"Trouble?" Max asked when Slater left the bathroom.
"A shit storm," Rafe growled. "There's a leak from somewhere and I'm worried it's in my own department."
"Anyone in mind?" Max asked.
Rafe took three aspirin, downed them with a swig from the liquor bottle. "Not a single idea."
Rafe parted company with Max thirty minutes later, and on the way back to the courthouse, he ran the names over in his mind again. Who he'd talked to, even tangentially, about the case, who'd have access to his files, who could be bought off and who couldn't.
By the time he arrived at his temporary office, he'd narrowed the list down to two people, and he didn't think either one was capable of this kind of betrayal. The leaks had to be in one or both of the two county sheriffs' offices. Or Homeland Security.
Not in DEA.
Chapter Thirty-one
When Slater was wheeled from recovery to his room in the intensive care unit, the nurse warned Bella to limit her visit to the allotted five minutes. "He's stable, but critical," the horse-faced woman in her starched white uniform ordered, "so don't tire him out."
Bella stared at his swollen and bruised face. Tubes and IV lines, along with an oxygen hookup and other machinery made him look like a recovering Frankenstein. He was naked from the waist up and his chest bandaged in criss-crossed sections. His eyes jerked under the closed lids.
The purple and red flesh of his left shoulder contrasted starkly against the white bandage that covered the spot where the first bullet had been removed. A second bullet had struck a rib from the back, but fortunately missed the lung and the spine. Another bandage wrapped around his right thigh where the third bullet penetrated the skin and barely missed the femoral artery.
"Slater," Bella whispered, touching his arm gently.
He grimaced briefly and opened his eyes a moment later. "Hey, Torres. Glad you're here." He struggled to sit up.
"Oh, no, big fellow. The nurse will skin me alive." Bella carefully pressed him back on the slightly-elevated bed. "And where else would I be but here at a time like this?"
He groaned. "Whoa, I'm weak as a kitten. World's spinning a little."
"You've been through major surgery." She fiddled with the covers and plumped up the pillow. "But the doctor says you'll be fine. Eventually."
He sighed and glanced at the tubes and machines surrounding him. "A hell of a thing."
She pulled up a chair beside the bed and sat down. "I was worried about you." She patted his arm, almost afraid to stop touching him. "Your mom called. She'll be here tomorrow."
"And Kate?"
"She's flying back from D.C." Slater's girlfriend Kate Myers was on special assignment in Washington.
"I don't want them to worry about me." He stared down at his hands, the tube that ran from his arm, the monitors on his chest.
"Can you recall any details of what happened?"
Slater's jaw tightened under the pallor of his skin. "I've been remembering them since my mind crawled out of the damn anesthesia."
His eyes clouded with pain when he looked up at her. "Manuel Ruiz – that damn Ruiz – he was the leak in the department. In my own house!" His fist tightened on top of the covers and he winced when the IV line pulled.
"Ruiz, the new deputy?" Bella gasped. "How do you know?"
"He killed Harris."
"No, no, Harris is okay, recovering, probably faster than you. Big bump on his head, though, You saved his life, Ben." She lowered her voice. "Not McKidd, he's dead."
"Ah, hell, McKidd was a good man." Slater breathed a bleak sigh. "I saw the second shooter go down from my bullet, but when I passed out, Ruiz was aiming his weapon at Harris' head. I was sure he'd killed Waylon."
"No, he's okay, but are you sure about Ruiz, Slater? He's dead, too."
"Hell yes, I saw his face. He was definitely after me and Harris, probably killed McKidd, too."
"I can't believe it," she said. "He seemed so… friendly."
"How could I have made a mistake like that? I vetted Ruiz personally."
"He must've been deep," she said, covering his hand.
He shook his head, throwing off the words of comfort. "I trained him myself. I totally bought that young Hispanic pulling himself up by his bootstraps crap!"
"Nothing popped on him?"
"Nothing. No priors, no gang affiliations. Zip."
"That's all you could've done," she said, "but it makes you wonder why something didn't flag on him when you ran the check. A person doesn't go overnight from a clean record to a hired killer."
Slater was silent a moment, thinking. "Only one way he could've gotten by my screening."
Bella shook her head and frowned, not understanding.
"Deep cover, like you said, but with an assist from someone with deep pockets," he said with grim satisfaction. "Vargas must have recruited Ruiz, kept him clean for years, and placed him in my house."
"To be used like this," Bella finished, understanding at last. "When he needed him inside a police department."
"To silence a witness," Slater ground out.
"He was supposed to kill all three of you – Harris, McKidd, and you."
"Son of a bitch!"
She frowned thoughtfully. "But why get rid of Ruiz? Why would Vargas invest so much in an inside man and then kill him?"
Slater shook his head silently, suddenly looking wan and weary.
"Time for me to go." Bella watched the head nurse stroll by and peer through the glass doors of the ICU room. Checking up on her, she supposed. "The East German nurse just slipped by, spying on us."
Slater tried to laugh, but clutched his side. "Tell Harris to visit me before he's discharged."
But at that moment Harris popped into the hospital room, glancing guiltily behind him and hopping in on a crutch. When his eyes fell on Slater, stretched out like a mummy on the narrow bed, wires all over the place, his face turned dusty. "Ah, hell, Sheriff, are you as bad off as you look?"
"I always liked your tact, Waylon."
"Sorry, sir."
"Looks like you're healing up nice."
Harris tapped his thigh, wrapped in a waterproof cast. "Yeah, I was pretty lucky. The bullet cracked the bone, caused a slow bleed. Otherwise I'd be dead."
He hovered over Slater's bedside and looked seriously into the sheriff's face. "And, 'course, a slug to the head woulda been the end of me." Harris looked solemn while gratitude molded his dark face. "Thanks."
"What are you talking about?" Bella asked, feeling panic rise in her throat. "You didn't tell me about a bullet to the head."
"Slater managed to deflect a bullet meant to kill me. Damn Ruiz – excuse me, ma'am – he tried to take me out. Me, his partner." Anger and indignation glistened on his brow like a slick sheen of sweat.
"Well, Ruiz is gone now," Slater said with deadly pleasure. Bella had never heard him so satisfied over someone's death. "One of the assassins shot him."
"Vargas doesn't want anyone alive to testify against him," Bella said.
"Probably he'll have the last shooter alive killed, too," Harris said, turning to Slater. "What about you? How long before they let you go home?"
"A week, maybe," Slater answered, but Bella was certain it'd be longer. Dark shadowy smudges lay beneath his eyes, and he looked drawn and bone-tired.
The nurse entered, eyeing both Bella and Harris. "What's going on here?" she demanded in a strident voice. "I thought I made it clear – one patient at a time, five minutes, no more."
Properly chastened, Bella kissed Slater on the cheek. "I was just leaving," she murmured, heading for the door.
But Harris simply glowered at the nurse, and against the threat of his large frame, she retreated with a loud humph and a noisy stomp. Bella waited quietly at the door.
"Better get back to your bed, Harris," Slater advised, catching Bella's eye, "or the East German nurse will have your ass."