ONE SMALL VICTORY Page 10

  “Yeah.”

  “You didn’t let her do anything stupid, did you?” This again from the Fed.

  Steve glanced at Gonzales, who nodded, apparently happy to let the DEA guy have center stage for a while. Steve would rather the questions come from his boss. Then he might be more inclined to answer - and to keep said answers civil. He also wished that Jenny had not jumped the timeframe. Obviously that action had caused some trouble, but he wasn’t going to take full responsibility.

  “If there’s some problem, it doesn’t all fall on me. If I recall, the bulk of the orientation was done by you.”

  Burrough’s face started to turn red, almost as if his shirt were bleeding color.

  “No need to get testy, here.” Gonzales leaned forward, insinuating himself into the direct line of sight between the two men. He kept his attention on Steve. “Something appears to be heating up out at the ranch. Burroughs spotted all kinds of activity out there. Including a visit by a local distributor. What’s his name?”

  The question was directed to the Fed, who answered in a tight voice. “Chico.”

  Gonzales turned back to Steve. “The usual pattern is that Chico doesn’t go to the ranch. His boss, Frank, handles that contact. So Burroughs had to wonder what happened to send Chico to the Main Man. And is that something connected to our lady.”

  “Okay. It could.” Steve filled them in on what Jenny had told him. “But taking that step may not be a bad thing. She’s had damn good instincts in dealing with these people.”

  “Not if she spooked them.”

  “I don’t think she did. I think she just upped the ante.”

  The words were delivered with a confidence Steve was not so sure he felt deep inside. He was risking a lot with this endorsement and he hoped he wouldn’t regret it. Jenny had appeared to be wound as tight as a fiddle string earlier. Had she held something back?

  “If I can be so bold as to jump into the middle of all this testosterone,” Linda said. “I think Steve’s right. The Jasik woman is smart and savvy. And she’s put too much into this to do something stupid and blow it.”

  Tubbs gave a derisive snort, and Linda shot him a frigid look along with her question. “What?”

  “Never should’a let a civilian get this deep.”

  Steve enjoyed watching Tubbs squirm under Linda’s glare and had to hide a smile when she came back at him. “Would you still be thinking that way if the civilian was a man?”

  “Of course.”

  The response was just a bit too quick and a bit too loud to ring true, but before Linda could counter, Gonzales slapped the table. “That’s enough. I want to hear this kind of sniping I’ll go home to my kids.”

  His tone, more than his words, commanded everyone’s attention and quiet reigned until he turned to Burroughs. “Where to from here?”

  “We let it play out. But I would caution the woman to step carefully.”

  “Already taken care of,” Steve said, keeping his tone neutral lest he incite more wrath.

  “Fine.” Gonzales held each of them in his gaze for a moment. “What’s done is done. We can’t change that. So let’s put judgments and tempers on ice for a while. Morrity, I want you on top of this woman at all times.”

  At another snort from Tubbs, Gonzales looked like a pressure cooker getting ready to blow. The other man held up a placating hand. “Sorry. Couldn’t help the image that came to mind.”

  Linda shot him a withering look, and this time Steve had to turn his face to hide the smile as Tubbs protested. “What? Just trying to have a little fun. Lower the temperature in here.”

  “We’re done.” Gonzales stood and shoved his chair up to the table. “Everyone report in as usual.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Jenny walked into the living room where she could hear the TV blaring. Scott, wearing dark blue flannels and a Longhorn sweatshirt, was sprawled on the floor engrossed in the latest offering from MTV. She cleared her throat and he looked up, slowly checking out her outfit that consisted primarily of leather and chains.

  “Halloween’s over,” he said.

  “Very funny.”

  She watched her son try to smile, but the underlying seriousness she’d sensed in him these past weeks overrode the banter.

  “Going out again?” he asked. “It’s the third time this week.”

  Jenny flashed a smile that she hoped would soften the rough edge of his attitude. “That’s supposed to be my line.”

  “Nice try, Mom. But jokes aren’t cutting it.” He sat up to face her. “What’s been going on with you lately?”

  “Watch the tone of voice, Buster.”

  “Maybe I’m entitled to a tone of voice.”

  The little-boy hurt that was barely concealed behind the bluster clutched at Jenny’s heart. If only she could tell him. She knew he’d understand. Even support her. He had this grand sense of justice, just like she did, and if she could let him in on the secret they could tilt at windmills together. Although, remembering that awful sense of evil she felt every time she met with Chico and his minions, she wasn’t sure that was a windmill she wanted Scott involved with.

  “I know this has been hard. I’ll make it up to you.”

  “Fine. We make an appointment or what?”

  He turned back to the TV, and Jenny stood for a moment. The words had cut deep, and she was torn between a desire to make things right with her son and the need to finish what she’d started. Oh, hell. She dug her car keys out of her pocket.

  “Alicia’s in her room studying. Y’all can have ice-cream later.”

