Chapter 9

"Where to first?" Carlos asked as they walked out of the airport. He wasn't too keen on jumping in with both feet without taking the time to regroup first. Cooke apparently had the same thought.

"Let's head to the hotel," Sydney suggested, "and figure out where to go from there. Trivette gave me a file he pulled together on the guy we're looking for, including known aliases, and a few photos of him, Malloy, and Deville."

"Broderick," Carlos corrected. "She's been going by Broderick for almost a year; people are probably more likely to know her by that than by her real name."

"If they know her by name at all," Gage pointed out. "They may not."

"Point." Carlos glanced down the row of cabs, looking for a free one, and started walking, the two Rangers half a step behind him. "Where to?"

"Hilton, across town," Cooke replied. "That's the area Melendez's boys tend to work, and he owns a couple clubs a few streets over from the hotel."

He felt a little uneasy being on the mobster's turf, but time wasn't something they had an abundance of, and he liked even less the idea of wasting what little they had driving all over San Antonio. "Sounds good."

"Twenty bucks says Melendez'll know we're here before we even get on our feet," Gage said as he handed his bag to the cabbie, then went to take his partner's. She pulled it back, brushing by him to hand it off herself, and Carlos stifled a laugh as they got into the cab.

The ride was silent for the most part, interrupted occasionally by a few jabs exchanged between Gage and Cooke. Discussing the case was safer kept for behind closed doors. As soon as they'd reached the hotel, though, he pulled out his cell phone and MacPherson's business card and called her cell.

It wasn't until they'd reached their rooms, two adjoining, that he said anything specific to the case. On the short flight over, he'd come to the conclusion that if he wanted to get anything out of MacPherson and Galiano, he'd have to give them something first, so he felt marginally comfortable dropping Melendez's name. "Can you find out if there was any connection between Deville and either Alejandro Melendez or an enforcer, a professional hitter, named Jackson White?"

"The name isn't familiar," she replied, "but Tony would know better than I would. I'll run the names through our database, and let you know if anything comes up."

"Thanks." Expressing any sort of gratitude to the woman felt awkward and unnatural, but he really did appreciate her assistance – for however much it might end up being worth. "If I come up with any other names, I'll call."

"Thank you."

He hung up and tossed his cell phone on the bed, blazer soon to follow. "Any ideas on how to play this?"

"Not a one." Gage sat down backwards on the desk chair and faced him.

Cooke sat down on the bed, one leg curled beneath her. "None of this has really hit the press, has it? Malloy's arrest, I mean?"

"I don't think so," Carlos replied slowly, "but I haven't really picked up a newspaper in the last day or so."

"There was an article this morning," Gage cut in, "but all it said was that a Jane Doe was found dead, and the police had a suspect – not even anything about the suspect being in custody."

"What if we run it as if we haven't arrested him yet, and we're looking for him?" Cooke suggested. "If it's a frame, they're probably going to be a lot more willing to help us out if they think we're buying it."

"And maybe screw up, let something slip?" Gage asked.

"Or at least prove to us that there's some sort of connection here." Carlos drew his gun from his holster, checking to make sure it was fully loaded. However they were playing this, he wasn't going to get his hopes up that it was all going to go as planned – it never did. "Let's go."

-------------------------

"This is going to end with him getting some sort of informal reprimand and the case thrown out of court, isn't it?" Alex looked up from her paperwork and glanced over at her husband. Almost as much as seeing people get away with things, she hated working hard on a case knowing full well it was going to be useless.

Even more than that, she hated knowing it was going to be useless, that there was nothing she could do.

"Well, it might be a formal reprimand," Walker replied, dragging her from her thoughts.

"You are no help."

"I know."

Alex rolled her eyes and sighed, closing the manila folder in front of her and pushing it aside. She eyed her husband, who'd been surprisingly closed-mouthed since the whole thing had started – and even more since Trent's arrest. He hadn't really talked to Trent at all yet, which she found a little strange. "How are you holding up?" she asked softly.

