Across the Line

Chapter 2: Across the Line

Chapter 2: Across the Line

Andrew Fray POV:

I sat in the interview room of the police station. They had taken my phone and watch when I was arrested, so I didn't know how long I had been sitting in there.

They were probably hoping that being alone would agitate me, but I knew they were watching me through the two-way mirror.

Seriously, why bother having that? Everyone has seen a cop drama at this point.

My suspicion was confirmed when the door opened, and my arresting officer walked in. I knew she was the one who hit me with the car door because she had the same tag on her uniform. I could see what she looked like now, and I was genuinely surprised. I doubted she was any older than me. She had dark brown hair tied in a professional looking bun, and blue eyes. In one hand she held a cup of coffee, in the other a file folder.

'Adams' took the seat across from me at the table, set the folder down, and took a very, very long sip from her coffee.

I don't even think she was drinking. I think she was just sitting there holding the cup to her lips. That's how long it lasted.

“Why am I here?" I finally asked her. I was already tired of this.

She didn't even put the cup down. She just opened the folder to reveal an iPad with a loaded video, pushed it towards me, and hit play.

I watched and instantly disliked what I saw. The video was a recording that must have been taken from the warehouse. I could see myself carrying the package as I approached the men I was there to meet, I saw the party crashers arrive, and I watched myself run away. That was where the video ended fortunately, meaning they did not have the package. Or maybe they did and just weren't showing it to me.

Still, there was nothing on this that I needed to be concerned about.

“I don't see anything incriminating on here," I told Adams. “It looks like I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. You can't hold me for anything."

“Good news," Adams told me as she finally put her coffee down. “I don't want to hold you. That would be a tragic waste of a golden opportunity."

I blinked in surprise. “What?"

Adams pushed the iPad out of the way to reveal the rest of the folders' contents: A police file on me. I leaned forward to get a better look. Seeing this startled me. I might work for a man who may or may not be a mobster, but I had never done anything illegal. The packages I delivered were probably illicit, sure, but don't shoot the messenger/delivery boy.

“What is this?" I asked Adams, looking her in the eye.

Adams smirked back at me. “I think that's obvious, Mr. Andrew Fray," she told me. “You're an associate of Mr. Jackson Daniels. We keep tabs on him and his employees. Naturally that would include you."

“Isn't that a little invasive?" I asked. “Don't people have a right to their privacy." I gave her a look that I hoped was balanced between concern and soul-crushing sadness. “Please don't tell me that all those anti-government conspiracy theorists are right about government spying."

Adams gave me a patient look. “People typically give up their right to privacy when they start using their shipping company to smuggle cocaine into the country."

“I don't know anything about that," I dismissed. That was the truth. I always assumed that my boss was in the drug trade, but my assumption was not evidence. And I was not inclined to find out the truth. “I'm not a criminal."

That was when Adams said something threw me off. “I know you're not."

“Then why am I here?" I asked her.

“Because we need someone inside your boss's organization," she replied. “Someone who he trusts with sensitive information." She looked me in the eye. “Someone like you, Mr. Fray."

I gave her a deadpan look. “You can't be serious."

“I am," Adams told me. “And if you knew me, then you would know how bad this situation is if I say I'm being serious."

“Well, I don't know you, officer." I rose to my feet. “I think we're done here," I told her as I started for the door.

“You're right, Mr. Fray, we can't hold you for anything," Adams told me from her chair. “But I think you might want to stay and listen to me. It might make you reconsider your choice of employment."

I stopped at the door. I didn't have anything to gain by talking to her, but there was something about the way Adams had said that last part that hit me strangely. “And what is that?" I asked. “If you think my boss is a smuggler then why not just put in someone undercover?"

Adams smiled faintly. “I can tell you that all of us wish it were that simple."

“And why isn't it?" I asked. To my annoyance, I found that I had already taken my hand off the door handle.

Adams gestured to the seat across from her. “Take a seat and I'll explain, Mr. Fray."

I looked between the chair and the door, and to my annoyance again, I went back to the chair.

“So, what is so complicated about drug smuggling? Not that I would know anything about that," I added.

“Your boss is moving a lot more than drugs," Adams told me. She picked up the iPad and began swiping away at it. She glanced at me over the top of the screen. “What I'm about to show you might be unsettling," she warned.

“Whatever it is, I can handle it."

Adams put the iPad back down and nudged it towards me.

I took one look and instantly knew that I was in fact not prepared to handle it.

On the screen were pictures of three women. One had her right eye swollen shut, the surrounding skin a toxic looking purple. Around her mouth was a crust of dried blood, and the skin around her throat was red and raw. I could tell that the pictures of the other women had been taken post-mortem.

“Those women were found during a search at a truck stop in New Mexico last month," Adams told me somberly. “An attendant heard noises coming from inside a container. They found these three locked in a compartment that had been constructed inside the container." She tapped the picture of the deceased women. “They were already dead when the authorities found them. I don't have to tell you that the truck they were found in was registered to your boss's company."

I looked from the images to Adams' face. “If you know that, then what do you need me for?"

“Because your boss is officially in the clear," Adams replied. “He cooperated during the investigation. The truck driver confessed and claimed they acted alone. The issue is that money can buy a lot of things including loyalty. That means it can convince certain people to look the other way when it's convenient or make a prison sentence comfortable."

“I see your point," I admitted grudgingly, wanting her to know I still didn't like this. “I don't like looking at this," I said as I pushed the iPad away. “But you've just admitted that you don't have anything against my boss. Even if this is true, what do I get out of helping you?"

“A clean conscience," Adams replied simply. “If you don't like looking at this, do you really want to work for a man who lets or more accurately makes this kind of thing happen?

Admittedly that got me. No, I could honestly say I did not want to stay where I was. Possible drug smuggling was one thing, human trafficking was a little too far outside my comfort zone.

“And what happens if I find proof that my boss is innocent?" I asked.

Adams shrugged. “If he's not involved in trafficking, we'll keep trying to bust him for the cocaine," she told me. See looked at me quizzically. “Are you onboard, Mr. Fray?"

I took a deep, exasperated breath. “What do you want me to do?"