by Sandra Brown
Tiel watched his progress across the parking lot until he reached the gas pumps and climbed into the Winnebago.
Doc was talking Sabra through another pain. When it passed, the girl relaxed and closed her eyes. Tiel looked at Doc, who was watching the girl. "What else would be helpful to you?"
"Gloves."
"I'll see what I can find."
"Some vinegar."
"Standard distilled vinegar?"
"Hmm." After a brief pause, he remarked, "You're awfully cool under pressure."
"Thanks." They continued to watch the girl, who, for the moment, seemed to be asleep. Tiel asked softly, "Is this going to end badly?"
His lips compressed into a grim line. "Not if I can help it."
"How bad-"
"Hey, what are you two whispering about?"
Tiel looked up at Ronnie. "Doc needs some gloves. I was about to ask Donna if the store stocks them."
"Okay, go ahead."
She left Sabra's side and moved to the counter. Donna was standing behind it, waiting to unlock the door when Vern returned. She regarded Tiel suspiciously. "What do you want?"
"Donna, please remain calm. Hysteria will only worsen the situation. For the time being, we're all safe."
"Safe? Ha! This is my third time."
"To be robbed?"
"My luck's bound to run out. First time, there were three of them. Came in pretty as you please, emptied the register, and locked me in the freezer. If the dairy delivery man hadn't come by, I'd've been a goner. Second time, this guy in a mask clubbed me good 'longside the head with the butt of his pistol. Had a concussion and couldn't work for six weeks on account of headaches. So dizzy I puked 'round the clock." Her narrow chest rose and fell on a deep sigh of resignation. "It's only a matter o' time.
The odds'll catch up with me, and one of 'em'll kill me.
Do you think he'd let us smoke?"
"If you're so afraid, why don't you quit and get another job?"
She looked at Tiel as though she had lost her mind. "I love my work."
If that was logical, maybe Tiel was losing her mind. "Do you carry any latex gloves in the store? The kind a doctor wears."
She shook her frizzy, permed head. "Rubbermaid.
That's it. I think we got two pairs over yonder with the household cleansers."
"Thanks. Stay cool, Donna."
As Tiel moved past Gladys, she leaned down and whispered,
"Is there a tape in your video camera?"
The old lady nodded. "Two hours' worth. Rewound, too. Unless Vern screwed it up when he was fiddling with it."
"If I can get it to you-"
"Hey!" Ronnie shouted. "What are you whispering about now?"
"She's afraid for her husband. I was reassuring her."
"There he is now," Gladys said, pointing at the door.
Donna threw the bolt and Vern came tottering in, everything except his spindly legs hidden behind a stack of bedding. Ronnie ordered him to drop the load of pillows and quilts, but the old man argued. "It's all clean. If I drop it, it'll get dirty. The lady should have a comfortable place to lie, and I thought these towels might come in handy, too."
"Actually that's very good thinking, Ronnie," Tiel said.
'You can examine the stuff once he brings it over."
From his Winnebago, in addition to the pads he'd gone for, Vern had brought two pillows, two quilts, two clean bedsheets, and several bath towels. Ronnie found nothing concealed inside the linens and gave the go-ahead for Tiel to make a pallet, which she did while Sabra leaned heavily against Doc.
Tiel used only one of the sheets, saving the spare for later, should the need for it arise. When she was finished, Doc laid the girl down on the bedding. She settled on it gratefully. Tiel placed one of the disposal pads beneath her hips.
"They're not for what you think," Vern declared.
Simultaneously Tiel and Doc glanced up at the old man, surprised to see him bending down to confide in them. "We're not incontinent."
Tiel could barely contain her smile. "We didn't ask."
"We're on our honeymoon," Vern explained in a confidential whisper. "Every night we go at it. Daytime too, if the urge strikes us. You know how randy honeymooners are. Those pads aren't the most comfortable things for the partner on bottom, but neither of us likes to lie in the wet spot, and it beats changing the sheets after each time."
