“Hey, you’re awake,” Eliot whispered, settling himself under the covers.
Loren turned on his side and faced him, propping himself up on his elbow.
“How was your day, El?” he asked softly. “I was so caught up in myself tonight that I didn’t even ask.”
Eliot smiled, rolling his head along the pillow to look at him. “It was good,” he replied. “I got a lot accomplished.”
“I saw,” Loren said. “The house is starting to look like a home.” He reached out and brushed a lock of hair off of Eliot’s forehead. “Meds?”
Eliot held up his arm, displaying his watch, the face glowing green in the dark. “Works like a charm. Best idea ever.”
Loren smiled in relief and rolled to his back. “I’m going to be busier than I thought this next little while,” he said to the ceiling.
His and Levi’s shakedown of Borges took the rest of last night and most of the day, but they finally gleaned enough information from the scumbag to learn Cholito wasn’t starting some kind of child-trafficking and baby-selling scheme from the ground up; he was joining an already-established ring that extended along the border from California to Texas. He was simply trying to carve out some territory and profit for himself. Multistate meant the feds, and all of a sudden their local case had turned into a clusterfuck of epic proportions.
The ugliness of it all sickened Loren to the point of actual nausea, listening to Borges detailing plans to exploit young girls and traffic in human lives, feeding off the desperation of infertile couples on top of it. The extent of it, and the ruthlessness, was something Loren hadn’t run into in his years of law enforcement, and he was having a harder time coping than he had expected. The next few months were going to be brutal.
“I understand,” Eliot murmured. “Just please touch base with me as much as you can so I don’t worry.”
Loren opened his arms and Eliot burrowed in, entwining their legs together. Loren heaved a deep sigh. “I will,” he promised, kissing the top of his head and rubbing his hand up and down his back until Eliot drifted off to sleep.
Loren lay sleepless for a long time, and then all of a sudden his alarm was jolting him awake. Eliot still slept deeply next to him, looking peaceful and rumpled and sexy. Loren hated to leave him, hated to leave their safe, warm little cocoon. He forced himself out of bed, into the shower, and within a few minutes, was in his truck heading to the station.
The morning was spent returning the ubiquitous and endless phone messages that seemed to breed on his desk, and Levi poked his head in sometime after lunch to intone, “Feds are here.”
Loren walked into the big conference room, surprised at how many agents and detectives were there. The FBI SAIC spent the next half hour bringing them up to speed on the progress of their cases in the other states, and then he said, “From what we understand, this Cholito dude is trying to horn in on some of the territory and profits these other guys are ‘enjoying.’” His voice held a wealth of distaste on that last word.
Levi spoke up. “So now that he’s got some girls, and a pregnant one at that, what will his next step be?”
The agent, whose name was Weaver, said, “If he’s got someone mentoring him and he wants to run his operation like these other guys do—and he will because it’s proven tried and true so far—he’ll need to recruit a doctor to handle the medical care. It won’t matter if it’s someone who’s lost his or her license or is an alcoholic or drug addict. It just needs to be someone who can provide basic medical and obstetrical care—no questions asked—for cash under the table.
“Same with a lawyer to handle the ‘adoptions’ and money transfers from the couples. Once the couple receives the baby, it has to look legal and ironclad with the paperwork, so the ring will look for a lawyer familiar with the forms and the procedure just enough to make it stand up under scrutiny.
“Which means,” he continued, “that we have the perfect opportunity here to send someone in undercover to pose as either the doctor or the lawyer, and hopefully pin down the mentor and/or the other major players in the ring. But we need to move fast.”
There was a sort of controlled chaos as suggestions were thrown out and bandied back and forth.
“FBI resources are stretched real thin with this, and we’re dedicating what we do have to cases that are much farther along,” Weaver broke in. “We need you to do the legwork on this, try to get somebody in place and undercover. We’ll support you as best we can, of course, with whatever resources we can spare.”
“And then you’ll come in and take all the glory, won’t you?” someone in the back called out, only half-joking.
“Naturally” was Weaver’s deadpan response, and there was an uncomfortable silence until at last Loren said, “I’d like to be the undercover.”