"I'm fine."

"Sit."

He raised an eyebrow at her, but did as he was told – for once. "I'm fine, Alex."

"Why haven't you talked to Trent?"

"Because I haven't had the chance."

He was being evasive, like he always did when a case hit too close to home. "You could have. You could have gone to the station with Carlos when he resigned."

"He took a leave," the Ranger interrupted, and she frowned at him.

"Technicality." Unless something changed, it was going to become a resignation; she could feel it. "You should have gone with him, but you didn't. How come?"

"I'll talk to him, Alex. I'm going to go there before I go home."

"That's not what I asked," she told him quietly. "You're avoiding him. Trent is almost like a son to you. Why aren't you even talking to him?"

"I will, Alex." He was getting frustrated, which meant one of two things. Either she'd keep pushing him and he'd talk to get her to shut up, or he'd shut her out entirely – which were better odds than if she left it alone right now.

"Why haven't you yet?"

"Because I don't know what to say to him; I still haven't figured it out."

That wasn't what she'd been expecting – not that she'd really had a guess as to why. "Walker, you don't think he's guilty?"

"No, of course not." He shook his head. "But… it's only because I know him. If I look at it from a law enforcement perspective, he looks guilty, and I know him well enough to know that he's going to ask me my professional opinion and I don't know what to tell him when he does."

It made sense, and she should have expected as much. "Trent's a grown man," she reminded him gently. "Do you really think he doesn't know how it looks? You're not going to destroy him by telling him the truth, Walker. But by being conspicuously absent – especially now, with Tommy in the hospital…" she trailed off. "How do you think he sees that?"

"I'm going to talk to him, Alex."

"Now?"

He gave her an exasperated look, then nodded. "Yes, now. Are you happy?"

She pursed her lips and smiled. "Quite."

Walker rolled his eyes then shook his head, but smiled back. "Good." He started to stand, then sat back down. "Can I leave now?"

Alex laughed at him. "You're free to go, Ranger." Then she winked at him. "But don't leave town."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

-------------------------

Trent was sitting on his cot, leaning against the wall when Walker came up to his cell. His eyes were closed and his lips moved slowly, in silent prayer that Cordell couldn't quite decipher. He rapped lightly on the bars and his former student leaned forward, opening his eyes, looking more pleased to see him than Walker thought he ought to. "Hey."

"How are you holding up?" The same words Alex had asked him only an hour earlier.

"I'm… surviving. How's Tommy?"

"He hasn't woken up yet, but he will, and he'll be just fine."

"How's Carlos?"

Walker frowned. "You'll have to talk to him about that yourself," he told him finally, knowing full well Trent wouldn't leave it at that.

Which he didn't. He was on his feet in a moment and halfway across the cell. "What do you mean? What's wrong?"

"Trent—"

The younger man shook his head. "No, Walker. My brother has been shot and I'm locked in here. The least you can do is tell me what's going on!"

He had a point, as the Ranger had known he would, which was reason number two he had been avoiding visiting the martial artist. "He took a leave of absence from the force," he replied quietly.

Trent took a step back, looking a little stunned at the revelation. "Because of Tommy?"

"I don't think so; not entirely at least. I think Carlos just has some thinking to do."

"He shouldn't have been there."

"He wanted to be there."

They fell into an uneasy silence, both staring at the floor until they looked up at the same moment. "Walker, can I ask you something?"

Sure that he knew what his question would be, Cordell shook his head. "There's something I need to ask you first."

"Shoot," Trent replied, then winced at his own choice of words.

"Did you kill her?" Walker kept his voice completely even, completely void of any emotion, and fixed his eyes on Trent's. The younger man tensed, but then something passed between them unspoken and he seemed to relax slightly.

"No." His voice was likewise steady, without the tension or edge Walker might have expected, had he not known Trent as well as he did.

"I had to ask, and I won't again."

"I know."

