by Sandra Brown
"I'd've come whether you asked me to or not. Soon's I heard my boy was holed up here, I was anxious to get here. I was on my way out the door when you called."
Dendy, who'd been fuming in the background, had grabbed Davison by the shoulder and spun him around.
He thrust his index finger into the other man's face. "It's your fault my daughter is in the mess she's in. If anything happens to her, you're dead and so is the miscreant you spawned-"
"Mr. Dendy," Galloway had interrupted sternly. "Once again I'm on the verge of having you physically removed from this van. One more word and you're out of here."
The millionaire, ignoring Galloway's warning, had continued his harangue. "Your kid," he'd declared, "seduced my daughter, got her pregnant, and then kidnaped her.
I'm going to make it my life's mission that he never sees the light of day or breathes a breath of freedom. I'm going to make certain that he spends every single second of his miserable life in prison."
To Davison's credit, he had kept his cool. "It appears to me you're partly to blame for all this, Mr. Dendy. If you hadn't come down so hard on those kids they wouldn't've felt the need to run away. You know's well as I do that Ronnie didn't take your girl against her will. They love each other and ran away from you and your threats, is what I think."
"I don't give a fuck what you think."
"Well, I do," Galloway had said, shouting over Russell Dendy. "I want to hear Mr. Davison's take on the situation."
"You can call me Cole."
"All right, Cole. What do you know about this? Anything you can tell us about your son and his frame of mind will be helpful."
To which Dendy had said, "How about some sharpshooters?
A SWAT team? Now that would be helpful."
"Using force would risk the lives of your daughter and her baby."
"Baby?" Davison had exclaimed. "It's come?"
"From what we understand she delivered a baby girl about two hours ago," Galloway had informed him. "Both are reportedly doing okay."
"Reportedly," Dandy had snorted. "For all I know my daughter is dead."
"She's not dead. Not according to Ms. McCoy."
"She could've been talking to save her own hide. That lunatic could have been holding a gun to her head!"
"I don't think so, Mr. Dendy," Galloway had said, striving to remain calm. "And neither does our psychologist, who was listening to my conversation with Ms. McCoy. She sounds in perfect control, not like someone under duress."
"Who's this Ms. McCoy?" Davison had wanted to know.
Galloway explained, then he'd regarded Davison closely. "When was the last time you spoke to Ronnie?"
"Last night. He and Sabra were about to go over to the Dendys' house and tell her parents about the baby."
"How long have you known about the pregnancy?"
"A few weeks."
Dendy's face had turned beet red. "And you didn't see fit to tell me?"
"No, sir, I didn't. My son confided in me. I couldn't betray his trust, although I urged him to tell you." He had turned his back on Dendy and addressed the remainder of his remarks to Galloway.
"I had to run up to Midkiff today on account of a deep fryer going out. I didn't get home until late this evening.
Found a note from Ronnie on my kitchen table. It said they'd come by hoping to catch me. Said they had run away together and were headed for Mexico. Said they'd let me know how to reach them when they got where they were going."
"I'm surprised they would pay you a visit. Weren't they afraid you'd try and talk them into returning home?"
"Truth is, Mr. Galloway, I told Ronnie if they ever needed my help, I was pleased to offer it."
Dendy had attacked so quickly no one saw it coming, least of all Davison. Dendy landed on Davison's back with all his weight behind him. Davison would have fallen forward, had not Galloway caught him and broken his fall. As it was, both men landed hard against the wall of the van that was lined with computer terminals, TV monitors, video recorders, and surveillance equipment. Sheriff Montez grabbed Dendy by the shirt collar and hauled him backward, slamming him into the opposite wall.
Galloway had instructed one of his subordinates to drag Dendy the hell out of there.
"No!" Dendy had had the wind knocked out of him and was gasping for breath, but he managed to rasp, "I want to hear what he has to say. Please."
Somewhat mollified, Galloway had relented. "There will be no more of that crap, Dendy. Do you understand me?"
Dendy was red-faced and furious, but he nodded.
