was born. My mother worked two, sometimes three jobs, to support us. She died when I was a senior in high school.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “What happened?”

“Um, lung cancer. She was a smoker. She’d been feeling bad for awhile. I’d tried to get her to go to the doctor, but she wouldn’t do it because she didn’t have insurance. By the time she finally went, it was too late.”

“That must have been tough. Did you have any family to help?”

I shook my head. “Just the two of us. I did like you, worked and put myself through college.”

“What about your father? Have you ever had any contact with him?”

I nodded. “He came to see me after my mother’s funeral. Said he wanted to help me. I told him to go to hell. I’d managed without him for the past seventeen years, and couldn’t imagine why he’d think I needed him now.”

“Kinda harsh, don’t you think?” Cougar asked
around a mouthful of roll.

“Was it?” I asked, and didn’t realize how sharp I sounded until Cougar held his palms up in surrender. Clearing my throat, I said, “My mother worked herself to death. He left her when she needed him most. He left me, and started a new family. You know how you resented your father for foisting this whole other life on you? Well, I resented him for the same reason. It didn’t have to be like that between us. He made his choice, and it wasn’t me.”

I forced a smile. “But it worked out okay. Made me stronger. I learned I didn’t have to depend on anybody.”

“Even Grady?” Cougar waved his hand. “Never mind, I retract that question. But I admit, I’ve always been a little curious about how the two of you ever hooked up. You meet him at college?”

The chirp of my cell phone saved me from replying. I frowned down at the caller ID. “Ubi,” I told Cougar, and answered it.

“Necie! We’ve got a tip on Barnes. ATF is chasing him on I-676 East. They think he’s heading to a private airstrip in Medford.”

My heartbeat began to gallop.

Medford. Cougar and I were close. Maybe we could cut him off.

“I’ll stop by and grab Cougar—”

“I’ve got Cougar.” I rummaged in my purse for a
pen. “Do you have the location of that airstrip?”

“Hang on a sec.”

Cougar jumped up and began closing containers. I waved to get his attention. “Leave them,” I said.

Ubi came back on the line with the address, which I scribbled on my hand. Clicking the phone shut, I said, “Let’s go. I’ll explain on the way.”

I relayed Ubi’s information to him while we sprinted down the corridor and outside to the parking lot.

“Where’s your car?” Cougar asked. “We’ll have to take it. Tuck’s supposed to pick up mine.”

I panicked for a moment when I didn’t see it, then remembered I was in Grady’s car. “That one,” I said, and pointed at the black Porsche in the corner.

Cougar laughed as we ran to it. “I don’t think we should steal doctors’ cars.”

Hitting the door locks, I muttered, “Shut up. My defroster’s broken and I haven’t had time to get it fixed yet.”

“Hey, I ain’t complaining. It’s a nice ride.”

I made a face at him, then threw the car in gear and squealed the tires when I roared toward the exit of the lot. When I rounded the corner of short-term parking, I had to hit the brakes hard to keep from mowing down a maintenance man. Cougar bounced off the dash, smacking his arm into Grady’s cell phone.

“Can I use that thing?” he asked.

“Sure.”

He lifted it from the holder and squinted at the tiny buttons. “These things get smaller and smaller. How the hell do they expect you to dial out?”

He stole one of Grady’s plastic-wrapped toothpicks from the visor to punch the number in.

“Hey, Kim, it’s Jason,” he said. “Look, can you do me a favor? You heard about Angel. Yeah. No. I don’t know. The thing is, we’ve been called out and I hate to leave him alone, in case he wakes up or something. His mom’s coming in soon, but—you will?” He exhaled. “That’d be great. Thanks. I owe you one.” He laughed. “Okay, so more than one, but you’re not supposed to be keeping track.”

I tried not to listen, but couldn’t help myself. Cougar’s relationship with the beautiful DEA computer tech had been the topic of water-cooler conversation for weeks. Were they a couple, or weren’t they? Inquiring minds wanted to know. Listening to his easy conversation, I guessed rumors of their breakup had been greatly exaggerated.

