Merit Badge Murder (3 page)

I slammed on the brakes and shifted into park as I got out and ran toward the man I'd hit.
Please don't be dead…please!
A middle-aged Latino man clawed at the air, gasping for breath. His eyes paused on mine for a second before he collapsed to the pavement, dead.

The police were there immediately. I was in a fog as they shoved me aside and started CPR on the dead guy. Another cop grabbed me by the arm and pulled me over to his car. He started asking me what happened.

"I don't know," I answered, never taking my eyes off the dead man. "I didn't see him. He just ran out in front of my car."

I looked around, checking my surroundings. A group of witnesses were being questioned. I listened to hear them say the same thing. The man wasn't there, and then he was. Apparently to them, he also just appeared in the middle of the street.

"Do you know him?" the officer asked me.

"No," I lied. "Never seen him before." I was good at being interrogated. Graduated at the top of my class at The Farm. That's the CIA finishing school in the middle of nowhere, by the way. Anyway, I could take almost any kind of abuse. Except water boarding. I hated water boarding. I had this thing about my face getting wet.

The officer nodded and asked for my license and registration. I went through the motions of handing them to him. My brain was racing, trying to sort everything out. How did
he
get here? And why did he jump in front of my car? And what the hell was going on?

These questions played like a broken record over and over as I watched an ambulance take the body away. There was a huge, bloody puddle on the ground in front of my car. I'd seen bloodstains before. Hell, I'd even caused them a time or two. But this was different…more sinister.

"Thanks, Ms. Wrath," the officer said. I would've told him how much I appreciated him using the proper title and not calling me
Mrs.
, but then I'd have to explain, and it wasn't worth the effort. "We'll send a detective over to see you in a few hours. You can go."

Without a word, I took back my license and registration, got into my car, and drove the remaining four blocks back to my house. Once inside, I locked all the doors and drew the Dora sheet across the length of the window. I paced the kitchen while eating an entire package of Oreos. Thank God I'd bought two.

I picked up the cell phone and dialed.

He answered on the first ring. "Finn?"

"You'd better come over. I just ran over Carlos the Armadillo. He's dead."

There was a measured silence on the other end before he replied, "I'll be there in five minutes."

Riley made it to my house in three minutes. I opened the door before he even rang the doorbell, and he followed me into the kitchen. He looked at the empty Oreo carton, then at me.

"What happened?"

I told him the whole story. How I'd been driving, minding my own business, when Carlos the Armadillo—the Columbian drug lord—ran out in front of my car. How he'd died there. How the police seemed to believe me.

Riley listened patiently until I finished. I'd always liked that about him. He never interrupted or argued with you. He listened. Not many field agents did that.

"They'll send a detective over soon. It's only a matter of time before they discover who he is. You did the right thing, calling me." His voice was reassuring, and I nodded.

"Why is this happening?" I asked, knowing he had no answers. "I was undercover in Carlos' operation for four months, three years ago. Why are these bad guys from my past turning up here…now?"

Riley shook his head. "I have no idea. It looks like someone is setting you up on an international scale. This is pretty big—whoever it is. Somehow they managed to smuggle two Watch List terrorists into the U.S. and kill them on your territory."

I nodded. "That's exactly what's happening. But why? I'm out of service. Is it revenge?"

Riley ran his hands through his blonde hair. He did that when he was nervous. It was his only tell. "Maybe it
is
revenge. You were a spy and a damn good one. You'd have a lot of enemies. Trying to narrow down the suspects will be tough. We might have to get the Feds involved."

I slumped onto the stool next to him. I didn't want to do this cloak and dagger stuff anymore. I was starting to get used to this lifestyle. I was even going to commit to drapes and furniture soon.

"You did the right thing in calling me," Riley said softly. "I can help. We'll figure this out." He reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. That made me feel a little better.

"What's the agency's position going to be on this? Will they want to investigate?" I asked.

Riley shrugged. "How could they not? Two international terrorists got into this country unnoticed. They'll be all over it." Still, in his eyes I saw a shred of doubt, and I wondered. Did he really think the CIA would get involved? Or did he think I was doing this? I filed that information away mentally.