“Absolutely not,” Levi exclaimed. “After that Slats clusterfuck with the ATF, you’re too compromised. Plus you’ve been seen on the streets recently while on the job.”
“Borges and that kid are locked away,” Loren protested, “and I doubt Ginny remembers her own name, much less some dude she saw for less than five minutes.”
“Too dangerous.”
“I know an adoption and surrogacy attorney in another state.” Loren played his trump card. “I can go in as the lawyer. My friend can prepare me, and he can do it thoroughly.”
“No.” Levi’s tone brooked no further argument, and Loren clenched his jaw, but he wasn’t done. “You’re sharp, Smith, and you’ve proven that you think on your feet. Since you know a guy, I’m putting you in charge of the lawyer prep team. You’ll be responsible for getting our undercover ready.”
Loren gave a terse nod, fresh rage toward Slats surging through him, how that idiot had fucked up Loren’s career right out of the gate.
Move on, asshole
, he told himself firmly.
You can still prove yourself.
When the meeting adjourned, Loren headed straight to his office and looked up the number for Jeremy’s law practice, dialing it and giving his name to the pleasant receptionist who answered. Loren added that it was important, and within a minute or two, Jeremy was on the line.
“Loren, what’s up?” Loren explained what he needed in brief, succinct terms, and he heard Jeremy heave a sigh. “A couple of months ago, a man called me from a blocked number and inquired about buying a baby.”
“Jesus,” Loren breathed. “Was it some kind of setup, to see if you’d do it? Some sort of sting?”
“No,” Jeremy said sadly. “I almost wish it was that, but the desperation in this guy’s voice was real. He and his wife had had several adoptions fall through in the past year, and according to him she was almost suicidal. All he wanted to do was put a baby in her arms, and he was beyond caring how that happened.”
“They couldn’t do surrogacy?” Loren asked helplessly.
“That can cost upwards of 100K,” Jeremy replied, and Loren winced. Jeremy knew what he was talking about, having gone through the process with his first husband, only to lose the baby a month before its birth.
“This guy didn’t have that kind of money,” Jeremy continued, his voice soft. “He offered me everything he had, begged me to help him. The anguish, Loren, was—well, it was heartbreaking. And when I refused, he screamed that I was helping to sign his wife’s death warrant, and hung up on me.” Jeremy drew a ragged breath. “These motherfuckers will take advantage of that kind of desperation, so I will help you in any way I can. What can I do?”
“I need you to walk me through the forms that a real lawyer would know about and need, and school me in the lingo. The guy that we send in undercover has to be believable, and we’re only gonna have one shot at this.”
Even as he and Jeremy spoke, trusted informants were being called in to be briefed, their task to spread the word on the street about an unscrupulous lawyer they “knew” about, a man who would do anything for cash. A story was being worked up about the fictitious lawyer’s background and his lack of morals. The hope was that Cholito, eager to get moving with his new scheme, would take the bait.
Jeremy excused himself to talk to his receptionist and clear his afternoon’s calendar, and Loren grabbed his tablet and opened it to a note-taking program, mentally preparing himself for a long night.
“ELIOT!” TRACI
danced up to him and grabbed him in a hug, trying to spin him around and succeeding only in sending them both staggering. Eliot was just able to keep himself from falling, Traci clinging to him to try to keep her own balance.
“Hi,” he said drily, steadying her before letting go. “A little elevated today, are we?”
“Just a little” was Donovan’s equally dry response. “But she’s being monitored by her pdoc, and so far it’s been a mild episode, so we’re just watching and waiting.”
“Fuck you both. I feel great,” Traci called out from where she was flitting around the table, setting out paper plates and cups. “I baked all yesterday and all night, and everything turned out so fab. Y’all better eat these goodies ’cause I ain’t takin’ ’em home!”
Eliot looked over to the side table, amazed at the amount of large plastic storage containers there, all filled with what looked like cookies, brownies, and cake. Yes, Traci was definitely manic.
“Where’s Loren?” Traci demanded. “This is the second week in a row he’s missed.” Eliot winced. He knew how many weeks it had been. Loren went to the first two support group meetings after Eliot’s release, and then when the third one rolled around, he begged off, saying there was a strategy session at work he couldn’t miss.
