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“If I’d been with Smitty when they picked him up, I’m not sure the DEA would have noticed if I’d been killed with him,” she said.
“We’ve never talked about your relationship with him. I’m sorry I never asked how you were doing with the loss.”
A lump formed in Reina’s throat. “Yeah, he was a good guy, an undercover DEA Agent, that takes guts. I was his in, to help make him look legit to the cartel. We pretended to be a couple for his cover.”
Wilson waited for her to say more. She didn’t. He’d always assumed there was something personal between them.
“Jimmy, I’ve really liked this shot at a normal life. I like my job, the kids are great, and my coworkers are nice, have made me feel a part of the team. I never had a job outside of a bar before and have never really been on my own. And now just starting college. It’s nice, but it’s kind of scary too.”
“In what way?”
Reina wiped the tears that were now spilling onto her cheek. “I’m waiting for someone to call me out because I don’t belong here and even if they don’t, I’m sure something is going to happen to fuck it up.”
“Oh, Rae, don’t think that way. You do belong there. And why are you so sure something’s going to fuck it up? Is it just that feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop?”
“Yes, something like that,” she admitted.
“I think how you’re feeling is perfectly normal.”
“You do?”
“Yes,” he said. “And I’m proud of you, Rae.”
She smiled into the phone. “Thank you, Jimmy, And I’m sorry I even brought it up.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you confided in me. I like that we talk.”
She still felt embarrassed that she’d told him. It had not been her intention, but as usual, whenever they talked, she ended up telling him her private, guarded thoughts and many of her innermost secrets. “I do too. Thank you for always listening.”
“Of course,” he said as a text message from Lambchop, Delta Teams’ lead, displayed asking if everyone was ready to head out. “I hate to do this, but I do have to go. The team is kind of waiting for me.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening. Goodbye, Jimmy.”
“Bye Reina,” he said, purposefully using her new name.
Lima
They were two days into the next DEA Partner Mission in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The target was a suspected drug house in the heart of the notorious ‘War Zone’ near Pennsylvania Street and Copper Avenue. They were set up with a high-powered camera lens a block away in a vacant 780 square foot adobe ranch that had a direct sightline to the target house’s back door, where the majority of the foot traffic came and went from. And so far, the foot traffic had been substantial.
The Shepherd Security Team was contracted to do the surveillance for three reasons. First, because the DEA did not have enough staff to assign to the massive scope of the operation. As soon as this drug house was identified, Espinoza, the agent in charge of the DEA team, knew they’d finally found a major distribution hub and he wanted to take down everyone associated with this stash house at the same time.
Secondly, the local police had leaks. In the past, whenever Espinoza’s team was about to make a bust with the backup of the local police, the bad guys had been clued in, and their operation was moved. Espinoza and his crew busted locations with no drugs in them. So, the decision had been made to completely cut the local police from the operation, hence the need for the additional resources the Shepherd Security Team brought.
The final reason the Shepherd Security Team had been brought on was because they could operate without the constraints of needing warrants before they acted. They could get the proof first and then the DEA Team could get the warrants. Less red tape, quicker results. And that was what Espinoza needed. Fast results to shut the stash house down and get those higher up on the food chain.
Espinoza provided the team with pictures of the known dealers. Those street dealers were not the primary targets. It was the source of the drugs that the team needed to track. The drugs had to be delivered to the house for distribution to the street dealers. But so far, two days in, there were no deliveries identified.
Wilson sat viewing the feed from the high-powered camera that was trained on the target building. Jackson slept on the cot in the bedroom, as he had pulled the overnight shift to watch the video feed. Lambchop and Mother were in cars a few blocks away, watching those who approached and departed from the target house. They were ready to roll on any suspected delivery person that may be identified, and Sloan and Sherman were at the hotel. They had the overnight shift to trail any potential delivery men. Espinoza’s team was running surveillance of the street dealers, keeping tabs on all the players.
Wilson’s phone buzzed with an incoming call from Garcia. He hoped Garcia found info on Rae’s missing student and her mother. He wanted Rae to be assured that the little girl was okay. He was still surprised Rae had reacted as she had, especially that she had actually gone into the vacant house and searched for any signs of them. The more he got to know her, the more surprised he was by her.
“Hey, hope you have something for me,” Wilson said, answering the call.
“Not much,” Garcia said. “This Carona woman is a ghost. Shepherd is going to reach out to St. Vincent with the Marshals to see if she was one of their identities. Her trail is solid on paper, but when you reach out to verify with actual people, no one remembers her, like at her last place of employment, a hospital in Minneapolis. And no one from the nursing school she attended remembers her. Dates verify, but not a single instructor can describe her.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a cover identity.” He chuckled. “Have you checked with Briana Woods? Maybe this woman was one of her clients.”
Garcia laughed too. “Yeah, I actually did run it by her. This woman isn’t one of hers.”