Bible said, “I started out in drug enforcement. Mike tell you that?”
Andrea guessed Bible was going to tell her another story to try to get her to open up. She only half played along, staring out the window as she said, “Mike hasn’t told me anything.”
“Well, them WitSec guys are squirrelly.” Bible cleared his throat before continuing. “What happened was, I was sitting at my desk one day. Gotta call from the Big, Big Boss in DC. He tells me that the DEA needs a fresh face down in El Paso to drive a truck back and forth across the border. Little hokey pokey—you put the heroin in, you take the money out, and that’s what it’s all about.”
Andrea knew the Marshals were often pulled onto various task forces. Bible would’ve easily blended in with his military tattoos and thick Tex-Arkana accent.
“So, I report to El Paso, and we’re trying to nab some Narcos bringing coke up from Sinaloa. You ever been there?” He waited for Andrea to shake her head. “Damn beautiful state—you got the Sierra Madres, the Baja California Sur. Salt-of-the-earth people down there. Friendly as all get out. And the food—”
Bible did a chef’s kiss as he slowed for a turn. Beach Road disappeared in the rearview mirror. There were no McMansions at this end of town, just a blue-collar residential area with small houses and older cars.
“Anyways,” Bible said. “I get the official invite down to Culiacán, which is a very big deal. I play it cool—drink some beers, talk up my bad boy bona fides, make it clear I’m easy like Sunday morning.”
Andrea felt a shift in the air.
Bible wasn’t spooling out a story. He was telling her that he had infiltrated the higher echelons of a Mexican drug cartel. She looked at the long, thin lines that scarred his face. She had never noticed before, but they skipped down his neck and disappeared under his shirt collar.
She turned to face him, to let him know that she understood he was telling her something that he didn’t usually share.
He nodded, acknowledging the stakes. Then he took a deep breath and said, “Couple’a months go by, I start working this informant on the inside. At least I thought I was working him. Let’s just say the fella was not my amigo. Shit goes down. Next thing I know, I’m tied up to a chair and they’re playing pin the tail on the Marshal.”
Andrea couldn’t take her eyes off the scars.
“Yeah, it’s everywhere.” Bible rubbed his face. She had never seen him look unsure of himself before. Even the tenor of his voice had changed. “That fella who went after me, they called him el Cirujano. You speak Spanish?”
Andrea shook her head.
“‘The Surgeon,’” Bible said. “Only I don’t think that dude learned how to slice up people like that in medical school.”
Andrea felt a tightness in her chest. She had an oblique reference to that kind of fear, but she had fortunately been spared the excruciating pain. “He tortured you?”
“Oh, hell no. With torture, you want information. I told ’em everything they wanted to know right off the bat. This guy just wanted me to hurt.”
Andrea didn’t know what to say.
“So, this was six years ago,” Bible said. “I know it don’t seem that way, but I was still a young man back then. Still wanted to be a Marshal. But my wife, Cussy, she put her foot down. Wanted me to take retirement. Can you see me fishing off a pier for the rest of my life? Taking up macramé? Learning how to craft?”
Andrea still couldn’t speak, so she shook her head.
“Damn straight,” Bible said. “But then Judge Vaughn walked into the hospital. Did I mention I was in rehab a couple’a six months?”
Again, Andrea shook her head. She knew from Laura’s work what rehab looked like. They didn’t keep you there for six months unless you needed a hell of a lot of help.
“So, there’s Esther Vaughn walking into my hospital room like she owns the place. I’m not ashamed to say I was feeling awful sorry for myself. That lady, she struts right up to my bed and doesn’t say hello or nice to meet you or sorry you’re shitting in a bag. She says, ‘I don’t like the Marshal they assigned to my courtroom. When can you start?’”
Andrea asked, “Did she know you?”
“Never met her before in my life. Nodded to her in the hallway once, maybe twice.”
Andrea knew the Marshals worked out of the federal courthouse. “Did your wife—I mean your boss—”
“Nope. The Judge showed up on her own. Trust me, no one tells Esther Vaughn what to do.” Bible shrugged it off, but clearly the meeting had made an impact. “Took me another two months to get back on my feet. And I spent the next four years sitting in her courtroom. Some of the judges like having a Marshal there, especially the older ones. Lifetime appointment. They tend to piss people off.”
Every time Andrea thought she’d figured out who Esther Vaughn really was, someone came along and changed her mind.
“Esther’s not well,” Bible said. “Her throat cancer is back. She’s not gonna beat it this time. The lady is tired of fighting.”
Andrea could only think of Judith and Guinevere. They were going to lose someone else.
“Esther Vaughn saved my life. I want to find out who killed her daughter before she dies. That’s why I know so much about the case.”
Andrea tried to deflect. “Does the judge know you’re looking into it?”
“We keep the professional stuff professional and the personal stuff personal,” Bible said. “The judge knows how much power she has. She’d never use it to ask for a personal favor. The lady’s mindful of appearances.”
Andrea wondered if pride had more to do with it. “Have you interviewed suspects or—”
“Not yet, but I’ll get to it. You don’t start knockin’ down doors unless you know what’s on the other side.” He paused a beat. “Now this is the part where you explain how I been looking into this thing for two days and you just got here a hot second ago, but you know about as much as I do about the case.”
Andrea felt caught out, which was exactly where Bible wanted her. She desperately wanted to tell him the truth, but she knew that she could not. Mike had made fun of Andrea’s four months at Glynco, but the first rule of Witness Security was that you never, ever talked about Witness Security. Even with another Marshal. Even when that Marshal had somehow in one day made you think that he was the most trustworthy person you had ever met in your life.
She hated herself for saying, “What makes you think I know anything?”
“You gotta work on your deadpan, partner. I near about saw the brick drop outta your shorts when you realized you were talking to Dean Wexler and Nardo Fontaine at the farm a while ago.” He paused a beat. “And then outta nowhere you throw out the date of Ricky Fontaine’s divorce alongside details from a twenty-year-old court case nobody’s ever heard about?”
Andrea’s throat felt very dry. If her expression couldn’t lie, her mouth could. “I found it on the internet. About Emily being murdered. My flight got delayed so I had a lot of time on my hands.”
“And Mike knocking on your door has nothing to do with it?”