Dating Cougar had to be like dating Brad Pitt. How much self-confidence would a woman have to have to go out with a man that good-looking? But this was Kimberly Lausen we were talking about. Runner-up for Miss New Jersey. For all I knew, she
had
dated Brad Pitt.

Cougar hung up with her and called Ubi. For the next ten minutes, they relayed locations back and forth.

“Necie!” Cougar shouted. “He’s coming right at us.
He just turned off Kaighn Avenue and onto Route 70.”

My stomach flip-flopped. All of a sudden, it hit me—really hit me. Only a couple of miles separated us.

We were going to get Frank Barnes.

He was the reason I was there, the reason I’d joined the DEA in the first place. I should’ve been excited. I should’ve been happy. But I simply felt numb.

“What?” Cougar barked. “Okay, okay … we’re there. Necie, turn around.”

“What? I thought we were going to beat him to the airstrip.”

“Turn around, turn around. He’s spotted the tail and took a right. He’s about to hit Union Street. We need to get him before he hits 541. They’re setting up a roadblock, but I don’t know if they can get there fast enough.”

Checking the rearview mirror, I jerked the wheel and slid the Porsche into a U-turn. Horns blared as I raced west on the eastbound shoulder. Cougar clutched the dash until we finally made it back to a median ramp. He exhaled when we crossed over into the correct lane. Adrenaline shot through my veins, and I laughed at his wide-eyed expression.

I was beginning to like Grady’s car.

“Country boy,” I teased. “You’ve never driven the wrong way down a four-lane?”

“Where I grew up, we didn’t even have four-lanes,” he replied shakily. “I learned to drive in my daddy’s cow
pasture.”

I turned onto Jones Street and rocketed past a semi and a taxi. “How many are with Barnes and what are they driving?”

“Just him and a driver. They’re in a silver Jag.”

Shifting gears, I said, “Let’s see if Grady’s toy can live up to its spec sheet.”

Cougar groaned when I floored it. He kept shooting worried looks at the speedometer.

“There they are,” I said. “So, what are we going to do now? I don’t have a strobe in here.”

Cougar grinned and checked the clip in his Glock. He did the same for my gun and laid it in my lap. “Pull up beside them. I’ll flash my badge. Maybe they’ll pull over when they see they’re dealing with some crazy chick in a Porsche.”

We laughed, but I did what he said. Ahead, the Jag veered into the right lane, blowing by a Mustang on its left like it was standing still. I swung around the Mustang, too, and took the left lane. When we drew alongside the Jag, I blew my horn. The driver shot us a shocked glance. Cougar flashed his badge and motioned for him to pull over.

Barnes leaned forward in the passenger seat. For an instant, our gazes connected, and I saw the startled recognition dawn on his face.

I hadn’t expected the driver to obey, but I didn’t expect
him to ram us, either.

The wheel nearly wrenched itself from my hands when the Jag slammed into us.

“Shit!” Cougar yelled as his window shattered and the side air bag deployed. “I can’t see!”

We skidded toward the shoulder. He twisted in the seat and kicked at the spidered glass while I fought for control.

One more hit would’ve sent us off the embankment, but for some reason, the driver didn’t take it. The Jag accelerated. Cougar ducked under the air bag curtain and peppered the back of the Jag with bullets.

A shot hit its mark and the right rear tire exploded. The Jag fishtailed and bounced off the back of a tractor trailer. Horrified, I watched it fly into the air. It tumbled over and over and landed on its top in the median.

I slammed on the brakes, and we screeched to a stop on the shoulder. Cougar’s door wouldn’t open.

“Wait, Necie, wait!” he yelled, but I was already out and sliding down the snowy hill.

Barnes was running up the opposite hill.

“DEA, freeze!” I screamed, but he kept moving. He sprinted up the bank like a man half his age and ran into the traffic. Brakes shrieked and a horn blared when a minivan swerved to miss him.

Behind me, I heard the blast of gunfire.

Darting across the road, I charged into the patch of forest behind him. I caught a glimpse of his tan coat
before he disappeared into the pines. I tried to listen for him, but the roar of my pulse in my ears drowned out all other sound. Carefully, I crept through the thicket. Although I couldn’t see him, I
felt
him.