"My turn," Trent said quietly, and Walker steeled himself for a question he wasn't sure he could answer. But what Trent asked surprised him. "When Ellen… was killed, how did you move on?"

Walker was quiet for a long time, then slowly shook his head. "That's a loaded question, Trent." He paused. "It's complicated; your situation is different from mine."

"No one thought you killed her," Trent said bitterly.

"That's part of it." Walker went quiet and motioned to one of the guards to unlock the cell. With Trent freed for the moment, they walked quietly toward an interrogation room.

Both sat in silence for a minute or two before the Ranger finished his feeble attempt at answering Trent. "I also had to deal with knowing I was there and couldn't help her. You have to deal with wondering if you could've helped her if you'd been there." He shook his head slowly and rested both arms on the table in front of him. "I wish I could help you, Trent, but it was time that got me through it, and that's what it will take for you, too."

In truth, he hadn't realized how strongly Trent felt for this woman, and he felt a little guilty at that. The younger man's reaction when they'd suggested that Deville had lied to him should have been enough of an indication, but somewhere along the line he'd missed it.

Looking pained, Trent changed the subject after a few seconds of strained silence. "How's Tommy, really?"

"He's going to be fine. Really. It was a clean shoulder wound, and he made it to the hospital very quickly. He's a strong kid, and he's recovering fine. He's pretty out of it right now from the painkillers they have him on, and he'll have a scar, but he will be fine."

Trent closed his eyes, and again Walker saw his lips move. This time, he could make out the prayer of thankfulness. "Carlos blames himself," he said, his eyes still closed.

"I know, and any number of people have told him he shouldn't, but, well, I'm not sure who has a harder head," Walker admitted, "you or him."

The younger man laughed outright. "You have us all beaten there."

Walker seemed to consider that for a moment before nodding. "That may be."

Trent shook his head, a smile on his face for another moment or two before it faltered. "I feel like it's my fault."

"It's not Carlos's and it's not yours," the Ranger admonished him. "The way it seems right now, you got in over your head a little, but the agent who fired that bullet is the one responsible Tommy being injured."

"There are so many things I should have done differently." Trent looked less despairing and more frustrated – the same type of frustration Walker was accustomed to seeing in the younger man during a particularly tough case.

"There are always things we should have done differently," Walker told him quietly. "But we usually don't know that until it's too late." He allowed his words to hang in the air for a while, then changed the subject. "Trent, was there anyone in Emerson's group who looked at all like you – even just a similar build, even with a different hair color?"

Trent was quiet for a moment, a thoughtful expression in his eyes, before he slowly shook his head. "Most of them were the stereotypical goons – big guys, burly, muscle-bound enforcers. You know the type."

Walker nodded. He knew the type well, and he usually let Trivette handle them; it was a character-building exercise, though his partner didn't see it the same way. "Had anything gone wrong; had things changed at all? Had anything happened that might have suggested someone would come after her, or you?"

"I've asked myself that a million times, Walker, and the only thing I can come up with is what we were fighting about the night she was killed. Emerson wanted her to go to some meeting in California; I don't know anything more than that. He'd only asked her a day or two before she died. She jumped at the chance and I wanted her to find some way to turn him down, but she wouldn't have it."

"Sydney and Gage said she met someone in a bar after she left your place. Could it have been one of Emerson's lackeys, taking her to the airport or wherever they'd leave from?"

"They were supposed to leave…" he hesitated, frowning, "tomorrow, I think, so no. She never said anything about a meeting." Light dawned in his eyes. "We were supposed to go out that night, to dinner, but because of the argument, we didn't. I don't see why she would have been meeting someone."

"Maybe you were supposed to be at that meeting too," Walker said quietly.

"You think they meant to kidnap me?" Trent raised an eyebrow, incredulous. "No offense, Walker, but I don't see it."

"Just thinking out loud. She also could have called someone after the two of you argued, or someone could have called her. Maybe Carlos wasn't the only person who saw you fighting. Maybe…"

Trent made a face and shook his head. "For the record, I hate that word."