Best Served Cold

9

Reyes’ mansion wasn’t insecure. The glass was bulletproof, the ceilings were fortified. There was constant surveillance of every inch of the house, and bodyguards at every entrance and exit.

But bulletproof glass only goes so far. And not far enough when matched with a Barret fifty caliber sniper rifle. It was the most powerful sniper in the world, and made the stylish blue glass into a joke.

One second I was about to kill Reyes. The next he had a hole in his brain, the glass was shattering, and someone was screaming.

I just stood there looking at his limp body, not comprehending that he was dead.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. I’m supposed to feel better now. I’m supposed to feel-

“Get the fuck down, moron!”

It was the bodyguard. He was right. I should have been diving for cover. But I wasn’t; I had just come to a conclusion that was rooting me straight into the ground.

Nothing will ever make you feel better, Dale.

Nothing.

By now I knew that the sniper was only looking to kill one person, and that wasn’t me. He was hightailing it out of wherever he set up, not giving a second thought about that guy talking to Reyes.

I always thought that I would feel so vindicated right now. That I would feel like I had served justice.

This didn’t feel like justice.

I didn’t think that cartels had rooms like these.

Completely white, two metal chairs and a stainless steel table. A one way mirror on one side of the wall. A camera up in the corner, its red light blinking. On. Off. On. Off.

“Did you have anything to do with Reyes’ assassination?” one of the bodyguards, David, asked me. We were tucked inside of one of the cartel’s warehouses.

“No.”

There was a beep as my polygraph undoubtedly blinked “true”. It was a fancy polygraph; apparently Reyes was too good for the old fashioned needle variety. This one was just a big glove on my right hand, a USB cord connecting it to David’s computer.

“Were you sent to kill Ignacio Reyes?”

“No.”

Beep.

“Are you an undercover agent?”

On. Off. On. Off. That blinking light was a form of meditation, really. There was nothing to worry about. If I were relaxed, that polygraph couldn’t tell a thing.

“Are you an undercover agent, Alex?”

I took a deep breath. “No.”

Beep.

Apparently this could be fooled as easily as the old polygraphs, though. I could have fooled this when I was fifteen.

“Did you know Reyes was going to die today?”

“No.”

Beep.

“So,” I said, “sucks that you can’t kill Los Muertes’ leader, whoever he is.”

Beep.

“Shut up.”

David paused for a moment. The muscles in his jaw rippled as he clenched his teeth, trying to think of another question.

“What’s your last name?”

“Godfrey.”

Beep.

My pants could be on fire and this thing would have no idea. I allowed myself a small smile. David, on the other hand, was getting frustrated. I was his only lead, and he knew it. The shooter had escaped with ease. Since the bullet shattered the glass, they couldn’t get a trajectory on it. Even if they had, though, there wouldn’t have been any evidence at the shooting outpost. This guy was a pro; it was that simple.

He rubbed his temples a bit and stood up, his flimsy stainless chair screeching a foot across the floor. He marched out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Though my chair was already getting uncomfortable, I was pretty comfortable in my victory over the polygraph. My secret was safe.

But you’ll never be happy.

No. No. I would be happy. I would. The thought of happiness only brought one thing to mind, though: Milana. The dead man’s daughter.

I didn’t have to stay undercover anymore. My job was done. But somehow Milana felt like the fire in the middle of the mountains. She was the only thing that has made me feel warm since Brianna.

The doorknob clicked and the door opened. This time David strode in with a confident smirk on his face, and made himself comfortable in the chair opposite me. He plopped a manila folder in front of him.

Shit.

“That was a dumb move.” He just grinned at me.

“What was?” I had mastered the art of the poker face.

“Lying to us, Alex.” He flipped open the folder. “Or should I say Agent Dale McNeil, DEA.”

Shit.

“Facial recognition does wonders nowadays. One shot of your face and we learned so much about you. Apparently Reyes killed your sister when you were ten. Then you joined the DEA the minute you were eighteen, and immediately went through the undercover ops course. You went on to become one of the most well trained and motivated agents in the DEA. Impressive track record.”

On. Off. On. Off.

“Unfortunately, it won’t get you far in here.”

“We both know I didn’t kill Reyes. You let me go and I can get you the real killer.”

He chuckled. “We have our own way of getting that information. We’re going to have a lot of fun, Dale.”