by Sandra Brown
Indeed, the gunshots had plunged everyone inside the van into a state of near panic. Cole Davison had rushed outside, only to return moments later, yelling at Galloway because the SWAT team had been mobilized.
"You promised! You said Ronnie wouldn't get hurt. If you pressure him, if he feels like you're closing in on him, he might… might do something like he did before."
"Calm down, Mr. Davison. I'm taking precautionary measures as I see fit." Galloway held the telephone receiver to his ear, but thus far his call into the convenience store had gone unanswered. "Can anybody see anything?"
"Movement," one of the other agents hollered. Via a headset, he was communicating with another agent outside who was equipped with binoculars. "Can't make out who's doing what."
"Keep me posted."
"Yes, sir. Are you going to tell the kid about Huerta?"
"Who's that?" Dendy wanted to know.
"Luis Huerta. One of our Ten Most Wanted." To the other agent, Galloway replied, "No, I'm not going to tell them. That might panic everyone, including Huerta. He's capable of just about anything."
Ronnie answered the phone. "Not now, we're busy!"
Galloway swore lavishly when the dial tone replaced Ronnie's frantic voice. He immediately redialed.
"One of the Mexicans in there is on the FBI's Ten Most Wanted list?" Cole Davison was becoming increasingly distraught.
"What for? What'd he do?"
"He smuggles Mexican nationals across the border with promises of work visas and well-paying jobs, then sells them into slave labor. Last summer Border Patrol got tipped of a transport and were hot on his tail. Huerta and two of his henchmen, realizing they were about to be apprehended, abandoned the truck in the New Mexico desert and scattered like the cockroaches they are. All evaded capture.
"The van wasn't found for three days. Forty-five people- men, women, and children-had been locked in from the outside. The heat inside the trailer must've reached two hundred degrees or higher. Huerta is wanted on forty-five counts of murder and miscellaneous other felonies.
"For almost a year he's been holed up somewhere in Mexico. The authorities down there are cooperative and want him as badly as we do, but he's a cagey bastard. Only one thing could get him to risk exposure. Money. Lots of it. So if he's resurfaced here, then I'm guessing that somewhere in the general vicinity there's a shipment of people waiting to be sold."
Davison looked ready to heave his last meal. "Who's the man with him?"
"One of his bodyguards, I'm sure. They're dangerous, ruthless men, and their stock in trade is human beings
.
What puzzles me is why they aren't armed. Or if they are, why they haven't shot their way out before now."
Dendy's chest rose and fell, emitting a gurgling sound like a sob. "Listen, Galloway. I've been thinking."
Even though Galloway kept the telephone receiver to his ear, he gave Russell Dendy his full attention. He suspected that Dendy was tight. He'd been sipping at the flask throughout the evening. He appeared extremely upset, on the brink of losing control of his emotions. He was no longer being a belligerent pain in the ass.
"I'm listening, Mr. Dendy." 'Just get them out of there safely. That's what's important now. Tell Sabra she can keep the baby. I won't interfere.
That videotape of my daughter…" He rubbed the back of his hand across leaking eyes. "It got to me. Nothing else matters anymore. I just want to see my daughter safely out of there."
"That's my goal too, Mr. Dendy," Galloway assured him.
"Agree to any of the boy's terms."
"I'll negotiate for him the best deal I can. But first, I've got to get him to talk to me."
The telephone continued to ring.
"Ronnie?"
The young man didn't realize that Doc was in possession of the pistol. Evidently, in all the confusion, Ronnie had forgotten about Cain's secreted weapon. Doc raised his hand, and, seeing the gun, the younger man flinched.
Donna let out a squeak of fright before clapping both hands over her mouth.
But Doc palmed the short barrel and extended the grip toward Ronnie. "That's how much faith I have in you to make the right decision."
Looking terribly young, uncertain, and vulnerable, Ronnie took the gun and stuffed it into the waistband of his jeans. "You already know my decision, Doc."