The doorbell rang. I looked out the window to see who it was and was stunned to see my gorgeous new neighbor standing there. What was he doing here? This wasn't exactly the best time to introduce himself. And wasn't
I
supposed to be the one to welcome
him
to the neighborhood? At least someone was worse at domesticity than me. That was a plus.

I opened the door and smiled. "Hi! I'm Merry!" And then I felt like an idiot. That wasn't how you were supposed to answer the door. You asked
can I help you
or something like that. Or maybe I should've opened with
will you marry me?

The man smiled and held out his hand. I shook it. "I'm Rex. Your new neighbor."

"Great!" I answered, still holding onto his hand. Feeling ridiculous, I dropped it like it was on fire. "Um, would you like to come in?" I stood off to the side, making a sweeping motion with my hand (that I'd seen once on TV) to invite him inside.

"I should probably explain…" he said, still standing on the porch. "I'm not really here to introduce myself as your new neighbor."

I looked at him in surprise. "No?" Well, maybe that meant he was here to ask me out. He must've seen me drive up in the dented, bloodstained car, my face covered in crumbled Oreos and thought—
now that's a woman I need to get to know!

"No. Actually, I'm Detective Rex Ferguson. They called me up on my day off to handle this investigation. Especially since you live across the street from me."

"Oh," I said, feeling deflated. "Okay. Well you might as well come in."

Riley was standing in the hallway, waiting. I watched them as they sized each other up. Then Riley held out his hand.

"Detective. I'm Riley Andrews. Ms. Wrath's cousin." Riley flashed his surfer grin at Rex. Rex shook his hand, looking at Riley thoughtfully. I didn't think he was buying his story, which was unusual. Riley was very convincing with his cover stories. I once saw him convince a tribe of Bedouins that he was Japanese.

"Let's go into the kitchen." I interrupted the testosterone fest. Yes, I now mostly entertained in my kitchen. I didn't want Rex to see my Dora sheets in the living room because then he might think I was a weirdo and might not want to marry me. The two men took seats at the breakfast bar, and I stood on the other side because there were no chairs left.

"Tea?" I offered. Both men shook their heads. They really were alike, I thought, as I made myself a nice, soothing cup of oolong. Both alpha males, both attractive, both used to being in charge. I could only assume Rex was intelligent because that's what I wanted Mr. Wrath to be. He
had
to be smart. Who ever heard of a stupid detective?

"Ms. Wrath," Rex started as he pulled a notebook out of his back pocket and laid it on the table in front of him. "I know you've given the officers at the scene your statement. But could you tell me again what happened?"

I took a drink of tea to stall and glanced at Riley. The look in his eyes said
don't mention CIA or Carlos the Armadillo.
Or maybe they said
make sure you mention the CIA and Carlos the Armadillo.
My radar wasn't as good as it used to be.

"I was driving home from the store when this man jumped out in front of my car. I stopped as soon as it happened. He was alive for a few seconds. Then he died." It's always good to just give the basic facts when dealing with the police in any country. Too little information and they'll believe you're guilty. Too much and they can twist your words into seeming guilty. Believe me, I've been there. It isn't pleasant.

Rex nodded and didn't speak for a moment. It's a common intimidation ploy. People get nervous when an authority figure says nothing, so they talk to pick up the slack. And they usually screw up and say way too much when they do that.

Because I was so smart and knew this, I said nothing.

The detective sighed, "Ms. Wrath, did you know you ran over a known Columbian drug lord?"

Wow. How did he find out so fast? Did Columbian drug lords now carry ID and business cards that stated their profession? Unlikely.

I put on my best
ohmygosh
face. "What? No! That can't be right! What would a Columbian drug lord be doing here?" I widened my eyes for effect. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flicker of amusement on Riley's face.

"You're joking, right Officer?" Riley said, mirroring my shock. "This is a joke, right?"

