Adverse Events, page 18
“And what would that be?”
“Cuba.”
“Cuba! Why?”
“Medical training. Vaccines. And extradition. No matter what you think of the Cuban government, they have a pretty world-renowned medical training program. So, she could continue her research, and she could be sure they’d never send her back to the U.S. to face any charges related to the vaccine, if it came to that. It’s actually a pretty good place to hide out.”
Lugar leaned forward and crossed his arms on his desk. “Do you know how far-fetched this sounds, detective?”
Johnson smiled. “I do. I was tempted to dismiss it myself until I talked to the bartender at the Broadside.”
Lugar’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean you were tempted to dismiss it? You didn’t come up with this hair-brained idea yourself?”
Heat flushed his face. He couldn’t hide Kate’s involvement now.
“No, sir. Kate Bennett actually came up with the idea.”
Lugar threw up his hands in exasperation. “You’re taking leads from a reporter now?”
“That’s not it at all. I didn’t take her seriously at first. But I decided to go to the Broadside anyway. Once I talked to the bartender, it seemed a lot less far-fetched. At the very least, we need to check it out. The case against Newhouse is based on circumstantial evidence, and pretty flimsy circumstantial evidence at that. I know the DA hoped he’d confess, but it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen. And if he really didn’t kill her, we shouldn’t be putting him on trial for murder.”
“What about those threatening messages on Emily Gibson’s computer?”
“Those could be faked. And you can bet that Newhouse’s lawyer is going to get an IT forensics expert who says they are. Unless we can find some data on Newhouse’s phone or computers showing he sent those messages, there’s always the possibility that he didn’t actually send them.”
“You don’t think the DA considered that?”
Johnson shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sure he knows it’s a possibility. He’s going to be trying to prosecute a case with no body and no solid evidence that a murder even happened. I assume he knows it’s an uphill climb. But he may eventually decide to drop the charges.”
“So, where are you going with all this? What do you want?”
“I want to go to Cuba.” He let that hang in the air between them for a few heartbeats. “We could just wait until the cargo ship sails back into port and question the crew members to see if she really did sail with them. But they don’t have to talk to us. It’s not like they committed any crime. The only way to know for sure is to actually go to Cuba and see if I can find her.”
Lugar put his head in his hands and rubbed them over his face. “I was right. This is going to be a huge headache. I cannot send you to Cuba to investigate anything. As you already pointed out, Havana is not exactly interested in furthering U.S. law enforcement interests.”
“Yes, sir. I know. That’s why I would go in an unofficial capacity. I have family friends there. It wouldn’t be strange for me to make a trip down there. I can stay with them and do some poking around. I’m not exactly sure what that looks like. But Emily Gibson would be easy to spot. I might just need to stake out the medical school.”
Lugar raised another skeptical eyebrow.
“Carefully, of course. Very carefully.”
Lugar took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “And what if you start making the officials there suspicious? You could end up in jail, or worse.”
Johnson chuckled. He’d said almost the same thing to Kate. “Yes, sir. I know that. But it’s not like I haven’t had experience navigating through hostile territory.”
Lugar didn’t look convinced. “I’m not interested in being responsible for creating an international incident. If something happened to you, it wouldn’t just be the mayor who’d be breathing down my neck. I’d be dealing with the feds, too.”
He swore at the thought.
“Yes, sir. I understand,” Johnson said, grasping for anything that would alleviate the chief’s concerns. “Like I said, I have friends there. I won’t be alone. They’ll be a big help. I have no intention of making any headlines. I just want to know if she’s still alive. If so, case closed.”
Lugar shook his head. “If you were asking to go just about anywhere else, I could do it. But Cuba! I can’t authorize that.”
Johnson took a deep breath. “I understand. I’d like to take a week of vacation. It’s been a while since I’ve had any time off. I could use a break.”
Lugar shook his head. “Detective, why are you determined to be a pain in my backside today?”
Johnson grinned. “Not at all, sir! I’m trying to get out of your hair. For a week.”
Lugar laced his hands behind his neck and leaned back in his chair. After a few moments of silence, he sighed.
“I can’t tell you what to do on your own time, detective.” He sat forward again and fixed Johnson with a look that would have made a less experienced officer tremble. “But if you were to head out of the country, say for a beach vacation, I’d recommend you keep it to yourself. Wouldn’t want to make the other men jealous.”
Johnson gripped his knees to keep from showing his rising excitement.
“Yes, sir. Understood. Thank you.”
He stood up to leave before the chief changed his mind. But before he could escape through the door, Lugar called him back.
“I know you can navigate your way around a delicate situation overseas. But still. Be careful.”
“Yes sir, I will. Believe me, I will.”
Kate marched into the newsroom just after 9 a.m. She’d slept late after staying up to research travel plans. She knew Mattingly wasn’t going to be happy about her sudden vacation request. But she’d crafted a story she hoped he wouldn’t question too much. After dropping her bag at her desk, she walked straight to his office and rapped on the doorframe.
“Hey boss,” she said when he scowled up at her from his laptop screen. “Do you have a minute?”
