Karen Vail 01 - Velocity (53 page)

Vail advanced forward, Glock out in front of her. To her left, the room opened up into a larger space. Two men were standing by Robby.

And one of them had a pistol pointed at his head.

84

R
obby, no!

The gunshot was deafening. And it was fol owed by a second, equal y as loud—

but Vail’s hearing was blown from the close-quarters echo of the first, so she more or less felt, rather than heard, the latter round.

The dead man to Robby’s left hung in the air, but the one to his right was heavier

—and he hit the ground with a thud, that sickening hol ow
thrump
when a skul strikes cement with significant force. His col eague fol owed a split second later, dropping to his knees before fal ing forward onto his face.

Robby’s eyes caught Vail’s and she merely stood there, emotion wel ing in her chest, threatening to erupt. She found herself unable to move, her feet stil planted in a Weaver stance, both hands squeezing the Glock. The smel of cordite stinging her nose.

Robby, on his knees, was crying—she could see that much in the dim light from the overhead bulb. Tears streaked his cheeks.

She dropped her arms to her sides, took a tentative step forward, then ran. Ran into his arms, and joined him on the floor. Hugged him tight.

Neither said a word.

85

O
utside in the carport, an ambulance sat idling in front of the Terrazza di Sogno—

the Terrace of Dreams—an Italian balcony overlooking the Bel agio fountains.

Peter Yardley and Thomas Gifford had just arrived from the Green Val ey Ranch Resort and were jogging toward them, accompanied by three men in black windbreakers with light gray DEA block letters on the back, chest, and arms. Two men in suits, presumably FBI, took up the rear.

Robby lay on a gurney, his torso elevated and an IV snaking from his arm.

Roxxann Dixon and Hector DeSantos stood at his side, shoulder to shoulder with Vail, who had her phone pressed to her ear.

“How’s he doing?” Gifford asked the medic.

“I’m doing fine,” Robby said.

The medic frowned in annoyance. “Vitals are stable. It was a through and through. The constricting effects of the cold water helped. Some blood loss, but I’ve stopped the bleeding. Motor and sensation are intact. We’l transport and give him a good look-see in the ER.”

“That real y necessary?” Robby asked.

Vail, having ended her cal with Jonathan—she’d woken him, but needed to hear his voice and couldn’t wait til morning—said, “Yeah, Robby, it’s real y necessary.

Not up for discussion.”

“For once,” Gifford said, “I agree with you.” He looked at Robby. “Anything we can get you? Something to eat?”

“Someone already brought me a fancy chili burger—”

“Yeah, that’d be me,” Dixon said, playful y raising her hand.

Vail chuckled. “Which he downed in two bites.”

“You earned it,” Gifford said. “That and a whole lot more.” He nodded at DeSantos. “Status.”

“Escobar’s in the wind. BOLO’s been issued and checkpoints have been set up.

Lots of places in Vegas to get lost, so I’m not overly confident we’re gonna find him.”

“Vil arreal and Guevara are in custody and being treated for GSWs,” Vail added.

A black Chevy SUV pul ed up beside them, drawing their attention. Turino stepped out and faced Yardley. “I’ve got something for you, sir.” He pul ed open the rear door, where Sebastian sat restrained in silver handcuffs and leg irons.

Sebastian and Robby locked eyes, then Turino slammed the door closed.

“Apparently someone placed a tracking device in his phone.”

Yardley grinned. “How rude. I wonder who’d do something like that. And those blanks in his gun. Definitely not standard issue.”

“My pleasure to bring him in, sir,” Turino said.

“I thought you’d appreciate it.” Yardley’s face turned serious. “We’re due for a chat. Half hour, back at the office?”

Turino pul ed open his door. “Yes sir. Looking forward to it.”

As Turino drove off, Yardley took a deep, relieved breath, then said, “Fine work, agent.”

“Thank you, sir,” Vail and DeSantos answered in unison.

“No offense.” Yardley motioned to Robby. “I was talking to
my
agent.”

Vail couldn’t suppress her smile. Robby had earned that. She glanced at Gifford, who seemed to be sporting a proud, though subtle grin.