"Yeah. I'll get even with this son of a bitch later. But I want to know what's going on."
Order restored, Galloway had asked Davison if he was all right. Davison had picked his cowboy hat off the floor and dusted it off on the leg of his jeans. "Never mind about me. I'm worried about those kids. The baby, too."
"Do you think Ronnie was coming to you for money?"
"Could be. Regardless of what Mr. Dendy here thinks, I didn't offer to help them run away. In fact, just the opposite.
My advice to them was that they should stand up to him." The two parents exchanged dirty looks. "Anyhow,"
Davison had continued, "I reckon they could've used some cash. Ronnie works after school at a driving range to earn spending money, but his salary wouldn't finance a move to Mexico. Since I missed him today, I guess he decided to do this."
He'd gestured toward the store, his expression remorseful.
"My boy's not a thief. His mother and stepfather have done a good job with him. He's a good boy. I reckon he was feeling desperate to take care of Sabra and the baby."
"He's taken care of her, all right. He's ruined her life."
Paying no attention to Dendy, Davison had asked Galloway,
"So what's the plan? Have you got a plan?"
Galloway had brought Ronnie Davison's father up to speed. Checking his wristwatch, he'd added, "Fifty-seven minutes ago, he gave us an hour to persuade Mr. Dendy to leave them alone. They want his word that he won't interfere in their lives, that he won't give away their baby.
That-"
"Give away the baby?" Davison had looked at Dendy with patent dismay. "You threatened to give away their baby?" His disdainful expression spoke volumes. Shaking his head sadly, he'd turned back to Galloway. "What can I do?"
"Understand, Mr. Davison, that Ronnie will face criminal charges."
"I reckon he knows that."
"But the sooner he releases those hostages and surrenders, the better off he's going to be. So far no one's been hurt. Not seriously anyway. I'd like to keep it that way, for Ronnie's sake, as well as the others."
"He won't be hurt?"
"You have my word on that."
"Tell me what to do."
That conversation had resulted in Cole Davison placing a call to the store just as the deadline expired.
"Dad!" Ronnie exclaimed. "Where're you calling from?"
Tiel and Doc moved forward and listened carefully to what Ronnie was saying into the telephone. Judging by his reaction, he hadn't expected the call to be from his father.
From what Gully had told her earlier, Tiel knew the two were close. She imagined Ronnie was feeling a mix of shame and embarrassment, as any child experiences when caught red-handed doing something wrong by a parent he respects. Perhaps Mr. Davison could impress upon his son the trouble he was in and influence him to end the standoff.
"No, Dad, Sabra's doing okay. You know how I feel about her. I wouldn't've done anything to hurt her. Yeah, I know she should be in a hospital, but-"
"Tell him I'm not leaving you," Sabra called to him.
"It's not just me, Dad. Sabra says she won't go." As he listened, his eyes cut to Sabra and the baby. "She seems to be doing okay too. Ms. McCoy and Doc have been taking care of them. Yeah, I know it's serious."
The young man's features were taut with concentration.
Tiel looked around at her fellow hostages. All, including the Mexican men, who di
dn't even understand the language, were still, silent, and alert.
Doc felt her gaze when it moved to him. He raised his shoulders in a small shrug, then returned his attention to Ronnie, who was gripping the receiver so tightly his knuckles had turned white. His forehead was beaded with sweat. His fingers nervously flexed and contracted around the pistol grip.
"Mr. Galloway seems like a decent man to me too, Dad.
But it doesn't really matter what he says or guarantees. It's not the authorities we're running from. It's Mr. Dendy.
We aren't going to give up our baby and have strangers adopt her. Yes he would!" the boy stressed in a voice that cracked with emotion. "He would."
"They don't know him," Sabra said, her voice as ragged as Ronnie's.
"Dad, I love you," Ronnie said into the receiver. "And I'm sorry if I've made you ashamed of me. But I can't give up. Not until Mr. Dendy promises to let Sabra keep the baby."