“Thirty seconds,” he barked, tugging off his reading glasses and tossing them on the desk.
“I need to take some personal time. My dad called last night, and he’s really sick. I need to head home tonight to check on him and make sure he gets to the doctor. I’m worried it could be something serious.”
Mattingly stared at her with a blank expression. Then he turned back to his computer screen.
“No,” he said.
“What do you mean, no?” she asked, her heart thumping uncomfortably hard. “He needs me.”
“Bull,” Mattingly said, not even bothering to look up. “You’re just trying to get off so you can follow this crazy scheme you tried to sell me yesterday. The answer is no. Get back to work.”
Anger roared to life in her chest like a baited bear. “You can’t tell me no! It’s personal time. No questions asked.”
Mattingly barked out a laugh. “Nice try. But I know you’re lying. And if you don’t stop, I’ll get your father on the phone to prove it.”
For a moment, Kate couldn’t speak. Her pulse pounded in her ears. In all her planning last night, she hadn’t anticipated Mattingly refusing to let her go.
“This is ridiculous,” she finally sputtered. “You cannot keep me from taking time off. And it’s none of your business what I do on my time.”
Mattingly jumped to his feet with a suddenness that made her take a step back in surprise.
“I will not say this again. Do you hear me?” His voice was barely below a shout. “You are not going to Cuba to chase down this crazy theory you’ve cooked up. It is too dangerous. I knew a reporter who disappeared in Havana in the early 80s. His family still has no idea what happened to him. And guess what? The government didn’t lift a finger to figure it out. Know why? He wasn’t worth an international incident. At least he was working on a story that was worth it. But this? This is a wild goose chase! I guarantee you, that girl is buried somewhere on this island. If you went to Cuba, you would be risking your life for nothing!”
Kate trembled with indignation. “You don’t know whether that’s true! Do you really want someone to go to prison for a murder that never happened?”
“That’s the DA’s problem,” Mattingly growled, his face flushing nearly purple.
“If we have evidence that Emily Gibson is alive, it’s our problem, too! I couldn’t live with myself knowing I didn’t do everything I could to figure out what really happened.”
“You are not going to Cuba, do you hear me? If you don’t drop this right now, I’ll have no choice but to fire you.”
Kate gasped. “What?”
“You heard me,” Mattingly said, raising a finger in warning. “Think about it, Bennett. Real hard. Is this really worth losing your job?”
Mattingly’s words hit her like physical blows. She grabbed the back of the chair in front of her to keep her suddenly wobbly knees from buckling. A voice somewhere in the back of her head screamed for her to turn around, go back to her desk, and get on with her day as though none of this had happened. But a much louder voice roared in rage at her boss’s lack of faith in her. Tears stung her eyes, and she swallowed down the lump in her throat.
“Fine,” she said through clenched teeth. “I quit.”
Before she could change her mind, she spun around and marched determinedly back to her desk. She yanked open her drawer and pulled out her voice recorder and several mostly empty reporter’s notebooks. Then she slid her laptop out of her messenger bag and set it on her desk.
“Kate?” Delilah’s voice echoed across the newsroom, her question hanging unanswered in the air.
She waved dismissively at her surprised colleagues as she marched out the door. She made it halfway down the front steps before the tears cascaded down her cheeks.
Johnson spent the next hour clearing his vacation request through HR and briefing the lieutenant on cases that might need someone’s attention while he was gone. By the time he was headed back home, it was nearly lunchtime. His whole body tingled with anticipation. He hadn’t been out of the country in several years. Even if he came home empty-handed, the adventure would refresh his spirit.
As he cruised down Broadway, windows down, he pulled out his phone and hit Kate’s number. Just like the day before, it rang so long he thought it would go to voicemail. He almost didn’t recognize her voice when she answered.
“Kate? What’s wrong?”
She sniffed before answering. “Well, it looks like you’ll have to find a new favorite reporter. I quit this morning.”
He was so surprised he fumbled his phone and almost dropped it. Her voice, thick with tears, squeezed his heart.
“What? Why?”
“Mattingly refused my request to take a week of personal time. He knew I was planning to go to Cuba. He told me if I didn’t drop it, he’d fire me. So I quit.”
By the time she reached the end of her explanation, some of her usual fire had burned through the weepiness that seemed to overwhelm her when she answered the phone. He smiled in spite of himself.
“Where are you now?”
“At home. Researching plane tickets.”
“Be there in 10 minutes.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“Sounds like we’ve got some travel planning to do.”
Silence filled the line. For a minute, he thought he’d made a mistake saying something over the phone. Then he heard her take a quick breath.
“Pick up lunch, would you?” she said. “I’m starving.”
Twenty minutes later, he knocked on her door, bag of burritos in hand. She grinned at him when she opened the door and ushered him in. But her red-rimmed eyes and puffy face told him just how much the morning had cost her. He set lunch down on the table and smiled. He wished he could wrap his arms around her and give her a hug.
“How you holding up?”