“It’ll just be this one, baby, I promise,” Loren said, and he pecked Eliot on the lips before hurrying out the door. Loren wasn’t around much that whole following week, and when he was, he seemed to be always on the phone or working on his tablet.
Eliot didn’t press him, realizing Loren didn’t want to talk about work in his downtime, but he couldn’t help but feel a little resentment at Loren for bringing his work home in the first place, shutting Eliot completely out. Still, Eliot was trying his best to be what Loren needed, an understanding and supportive partner. Loren was loving and attentive when Eliot could
get
his attention, but when he left early that morning without a word about support group, Eliot’s resentment started to tip over into anger.
“He’s working again, Traci,” Eliot answered, making an effort at keeping his voice even. But Traci’s manic brain had already skittered off to the next thought, and she flapped her hands wordlessly in his direction, dismissing him.
It wasn’t long until the rest of the group arrived, and Eliot sat and listened to the discussion, participating when he was called on, everybody trying to ignore the way Traci paced and talked nonstop. She was extremely profane at times, jumping from topic to topic, not able to sit still.
Is
that how it was to be around me?
Eliot thought in dismay. It was eye-opening.
After the meeting ended, Eliot stopped by to say hi to Erin. She grinned real big when she saw him, coming out from behind the reception desk to give him a tight hug.
“You look great, Eliot,” she said with an approving grin. “How’s everything going?”
“It’s going pretty well,” he replied, smiling at her enthusiasm.
“How’s Hottie?”
Eliot shrugged. “He’s fine. Busy, working a lot. Now that we’re moved in and settled, I’ve been a little bored, to be honest.”
“Oooh, can’t have that!” Erin cried. “Bored plus bipolar, not a good combo. Wait here.”
She bustled back around the desk and rummaged in a file cabinet for a moment, emerging triumphantly with several brochures, which she handed to him.
“These are some of the adult daycare volunteer opportunities I told you about,” she said. “Please call them. I think you’d be awesome at it, and it would give you something to do until you figure out what your long-term goals are. Plus it would be a lot of fun.”
Eliot flipped through the pamphlets, noting which facilities were closer to their house and which would be too burdensome to get to.
“Thanks, Erin,” he said gratefully. “This looks perfect.”
He blew her a kiss and then went out to the bus stop, looking again through the brochures as he waited. When he was seated, he pulled his silenced phone out of his pocket and saw he’d missed a call from Loren, and then a follow-up text.
Sorry I forgot about the meeting, baby. Make it up to you later?
Eliot started to tap out an answer, and then sighed. What could he say? “That’s okay”? Because it really wasn’t. He knew Loren was busy, but the support group was important and had to be a priority for both of them. In Eliot’s mind, two hours on a Sunday wasn’t too much to ask.
The rest of the bus ride was uneventful, and when he got home, he hung the brochures carefully from a fridge magnet. Then he stood in the kitchen, feeling rather forlorn. The remainder of the day stretched out endlessly before him, and he had no idea when Loren would be home.
On impulse he grabbed a few bills from his money stash in the freezer. While Eliot had been hospitalized, Loren had deposited most of the cash into Eliot’s bank account and arranged to pay the appropriate taxes on all of it, but he kept several hundred back and put it in the freezer of their new house, silently acknowledging Eliot’s aversion to banks and his compulsion about having cash wrapped in plastic and stored. It wasn’t enough money for Eliot to get himself into trouble with, but it was more than enough for Eliot’s purposes now.
He headed back to the bus stop, boarding a bus for his old neighborhood, and when he arrived, he made a stop at the familiar bodega on the corner and then made his “rounds.” It had been so long, and it was heartbreaking to see the same people in the same places as before, in the same condition. He genuflected to Queen Elizabeth and gave her her chocolate, air kissing her filthy hand and enjoying her happy smile.
“How’s the Mary situation?” he asked her, and she leaned over and spat on the ground next to him. “That good, huh? Well, ‘a fool too late bewares when all peril is past.’”
She gave a regal nod. “‘A clear and innocent conscience fears nothing.’ We are at peace with our decision.”