Five #2
“If you had been on time, you likely would have been killed, too. Maybe the scene would have been staged as a murder suicide.” He glanced at Creed, who grimaced. “Don’t torture yourself, Nina. Playing the what-if game is never helpful. We can only deal with the facts as we find them.”
She nodded, but kept her palms pressed against her eyes. For a panicked moment, he feared she was crying. But then she heaved a sigh and lowered her hands.
“Excuse me.” She stood and headed toward the bedroom with the single king-size bed, softly closing the door behind her.
“She’ll be okay,” Creed said after a long silence.
“Yeah.” Jackson rose to his feet. “Do you think it’s possible Mark Lange was involved in Diego Sanchez’s cartel?”
“Diego is only thirty-five. That’s not old enough to have been running the cartel twenty-eight years ago,” Creed pointed out.
“However, it could easily be that whatever drug cartel Lange was involved in has executed the hit on him. If not for Nina’s mother’s cold case murder, I’d say this is absolutely about drugs. ”
Jackson nodded, trying to think it through. Was the cold case murder a distraction? Or was it connected? He honestly wasn’t sure.
A knock at the hotel room door had Jackson spinning toward it, his hand resting on his weapon. Creed arched a brow. “It’s just our food.”
Jackson tried to relax, but it wasn’t easy. He’d been in too many situations where the hotel staff were either replaced or paid by bad guys. He held his weapon at his side, taking a position near the doorway as Creed opened the door.
Moments later, the tray of food was on the table, the room service steward sent on his way with a nice tip. Jackson reholstered his weapon, then crossed over to lightly rap on Nina’s door.
“Nina? Our food is here.”
“Okay,” was her muffled response.
He turned away, glancing back over his shoulder when the door opened. Nina’s wild red curly hair framed her beautiful face, but her puffy eyes betrayed that she’d been crying. His heart ached for her, and it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms.
Creed had removed the three domes over their meals. Then he dropped into the chair closest to the door, leaving Jackson and Nina the two chairs that were side by side.
“I’d like to say grace,” Jackson said, as Creed was about to pop a french fry in his mouth. The ranger quickly dropped it and bowed his head.
Nina sank into her chair and clasped her hands in her lap.
Feeling a little self-conscious, Jackson cleared his throat. His close friends Marsh, Tuck and Sam were better at this than he was, but he gave it his best. “Dear Lord Jesus, we ask You to bless this food, and to continue keeping us safe in Your care. Amen.”
“Amen,” Nina murmured. He was pleased by her response.
Creed gave a slight nod as he reached for his dropped french fry. “I think we need to get some sleep. We can dig into the drug cartel connection in the morning.”
Nina’s head snapped up. “I intend to keep working on finding my mother. I know you guys are all in on the drug angle, but I know that this is related to my mother’s cold case murder.”
Creed arched a brow, glancing questioningly at Jackson. He gave a slight shrug. There wasn’t any evidence to suggest Mark Lange’s staged suicide was related to a twenty-eight-year-old cold case murder. But he knew Nina was not going to let the possible connection go.
He could even understand to a point. The fact that her mother’s case was open all these years later couldn’t be an easy thing to live with.
As he dug into his sandwich, he glanced at her. “Do you have your mother’s old case file from the Dallas PD?”
“Yes, of course.” She grimaced. “Not that there’s much in it. Without an ID there hadn’t been a lot to go on. The detective assigned to the case canvassed the area, but they didn’t find any witnesses. And as you know, when they flashed her picture on the news stations, nobody came forward, either.”
“What’s the detective’s name?” Jackson assumed the detective had retired by now, but they could still interview him.
“Gary Larson,” she answered without hesitation. “Unfortunately, he passed away last year from pancreatic cancer.”
Another dead end. He hid a wince, but said, “Even a cold case would be assigned a new detective.”
She frowned. “If that’s true, I don’t know who that is. I had planned to talk to the Dallas PD after meeting with my uncle.” She sighed. “I thought I’d know more about what happened back then after our meeting.”
“Okay, tomorrow morning, we’ll find out who has been assigned to your mother’s case. After I follow up with the medical examiner.” Jackson began making a mental list in his mind. ME, Dallas PD, disposable phones for all of us and nailing down drug cartel connections.
There was a lot to accomplish before the Diego Sanchez trial started on Monday morning.
Granted the first day would likely be taken up in jury selection.
A process that could take a long time, since each side had the opportunity to strike down three jury members.
So maybe they had until Tuesday. Still, it wasn’t much time.
Not only did they have to figure out who hired the gunmen and why, but they also needed to stay safe.
Especially Nina.
Jackson knew Captain Owens would likely assign other rangers to watch over Nina if they didn’t figure this thing out prior to the trial. It went against every instinct he had to hand her over to his colleagues.
Nina finished her wrap and pushed her plate aside to make room for the laptop.
“Nina, it’s going on eleven o’clock,” he said softly. “You need to get some sleep.”
“I’ll work for an hour, then call it a night.” The way she avoided his gaze made him doubt her claim.
Nina was an adult and could make her own decisions. He exchanged a knowing look with Creed, then rose to his feet. “Go ahead, but I need some sleep.”
“Me, too.” Creed stacked their dirty dishes on the tray and set it out in the hall. Then he put the Do Not Disturb sign out and locked the dead bolt.
“Good night,” Nina murmured as they headed into their room.
He and Creed took turns in the bathroom, then hit the sack. Within minutes, Creed was snoring softly. Jackson tossed and turned. Although he felt physically exhausted, his mind continued to race.
Maybe that was part of the reason Nina wanted to work.
It belatedly occurred to him that Nina might be suffering from a mild form of post-traumatic stress disorder.
It was completely understandable if she was.
Her role as technical expert had not prepared her for running through the woods to escape gunfire.
The fact that they’d been found so quickly at the Sunset Motel hadn’t helped.
He made a mental note to suggest she get some counseling once the danger was over.
After nearly an hour, Jackson decided to get up. He and Creed had slept in their clothes in case they’d needed to move quickly, so he rolled into a sitting position, reached for his weapon and shoved it into his holster. Then he padded across the room to open the door to the main suite.
Nina was still sitting at the table in front of the computer, but she had her head down on her arm. Stepping softly, he crossed the room.
Suddenly she lifted her head. “Jackson. I found her. My mother. I found her!”
“Congrats.” She’d sounded excited but now her gaze was troubled. “Why are you so upset?”
Nina stared up at him, her green eyes filling with tears. “She was only seventeen when she had me.”
“Oh, Nina.” He dropped into the chair beside her and drew her close. She didn’t resist, leaning in and resting her head on his chest. “I’m sorry.”
“How did this happen? Who was my father?” Her voice was muffled against his shirt. “And why didn’t he report my mother missing?”
“Maybe he didn’t know she was pregnant.” There were other possibilities, like maybe Anna had been a runaway, forced to live on the street.
She could have been assaulted or forced into sex trafficking.
Yet he didn’t want to make Nina feel any worse than she already did.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Try to take heart in knowing your mother did her best to protect you. Despite being injured, she crawled to safety to protect you.”
“Seventeen,” she whispered. He tightened his arms around her as she sobbed.
Jackson continued to smooth his hand down her back until Nina managed to gain control over her emotions.
She lifted her head and swiped at her face.
“I thought I’d feel better knowing the truth,” she whispered, “but I don’t. ”
“We’re going to get through this.” He strove to sound confident, even though learning Nina’s mother had been underage only added yet another reason that someone may have wanted her dead.
Maybe even Nina’s biological father.