"Suicide? That's not a decision. That's a chickenshit copout."
The boy blinked in surprise over the blunt language, but it served to shake his resolve, which Tiel surmised was Doc's intention. "I don't want to talk about it. Sabra and I have made up our minds."
"Answer the phone," Doc encouraged in a calm, persuasive voice. "Tell them what happened in here. They heard the shots. They don't know what the hell is going on, but they're probably thinking the worst. Allay their fears, Ronnie. Otherwise, at any second a SWAT team may come barging in here, and somebody will wind up bloody, possibly dead."
"What SWAT team? You're lying."
"Would I lie to you after handing you a loaded gun?
Hardly. I saw men taking up positions while you were distracted by tying up those Mexican guys. The SWAT team is out there, itching for a signal from Galloway. Don't give him reason to activate them."
Ronnie glanced nervously through the plate glass, but he could see nothing except the growing number of official vehicles that had converged on the area and created a traffic jam on the highway.
"Let me answer the phone, Ronnie," Tiel suggested, stepping forward to take advantage of his indecision.
"Let's hear what they have to say about the video. Their reaction to it might have been very positive. They could be calling to agree to all your conditions."
"Okay," he muttered, motioning her toward the telephone.
She counted it a blessing to stop the infernal ringing.
"It's Tiel," she said upon lifting the receiver.
"Ms. McCoy, who fired those shots? What's going on in there?"
Galloway's brusqueness conveyed his concern. Not wanting to keep him in suspense, as succinctly as possible she explained how Cain's pistol had come to be fired. "It was hairy there for a minute or two, but the situation is now under control again. The two men who caused the fracas have been contained," she said, using Doc's euphemistic terminology.
"You're referring to the two Mexican men?"
"That's correct."
"They're secure?"
"Correct again."
"And where is Agent Cain's pistol now?"
"Doc gave it to Ronnie."
"I beg your pardon?"
"As a sign of trust, Mr. Galloway," she said testily, in Doc's defense.
The FBI agent expelled a long breath. "That's a hell of a lot of trust, Ms. McCoy."
"It was the right thing to do. You'd have to be here to understand."
"Apparently," he said dryly.
While talking to Galloway, she'd been listening with one ear to Doc as he continued trying to persuade Ronnie to surrender. She heard him say, "You're a father now. You're responsible for your family. Sabra's condition is critical, and there's nothing more I can do for her."
Galloway asked, "You don't feel in danger of him?"
"Not at all."
"Are any of the hostages in danger?"
"Presently, no. I can't predict what will happen if those guys in body armor charge the place."
"I don't intend to give that order."
"Then why are they there?" He paused for a long moment, and Tiel got the uneasy and distinct impression that he was withholding something, something important.
"Mr. Galloway, if there's something I should know-"
"We've had a change of heart."
"You're giving up and going away?" At this point, that would be her fondest wish.
Galloway ignored her facetiousness. "The videotape was effective. You'll be glad to learn that it achieved exactly what you hoped. Mr. Dendy was touched by his daughter's appeal and is now ready to make concessions. He wants this t
o end peaceably and safely. As we all do. What is Ronnie's current state of mind?"
"Doc's working on him."
"How is he responding?"
"Favorably, I think."
"Good. That's good."
He sounded relieved, and, again, Tiel got the impression that the federal agent was withholding something she'd be better off knowing.
"Do you think he'll go for total surrender?"
"He specified the conditions under which he would surrender, Mr. Galloway."
"Dendy will concede that this was a runaway and not a kidnaping. Of course the additional charges would stand."
"And they must be allowed to keep their child."
"Dendy said as much himself a few minutes ago. If Davison will agree to those terms, he'll have my personal guarantee that no force will be used."
"I'll pass along the message and get back to you."
"I'm standing by."
She hung up. Ronnie and Doc turned to her. In fact, everyone was listening intently. It seemed that the role of mediator had been bestowed on her. She didn't particularly welcome it. Suppose, despite everyone's best intentions, something went terribly wrong? If this standoff ultimately ended in disaster, for the rest of her life she would feel responsible for the tragic outcome.