The old man winked, turned away, and obeyed Ron nie's instruction to rejoin the others. He sat down beside his wife-his bride-who hugged him and gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek, commending him for his bravery.
Tiel, realizing her jaw was hanging slack, closed it with a soft click of her teeth. Her gaze slid to Doc, who was intent on timing Sabra's labor pain, but his thin lips were twitching with a smile.
From beneath his eyebrows, he glanced up at Tiel, caught her looking at him, and made a snuffling sound that passed for a laugh. "Gloves?"
"What?"
"Did you ask about the gloves?"
"Oh, uh, two pair of Rubbermaid."
He shook his head. 'Just as well be leather work gloves.
What about some vinegar?"
"Coming up."
"And gauze."
She asked Ronnie's permission to shop the aisles, where she found several plastic bottles of vinegar, a box of sterile gauze pads, and a package of disposable baby wipes. She gathered them up. On her way back to Sabra, another display caught her eye. On a burst of inspiration, she added two boxes of hair coloring to her collection.
When she got back to the girl, Sabra was listening intently to what Doc was telling her.
"It won't be comfortable, but I'll try not to hurt you, okay?"
The girl nodded and glanced apprehensively at Tiel.
"Have you ever had a pelvic exam, Sabra?" she asked softly.
"Once. When I went for birth-control pills." Tiel cocked her head quizzically, and Sabra lowered her eyes in em barrassment. "I stopped taking them because they made me fat."
"I see. Well, you've been examined before, so you know what to expect. This probably won't be any worse than that first exam. Right, Doc?"
"I'll make it as easy as I can."
Tiel gave the girl's hand a quick squeeze. "I'll be right over there if you-"
"No, stay here with me. Please." She motioned Tiel down for a private consultation.
"He's nice," she said, speaking in a low voice directly into Tiel's ear. "He acts like a doctor, and talks like a doctor, but he doesn't look like one, know what I mean?"
"Yes, I know what you mean."
"So I feel sorta weird, having him… you know? Could you, like, help me take off my underpants?"
Tiel straightened and looked at Doc. "Could you give us a moment, please?"
"Sure."
"What's happening?" Ronnie wanted to know when Doc stood up.
"The lady needs some privacy. From me. And you."
"But I'm her boyfriend."
"Which is exactly why you're the last person she wants observing."
"He's right, Ronnie," Sabra said. "Please."
The boy moved away with Doc. Tiel lifted Sabra's skirt and helped as she awkwardly raised her hips and worked her underwear down her thighs.
"There we go," Tiel said gently, taking away the damp garment, which Sabra had balled up to the size of a Ping-Pong ball.
"I'm sorry it's all icky."
"Sabra, starting right now, you're to stop apologizing.
I've never been in labor, but I'm sure I wouldn't approach it with near the dignity that you have. Are you more comfortable now?" Obviously not. She could tell by Sabra's grimace that she was in the throes of another pain. "Doc?"
He was there in an instant, pressing his hands on the mound of her stomach. "Sure wish he'd turn on his own."
"I'm hoping for a girl," Sabra told him on gasping breaths.
Doc smiled. "Really?"
"Ronnie would like a girl too."
"Daughters are grea
t, all right."
Tiel stole a glance at him. Did he have daughters? she wondered. She'd taken him for a bachelor, a loner. Maybe because he looked like the Marlboro man. You never saw the Marlboro man with a wife and family in tow.
Perhaps…? Tiel couldn't shake the feeling that she'd seen Doc somewhere before. His resemblance to the rugged models in the cigarette ads must be why he looked vaguely familiar.
When the pain passed, Doc placed his hands on the girl's raised knees. "Try and relax as much as possible.
And let me know if I'm hurting you, okay?"
"Oh, wait." Tiel reached for a box of hair coloring and opened it. Reading Doc's inquisitive expression, she explained.
"It comes with disposable gloves. They won't be great; they probably won't even fit," she added, glancing down at his manly hands, "but they might be better than nothing."
"Good thinking."