Whatever Ronnie was hearing made him shake his head and smile at Sabra sadly. "Then there's something you, Mr. Dendy, the FBI, and everybody else ought to know, Dad. We-Sabra and I-made a pact before we left Fort Worth."
Tiel's chest constricted. "Oh, no."
"We don't want to live apart. I think you know what that means, Dad. If Mr. Dendy won't give up his control of our lives, our future, we don't want a future."
"Ah, Jesus." Doc dragged his hand down his face.
"Yes, Dad, I do," the boy insisted. He was looking at Sabra, who nodded her head solemnly. "We won't live without each other. You tell that to Mr. Dendy and Mr. Galloway.
If they don't let us leave and go our own way, nobody leaves here alive."
He hung up quickly. No one moved or said anything for several moments. Then, as though on cue, everyone began talking at once. Donna started to wail. Agent Cain kept up a litany of "You'll never get away with this." Vern professed his love for Gladys, while she begged Ronnie to think about his baby.
It was her statement that Ronnie addressed. "My dad will take Katherine and raise her like his own. He won't let Mr. Dendy get his hands on her."
"We decided all this ahead of time," Sabra said. "Last night."
"You can't mean it," Tiel said to her. "You can't."
"We do. It's the only way they'll understand how we feel about each other."
Tiel knelt down beside her. "Sabra, suicide isn't a viable way to make a point or win an argument. Think of your baby. She would never know you. Or Ronnie."
"She would never know us anyway. Not if my daddy had his way."
Tiel stood up and moved to stand beside Doc, who was making similarly urgent appeals to Ronnie. "To take that many lives, Sabra's life, you'd only be validating Dendy's low opinion of you. You've got to play smarter than him, Ronnie."
"No," the boy said stubbornly.
"Is that the legacy you want to leave your daughter?"
"We've thought about this for a long time," Ronnie said. "We gave Mr. Dendy an opportunity to accept us, and he refused. This is the only way out for us. I meant what I said. Sabra and I would rather die-"
"I don't think they're convinced."
"Huh?" He looked at Tiel, who had interrupted him.
Doc also turned to her, equally surprised by her statement.
"I bet they think you're bluffing."
An idea had first occurred to her earlier, when Ronnie was trying to convince Galloway that all the hostages were safe, including Agent Cain. She'd temporarily shelved the notion while assisting Sabra with the breast-feeding. Now it took another foothold in her mind and was expanding even as she vocalized it.
"For them to feel the impact of your decision, they need to understand how serious you are."
"I've told them," Ronnie said.
"But seeing is believing."
"What are you suggesting?" This from Doc.
"There's media out there. I'm sure a camera crew from my station is among them. Let's get a cameraman in here to record you." The boy was listening. She drove home her point. "We see how earnest you are," she said, indicating the others. "But it's impossible to convey your sincerity over the telephone. If Galloway could see you when you speak, see that Sabra is in total agreement, then I think he, your father, and Mr. Dendy would give more credence to what you're saying."
"You mean I'd be on TV?" Donna asked, sounding pleased at the prospect.
Ronnie's lower lip was getting brutalized by his upper teeth. "Sabra, what do you think?"
"I don't know," she said with uncertainty.
"Another thing," Tiel argued, "if Mr. Dendy could see his granddaughter, he might back down altogether. You claim to be more afraid of him than you are of the FBI."
"We are. He's a lot more ruthless."
"But he's a human being. Video pictures of Katherine would be powerfully persuasive. Up till now she's been just 'the baby,' a symbol of your rebellion against him. A video would make her real to him, cause him to rethink his position. And with your father and Agent Galloway working on him, I believe he would weaken and capitulate."
"Agent Galloway is not going to compromise on the Bureau's policy." Cain might just as well have saved his breath because no one heeded him or his comment.
"What do you say?" Tiel asked. "Isn't it worth a try? You don't want to kill us, Ronnie. And you don't want to kill Sabra and yourself, either. Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem."
"I'm not just blowing smoke!"
Tiel pounced on his emotional outburst. "Good! That's exactly what they need to see and hear. Use the videotape to convince them that you do not intend to back down."