Over the course of the last few hours, Tiel's priority had shifted. It had been a gradual shift, and until this moment she hadn't even realized that it had taken place. The news story had become a secondary consideration. At what point had it become an afterthought? When she saw Sabra's blood on her gloved hands? When Juan threatened Katherine's fragile life?
The people making the story were much more important to her now than the story itself. Producing a prizewinning, job-securing exclusive account of this drama wasn't as vital a goal as it had been previously. What she wished for now was a resolution to celebrate, not lament.
If she blew it…
She simply couldn't, that's all.
"The kidnaping allegation has been dropped," she told Ronnie, who was listening expectantly. "You'll have to face other criminal charges. Mr. Dendy has agreed to let Sabra keep the baby. If you agree to these terms and surrender, Mr. Galloway gives you his personal guarantee that no force will be used."
"It's a good deal, Ronnie," Doc said. "Take it."
"No, don't."
Sabra spoke in hardly more than a croak. Somehow she had managed to stand. She was leaning heavily against the freezer chest in order to keep herself upright. Her eyes were sunken and her complexion was leeched of all color.
She looked like someone who'd had theatrical makeup expertly applied for a character rising out of a coffin.
"It's a trick, Ronnie. One of Daddy's tricks."
Doc rushed over to lend her support. "I don't think so, Sabra. Your dad responded to the video message you sent him."
Gratefully she clung to Doc, but her dull eyes beseeched Ronnie. "If you love me, don't agree to this. I won't leave here until I know I can be with you forever."
"Sabra, what about your baby?" Tiel asked gently.
"Think of her."
"You take her."
"What?"
"Carry her out. Give her to someone who'll take care of her. No matter what happens to us-to Ronnie and me- it's important to me to know that Katherine is going to be all right."
Tiel looked hopefully toward Doc for inspiration, but his expression was bleak. He seemed to feel as helpless as she.
"That's it then," Ronnie stated firmly. "That's what we'll do. We'll let you carry Katherine out. But we're not leaving until they let us go. Free and clear. No compromise."
"They'll never agree to that," Tiel said with desperation.
"That's an unreasonable demand."
"You committed armed robbery," Doc added. "You'll have to account for that, Ronnie. But because of extenuating circumstances, you'd have a good chance of beating the rap. Running away would be the worst thing you could do. That would solve nothing."
Tiel glanced at Doc, wondering if he were listening to his own advice. The admonishment against running away could be applied to him and his circumstances three years ago. He didn't notice her glance, however, because his attention was on Ronnie, who was arguing his point.
"Sabra and I vowed that we would never be forced apart. No matter what, we promised each other to stay together.
We meant it."
"Your father-"
"I'm not going to talk about it," the young man snapped. Turning to Tiel, he asked if she would carry Katherine out and deliver that message.
"What about the others? Will you release them?"
He glanced beyond her at the other hostages. "Not the two Mexicans. And not him," he said of Agent Cain. He had regained consciousness but appeared still to be incoherent from the kick in the head Juan had given him.
"The old folks and her. They can go."
When he pointed to Donna, she clasped her claw-like hands beneath her chin. "Thank you, Lord."
"I don't want to go," Gladys announced. She was still holding the sleeping infant in her arms. "I want to see what's going to happen."
"We'd better do as he says," Vern said, patting her shoulder. "We can wait for everybody else outside." He assisted Gladys up off the floor. "Before we go, I'm sure Sabra wants to tell Katherine goodbye."
The old lady carried the baby over to Sabra, where she was leaning heavily against Doc.
"Shall I notify Galloway of your decision?" Tiel asked Ronnie.
He was watching Sabra and his baby. "Half an hour."
"What?"
"That's the time limit I'm giving them to get back to me. If they won't let us leave in half an hour, we'll… we'll carry out our plan," he said thickly.