  Keeping his attention on the TV, Scott waved a hand in a brusque acknowledgement.

  It almost broke her heart to walk out, but she knew she had to. She could always hope that he’d just get over it. Yeah. That’ll happen about the time I win the lottery.

  A prickle of unease stayed with her as she started her usual prowl, and later she would wonder if that had something to do with what happened. Had she emitted some odor of fear or weakness?

  Everything was fine at first. Chico was at his favorite spot by the old Laundromat and Leon was with him. Business as usual. Maybe he’d even have an answer for her tonight. But as Jenny drew close, she realized it wasn’t the same kid with Chico. It wasn’t a kid at all. The feral eyes that studied her were set deep in the face of a man a good ten years older than Leon. That face had been ravaged by a sharp instrument that had left an ugly rope of a scar down the length of one cheek and across the jaw line.

  Jenny swallowed a gulp of panic as the weight of the man’s scrutiny washed over her. Who the hell is this guy and why is he here?

  Despite jeans and sweatshirt, attire that Jenny had come to recognize as a dealer’s uniform, she knew the older man was no lowly dealer. In addition to the menace that seemed to ooze out of his pores, he carried an air of authority that was probably the reason Chico was a little twitchy. He couldn’t seem to find a resting place for his eyes and his greeting was strained.

  Another prickle of unease created dampness between Jenny’s shoulder blades. “Who’s your new friend?” She tried for nonchalant as she nodded toward the man.

  “Just a guy.”

  The other man was so still he could have been a statue. Doesn’t he know you have to blink now and then to lubricate your eyes?

  Does that even matter now?

  Jenny didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or to run. But she finally decided she should take care of what she came for, then get the hell out of Dodge.

  “Doing business today, Chico?”

  “Let’s see your money.”

  The harsh tone sent another wave of fear skittering down her spine. She swallowed hard and pasted on a smile. “Hey, Man, it’s me, Connie. Why the attitude?”

  Chico shot a quick glance at the other man, then lifted his chin. “You got it or not?”

  Jenny fished a couple of bills out of her pocket. “I need two nickel bags.”

  Rolling forward on the balls of
his feet, Chico snatched the money out of her hand, then kept right on walking.

  The action stunned her for a moment, and then she whirled. “Hey! Where’s the stuff. You can’t do that.”

  “But I did, didn’t I.” Chico waved the bills over his shoulder. “Thanks for the tip.”

  Jenny turned back and again came up against the hard scrutiny of the mystery man. What the hell is this? Some kind of test? For me or for Chico?

  Frustration dared her to speak. “Don’t you ever even move?”

  A ghost of a smile touched his granite face. Then he followed Chico down the street, moving so effortlessly his feet seemed to glide along the pavement.

  Taking a deep breath to slow her pounding heart, Jenny wondered what the hell she was supposed to do now. Was this some sort of bizarre end to the whole deal? Had they made her? Was she out?

  She didn’t like that thought. Nor did she like feeling so powerless.

  When she reported it to Steve later, he masked any concern in assurances that she hadn’t done anything wrong. Maybe it had been some kind of test for Chico. She should be able to go back in a few days and everything would be fine. Meanwhile, he’d check with Burroughs to see what was happening out at the ranch.

  After they hung up, Jenny tried to make herself believe what Steve had said, but her gut wasn’t buying it. She wasn’t so sure it was a test for Chico. It was a test for her, and she was damned if she was going to fail.

  ~*~

  Jenny pulled into a parking spot in the small strip mall just off highway 380. The marquee boasted: 380 MALL – PIZZA, GUNS, DONUTS. After doing an Internet search for gun shops, she’d called this place because it was far enough away from Little Oak that she felt safe going there. But the man she’d talked to hadn’t sounded like he had the kind of wit that could come up with this sign.

  Then again, maybe no joke was intended. The stores could simply have been listed with no thought of amusement. Only people like her who were finding ways to avoid the next step would waste their time wondering if one bought a pizza, shot it, then ended up with a donut.

  Stepping out of the car, Jenny locked the doors and made her way to the end of the mall, where another sign said: DAVE’S GUNSHOP. Last week’s late fall heat wave had mellowed and a cool breeze tousled her hair. Out here, almost in farm country, the breeze carried a rich odor of earth and animals. Beats the hell out of car exhaust and the other wonderful smells of city life.

  Jenny walked into the store and coming from the brightness outside, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the shop. A bell over the door had tinkled when she walked in, and she could hear the soft strains of a classical tune coming from somewhere in the darker recesses of the store. Another incongruity.

  “Can I help you?”

  The voice belonged to a man who stepped through a doorway behind the counter. Now that she could see, Jenny assumed the doorway led to a back room. She stepped closer and saw that the man was in his late thirties. There was a cautiousness about him that Jenny had come to recognize as a byproduct of military service. Her cousin had looked like that when he’d come back from Iraq.

