The Border

Chapter 1

Jackie Star: The early years.

Captain George Bodi sat in his office in Charlottesville Virginia, a Jag training base, waiting for Tim Frost a base psychiatrist. When Frost finally arrived he didn’t knock or ask permission to enter, only walked in and sat in a chair, crossed his arms and stared. George eyed the young, cocky lieutenant and would have tossed him out immediately had he not needed his professional opinion regarding of his sergeants, Jackie Star. She’d completed two tours of duty and seen more action than any human being should experience in a lifetime.

Although he was a rank above Frost the man probably saw it the other way around. He was after all a doctor and had a vocation that he brought with him to the service.

You know doctor that this meeting is about Jackie Star.

Yes, you hinted at that in your email.

His voice was laced with sarcasm.

Doctor…

Call me Tim.

Tim, I have to decide whether Jackie is fit to walk on American soil. I need a report from you indicating one or the other.

Oh, wait a minute. Although we’re in the forces there are discussions and matters that are privileged.

Tim, I don’t give a shit what’s in her dreams. I want to know whether she’s sane enough to walk the streets in American cities.

George locked eyes with Frost.

Well George, I think you know she’s got a severe drinking problem for one.

Tell me something everyone doesn’t know about. I want something concrete to base my decision on. Do you know how high up the food chain this goes? The brass all the way to the top sees her as their young sister, an American sweetheart, and a forces icon.

Another words you want my neck on the line, not yours. You want me to tell you whether she’s fit or not.

It’s your job.

No, it’s not. My job is to cure Jackie, not make yours easier.

George saw that this was going nowhere so decided to change his strategy.

Tim, I have Jackie’s interests at heart as well. Forget about the report for now. What can I do to help?

Give her a job. She needs work. Somewhere along the line she’ll have to decide which fork in the road to take. You’ve given her the training so make her a Jag investigator.

George knew the man didn’t know the severity of the case.

Do you have any idea who we’re dealing with? Jackie Star is one of the most deadly people on the planet. She’s walked into Taliban death camps and brought back prisoners. She’s …

She’s a human being and cares more about her men than herself. That why she drinks. She thinks she’s responsible for their deaths, simply because she wasn’t there to help.

George was aware of that as well but didn’t want to dwell on the subject. The whole base knew her story. She told everyone including the barkeeper after she’d had a few.

How do we know she isn’t going to see a bunch of drunken soccer fans as a threat and blow their brains out?

Because as corny as it sounds she believes in truth, justice and the American way. She’d die for those soccer fans, not kill them.

Then I have to ask, what sets her off? What triggers her to kill? If I knew that I’d have something to work with.

Frost stared out the window as though in deep thought. George wondered whether he still had the man’s attention.

Tim.

Off the record. Between you and me she has a split personality. Her mother Angel Star was a stripper and prostitute. She died of a drug overdose. Jackie worshipped her mother, regardless. She had a strong personality. That type of woman usually does dealing with men, keeping them in line.

Tim stared out the window again as though searching for words: words that would betray as little of his patient’s confidentiality as possible.

I’m telling you this because from what I’ve heard about you and seen I believe you have her welfare in mind. When Jackie gets to a point where Jackie can’t handle life she becomes Angel, her mother. Or what she perceives her mother was, a being that can handle whatever confronts her. You would call her a killing machine if the need arose.

That scared the shit out of George.

And we’re going to let her loose?

Yes because even as Angel she is a compassionate human being, she believes her mother was. Everyone has the ability to take a life to save theirs or someone else’s should the need arise. She’s better at it than most.

George thought about it a moment.

All right Tim. If I don’t release or discharge her at this time and reassign her I won’t need to file a report. I’ll merely reassign her. We both need to be of the same mind on her next assignment. Agree?

Yah, what do you suggest?

I want her to visit the families of the fourteen men under her command. Talk to them about their loss and hers. Healing for the families and her, or so I hope.

On her own?