“Given Agent Turino’s concern over Velocity,” Yardley said, “I thought you’d like to know that DEA moved up its timetable. We figured that with Cortez and Vil arreal busy sparring over Robby, the distraction would make our jobs easier. We launched Velocity—” he consulted his watch—“sixty-five minutes ago. Early reports are very encouraging. Arrests in five states. More to come through the night.”

“Cortez?” Robby asked.

“Nothing yet. So far he’s slipped the net. But if not tonight, we’l get him some other time. Our job’s not done til guys like him are out of business.”

Gifford extended a hand toward DeSantos. “Hector, you’ve been a godsend.

Next time I see Detective Bledsoe, I’l have to thank him for bringing you into the fold.”

“Yeah.” Vail gave DeSantos’s shoulder a playful shove. “Thank you.”

He looked at her a long moment, then said, “This case ended up meaning more to me than you could know. If my wife were here, she’d thank you, too.”

Vail tilted her head in confusion but let it go. DeSantos gave her a quick hug, then motioned to Dixon.

“We’l let you rest,” Dixon said to Robby. “We’re gonna grab something to eat.”

Gifford caught Vail’s attention with a jerk of his head. “Can I have a word with you?”

“Sure—I just need a moment. Roxx,” she cal ed after Dixon. “Hang on a sec.”

Vail walked with Dixon back toward the Bel agio entrance, away from the knot of personnel.

They stopped beside a large conical planter at the edge of the carport. Vail stood there looking at Dixon, not speaking, unsure of what to say.

Final y Dixon broke the silence. “It’s been incredibly . . . exciting. You make things interesting, Karen.”

Vail hiked her eyebrows. “So I’ve been told. Look, I—I can’t tel you what you’ve meant to me these past couple weeks. It sounds trite, but I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” She leaned forward and gave her partner a warm embrace.

A moment later, they pushed away from each other, both wiping tears from their eyes.

“So let’s not let this be good-bye,” Dixon said. “Okay? Email, phone. Facebook?”

Vail chuckled. “Jonathan’l have to show me how to set up an account. But, yeah.

Of course. And when you make it out to D.C.—”

“Lunch, dinner, whatever. And a tour of the academy.”

Vail’s face broadened into a grin. “It’s a date. And—do me a favor. Thank everyone for me. Brix, Mann, Gordon . . . except, wel , Matt Aaron.”

Dixon laughed. “I’m going to miss you, Karen.”

They hugged again, and then Vail walked off to join her boss.

VAIL’S TIRED, SORE LEGS felt heavy as she ascended the gentle incline of the Tarrazza balcony. Gifford was silent until she reached the railing. The police were in the process of clearing the vicinity, though onlookers lined the boulevard along the periphery, outside the barricades.

Gifford leaned both forearms on the concrete balustrade and looked out at the lake. “Karen, nice job with al of this. I—wel . . . thank you.”

Vail extended her arms beside him and took in the view of the lake. “Don’t take this the wrong way, sir, but I didn’t do it for you.” She grinned and noticed he had cracked a smile, too.

They stood there another silent moment. Then Gifford said, “You were right.

About Robby being my son.”

“I know.”

He turned to Vail. “But I need you to keep that between us.”

Her eyes widened. “Sir, that’s your personal matter. But to ask me to keep it from him, to lie—”

“I’m not asking you to lie. I’m asking you to give me a chance to tel him. I want to do it the right way. It’s not an easy thing to admit to your son you’ve been absent from his life.”

“But you
will
tel him,” she said.

He looked back out over the water, then nodded. “Yes.”

YARDLEY WAVED A FINGER at Robby’s bandaged shoulder. “When you’re healthy, I’l make a few cal s, get you enrol ed at the academy.” He paused, then said, “That is, if you stil want to be an elite agent with the Drug Enforcement Administration.”

“I do, sir. Very much.”

Yardley nodded slowly. “Good. We need people like you.” He gave Robby’s uninjured shoulder a pat, then walked off with his entourage.

As Robby watched him leave, he noticed Vail standing beside Gifford thirty yards away, near the edge of the lake.

His discussion with Diego played back in his thoughts. He had kil ed a man—and he’d done it for revenge. That was something he would have to come to terms with.