Rex looked from Riley to me. "No, I'm afraid not. He is known as Carlos the Armadillo." He cocked his head to one side. "They say he got that name by being a tough guy, impervious to pain."

Nope. I was one of the few people who knew how Carlos had gotten that name. The first time he was busted for drugs, as a teenager, Carlos was so freaked out that he jumped straight up in the air. It looked so ridiculous the DEA gave him the nickname because armadillos jump about three feet in the air when afraid. An embarrassed Carlos turned it into some story about having thick skin and being a tough guy. He wasn't.

I shook my head. "I don't believe it! How did he get here? And why?"

Rex shook his head. "We have no idea. But the DEA and FBI have all called me so I think it's a big deal, Ms. Wrath." He rose to his feet and held out his hand to Riley, who shook it.

"Sorry we had to meet like this," Rex said then grasped my hand firmly. "Seems like a nice neighborhood."

I led him to the door and saw him out while babbling about how we ought to get a block party together or something. After closing the door behind him, I went back into the kitchen and poured yet another glass of wine.

"You did good, Finn." Riley grinned.

I tipped the glass toward him. "You need to stop calling me Finn. I'm Merry now."

He laughed. "I didn't call you Finn in front of the good detective. I'm not an idiot. I've done this before." He looked at the door for a moment. "I'm a little suspicious that a detective has just moved across the street from a former CIA operative."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh come on! I've been here a year now. It's a total coincidence." A yummy, yummy coincidence.

"I don't know…" Riley said. "I mean, the guy shows up right after the whole Ahmed thing? I'm going to have to look into your neighbor."

"So are we out of the woods with the Feds and DEA investigating?" I asked hopefully, in an attempt to change the subject. I liked my new neighbor. I understood Riley's suspicions, and in my old life I might've felt that way too, but my life was supposed to be normal now. I was kind of into normal. Not good at it—but definitely into it.

Riley shook his head. "I think that might make it worse. I'm sure they've found out about Ahmed by now. I was hoping we could solve this and wrap it before the other agencies found out. But now with Carlos involved, it'll be hard to keep it out of the papers and away from the Feds. It's a pretty juicy carrot to dangle in front of them."

"So let the Feds and the locals duke it out. That'll delay things. They'll be so busy fighting each other that maybe I'll slip off the radar," I said.

"Or…" Riley looked me in the eyes. "They'll each go overboard investigating you in an attempt to outdo the other, and you'll have two agencies studying your life with an electron microscope."

My stomach sunk. I hadn't thought of that. "My cover will be blown." I looked in the direction of Rex's house across the street. "And I was just starting to like this place."

Riley stood. "I'll see what I can do. I'll try to convince the other agencies that we have an undercover agent here. Maybe they'll keep quiet. But if the police know about Carlos, you can bet the media do too."

I nodded. "I'll leave it to you then. I am retired, after all." I said it but I didn't believe it. Two international badasses turned up on my doorstep. I was pretty sure there'd be more before Riley figured this out.

"I'm heading back to the hotel." Riley stretched his long, lean body, and I couldn't help but admire it. I was pissed at myself for even looking at him that way. I walked him to the door and promised I'd call if anything else turned up. The way it was going, I'd probably be calling him soon.

I spent the rest of the day googling Carlos and Ahmed, looking in vain for some sort of Midwest connection. I didn't find any. It was just so bizarre. I was pretty sure Carlos had never been farther north than Texas, and I knew Ahmed had never crossed over the Atlantic. So why were they both in the same place tens of thousands of miles from home base?

Maybe they were lured here. But why? What would make them come to Iowa? It would have to be something very, very big. Ahmed Maloof was al-Qaeda and a terrorist who declared jihad on the U.S. Carlos the Armadillo was a cartel leader who ran drugs from South America to the U.S. They had very different missions. Ahmed wanted to destroy us, but Carlos needed us as paying customers for his drug trade.

There was no common ground here. And as far as I knew, they didn't know each other. So why these two? I'd pissed off a lot of people in other countries—especially when I was outted. But of all of them, I never would've thought Carlos and Ahmed would've come after me.