Yes.

I don’t know. A huge risk.

You said she needed work. I’ll get the brass to cut through some red tape and make her a Jag investigator. She has the training and knowledge to handle that. Something you don’t know about. She put in for a private investigators license in California. Sooner or later she’ll want to be released. We’ll have something to base our reports on if we give her that assignment. Agreed?

Tim thought a moment then said,

Sink or swim? She’s reluctant to speak to me so that might be the only way for someone like her.

Reluctant. How do you know about Angel?

One day I pushed her when she was hung over and I met the Angel side of her personality. Scared the shit out of me at first. She’s one intimidating woman, so sure of herself.

George thought a moment wondering what Frost had based his knowledge on then decided that he was a trained psychiatrist with a few tricks up his sleeve. He had, after all, come into his office and turned the tables on him. He’d put himself in the commander’s chair.

All right, are we agreed then?

Yes, George. We are.

They shook hands and Tim left.

George called his orderly and asked him to bring Sergeant Star to his office. He would reassign her to a diplomatic mission visiting war victim’s families.

Chapter 2

Jackie knew it was a bullshit assignment visiting grieving widows and crying children. All she would do was dredge up the past and force families to start the healing process over again. She even knew why they sent her on a fool’s errand. They wanted to evaluate her: Decide whether to release or discharge her. And of course the reason for the discharge. There was a huge difference between a medical discharge and one based on drunk and disorderly behavior.

She was, after all, an alcoholic and never denied the fact. Every day started like all the others in her life complete with haunting memories of the past. An army medical officer had offered psychiatric help but she was reluctant thinking that all the help she needed could be poured from bottle to glass. Simple until she hit rock bottom and crashed. She would never forget waking in that alley knowing the only decision she’d have to make was whether to live or die. Not a lot of choices, only two decisions: keep drinking or cut the booze and live.

But what the hell was there to live for?

Everyone that ever meant anything in her life was dead: her mother, her lover, and fourteen men that Uncle Sam had entrusted to her. Fourteen men she’d let down by not being there when they needed her. She would have spotted the suicide bomber and put a bullet through his spinal column making it impossible for him to push the plunger. She’d done it before, could see the hate in their eyes.

Her shit luck started twenty years ago when she returned from a late night class, mom asleep. She undressed and slid into bed beside her taking care not to wake mother. In the middle of the night she woke, mom’s body grey, clammy and cold. She called 911 and the medics came, sirens whining and lights glowing. As in the T.V. movies mom would be saved. Jackie sat in Emergency waiting.

Then they told her.

Unlike a movie mom was dead: the heroine never died and mom, Angel Star, was her idol.

But she died. How was that possible?

Jackie and a children’s aid worker were the only ones at the state paid funeral. Jackie prayed to God to take mom regardless of what she’d been. It would be quite some time before she truly believed mom was really dead and would never return. God would never change his mind and send mom back for a second chance.

Angel would live on through her, Jackie decided. When she needed strength mother would take over her body and mind. Mom was almost invincible.

With no other living relatives she became a ward of the state.

All like it was yesterday. A cheap cliché but nothing else had a truer ring.

Good morning America how are you, blared through her radio.

Not too fucking well, buddy. How’s about you? See, I got this little problem, insomnia, uttered Jackie to the radio.

She wove her Celica through morning San Diego traffic then added,

Got a cure buddy? Mine’s not working so well lately.

Jackie was on her way to the border town of Nogales to offer her condolences to the family of Rocko Garcia, a man under her command in Afghanistan. She’d already seen the families of thirteen others throughout the United States apologizing for the death of their loved ones: it was all her fault. They took it well and hadn’t lynched her so she was on her way to the fourteenth and last of her squad.

Rocko’s father had taken him north to L.A. when he was a boy separating him and two of his sisters after a divorce. His father didn’t seem to care about Rocko, or was it just a hard ass act? He had a mother and two sisters in Nogales and meeting them would end her tour. Maybe there was life after all that death?

