Chiago nodded. “How did McBride respond to this offer?”
Oh, God, was she going to get Zach into trouble? “He . . . He pretended to go along with it, trying to get them to unchain him so that he could fight them. He later apologized and told me he never would have hurt me. I believed him.”
Chiago wrote something down, glanced through his notes. “You also stated that you watched him give a duffel bag of things he’d taken from the Zeta compound to a Mexican national in exchange for a car. Do you know what was in that duffel bag?”
Natalie shook her head. “Please don’t ask me that. I don’t want to cause trouble for him. He saved my life. I can’t repay him by—”
“I understand your distress, Ms. Benoit, but the folks in Washington, D.C., are going to be mighty interested in this case. You can either answer my questions or wait for the Justice Department to knock on your door. And, hell, they might knock on your door anyway, knowing them. They like their frequent-flyer miles.”
Natalie swallowed—hard. “Guns. Ammunition. He said we’d be caught and killed for sure if we didn’t get into a different car because that one had a Z on the license plate like all Zeta vehicles.”
Chiago wrote more notes, then flipped back a few pages. “When you asked McBride why the Zetas had captured him, what was his answer?”
“He said he’d made a bad decision and to leave it at that. He said they were interrogating him and if they thought I knew anything, they’d torture me, too. He said they were going to kill him.”
“How did you hear about the stolen cocaine?”
“The Zeta with the Santa Muerte tattoo told me about it. I asked why they were torturing Zach, and he said that Zach had stolen a shipment of cocaine. But Zach told me he didn’t do it. He said the woman whodidsteal it had turned him over to the Zetas, making him her scapegoat.”
“Did you believe him?”
Natalie closed her eyes. “I didn’t know what to believe.”
Forgive me, Zach. Please forgive me.
“I BEAT HIM with the steel handcuff, then kicked him a bunch in the stomach, then hit him on the head twice with a brick as hard as I could. I . . . I’d watched him kill Mexican journalists. I thought he’d killed my friend Joaquin.”
Joaquin watched through a one-way mirror as Agent Chiago went through the details of Natalie’s escape from the Zetas for a third time. He was sickened by the terrible things she’d had to endure—and stunned to think that she’d shot one man and beaten the shit out of another.
“She’s is a lot tougher than she looks, isn’t she? She had your back, buddy.” Marc clapped Joaquin on the shoulder. “God, I wish I’d been there.”
“Yeah, me, too. I wish Chiago would give her a break, though. He’s questioning her like he thinks she’s a criminal or something.”
“No, he isn’t. If you want to see what that looks like, go down the hall and listen to the conversation they’re having with McBride.”
Gabe stood, stretched, a cup of coffee in his hands. “What do you two think? You think McBride’s dirty?”
Joaquin shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“I think he’s telling the truth.” Marc leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, a thoughtful frown on his face. He’d once worked as a DEA agent, so he knew more about cartel stuff than anyone Joaquin knew. “If McBride had been part of some kind of drug ring made up of dirty agents, he wouldn’t have busted his ass getting her safely home. She’d already seen and heard too much. He’d have used her to escape—then he’d have put a bullet in her brain and let the Zetas take the blame. Everyone knew they’d kidnapped her. He could have killed her with no risk to himself.”
Gabe walked up to the glass, his gaze on Natalie. “I hope he’s the man he seems to be, because I think Natalie has feelings for him.”
“You think? Shit, Rossiter, you’re a damned psychic.”
“Not just feelings.” Joaquin had seen it in her eyes. “She might not realize it yet, but she’s in love with him.”
IT WAS MIDNIGHT before Agent Zepeda finished debriefing him.
That wasn’t a debriefing, McBride, it was an interrogation.
Hungry and needing a shower, Zach walked down the dark, silent street to the hotel, thinking through what they’d asked him—and what he’d learned.
He’d known he’d be investigated, and he understood why. He’d been working a black bag op that had gone wrong, and they would want to understandwhyit had gone wrong. More than that, they would want to know exactly how he’d been captured, what had happened when he’d been imprisoned, and how he’d managed to escape and make it back alive. They had to know for certain that he wasn’t compromised. Other people’s lives depended on it.
It would help to have Natalie to back up the part of the story that concerned her. She’d witnessed the torture, seen him in chains, seen how badly hurt he’d been. She’d been with him during his escape. Hell, she was the reason he’d escaped. Her deposition would lend credibility to his. Not that he expected trouble. This was standard operating procedure. He was doing everything he was supposed to do under these circumstances, and so were they.
He had reported in to D.C. the moment they’d arrived in Sells. Pearce had been surprised to hear from him and had immediately arranged for a helo to pick him up in Sells and fly him to Tucson in the morning. From there, Zach would fly to D.C., and then the real fun would begin.