Beyond Blue (28 page)

“Thank you for trusting me with all this,” Chastity said. “You know I won't let you down. But I couldn't help but notice there was a name you didn't mention.”

“You're right,” Gorman said softly. Now, if he only knew the whereabouts of Ruby Sanchez.

Ruby finished dicing the last of the habanera and jalapeño peppers, scooped them up, and dumped them into the chili. The aroma rising from the pot was so enticing that she regretted her intention not to have any.

“So what's on tap for tonight?” she asked, vigorously wiping the remaining pepper bits from her hands. “Another rousing soccer game on TV? You boys are the lamest excuses for Latinos I've ever seen. When we going out dancing?”

The only other person in the room, one of the quiet Peruvians, just stared at her. He had been assigned to watch her the whole time she was in the kitchen, crushing kidney beans, chopping tomatoes, browning slivers of steak, and dicing the peppers and onions. He always kept a close eye on her when she was using a knife, as if that were the only way she could be dangerous. Still, he watched in silence while she chattered. In all that time, Ruby had not said one thing that pissed him off. And Lord knows she had tried.

“Man, I don't know how you got this babysitting gig with no sense of humor,” Ruby said, adding salt and crushed garlic to the pot. “If I get too bored, I might try to run off, just to find some decent conversation.”

The man just stared, so Ruby wandered into the living room. The room was starting to smell of men who didn't bathe often enough, especially the corn chip odor of jungle-toughened feet. And damned if there wasn't another soccer game up on the big screen. Two South American
teams were going at it, and the local audience was all smiles. de La Fuente sat with his arm around Rafael, shouting at every play. Rafe was somewhat less enthusiastic. When he looked at Ruby, she could see the pain in his eyes. She knew he was embarrassed by being played for a sucker by these bargain-basement Marxists. What she hadn't predicted was the obvious guilt over getting her stuck in the middle. Beyond Rafael's troubled face, de La Fuente turned to her, grinning wider than ever, light glinting off that one gold tooth she had come to hate.

“Don't be so antisocial, girl,” the Shining Path leader said. “Can't you see how lonely your dear Rafael is? Why not come join us for the end of the game? Come watch Peru destroy Brazil.”

“I think I'll pass. What I'd really like is to get some fresh air, but I guess under the circumstances I'll just walk around the house.”

de La Fuente responded to her remark, but Ruby didn't hear him. She was on her way toward the back door. The man who had watched her in the kitchen stayed behind, but another follower rose and followed her.

Ruby was walking slowly because she wanted some time to pass. de La Fuente and the others should be fully occupied by the game. When she finally reached the door, she walked back and forth slowly in front of it, tracking her follower's movements by sound. She could unlock the door and fling it open inside of two seconds, and be through the door in three. Unfortunately, even the clod watching her would have his gun out and aimed in half a second less than that, and he would not hesitate to put a bullet in her back.

Still she couldn't resist a test. She stopped in front of the door and turned to present her profile to her watcher. She gave him a sly smile, and coyly reached for the doorknob. Before her hand actually made contact, her watcher was reaching for his weapon. She snatched her hand back quickly. No slack. She could only hope that she had
cultivated her appearance of helplessness well enough to ease his nervousness.

“Don't you think this is a little extreme, sugar?” she asked him. “I mean, I been stuck in this house for two days. But then, so have you. Ain't you feeling a little cabin fever?”

To her surprise, this solicited a small smile from the Peruvian terrorist. Perhaps he was reachable. He didn't move when Ruby walked toward him. He was her height, mildly handsome, and quietly muscular the way the best fighters are.

“Look, how about you open the door while I stand way back here?” Ruby asked, adding a little silk to her normally squeaky tones. “That way I could at least see the outside.”

“Look out a window,” he said.

“My Lordy Lord, he can talk!” Ruby flashed him her most brilliant, heart-stopping smile. “Come on now. We can work something out here, can't we?”

The guard shook his head, but he looked a little uncomfortable, like he didn't know what to do with his hands. Ruby raised her own left hand toward him causing him to flinch.