He peeled the plastic gloves off the sheet of waxed paper to which they were stuck and worked his hands into them. It was an O. J. Simpson fit and they looked clumsy, but he thanked Tiel, then once again assured Sabra that he would try his best not to make it too unpleasant.
"This might help." For modesty's sake, Tiel spread the second sheet over the girl's knees.
Doc gave her an approving glance. 'Just relax, Sabra.
It'll be over before you know it."
She took a deep breath and pinched her eyes shut.
"First I'm going to wash the area with one of these wipes. Then bathe it with some vinegar. It might be a little cold."
As he poured the vinegar over her, blotting at it with several of the gauze pads, he asked her how she was doing.
"Okay," she replied timorously.
Tiel found herself holding her own breath. "Breathe deeply, Sabra. It'll help you relax. Let's do it together. Big inhale. Now out." Upon penetration, Sabra flinched. Tiel said, "Again. Another deep breath in. Out. That's it. Not much longer now. You're doing great."
But she wasn't. Doc's expression told her as much. He withdrew his hand from between the girl's thighs and, hiding his concern, bragged on how well she'd done. He peeled off the gloves and reached for the bottle of hand wash, rubbing it vigorously onto his hands and forearms.
"Is everything all right?"
Ronnie was back. It was he who had asked the question, but Doc addressed his answer to Sabra. "You haven't dilated much."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that your labor is dysfunctional."
"Dysfunctional?"
"That's a harsh word, but that's the medical term for it.
As hard and frequent as your pains are coming, your cervix should be dilated more than it is. The baby is trying to push its way out, but not all the parts of your body are ready for the birth."
"What can you do?"
"I can't do anything, Ronnie, but you can. You can stop this foolishness and get Sabra to a facility where she'll receive proper obstetric care."
"I already told you, no."
"No," Sabra repeated.
Before there could be any further argument, the telephone rang.
CHAPTER 4
THE UNEXPECTED, SHRILL SOUND STARTLED EVERYONE.
Donna was nearest to the ringing telephone. "What should I do?" she asked.
"Nothing."
"Ronnie, maybe you should let her answer it," Tiel suggested.
"How come? It's probably got nothing to do with me."
"That could be. But what if it does concern you?
Wouldn't you rather know what you're up against?"
He mulled it over for several seconds, then gave Donna the go-ahead to answer.
"Hello?" She listened for a moment, then said, "Hi, Sheriff. No, he weren't drunk. Just like he told you, this kid here has got us held at gunpoint."
Suddenly the front of the building was bathed in brilliant light. Everyone inside had been so focused on Sabra's condition that none had heard the approach of the three squad cars, which had now flashed on their headlights. Tiel deduced that the sheriff was probably calling from one of the units, which were parked just beyond the gas pumps.
Ronnie ducked out of sight behind a Frito-Lay display, yelling, "Tell them to turn off those damn lights or I'm going to shoot somebody."
Donna relayed the message. She paused to listen, then said, "About eighteen, I'd guess. Calls hisself Ronnie."
"Shut up!" Ronnie brandished the pistol at her. She screeched and dropped the telephone receiver.
The car lights went out, two pair almost simultaneously, the third pair seconds later.
Sabra moaned.
Doc said, "Ronnie, listen to me."
"No. Be quiet and let me think."
The young man was flustered, but Doc persisted in a low, earnest voice. "Stay here and see this thing through if you like. But the manly thing to do would be to let Sabra leave. The authorities will take her to the hospital, where she needs to be."
"I won't go," the girl said. "Not without Ronnie."
Tiel appealed to her. "Think of your baby, Sabra."
"I am thinking of our baby," she sobbed. "If my daddy gets his hands on the baby, I'll never see it again. I won't give it up. I won't give Ronnie up, either."
Seeing that his patient was close to hysteria, Doc relented.
"Okay, okay. If you won't agree to leave, how about this? What if a doctor were to come here?"
"You're a doctor," Ronnie argued.
"Not the kind Sabra needs. I don't have any instruments.
I've got nothing to give her to relieve her pain.