"Ronnie, please."
"That's it, Ms. McCoy. You tell them."
Galloway answered her call before the completion of the first ring. "I'm coming out with the baby. Have medical personnel standing by. I'm bringing out three of the hostages with me."
"Only three?"
"Three."
"What about the rest?"
"I'll tell you when I get there."
She hung up on him.
As Tiel approached Sabra, the young woman was crying.
"Bye-bye, sweet Katherine. My beautiful baby girl.
Mommie loves you. Very much." She was bent over the child, inhaling her scent, touching her everywhere. She kissed Katherine's face several times, then turned her own into Doc's shirt and sobbed.
Tiel took the baby from Gladys, who'd been holding her because Sabra didn't have the strength. Tiel carried Katherine over to Ronnie. As the young man gazed at the baby, his eyes filled with tears. His lower lip trembled uncontrollably. He was trying so hard to be tough, and failing miserably.
"Thanks for all you've done," he said to Tiel. "I know Sabra liked having you around."
Tiel's eyes appealed to him. "I don't believe you'll do it, Ronnie. I refuse to believe you would-could-pull that trigger and end Sabra's life and yours."
He chose not to respond and instead kissed the baby's forehead. "Bye, Katherine. I love you." Then, his motions jerky and abrupt, he stepped behind the counter to release the electric door lock.
Tiel allowed the others to go ahead of her. Before stepping through the door, she glanced over her shoulder at Doc. He had eased Sabra back onto the floor, but he raised his head as though Tiel's gaze had beckoned him.
Their eyes connected for only a millisecond, but, undeniably, it was a meaningful span of time and contact.
Then she slipped through the door and heard the bolt snap into place behind her.
From out of the darkness paramedics rushed forward.
Obviously, pairs of them had been pre-assigned to each hostage. Vern, Gladys, and Donna were surrounded and barraged with questions, which Gladys answered in a decidedly querulous tone.
A man and woman wearing identical scrubs and lab coats materialized in front of Tiel. The woman reached for Katherine, but Tiel didn't relinq
uish her just yet.
"Who are you?"
"Dr. Emily Garrett." She introduced herself as chief of the neonatal unit at a Midland hospital. "This is Dr.
Landry Giles, chief of obstetrics."
Tiel acknowledged the introductions, then said, "Regardless of anything you've heard to the contrary, the parents do not wish to put the child up for adoption."
Dr. Garrett's expression was as steadfast and guileless as Tiel could have hoped for. "I understand completely.
We'll be waiting for the mother's arrival."
Tiel kissed the top of Katherine's head. She had a bond with this baby that she probably would never have with another human being-she had witnessed her birth, her first breath, had heard her first cry. Even so, the depth of her emotion surprised her. "Take good care of her."
"You have my word."
Dr. Garrett took the baby and ran with her toward the waiting chopper, the blades of which were already whirling and kicking up a fierce wind. Dr. Giles had to shout to make himself heard above the racket.
"How's the mother?"
"Not good." Tiel gave him a condensed version of the labor and birth, then described Sabra's present condition.
"Doc's most worried about loss of blood and infection.
Sabra's becoming increasingly weak. Her blood pressure is dropping, he said. Based on what I've told you, is there anything you can advise him to do?"
"Get her to the hospital."
"We're working on it," she said grimly.
The man approaching with a long and purposeful stride could only be Galloway. He was tall and slender, but even in shirtsleeves he exuded an air of authority. "Bill Galloway," he said, confirming his identity as soon as he joined her and Dr. Giles. They shook hands.
Gully hobbled up to her in his bandy-legged run.
'Jesus, kid, if I don't die of a heart attack after tonight, I'll live forever."
She hugged him. "You'll outlive us all."
On the fringes of the growing group she noticed a stout man dressed in a white cowboy shirt with pearl buttons.
He held a cowboy hat similar to Doc's in his hands. Before she could introduce herself to him, he was rudely elbowed aside.
