Red Shoes and A Diary

“Shit. That can’t possibly be good.” Alex dropped onto the couch and massaged the still tender scar on his temple. “We better find out where Ramos has gone to ground.”

“It’s only a matter of time. We’ll get him.”

“That’s what you said six weeks ago,” Alex grumbled.

His partner’s voice was deceptively calm when he made an anatomically impossible suggestion.

“Sorry, Em. That was a lousy thing to say.” Alex dragged both hands through his hair, sighing heavily.

“Forget it.” Emelio crumpled the empty nut bag in his fist and arced it into the trashcan.

“This case should have been one for the books. Instead we’re scrambling to recover ground.” Alex had taken the lead after his friend got too close to a witness, an informant he’d felt sorry for. Gina had been a young woman caught in an impossible situation. She’d had no real choice but to betray him. Now, Braga, and who knew how many others could make Emelio for a cop.

“Let’s not rehash old business, partner.”

Emelio was right, but that incident had been a turning point in Alex’s career. Problem was, he didn’t know which way it had pushed him. Concentrate on the here and now, he told himself. “Okay. What have you heard?”

“Word on the street says Ramos is really losing it.” Emelio grabbed two beers out of the minibar and passed one over. “Spends more time supporting his habit than taking care of business. Some of the laundered money might even be in his private accounts instead of the cartel’s.”

Alex whistled in mock admiration. “Frankie must have balls of cold-rolled steel. Drug czars aren’t exactly known for their benevolence.”

“That or the shit he’s putting up his nose has fried his brain cells. Let’s focus on him. If we can break Ramos, he’ll flip on the rest in exchange for a light sentence.”

Alex rolled the beer bottle between his palms. “Rogelio Braga needs to be watched. I don’t think it’s a coincidence he invited me here this particular week.”

Em shook his head. “Forget Braga for now. If we get Ramos, we break the Miami cartel. Cocaine addiction makes a man paranoid and unpredictable, but it also makes him vulnerable.”

“Something big is going down. Braga had dinner with some heavy hitters tonight.” Alex stared at the ceiling, speaking slowly, running scenarios in his head. “He’s gathering his strength for a change of leadership. That’s going to fall out on participants, bystanders and innocents alike.”

“You’ve never been innocent, man.” Emelio scoffed, trying to make a joke of his concern.

But Alex hoped that Meghan was. He pulled the slim blue journal from his jacket. “Listen. I need you to run a check on somebody. Name’s Meghan Elise Foster. Her luggage is from Baltimore. Find out for me if she’s legit.”

“I take it she was your date.” Emelio studied his face, seeing more than Alex wanted him to, as usual. “You think the lady is a player?”

“Could be. She was cozy with Braga earlier tonight. Then she came on to me. There’s another factor that points to her innocence, but I need to be sure.”

His partner nodded. “I’ll put her name through the usual databases and see if I come up with anything. In the meantime, order me some food, will you? I’m starving.”

Alex called room service and ordered for both of them. It didn’t look like he’d get back to Meghan after all. Next he dialed from memory a number in Miami. The first call would automatically transfer to another line in case anyone checked the resort’s telephone log. While the phone rang, he lay back on the couch and adjusted the pillow behind his head.

“Hello? This is Brent Easton.”

Alex didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “It’s me. Em is with me. We’re checking in.”

Easton’s voice boomed over the telephone line. “Where the hell have you two been? I paged him an hour ago!”

“We’re making progress.”

“You’d better be. I’m getting flak from above and, trust me, I intend to send it down your way.”

Didn’t he always? Alex held onto his patience with effort. “Braga contacted me, though we haven’t hooked up. Em has solid information that Ramos is on his way here, if he’s not here already.”

“It’s a decent start but you have to move on this. You’ve got the rest of the week to get squared away. After that, the Ramos case is turned over to someone else.”

“The hell it is!” Alex sat up so quickly the pillow fell to the floor. He struggled to hold onto his temper, which had been dangerously short of late. “We’ve been building the case against Ramos for two years, Brent. You’re not taking us off it. Not when we’re so close—”

“You’d better play this one by the book, Alex. Do you hear me? Any action you take will be called into question until Internal Affairs clears you on the shooting.”

He scowled. Like he needed the reminder. Both he and Emelio had been on admin probation until this latest break in the case. “IAD can kiss my ass. I did what I had to to get the job done.”

“You know, you’ve got a real attitude problem lately.”

“Yeah, well, you can tell me all about it when you quit riding a desk. I haven’t lost my edge,” he said it as much to convince himself as his boss.

“Hell, if anything, your edges are too jagged,” Brent muttered. “Bring me up to speed.”

“‘Nick Alexander’ is definitely going to be brought into play. Since Manny Ortega got busted, Ramos needs another underground banker for the Miami operation. I’ll use Braga to get to him and get the info we need.”

“The Attorney General is demanding enough evidence to present to a federal grand jury. She wants it yesterday. Don’t screw up on this one.”

The line went dead before Alex could say another word. He hung up the phone, then looked around for his cigarettes. He felt the past stalking him like a dark shadow. Maybe he had lost his edge, those sharp instincts that too often meant the difference between making or breaking a case. Overtown had been a major screw-up. His.

He should have seen it coming. Somehow, he should have seen it. Emelio got too close to their informant but Alex backed him up in front of the brass, despite his misgivings. As a result, two people died and the bad guys got in the wind.

The underlying guilt made him think about Greg. Not long after he joined the DEA, his younger brother overdosed. All Greg’s life, Alex did his best to protect him. It was a hard truth to face that his best hadn’t been good enough.

Had it ever been enough? How long was it since he felt like he made any kind of difference? For eight years, he’d waded through the cesspool of the drug underworld. He’d kept friends and family at a distance in order to immerse himself in The Life. And still his sacrifices came down to bureaucratic bullshit and overturned convictions.

He was really starting to hate this damned job.

Wandering over to the French doors, he stepped out onto the balcony. He tapped the cigarette pack until one slid out, then pinched off the end. The stress he’d been under lately made it hard to quit. Smoking half a cigarette didn’t seem as bad.

He felt as if he was moving through life instead of living it. There was an emptiness inside him and he wasn’t sure who the hell he was anymore. Two months ago he was Andy Ruiz. Today he was Nick Alexander. And next week? Next month?

Emelio came out to stand beside him, resting his elbows on the railing. “I take it the brass is stepping up the pressure?”

He sucked in nicotine and stared into the distance. “I learned something when I was under deep cover in the Southwest a few years back, hombre.”

Emelio turned his head to look at him.

“I roughed up informants, watched criminals kill each other without losing any sleep. I even went so far as sampling the product to secure my identity. If you can name it, I probably did it.”

“I know, man. Your rep preceded you. What’s your point?”

“Supervisors usually look the other way when you cross the line, just as long as you get results and make them look good. Not this time. This time it’s all on the line.”

“Closing the Ramos case will go a long way to restoring our badges.” Emelio gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “But maybe we should look into that investigation firm we’ve talked about.”

Alex shook his head and blew a stream of smoke into the night air. “We’ve got a mission and nothing’s going to keep me from seeing it through. This job means everything to me, Em. It’s all I’ve got.”

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