“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 tell each other things like that. We can’t keep secrets.”
Robby rubbed his face with his free hand.
“I’ll make this easy,” she said. “You apologize for not telling me about your undercover op, and I’ll apologize for blowing your cover. I showed your picture to Guevara, I leaned on him. He made the connection, and . . . well, 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 killer 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 tell. He was tired—no, exhausted.
“Will you accept my apology?” she said.
“For what?”
Vail appeared irritated she had to repeat her transgression. “For endangering your life, for nearly getting you killed.”
Normally she had a sense of what he was thinking. But right now, she apparently wasn’t getting a clear read.
“Tell you what,” he finally said. “Let’s forgive each other. Start with a clean slate.”
VAIL STUDIED HIS FACE. She loved this man. Was the trust issue something she could overlook? For now, yes. He apologized—and it seemed like he genuinely meant it. That was all she needed, to be able to relax her defenses and know there were no secrets between them. At least, that would be the case after Robby’s lunch tomorrow with Gifford.
Vail gently leaned her head against his. The emotional release of having Robby back, of touching him again, was like a river overrunning its banks. Tears spontaneously flooded her eyes and flowed down her cheeks. Whatever issues they still had to deal with were unimportant; they would work themselves out.
Robby wiped at her cheek with a thumb. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
But he fell silent, and as the seconds passed and he failed to elaborate, Vail pulled back and looked into his eyes. “What is it?”
“I . . . I . . . ” He looked down, hesitated, then brought his eyes up to hers and said, “I killed a man.”
She jutted her chin back. “The guy in the lake? C’mon, we’ve both killed people in the course of—”
“This wasn’t in the course of work. It happened a long time ago. When I was a teenager.”
Vail looked at him a long moment, searching his face. This is a confession . Certainly not something she was expecting. She cleared her throat and said, “Why?”
“Because he was a murderer, a gang banger, and a drug dealer.” Robby bit his bottom lip, teared up, and then looked down. “And because he killed my uncle.”
Vail chewed on that, looked off into the darkness, then brought her eyes back to Robby’s. She took his hand and squeezed.
“I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to lose you, I didn’t know what you’d think of me, I didn’t—”
Vail placed a finger on his mouth. “You already know what I think of you.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No buts. I study human behavior for a living, remember?” She moved her hand to his chest, over his heart. It beat fast and hard. “I know what’s in here, and that’s what matters.”
Robby took a deep breath, then wiped a tear from his eye.
“Truth is,” Vail said, “when I thought Mayfield was in Virginia, going after Jonathan . . . ” She stopped. What would I have done if he’d harmed my son? “Robby, if he’d—if Jonathan . . . I honestly don’t think I could’ve let the bastard live. Even spending the rest of his days in a prison cell, that’d have been too good for him.”
“What does that make us?”
She didn’t take long to answer. Given all she knew and had observed about behavior, this was a question that went back to the beginning of time. “It makes us human.”
“Human.” He seemed to ponder that a moment.
Vail stroked his forearm. “Now . . . soon as you’re released from the ER, we’ll get a room. I think we’re long overdue for a vacation.”
He looked up at her. “You’ve used up all your vacation time.”
Vail took his face in her hands. “I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.” Robby leaned forward and gently touched his lips to hers. “You know what they say. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
THIS WAS MY FIRST EXPERIENCE working with the Drug Enforcement Administration, and it was a tremendously positive one. My research opened my eyes to the enormity of the illicit drug trade and its pervasive role in our society, our neighborhoods, and our schools. Much of the profit from the drugs sold in the United States goes directly into funding terrorist activities at home and abroad.
Surprisingly, mainstream media and the political establishment haven’t kept the illicit drug problem at the forefront of our consciousness. Or perhaps it’s the other way around: we need to let our elected officials know that we’re aware of the damage drug trafficking causes, and we want them to use their powers to hamstring it. Unfortunately, the long-running nature of the “war on drugs” allows apathy to set in, forcing it to the background in the face of pressing economic, job, and security issues that demand our attention.
But there’s one group that does not shrug these issues aside. Ask any DEA agent, whose job it is to catch those involved in the illicit drug trade, and you’ll learn that these agents see their role as crusaders, tackling one battle at a time. We owe them a debt of gratitude for the dangerous work they perform, on our behalf, on a daily basis.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I RELY ON PROFESSIONALS in the real world for their knowledge base, perspective, and expertise that give my stories depth and credibility. For Velocity, I’d like to thank the following individuals:
At the Drug Enforcement Administration, I’ve had the good fortune to work with the following professionals: Paul Knierim, Supervisory Special Agent, whose real-world and undercover experience and explanations of the illicit drug trade, cartels, and DEA procedures were integral to my telling of the story. Agent Knierim’s review of the manuscript helped immensely in ensuring I had all my DEA i’s dotted and t’s crossed.
Steve Parinello, Special Agent, for his overview of the world of illicit drug trafficking, border enforcement, and DTOs; Rusty Payne, acting section chief of DEA Public Affairs Office, and Mary Irene Cooper, chief of Congressional and Public Affairs, for working with me to obtain DEA access; Meghan McCalla, public affairs, for facilitating my resource list; Amy Roderick, Special Agent, San Diego field division office, for San Diego area illicit drug information and a tour of the field division facility.
Dr. Sandra Rodriguez-Cruz, DEA senior forensic chemist, for information on the chemistry behind illicit drug trafficking and covert smuggling; for helping me understand the facts and realities that formed the underpinning of my ideas involving Superior Mobile Bottling; and for her thorough tour of the Southwest Laboratory. Scott R. Oulton, DEA laboratory director, Southwest Laboratory, for helping me obtain the information I needed and for the time he spent with me at the lab. Fracia Martinez, DEA forensic chemist, for making the initial introductions and setting me on the right path.