Jackie had already reasoned that she would need work to fight alcoholism and depression. Was it something she could ever truly defeat? She was granted her Private Investigators license and gun permit as well. She was ready to start a new life amidst the ruins of her old. Could it be done? She’d have to try.

Why? She’d asked herself that question a hundred times. The only answer that came to her was survival. She was too proud to beg and not yet ready to die.

Every inch closer to Nogales and the Garcia family made her craving for liquor spike. Just one tequila for the road she tempted but knew that one would lead to two and then a dozen more. You wouldn’t want to be a drunk helpless female in an unknown environment: she’d already found that out.

After receiving directions at several fill up stations she was staring at the house with the address given her by Rocko.

If you ever get down there look me up. That’s where I’m going after this tour is done, said Rocko a year ago.

Jackie sat in her car wanting to cry; Rocko and Fish were her favorites, the first men she chose for special ops every time.

There was movement in the house but she sat staring at the address on the paper in Rocko’s hand writing, all that was left of him. Oddly enough she started to chuckle as a memory of their last mission suddenly came to mind.

Fish and Rocko her best pals, both dead.

Chapter 3

Jackie sat in her car across from the Garcia residence in Nogales, Mexico, still holding back tears, staring at the note in her hand.

Nogales Police. Show me some ID.

The woman holding the badge was dressed in a business suit, a shoulder holster and gun in sight as she bent to meet Jackie at eye level. Her right hand tempted the butt of her gun. She was definitely Spanish, light brown skin, black hair, and dark eyes. She wasn’t tall and probably weighed around one hundred and twenty pounds, a little too small to make the force in San Diego. Jackie pulled a wallet from her jacket and handed the woman her passport.

What is your business here?

Jackie felt that an intrusion so said,

I’ve broken no laws. I’m here to meet someone. What’s the problem?

I came home an hour ago and saw you staring at our house now and then. Mother says you’ve been here all afternoon. That’s what makes this a problem senorita Star.

Could you by any chance be Tina? asked Jackie.

The woman’s eyes went wide in surprise.

Yes I am. How would you know?

I knew Rocko in the forces. Sandy is married and lives across town.

Jackie handed her his note then added,

I wanted to talk to you and his mother, Martha. Is that possible?

Why sit out here senorita?

It’s Jackie. Memories. I didn’t know I was out here so long.

Tina handed Jackie her ID and put away her wallet and badge.

Come inside. Supper is on the table. You will join us, no?

Thank you. Yes, I will.

Jackie wondered whether to tell them before or after dinner about Rocko’s death. She might not be welcome after they heard she was responsible.

She was introduced and shown the washroom to ready for the evening meal. At the table Tina sat in her blouse, her gun and holster gone.

Martha was an old ailing woman who had trouble getting around yet tried her best to hide it. She was bent and frail weighing in at about a hundred pounds. The old woman spoke only snippets of English but understood Jackie well.

Jackie spoke only of the good times that she’d had with Rocko and Fish. There was no need to tell the old woman of her involvement in her son’s death.

For the first time she let it drop. There was no need and it might further impair Martha’s health.

Jackie was curious about Tina’s job in the police force. At her height and weight she wasn’t a riot cop.

What do you do at the Nogales force?

Hah, I’m a Homicide Investigator. Go figure, eh?

You speak English well, said Jackie.

This is a border town and we learn it young. We tie in with your law enforcement people every day.

Jackie was in the middle of excusing herself when Tina insisted she stay the night. It was dark and it would be hard to find a motel room. Martha retired early claiming she had a bad headache all day. It was plain to see the woman was struggling to stay upright. Jackie glanced at Tina who had the twin look of love and concern in her eyes.

Jackie sat in the living room as Tina poured a couple of tequilas. Her hands shook while Tina set the glass on the coffee table. Could she even pick up the glass? And if she did would she spill it? She stared at it then realized