Caught Up (Indigo Vibe) (15 page)

“Hello, baby.”

She warmed at his term of endearment. “Aren’t you supposed to be working? Alton’s going to get you,” she teased.

“I think he can hold down the fort alone for a few minutes. How are you coming along?”

“Honestly, I’ve been better. But I’ll make it.” She looked out the window of her small home office. Her old journals were packed away in the basement. Maybe it was time to read through them, see if she’d mentioned David and forgotten.

“You will. We will. What did you eat for lunch?”

She tilted her head to the side. “Lunch?”

“Yeah, lunch. You skipped breakfast, so I’m asking about lunch.”

She bit on her bottom lip. “Actually,” she paused, “I haven’t eaten today.”

“Go eat something.”

“I’m not hungry. I think I’ll clean out the basement.”

“Rosa, it’s three. Make a sandwich, heat up some soup, eat a piece of fruit, cheese and crackers, anything. I don’t want you fainting on me tonight at the symphony,” he said jokingly, but she heard the concern behind his words.

“Since you put it that way, I guess I’ll eat a little something.” She heard Alton in the background fussing. “Say hi to Alton for me.”

“Stop instigating and go eat. I have to get going. The weatherman says it’ll be in the lower seventies tonight by the lake, and we’ll have a full moon. Sounds like the perfect night for an outdoor concert.”

“I can hardly wait,” she answered honestly.

They ended their conversation. Then she went into the kitchen to fix a grilled ham and cheese sandwich. She opened the refrigerator door and found ham, but no cheese. Since it was such a beautiful day outside, she decided to take a walk to the corner store to clear her mind.

She slipped on her sneakers and headed out the door. “Hello, Mr. Stapleton,” she said to the mailman.

“Good afternoon, Rosa.” He handed her mail over instead of placing it in the box. “How are you holding up today?”

Thanks to the news, everyone knew about David being her father. Mr. Stapleton had always been such a nice man. She knew he was being sincere.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks for asking.”

She stepped into the house as she sorted through the mail: invoices, junk mail, electric bill, and a package—nothing out of the ordinary. She dropped the junk mail into the kitchen trashcan, filed the electric bill in the appropriate slot in the bill holder, went to her office and set the invoices on her desk, then took a closer look at the thin cardboard package.

It appeared to be another free firewall sample from an upstart company. She didn’t feel like opening it. She was tired and needed to eat before Samson called again. She placed the package on the stack of other samples that she needed to go through on her office bookshelf. Her bookshelf was getting cluttered. She sighed, thinking this was kind of like her life. She’d have to clean both up soon.

* * *

Samson watched Rosa as she watched the Chicago Symphony Orchestra perform. A cool breeze off the lake chilled the night air. He wrapped his arm around her in the guise of keeping her warm, but he actually wanted to be near her. Holding her last night was the most wonderful, yet one of the hardest experiences, he’d ever had. Making love with her was his desire, but not an option. He took her hand into his and held it to his heart. She’d accepted him, had faith in him and trusted him.

With each passing moment, Ernesto’s guilt became more certain. An old notebook of Gains had been discovered. Gains had noted connections between David and Ernesto from the time David’s mother took Ernesto in when he was three until David and Ernesto were well into the drug industry. Unfortunately, at the time, all of the connections only led to guilt by association where Ernesto’s laundering for David was concerned.

Samson didn’t know what to do about Rosa. He knew she wouldn’t support Ernesto’s illegal activity, but how would she feel about Samson after he brought the truth to the light? How could he soften the blow?

After the concert, they took a nice, long stroll through Grant Park and ended up sitting under the same tree where they’d picnicked the previous day.

She settled between his legs with her back leaning against his chest. He wished she could remain within his protective embrace forever. He broke the silence, saying, “Tomorrow morning, we’re returning to Miami to prepare for our interview with Ernesto.”

She looked over her shoulder into his eyes. He didn’t see anger but saw concern. “I know how difficult this is for you,” she said. “We’re both stuck between that proverbial rock and hard place. I trust you’ll find the truth.” She returned to watching the moon’s reflection shimmer on the lake.

“What if the truth is something you won’t like?”

She fully faced him, then took his hand and held it to her heart. Their gazes locked, and he knew that she loved him. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in his heart, and he had no intention on losing it.

“What’s your greatest fear?” he asked.