She shrugged dismissively. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to focus on getting to Cuba and finding Emily Gibson. If Mattingly doesn’t want the story, I’m sure The New York Times will be interested.”
He nodded. He admired her resolve, and he wouldn’t badger her with questions. At least not now. Maybe some day she’d open up to him, but he sensed today was not that day. He slid two burritos out of the bag and held one up to her.
“Lunch is served. How bad are the plane tickets on such short notice?”
She flashed him a grin, taking the greasy package and motioning for him to follow her into the living room.
“They’re not cheap, but not as bad as I thought they’d be. I was just trying to decide whether to go to Mexico City first, or Cancún.”
“Cancún. Smaller airport. Less hassle.”
She arched an eyebrow at him as she unwrapped her burrito. “Alright, spill. How do you know that and how are you honing in on my trip?”
“Our trip,” he grinned, warmth flooding his chest. He liked the sound of that. “I guess we had the same idea this morning. My boss was just a little more forgiving than yours. Or maybe less worried about my safety.”
Kate snorted. “I thought you were in Mattingly’s camp. What changed your mind?”
“I went to the Broadside last night. Talked to your friend the bartender. He’s crushed that you were just pumping him for information, by the way. Poor guy really thought you were coming back to spend some quality time.”
She rolled her eyes but flashed a wicked grin. “I’ll bet. Did you show him Emily’s photo?”
“I did. And he confirmed it was her. I didn’t get anything new out of him, other than that confirmation. But I just decided you were right. If there’s even a possibility that Emily Gibson went to Cuba, I have to see if I can find her. As much as I think Newhouse may deserve some time behind bars for general character improvement, I don’t want to be part of sending an innocent man to prison.”
Kate stared at him with shining eyes. For a moment, he had a hard time taking a deep breath.
“Thank you,” she said. “For believing me. For taking a risk. I know this may not pan out. But I don’t think we’ll regret it.”
“Me neither,” he said, clearing his throat against a sudden tightening. “Hey, at the very least, we’ll get a nice trip out of it.”
Kate laughed. “True. I’ll try not to think about having to come back and look for a new job.”
“What are you talking about? When we find Emily Gibson, you’ll be negotiating a big raise.” He paused, another thought suddenly forming a knot in his stomach. “Or you’ll be fielding offers from the New York Times and the Washington Post.”
“Ha, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We have to find Emily Gibson first. And we haven’t even booked our plane tickets.”
“Let’s get to it then,” he said with a smile, trying not to think about the possibility that their trip would end with her moving to a bigger paper.
“Right. Which brings me back to Cancún. How do you know that’s the best route?”
“I’ve done it before. My parents have friends in Cuba. They’re going to be a huge help. Give us a place to stay, transportation. We’ll be set.”
Kate raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Who are they?”
“Cuban pastor and his wife. They live in Havana. And they’ll be happy to put us up and give us a cover story. We’re just two people visiting friends.”
“A pastor, huh? You know, I don’t know anything about your family. How do they happen to know a pastor from Cuba?”
“Denominational connections. My parents were missionaries. We lived in Africa, but we met people from all over. When we went on furlough—that is, vacation—we visited other churches all over the world. The Pérezes became good friends.”
“Africa,” Kate shook her head. “I should have known. All those paintings. How long did you live there?”
He shifted uncomfortably. The last thing he wanted to do was recount his own history.
“Most of my life. I grew up there. But that’s another story for another day. Right now, we have plane tickets to buy.”
Kate stared at him for a few moments. Just when he thought she was about to press for more details, she picked up her phone.
“Right. Let’s get booking.”
He suppressed a sigh of relief. He had so much he wanted to tell her. And so much he hoped she’d never find out. Taking her to meet old friends came with risks. She would no doubt learn more about him than he’d felt comfortable sharing with anyone since he’d returned to the States. But she’d also be exposed to a community of people willing to risk everything for what they believed in. If that opened her eyes to the truth, it would be worth it.
Chapter 18
Kate sat on her windowsill the next morning, sipping her coffee as she looked out over the port. She’d slept long and hard, exhausted by the emotional whiplash of the previous day. She had walked out of the newspaper office in the depths of despair. By the time Peter left, long after the sun set, hope filled her heart. If she’d believed in a higher being who listened to prayers, she would have poured out her gratitude for a friend willing to take a risk with her, for her.
Peter. She smiled and shook her head. For the last year, she’d thought of him only as Johnson. Reporters almost always referred to police sources by their last names. That was how the officers referred to each other, and it hinted at both the precarious camaraderie and the professional distance journalists liked to have with their sometimes adversarial sources. But somewhere over the last few days, Kate had started to refer to him in her own mind by his first name.
She’d never taken comfort in companionship. But planning the trip with Peter cast a warm, welcome glow across her horizon. Doing life alone had left a void. And she was only just beginning to feel its depth.
Before Peter went home, they had plane tickets and a plan for their first few days of travel. He’d called his friends on Whatsapp and chatted for about 20 minutes while she heated tomato soup and made grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner. Listening to him talk in a mix of English and halting Spanish set her pulse skipping. She knew so little about him.