“Oh, now, I won't hurt you, honey,” Ruby said. “You're too cute.” His smile grew by a couple of degrees, and she took that as permission to continue. Very gently, Ruby drew her hand down the man's cheek, inhaling as if it were a special thrill for her.

The guard was a little off balance, but he didn't react as if he were threatened in any way. In fact, he winked at her. No, his right eye was blinking. He reached up to rub it.

“What's the matter, sugar?” Ruby asked. “Something in your eye?” Maintaining a non-threatening tone she reached up again, cradling his cheek in her right hand while rubbing her thumb across his left eye as if to clear it.

“Ahhh!” It was a low howl of pain. The guard bent almost double, covering his face with his hands. He didn't know why, but of course, Ruby did. Capsicum, it's called.
The active ingredient in pepper spray is the same chemical that makes your eyes water and your nose run when you bite into a real hot pepper. Good cooks learn very quickly not to touch their faces after dicing those peppers. To do so can subject a person to a paralyzing burst of intense pain. By not washing her hands after preparing dinner, Ruby had armed herself with a homemade chemical weapon. It was not a weapon of mass destruction, but it was powerful enough to buy her the three seconds she needed.

Ruby knew there were men patrolling the outside of the house, but couldn't be sure if one would be at the back. As it turned out there was a man there, but he was more surprised to see her than she was to meet him. Black jeans and jacket made him inconspicuous, but it also meant his gun was concealed. Ruby dived sideways along the edge of the house while the guard was reaching under his jacket. She came up faster, flinging one of the white stones. The guard raised an arm to protect his face. Ruby rolled forward, then swung her legs around to sweep his feet out from under him. His hands broke his fall, but he could not protect himself from the stone in her left hand, which she swung down hard on his temple. After that he lay still and Ruby was on the move, knowing the people inside would be after her in a matter of seconds.

After being on the move all day, Chastity Chiba finally had a chance to be still. In a waiting room of the Brooklyn Hospital Center, she sat quietly, pretending to read a copy of
Newsweek
while she considered the events of the previous seventy-two hours.

She had worked her most recent assignment with vigor, moving with haste to uncover the sordid details of a vicious conspiracy. This particular conspiracy didn't threaten a government, but her mentor, Paul Gorman, had taught her that the salvation of a single soul can be just as important

Her eyes did not waver when Alex Brooks stepped out of the examination room. He thanked the doctor for his time and encouragement, shook the man's hand, and walked off down the hall. Chastity rose and followed him. When he stopped at the elevator no one else was around. Chastity approached in a cordial, non-threatening manner.

“Excuse me, Mr. Brooks. Do you have a minute?”

“Do I know you?” Brooks asked. He seemed a nervous, high-strung type to her. His eyes kept wandering from her face.

“We haven't met, but you know my boss, Paul Gorman. My name is Chastity Chiba,” she said, smiling up at him. Brooks was a full foot taller than Chastity, and she knew he'd be an imposing figure in uniform. Right now he just looked vulnerable.

“You work for Gorman?” Brooks asked as the elevator door hissed open. “What, is he checking up on me? Wants to make sure I don't go off the deep end again, huh?”

Chastity raised her palms. “No, no, nothing like that. I've been assigned your case, and I wanted to bring you up to date as to what our investigation has uncovered.”

“Oh yeah, Gorman said he could somehow stop the divorce,” Brooks said, rolling his eyes as sarcasm dripped from his voice, “or at least keep me from losing my little girl. So what, you been digging up dirt on my wife?”

Chastity thrust her foot into the elevator to keep the doors from closing. “Can we just go down to the cafeteria and get a cup of coffee? I'd like to make a complete report, then you can decide on your options.”

The ride down was silent, except for an annoying habit Brooks had of clicking the nails of his thumb and middle finger together. Chastity led the way to the cafeteria, paid for two large coffees, and settled them into a corner table. Brooks sat across the table, upright and rigid, as if Chastity were an inquisitor and he were about to be the accused. She slid her purse up onto the table and sat back so she could see Brooks' face.

“Mr. Brooks, I know I'm a stranger to you, but I feel as if I know you pretty well.”

