Chapter Nine

A knock at the door sounded.. Harrison lifted his head as he was sitting on the couch.. He wasn't expecting anyone. He wasn't expecting anyone....especially Mrs. Joanna. Mrs. Joanna loved Harrison like he was her own son. He ran a hand over his face, scrubbing at the redness around his eyes, and stood to face Mrs. Joanna... after opening the door inside his home. Mrs. Joanna's eyes were kind, but sad.

She walked past him to the living room and placed a casserole dish on his coffee table, the scent of baked chicken and spices filling cool air. "I made too much," she said, her voice soft. "I made it just for you. I hope that's okay." Harrison just nodded, his throat felt Ike a knot was trapped in his throat. Like a lump. He sat on the couch. Mrs. Joanna sat down beside him, leaving a respectful space between them.

She picked at a loose thread on the sofa. "Honey," she began, her voice barely a murmur. "Harrison, I need you to listen to me."

Harrison shook his head, a tear finally breaking free and tracing a path down his cheek. "If I had just... insisted. I'd just known she was using again...she would be here."

Mrs. Joanna reached out and placed a hand on his, her touch firm and warm. "Alyssa did what she wanted to do," she said gently. "Nobody could change her mind once she'd decided what she did for what she did." Mrs. Joanna hesitated.

"But I could have stopped her" he whispered, a sob wracking his chest. He pulled his hand away, burying his face in his palms. His shoulders began to shake. "I should have stopped her."

Mrs. Joanna didn't try to touch him again. Instead, she leaned closer and said, her voice full of a quiet, unshakable certainty, "Harrison, I want you to hear this, and I want you to remember it. It was not your fault. But it was Alvarez," Mrs. Joanna waited, letting the words hang in the air, her eyes fixed on Harrison.

"Alyssa would hate to see you like this. She loved you so much, and she would never want you to feel this way." Harrison looked up at Mrs. Joanna then, his eyes red and raw. "How can you say that?" he choked out, his voice thick with tears. "How can you not hate me?"

"Because I know my daughter," Mrs. Joanna said softly, "and I know you. You made her life so special, Harrison." She moved to put her arm around his shuddering shoulders, pulling him into a gentle hug. He didn't resist. He just leaned into her, finally allowing himself to break completely. He wept, the kind of deep, gut-wrenching sobs he'd been holding back for weeks.

Mrs. Joanna held him, a mother comforting a like he was her own son, a shared grief helping them understand each other's pain in the apartment. "It's okay to miss her," she whispered against his hair. "It's okay that you're in pain.. But I don't blame you. I never once did." Harrison nods his head.

"Do you remember when you asked me why Jose Alvarez killed Alyssa?" Harrison asked.

"Yeah?" Mrs. Joanna said , sighing... scared to know why. "Why?" Mrs. Joanna continued.

Harrison began to elucidate to Mrs. Joanna that Jose Alvarez could potentially murder DEA agent Harrison Lawrence's girlfriend, Alyssa Joanna, due to several potent and personal motivations. The counterfeit drug in question explains why Alyssa's secret life was in a dangerous phase of her life.

It represents the most straightforward and traditional form of motivation. Alvarez is aware that Lawrence is a highly recommended agent, and a professional agent alone will not suffice to deter him. The murder of a loved one could be employed as a tactic. Alvarez may aim to emotionally and mentally devastate Lawrence, rendering him reckless, negligence, and ultimately a less formidable opponent.

A drug overdose to her could serve to humiliate Lawrence and tarnish Alyssa's history of the Sinaloa cartel. The 'counterfeit' drug introduces a jiffy of a drug addict suggesting that she was a drug user, regardless of the truth. Mrs. Joanna needed to know what happened to her daughter.

This not only will hurt Lawrence's personal life but also—but his life was more complicated than it is. And he might be sending me a message," Harrison states.

A drug lord like Jose functions based on reputation and intimidation. The murder of Alyssa serves as a conspicuous message to Lawrence, the DEA, and any others who might contemplate obstructing Alvarez's operations. Back at the field office, Harrison discovered something about his deceased girlfriend Alyssa's secret before she died.

Harrison discovered his deceased girlfriend Alyssa's secret involvement with the Sinaloa cartel, the revelation should challenge his assumptions about their relationship and force him to re-examine her past. Harrison stared at the file. The lab report from Alyssa's autopsy lay open, its sterile, clinical typeface a stark contrast to the chaos inside his head. The cause of death was simple: overdose. But the specific cocktail was anything but.