“Daddy’s done some things I’m not proud of.” She paused. “I’m afraid he’s about to make himself look guilty by not cooperating. I’m afraid Alton will use his lack of cooperation as evidence of his guilt. I’m afraid Alton will make up his own truth. I need for you to find the real truth.”

“What is the truth?”

“I know my father. The man he is now. He isn’t guilty.”

Her words said one thing, but her tone said another. He held her close. “Are you convincing me or yourself?”

A long pause was the only thing that stood between them.

“He isn’t guilty,” she said silently.

She’d been through too much over the past few days. She wasn’t emotionally ready to consider Ernesto’s possible guilt. After he returned to Chicago, he’d broach the subject again.

“How long will you be in Miami?”

“It depends on what we find.”

“Friday the thirteenth is coming up. Maybe you should stay here where I can protect you.”

“You’re going to protect me?” He rocked her gently. “We’ll make it through this, Rosa.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Rosa smiled politely across the desk at Jeff Paige, thinking with the way he’d been flirting all morning, there was no way he recognized her. She wasn’t shocked or disappointed. They’d never traveled in the same circles. He’d been a senior in high school when she was a freshman. He was a jock, and she was a computer geek. Everyone knew his name, and she was known as “you mean that black girl?” Being one of the few black children in the school was difficult. She swore that her children would only attend racially diverse schools.

He rolled his chair around his desk, closer to hers. “I’ll send a limo for you at six for our date.”

“I’m flattered, Mr. Paige. But I make it a policy not to date my clients.” She continued studying the layout of his current network configuration.

He raised a brow. “I’m not a client yet. Let’s say we discuss the possibilities over dinner. And please, call me Jeff.”

“How’s your father? I haven’t seen Mr. Paige in at least three years.” She checked her watch. It was almost noon. Samson would be interviewing Ernesto by now.

“If I’d known you would have grown to be so beautiful, I’d have paid more attention to you in high school.”

A genuine laugh erupted from her. “You never give up, do you?”

“No.” His slow, sneaky grin did nothing for her. “Resistance is futile.”

“Why are you setting up a totally different network for this annex?”

“You have a one-track mind.” He brushed his hand through his short, mousy brown hair, then leaned back in his executive chair. “I’m experimenting by separating marketing from the rest of Paige Industries. Marketing has become lax because they feel they have a definite client. My intention is to make them work to earn our business. Our business units will now have the option of using outside firms if our marketing team doesn’t suit their needs. Cheaper isn’t always better, you know. We may even cut the marketing department eventually.”

Satisfied with his answer, she asked, “And you want me to test the main corporation’s firewalls, correct? Have you been having trouble with hackers?”

“Besides the usual viruses from the Internet, not really. But, I want to make sure. You’re the best.” He rolled his chair behind his desk, rifled through his bottom drawer, then pulled out a file. “I’ve checked your record.” He set the file on the desk in front of her. “You’ve hacked into the Pentagon’s and NASA’s mainframes. Amazing. And it doesn’t stop there.”

“With permission, of course,” she said with a smile she didn’t feel. She legally infiltrated systems; therefore, she wasn’t a hacker, like in her college days.

“If we have holes in our system, you’ll find them. And I want your company to plug them.”

“I have all the information I’ll need for now. I’ll call tomorrow with an estimate on setting up your network for the annex. Who’s my contact for testing the main system’s firewall?”

“That would be me. We don’t trust just anyone with our network system.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“Let’s discuss it over lunch.”

She laughed as she gathered her paperwork. If nothing else, he was persistent.

He stood, holding out his hand. “I’m wearing you down.” He helped her stand.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on lunch. I need to get back to the office and write up these plans.”

* * *

Samson and Alton read over their notes while waiting in the front office for Ernesto. So far, all of their evidence was circumstantial at best. They didn’t expect to gain any incriminating evidence from the interview with Ernesto. Instead, Samson would observe him carefully and read between the lines. Samson peeked from his notes at Mrs. Walker. She was warm, kind and full of smiles for him, while she was coldly polite to Alton.

“Are you sure I can’t interest you gentlemen in a cup of coffee, tea, soda?” Mrs. Walker asked as she approached them. “I made a special trip on my way in for apple juice, Agent Quartermaine.”

“You shouldn’t have gone to any trouble for us,” Samson said. “Thank you. I’ll have apple juice, please.”

“It was no trouble at all,” she said with wide-eyed enthusiasm. “Anything for Rosa.”