This is going to be a difficult delivery, Ronnie. There could be all sorts of serious complications, which I'm unqualified to deal with. Are you willing to risk Sabra's life as well as the child's? Because by allowing the situation to continue as it is, that's what you're doing. You could lose one or both of them. Then, no matter how it pans out, it will all have been for nothing."
Tiel was impressed. She couldn't have phrased an appeal any better.
The young man gnawed on Doc's words for a minute, then motioned Tiel toward the counter and the dangling telephone receiver. For several moments after Donna had dropped it, a man's voice could be heard, demanding to know what was going on. Now, it was silent.
"You're good at shooting off your mouth," Ronnie said to Tiel. "You do the talking."
She came to her feet and made her way past Sabra and Doc, past the Frito-Lay display and across the open space to the counter. She wasted no time calling nine-one-one.
As soon as the operator answered, she said, "I need the sheriff to call me. Don't ask questions. He is aware of this emergency situation. Tell him to call the convenience store back." She hung up before the operator could proceed with the routine drill, which would be a waste of valuable time.
They waited in tense silence. No one said a word.
Gladys and Vern were huddled close together. When Tiel glanced in their direction, Vern subtly drew her attention to the tote bag in his lap. Somehow he had managed to retrieve it without Ronnie's being aware. A crafty Casanova.
That in itself would make a good story, Tiel thought. Except that she had a better one, in which she wasn't just a reporter, but a participant. Gully would be ecstatic. If this story didn't secure the Nine Live spot for her- Although she'd been expecting the telephone to ring, she jumped when it did. She answered it immediately.
"Who's this?"
She avoided a direct answer by saying, "Sheriff?"
"Marty Montez."
"Sheriff Montez, I've been appointed spokesperson.
I'm one of the hostages."
"Are you in immediate danger?"
"No," she replied, believing it.
"Are you being coerced?"
"No."
"Give me a rundown."
She began with a brief and concise account of the robbery, starting with Ronnie's shooting out the security camera.
"It was interrupted when his accomplice went into labor."
&nbs
p; "Labor? You mean labor like having a baby?"
"Exactly like that, yes."
After an extended pause during which she could hear the heavy breathing of an overweight man, he said, "Answer me if you safely can, miss. Are these robbers by any chance a coupla high school kids?"
"Yes."
"What's he asking?" Ronnie demanded to know.
Tiel covered the receiver with her palm. "He asked if Sabra was in pain and I answered." 'Jee-sus," the sheriff exclaimed in a near whistle. In a low voice he passed along to his deputies-or so Tiel assumed -that the hostage-takers were the kids "outta Fort Worth." Then to her, he asked, "Is anybody hurt?"
"No. We're all unharmed."
"Who-all's in there with you? How many hostages?"
"Four men and two women besides myself."
"You're a smooth talker. You wouldn't by any chance be a Ms. McCoy?"
She tried to hide her surprise from Ronnie, who was lis tening to her intently and closely monitoring her facial expressions. "That's correct. No one has been wounded."
"You are Ms. McCoy, but you don't want 'em to know you're a TV reporter? I see. Your boss, guy name o' Gully, he's called my office twice, demanding we put out an APB for you. Said you started from Rojo Flats and was supposed to call him-"
"What's he saying?" Ronnie asked.
She interrupted the sheriff. "It would be in everyone's best interest if you could provide us with a doctor. An OH if possible."
"Tell him to bring along anything he might need for a difficult delivery."
Tiel relayed Doc's message.
"Be sure he knows that the baby is in a breech position,"
Doc added.
After Tiel conveyed that, the sheriff asked who she was getting her information from. "He goes by Doc."
"You're shittin' me," the sheriff said.
"No."
"Doc's one of the hostages," she heard him pass along.
"Doc says the Dendy girl needs a specialist, huh?"
"That's right, Sheriff. And as soon as possible. We're concerned for her and the baby."
"If they surrender, we'll get her to a hospital pronto.
They have my guarantee."
"I'm afraid that's not a contingency."
"Davison won't let her go?"