Was it the right thing to do? No. He could answer that without deep thought. But now, given who he was and what he did for a living—and what he was about to do—

who would be served by his paying the price for his past transgressions?

But what gave him the right to serve as judge and jury? How many rehabilitated criminals could say they were devoting their life to catching other violent criminals?

Am I a criminal?

He looked over at the clear IV bag hanging near his head. Too much to consider for now. As Yardley said, he had to get healthy.

“Hey.”

He turned and saw Vail and Gifford heading for him.
Will she read my face? My
mind?
She and Robby often had an idea about what the other was thinking.
She’ll
know something is bothering me. Can I keep it from her? Lie to her, again?

As they approached, music started blaring from the speakers, fol owed by the fountain’s jets shooting skyward. He recognized the song: Andrea Bocel i’s “Con Te Partiro.”

Time to say good-bye
.

86

G
ifford stood a little behind Vail, as if he didn’t want to intrude. “Do you—you have any plans for lunch tomorrow?” Gifford said above the din of the fountain show.

Robby laughed. “I think it’s safe to say my calendar’s pretty clear.”

“Good. Assuming you’re up to it, want to grab a bite with me? Before I head back home?”

“With
you
, sir? And Karen?”

“No. Just us.”

Robby pursed his lips, glanced at Vail, then said, “Yeah, sure.”

Gifford nodded and then walked off.

Robby extended his bent elbow and Vail took it. She maneuvered the gurney toward the lake so they could watch the rest of the show.

“What was that about? Gifford asking me to lunch.”

Vail kept her gaze on the fountain. “You’l have to ask him.”

The paramedic cal ed to them from the open rig. “You ready? Gotta transport—”

“Give us a minute,” Vail said. “Til the end of the song.” She turned to Robby and studied his face, then leaned in close. “What’s wrong?”

He did not look at her. He was staring ahead, not fol owing the arcing path of the fountain’s surging jets as they rapidly spread from left to right, across the expanse of the lake.

After a long moment, he said, “Just mental y and physical y drained.” He lay there. Music blasted. Water sprayed. But none of it registered, not real y.

Vail’s eyes narrowed. “But something’s on your mind.”

Here it was . . . the choice Robby had been dreading. What did it say about a man who can’t be honest with the woman he loves? What kind of relationship would that be?

But this is . . . different.
I murdered my uncle’s killer. I hunted him down and
shot him.
Once that simple sentence left his lips, his life would change forever.

Would she be able to overlook the admission? Would I lose her? Would she turn
me in?

He bit his upper lip.
Don’t say anything. But I have to. Can I face her if I don’t?

“I’m sorry,” he started. “I guess I owe you an explanation.”

The music stopped playing and the fountain’s water jets went dry. Vail pul ed back her arm and rested both hands on the side of the gurney. “Trust is important to me, Robby. Coming off my failed marriage with Deacon, trust is al I’ve got.”

How could she know? How? Had Diego told her somehow?

Robby rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t know what to say. “I know. I’d say I’m sorry, but that wouldn’t real y mean much. It doesn’t even come close, does it?

What’s done is done.”

“But are you sorry?”

He didn’t answer for a long moment.

“Look,” she said, “I realize it’s not a black-and-white thing. I understand it’s complicated. But if you love me, like you’ve said you do, then we have to be able to tel each other things like that. We can’t keep secrets.”

Robby rubbed his face with his free hand.

“I’l make this easy,” she said. “You apologize for not tel ing me about your undercover op, and I’l apologize for blowing your cover. I showed your picture to Guevara, I leaned on him. He made the connection, and . . . wel , I just plain blew it.”

Robby’s head snapped so quickly toward her his neck popped. “Apologize for—”

She doesn’t know.
He sighed relief—then had to think fast before she read him.

“Look,” he said, reaching out and taking her hand. “You don’t need to apologize. I disappeared. I—with a serial kil er on the loose, threatening Jonathan, you must’ve assumed the worst. I’m the one who needs to apologize. So yes, I am sorry. Very sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing, but . . . I now know it—I should’ve just told you the truth.”

She looked at him, into his eyes, deeply. What was she thinking? He couldn’t tel .