Alton grumbled and resituated himself in his seat. “You’ve been working for Mr. Bolívar for forty years now, right? Since the beginning?”

“Your records are correct.” The cheer in Mrs. Walker’s voice was nowhere to be found, and the laugh wrinkles about her eyes seemed to frown at Alton. “If you wish to interview me, Agent Miles, you’ll need to make an appointment,” she stated flatly, then crossed the office to a paneled wall. To the agents’ surprise, one of the panels slid to the side, revealing a convenience center.

Samson hopped up. “How did you do that?”

“Magic,” she answered, cheer returned. Once Samson stood beside her, she pointed her toe toward two small buttons on the floor.

“You had me going for a second there,” he said.

She took a bottle of apple juice out of the small refrigerator and a glass out of the cabinet, then gently stepped on the close button. “My grandchildren get a real kick out of the wall.” She handed him the apple juice and glass.

“Thank you.”

“And thank you for being there for Rosa.”

“You care a lot about her, don’t you?” He set the glass on her desk and opened the bottle.

“She has a way of commandeering your heart.”

Samson could relate. He poured the juice into the glass, then tossed the bottle into the trash.

“Ernesto’s a good man,” she directed toward Alton as she took her seat. “But he isn’t rational where Rosa’s concerned. He’s overprotective. Always has been.”

“What are you trying to say?” Samson asked.

“I want you to understand that his family was taken from him when he was a child, and I don’t think he ever recovered. That’s why he’s so protective of Rosa. He isn’t a money launderer. He isn’t a drug lord. But he’ll fight against anyone he perceives as threatening his family. I guess I’m asking you to consider his frame of mind when you question him.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

A sad smile tipped her lips and moistened her eyes. “Because I love the Bolí
vars. Over the years I’ve seen their struggles, failures, and successes. They’re like family to me. Ernesto hasn’t been himself since Rosa found out the truth. I’m afraid he’ll point guilt at himself to keep these drug people away from Rosa. He has changed so much over the years. He isn’t the same person anymore.”

“Did you know David was Rosa’s father?”

“Yes.”

“What do you know about David?” he calmly asked.

“I used to send pictures of Rosa to David.” She scooted to the edge of her chair. “Now this doesn’t mean Ernesto is a money launderer or a drug lord.”

“I agree.”

The worry lines in her face softened. “I knew you’d understand.”

“When you say Ernesto has changed over the years, what do you mean?”

“After Rosa was born, he slowly cut off his relationships with people like David. By the time he was divorced, all ties had been cut. He is a good man now. Please don’t prosecute him for mistakes he made so many years ago.”

Absorbing this new information, Samson drank his apple juice. Without coming out and saying it, she’d confirmed that Ernesto laundered for at least six additional years. Ernesto had told Rosa he’d quit laundering when she was born. Yet there were still businesses that Ernesto dumped later, which turned out to be fronts for money laundering. He wondered if he would ever discover the entire truth.

“Thank you for your assistance and the apple juice, Mrs. Walker. The Bolívars have a good friend in you.”

She flushed, waving him off. “If you need to know anything else, call me.” She wrote her home and cell phone numbers on a piece of paper. “I don’t care if he fires me. I won’t allow him to sacrifice himself needlessly.”

* * *

Samson groaned, thinking he should have heeded Rosa’s warning about Friday the thirteenth. As expected, Ernesto wouldn’t admit to laundering money for David. Instead of following the game plan of observation, Alton went into attack mode. Samson had to give it to Ernesto, he remained calm through out Alton’s verbal attack. Too calm.

Samson observed Ernesto’s lawyer who was sitting off to the side. He’d forgotten the man was there.

The tiled monitors were on, but the sound was off. Ernesto used the remote to turn off the screens, then set the remote on his desk. “What are your intentions with my daughter, Agent Quartermaine?”

The burgundy leather of the armchair Samson was seated in suddenly became hot. “I only have honorable intentions.” Samson loosened his tie.

“Define honorable.”

“I wasn’t finished,” Alton interrupted.

Ernesto nodded slightly. “My apologies. Please continue,” he answered, while maintaining eye contact with Samson.

“We know you laundered money for David. We just need a timeline to clear this up. If the statute of limitations is over, you don’t have a problem.”

“I’m a lawyer, Agent Miles. Even if I’d laundered money for David, I’d never admit it.”