  Of course, the man’s close cropped hair and Semper Fi tattoo on his forearm were pretty good clues that he’d seen a tour or two. He was dressed in jeans and a black tee shirt that boasted: Guns don’t kill people. Idiots with guns kill people.

  Jenny had to admit he had a point. “I called earlier. About a gun,” she said.

  “Sure. And you wanted this for...?

  “Protection. I’m a single mother. We don’t live in a great area.”

  He seemed to consider her comments, and Jenny wondered if she’d come across too anxious. She reminded herself to take a breath and calm down.

  “In that case, you want something with a bit of stopping power.” He moved down the glass-topped counter and unlocked a back panel. He pulled out a gun that was dull silver in color. It didn’t look like any pistol Jenny had ever seen, but then her experience was limited to cop shows and movies. Somehow being this close gave it a whole new perspective; not one she was sure she liked. What she was sure of was the desire not to be humiliated by Chico again.

  “This is a Glock Model 17L,” the man said. “Not pretty to look at, but it shoots straight. It’s safe and reliable.”

  After a couple of quick actions that Jenny couldn’t quite follow, but she assumed were meant to insure the gun was not loaded, he held it out to her. “See how it feels.”

  Jenny hesitated briefly and then took the weapon. It was surprisingly light and the grip felt strange. It wasn’t the cool feel of metal she’d been expecting.

  “It’s made of a polymer,” the man said as if she’d voiced some question aloud. “But the striations insure a good grip, even if your hand sweats.”

  And it certainly would. “Could you show me how to use it?”

  “Never sell a weapon without a test run.” He took the gun, walked around the end of the counter, and motioned her to follow. “Got a range out back.”

  ~*~

  Later, driving back home, Jenny marveled at how well she’d shot. Even the man, she’d finally determined he was the owner, Dave, had been impressed, asking if she was sure she’d never fired a weapon before. Her first few shots had been wild, but after he showed her how to steady the gun by cradling one hand in the other, she hadn’t missed the target. No bull’s eyes, but then, with a weapon like that she wouldn’t need a perfect aim. At least that’s what Dave had assured her.

  The cost of the gun, ammunition, and a gun safe put a serious dent in her savings. She’d left a two hundred dollar deposit and would pay the rest when she picked everything up after the five-day waiting period was over.

  She still had to decide how to handle this with the kids. Of course she would keep the gun in the safe high up on a shelf in her closet, but should she tell them about it? They wouldn’t buy her ‘single mother’ concerns since she’d already spent six years as one without needing a gun. So what possible reason could she give them now? Or would it be better to just keep it hidden until this whole nightmare was over?

  Jenny wasn’t comfortable with the idea of another secret. Her whole relationship with the kids had been built on honesty and trust. They didn’t hide things from each other, certainly not the important things in their lives, but in this case, she couldn’t see an alternative.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Jenny watched Mitchell wrap the roses in green tissue paper for the man who was splurging big time for his anniversary. Three-dozen red roses. Oh, to be loved like that. Jenny shook her head. Get real, girl. You were never destined to be loved like that.

  Putting her mind to something more positive, Jenny realized that it felt incredibly good to have a normal day at work. Maybe she’d even try for a normal day at home later. Surprise the kids with a real dinner again. Even Scott had complained about frozen pizza the other day. That used to be number one on his essential food groups list.

  When the door burst open, she was surprised to see the object of her musings walk in. Actually, he stormed in. The man who’d bought the roses, quickly skirted around her son and was out the door before it banged shut.

  “Scott. What are you doing here? Jenny glanced at the clock as if for verification that he should still be in school.

  “Just what in the hell were you doing the other night?”

  His words and tone stunned her into a momentary silence. This was her son? Yelling at her? Even Mitchell appeared shocked. She noticed his face pale before he made a discreet exit to the back room while Jenny struggled for words.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I can’t believe it.” Scott paced as he talked. “Dan said it was you. But I said no. It couldn’t be my Mom. Then Tracy overheard us and said she’s seen you, too.”

  “Saw me where?”

  “Different places downtown. Talking to a couple of scumbag drug dealers.”

  Jenny was torn between an impulse to slap
him for shouting at her and needing to diffuse this before it escalated beyond control or explanation. Mitchell would have had to go two blocks away not to still be hearing this. How many more lies was she going to have to tell?

  “If you’ll just calm down, I can-”

  “Oh, I can’t wait to hear this one.”

  She covered the distance between them in two quick strides. “Listen, young man. I’m still your mother. And you won’t use that tone with me. Not now. Not ever. You got that?”

  She was pleased when Scott had the good sense to take a step backward and keep his mouth shut. Now all she needed was to come up with something that would sound plausible to Scott and to Mitchell. There was no doubt in her mind that he was as anxious for an explanation as her son was. Might was well tell the lie now. If she dressed it in enough parental sarcasm, maybe they both would buy it.