He was struggling with indecision. "Sabra, what do you think?"
"Maybe we should, Ronnie." She glanced down at the child sleeping in her arms. "What Doc said about the legacy we leave Katherine… If there's another way out of this, isn't it worth a try at least?"
Tiel held her breath. She was near enough to Doc to tell that he was as taut as a piano wire.
"Okay," Ronnie said tersely. "One guy can come in. And you'd better tell them not to pull any tricks like they did with him," he said, gesturing toward Cain.
Tiel exhaled shakily. "Even if they tried, I wouldn't let them. If a crew from my station isn't here yet, we'll wait for one. Unless I recognize the videographer, he doesn't come in, okay? I give you my word." She turned to Cain.
"How can I contact Galloway?"
"I don't-"
"Don't give me any bullshit. What's the number?"
CHAPTER 10
Tiel was washing her chest with one of the baby wipes when she sensed movement behind her. She glanced around quickly, and it would be difficult to say who was the most discomfited, her or Doc. His eyes involuntarily dropped to her lilac lace brassiere. Tiel felt a warm blush rise out of it.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"I was a mess," she explained, bringing her shoulder back around to conceal her front. Her blouse had been stiff with the dried sanguineous fluid it had absorbed when she first held the newborn against her chest. Doc had been conferring with Ronnie, so Tiel had taken advantage of a moment's privacy to remove her blouse and wash. He'd returned before she expected him. "I thought I should clean up before appearing on camera."
She disposed of the towelette and picked up the spare T-shirt she had taken from the rack earlier. After pulling it on, she turned and held her arms out to her sides. On the front of the T-shirt was the Texas state flag with the word home underneath. "Not exactly haute couture," she remarked ruefully.
"It is in these parts." He checked on Sabra, then joined Tiel where she had sat down with her back to the freezer chest. She passed him a bottle of water. He drank after her with no compunction.
"How is she? Any better?"
Doc nodded a hesitant affirmative, but his brow was furrowed with concern. "She's lost a lot of blood. It's coagulated somewhat, but she needs to be sutured."
"There wasn't a suture kit in the doctor's bag?"
He shook his head. "I checked. So, even t
hough the bleeding has slackened, infection is a real concern."
Sabra and the baby were sleeping. After Tiel's telephone conversation with Agent Galloway to arrange the videotaping, Ronnie had resumed his post. He was most wary of the Mexicans and Cain. He watched them vigilantly.
Vern and Gladys were dozing, their heads together.
Donna was thumbing through a tabloid magazine, much as she would do on any other night when business was slow. For the time being, everything was quiet.
"What about the baby?" Tiel asked Doc.
"Holding her own." He had listened to Katherine's chest through the stethoscope included in the doctor's kit. "Heartbeat's strong. Lungs sound okay. But I'll feel a lot better when she's getting neonatal care from experts."
"Maybe it won't be much longer. My friend Gully runs our news operation. For several hours now he's known that I'm among the hostages. I'm almost certain our station has a crew already here. Galloway's checking on that, and promised to get back to me as soon as possible. I have every confidence in the effectiveness of video. It will soon be over."
"I hope so," he said, giving the young mother and baby another worried glance.
"You did a terrific job, Doc." He looked at her suspiciously, as though waiting for the other shoe to drop. "I mean that sincerely. You're very good. Maybe you should have chosen obstetrics or pediatrics over oncology."
"Maybe I should have," he said grimly. "I didn't have a very good success rate combating cancer."
"You had an excellent success rate. Far above the average."
"Yeah, well…"
Yeah, well, I couldn't cure the one that really counted. My own wife. Tiel mentally finished the thought for him. It would be pointless to argue how commendable his efforts to conquer the disease had been when, in his own mind, that single casualty had cost him the war.
"What directed you toward oncology?"
At first it seemed he wasn't going to answer. Finally he said, "My kid brother died of lymphoma when he was nine."
"I'm sorry."
"It was a long time ago."
"How old were you?"
"Twelve, thirteen."