Alton smirked. “You insist on doing this the hard way.”

Samson could see where Rosa learned her poker face. Ernesto appeared totally unmoved by Alton. He remained seated and calm, as if to seem smaller. Even at sixty-two years old, Ernesto was a physically imposing figure.

“Rosa said you laundered money for David. Are you saying she’s lying?” Alton asked.

“Unlike you, Rosa doesn’t lie.”

The meaning behind Ernesto’s statement swung like a pendulum between Alton and Ernesto. There was no misunderstanding. Rosa couldn’t be used this way against Ernesto.

“Since we’re on the subject of honesty, how did you come about raising Rosa as your own?”

“Does it matter?”

“Do you know who Randolph Caldwell is?”

“Years ago, he sold me his home,” he answered smoothly.

“A three million dollar home for one million. Why such a bargain price?”

“Luck. I was in the right place at the right time.”

“Caldwell could have used some of your luck. He was murdered.”

“Oh really? I wasn’t aware.”

Samson noted Ernesto’s human nature didn’t kick in to ask how, when, or why he was murdered. According to the trial transcript and other sources, Caldwell had a serious gambling problem and owed one of David’s crew more than a million bucks. In exchange for forgiving the debt, Caldwell was supposed to embezzle money from Diligent Telecommunications. The authorities didn’t catch Caldwell until he’d already sapped over five million from the company.

Caldwell had claimed to be a Martí
n insider. In exchange for protective custody, he’d promised to tell the authorities everything he knew about the cartel. Unfortunately for Caldwell, someone cut out his tongue and slit his throat before he had a chance to testify. This information had been missing from the case files. A few months later, Ernesto moved from Chicago to Miami.

“Do you know who Judge Winston Truman is?” Alton asked.

“I’m not sure, the name sounds familiar. I meet so many people.”

“He’s the judge who granted your divorce.” He sorted through his notes. “From the time you filed for divorce to the decree only took two days. Wow, that’s fast service.”

Ernesto remained silent.

“This may interest you. In 1986, Judge Truman was on the opposite side of the bench. Turns out he was on the take for David Martín. He was also murdered before he could turn evidence against the Martín cartel.”

“Yes, that’s very interesting. It would make for a good book.”

“Your name seems to keep popping up with direct ties to people who worked for David. How can you explain that?”

“Six degrees of separation. David and I grew up together, and we were best friends. No crime in that.”

“More like a half degree in your case. I’m shocked Mac didn’t shoot you for screwing his girl.”

Ernesto stiffened and lost the little color he had. Samson saw the fear in his eyes. Not of them, but of something he’d seen, maybe lived through. Ernesto quickly regrouped.

Alton smirked. “Yeah, we heard about how Mac took you out to the swamp to cap you, yet somehow he ended up capped. Looks like you have at least two bestsellers on your hands.”

Ernesto’s lawyer spoke up, startling everyone. “That will be enough for today, gentlemen.” He walked around the desk toward the agents. “My client has been very cooperative and giving of his time. If you have further questions, please contact me.”

* * *

David was actually gone. Ernesto stood at his floor to ceiling windows, watching the rush hour traffic. The cartel, Rosa, Harriet, all were Ernesto’s for the taking, but he couldn’t bask in the glory of victory.
Victory
. He leaned his head against the window. The prize for this victory was a cartel he never wanted and the loss of everything: his best friend, his business, his child.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he whispered. “What have I done?” He massaged his temples. His guilt had already kept him from comforting his child in her time of need. He didn’t have time to wallow in self-pity. He had to do damage control before Rosa found out the truth. As long as he saved his relationship with Rosa, everything else could be damned.

He tapped on the window with his knuckle. He’d known the agents would ask about Mac. He had prepared himself. Yet Alton’s timing caught him off guard. He ran his hands over his salt-and-pepper hair. They couldn’t touch him. Just as the agents of the past, these didn’t have any real evidence.

Mrs. Walker walked into his office. “They’re gone.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “You did a good job. Thanks.” He returned to watching the city below. Before the agents arrived, Mrs. Walker had turned on the intercom so Ernesto could hear everything said in the front office.

“I only told the truth.” She sat in one of the leather armchairs in front of his desk. “Well, mostly the truth. Samson’s coming to my place tonight to continue questioning me.”

“I’m not surprised. I’ll tell you what to give him.”

“What are you going to do about Samson and Rosa?”