"What's up with this fentanyl, Dr. Roberts?" Harrison asked, his voice flat. He pointed a shaking finger at a long string of chemical weapons.

"I've never seen it." Dr. Roberts, an American smart woman with a spirit background as white as her white lab, pushed her glasses up her nose.

"That's because it's evidence, Agent Lawrence. We've linked it to the Sinaloa cartel's long history of illegal activities. Jose Alvarez's lab, to be precise. Fentanyl is under a low dose of ketamine. It has killed a lot of people fast, leaving no room for people like Alyssa." Dr. Roberts said. The words hit Harrison like a ton of bricks. Alvarez's signature. Alyssa wasn't killed by a street drug; she was murdered!!

The counterfeit pill was a message being sent by Jose Alvarez. But why? Dr. Roberts continued, oblivious to his crumbling world. "What's interesting is that I found what was on her hands. The amount she handled the form of the drug, not just the pill. It almost looks like she was... trying to hide it from you." Harrison's wrist tightened.

He thought of her hands, the way she'd run them through his hair, the way she held his face when she told him she loved him. He felt the phantom touch of a lie. Until then... Harrison and Peter were in the lobby discussing the bank statements of Alyssa.

"She was definitely hiding a secret." Harrison said, sighing.

"Okay. What kind?" Peter asked, wondering.

"The bank statements were buried deep in Alyssa's Dell laptop, and I found a file that was found as a vacation photo album. I was desperate to find anything she might have left behind, having spent lots of months searching for this case." Harrison explained.

Harrison finally broke the encrypted folder, he expected pictures of their trips to the beach. He got spreadsheets instead. Harrison said. Harrison's blood pressure was skyrocketing and he scrolled through the transactions.

Payments from lots of companies registered in Panama. Massive cash deposits disguised as inheritances. And a series of wire transfers, the destination addresses a sickening blur of codes and offshore accounts, but one name was constant: José Alvarez. The numbers were astronomical. Enough to buy a small army.

He saw payments made to a hospital in Mexico, and a sickening feeling of dread crept up his spine. Further digging unearthed the beneficiary's name: Maria Alvarez. Jose's mother. Alyssa hadn't just worked with Alvarez; she had been messing with his family. She wasn't a girl Harrison thought she knew.

She was a confidante. A partner. The love of his life of a DEA agent had been helping Jose Alvarez he was trying to put away. The irony was a bitter, nauseating taste in his mouth. The harsh fluorescent lights of the DEA field office lobby did little to soothe Harrison Lawrence's frayed nerves.

He was staring, unseeing, at the sterile walls, the hum of the air conditioning a monotonous drone in his ears. His mind, however, was replaying the cold facts he'd just seen: Alyssa Joanna. His beautiful Alyssa. Multiple wire transfers, from a Panama account, funneled straight into Mexico. Each word was a concern to his gut, shattering the memories of her smile, replacing them with a chilling, financial betrayal.

Peter, his colleague, approached, his usual easygoing stride replaced by a more hesitant gait. He cleared his throat. Peter winced. "I know, man. That's... look, it's about the case. The special agent thinks you're letting this case get too close to your head. They want you off it." He gestured vaguely towards the elevator bank. "She said it's a conflict of interest, with her being... with her being involved and all. Especially with the Panama connections and the Mexico money laundering."

Harrison let out a short, bitter laugh that echoed unnaturally in the quiet lobby. "Conflict of interest? She was my girlfriend, Peter! The woman I was going to marry! And now I find her name tied to cartel money, funneled from Panama into Mexico!" His voice rose, drawing a few concerned glances from other agents.

"How am I supposed to just walk away from that? How I need to know what happened to her!" Peter put a hand on Harrison's shoulder, his expression showed he could tell Harrison loved her.. "Harrison, I get it. We all do. But you're too close to this case, tied to the Sinaloa operations in Mexico, and it looks like major money laundering through Panama." Harrison shook off Peter's hand, his frustration boiling over.

"So that's it? Peter, I need to know!" Harrison, trailed off, the certainty wavering under the weight of the undeniable evidence. The Panama-registered accounts, the transfers to Mexico – it was all there in black and white.

"Breathe, Harrison," Peter urged, his voice gentle but firm. "Let us handle the case." Peter said. Harrison sighed. "Okay." Peter nods his head.

"Okay?" Harrison nods his head and says, "Yeah. I know you're right. I need to get my head straight." Harrison answered. Peter nods his head and he and Harrison continue to walk in the lobby. After leaving the lobby, they head back to their desks.