“What the hell do you know about me?” He gulped down a big swallow of coffee and slapped the cup down on the table as if to express his defiance.

Chastity met his gaze. “I've learned a lot about you and your family in the last couple of days,” she said. “I know where you live, I know where you and your wife work, I know where your daughter goes to school. One important thing I know is that you love your daughter and she loves you.”

“My wife thinks I love her a little too much. Maybe you don't know the reason I'm here.”

“I do,” Chastity said. “I'm the Samaritan who called the ambulance. And no, your wife doesn't believe that you've been molesting your daughter. It's all a setup, Mr. Brooks. I'm sorry to have to tell you all this.”

“What are you talking about?” Brooks asked. “Francine loves me. She's just, you know, confused.”

“No, she was just setting you up for a divorce that would leave you with nothing.”

Brooks' jaws locked together. He stared down at Chastity. “You're wrong.”

A long slow breath betrayed Chastity's impatience. “I know this may be hard for you to accept, but I have irrefutable proof that the whole claim of molestation was fraudulent. Don't you see what this means? She can't possibly use that approach to get a favorable divorce.”

“What proof?”

Chastity didn't understand why he wasn't happy. Hadn't she just told him she had saved him? Didn't he get it? Frustrated, she pulled pictures out of her purse. “Look, these are pages of the records kept by Amy's therapist. If you read them, you can plainly see him steering her, planting her testimony for some divorce lawyer to draw out of her later in court.”

Brooks stared down at the photographed pages. His mouth worked as if he was trying to formulate words that just would not come. Chastity couldn't miss the pain in his eyes. For a moment she feared he might tear up.

“Why?”

“What?” Chastity asked. His simple question had startled her.

“Why would Francine do such a thing? Why would she go to so much trouble just to do me wrong?”

Chastity ran a hand down her black tresses, stopping when she had the ends of half her hair clenched in a fist in front of her. “Can't you guess? She was seeing someone else. Isn't that the usual reason women mess their husbands over?”

“No.” Brooks sat back in his chair, looking as if he had eaten something spoiled. “Can't be. Not Francine. She's a lot of things, but not that.”

Chastity shook her head. “Again, I have undeniable proof.”

“What proof?”

“Just take my word for it, all right?” Chastity said. “You don't want to see…”

“What?” Brooks all but shouted at her. “What proof? More fake pictures?” His hand darted into her bag before Chastity could stop it. She grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away from her big purse. Only after her bag was free did she notice that he had pulled a photo out.

For a while the two sat frozen, separated by a table, united by one horrible sight. Brooks sat with his whole being focused on that photograph. It was a picture that no man should ever see of his wife. Brooks' aching grief showed in his furrowed brow, his steely grimace, and his breathing which was now coming in jagged gasps.

They were still for so long that Chastity was surprised when Brooks suddenly burst into action. He sprang to his feet so abruptly that his chair skidded across the floor to
crash into the wall. Around them, patients and visitors stared, and the security guard moved toward them.

“Not one more day,” Brooks muttered. He turned and sprinted for the exit as if he had forgotten Chastity existed. It had never occurred to her that the news would drive him over the edge. His remark was a clear indication that he was still a danger to himself. Chastity pushed her own chair away and moved to follow Brooks, but a rough hand clamped onto her forearm, yanking her back.

“What's going on here, miss?” the security guard said. His face was grim, pressing his limited authority. At that moment Chastity had several options. She could explain to this rent-a-cop the innocence of her conversation with Brooks. She could flash one of her impressive badges and label Brooks a fugitive. She could adopt the role of a scorned wife or girlfriend, elicit sympathy, and enlist the guard's help. However, any course that required conversation also cost her time. At this juncture, could she really afford to let Brooks get away from her?

“Oh, hell no,” she muttered under her breath. She swung her arm in a high arc, breaking the guard's grip. Without thinking, she captured his wrist with the same hand and with a hard twist she locked his elbow. Her Jiu Jitsu training took over, prompting a follow-up wrist turn that put the guard on the floor and out of her way. He had slowed her by only a second or two.