Standoff

CHAPTER 15

The antiseptic the paramedic was dabbing onto her hands and knees made them sting. The broken glass had sliced through the fabric of her trousers, which had been cut off above her knees.

Tiel hadn't noticed the cuts at all until the paramedic began removing splinters of glass with tiny tweezers. Only then had they begun to hurt. The pain wasn't significant, however. She was more interested in what was going on around her than in the superficial wounds she had sustained.

Seated on a gurney-she had refused to climb inside the ambulance-she tried to see around the woman who was treating her. It was a chaotic scene. In the pale dawn, the lights of a dozen police and emergency vehicles created a dizzying kaleidoscope of flashing, colored lights.

Medical personnel, those who hadn't rushed to Ronnie's aid, were seeing to her, Treasury Agent Martinez, and Cain.

The media had been denied access to the immediate area, but news helicopters buzzed overhead like brute insects.

Parked on a mesa overlooking the depression known as Rojo Flats was a convoy of television vans. The satellite dishes mounted on their roofs reflected the new sun.

Ordinarily this would be the kind of scene on which Tiel McCoy thrived. She would be in her element. But the customary rush of adrenaline just hadn't been there when she stared into the lens of the video camera to do her live report.

She had tried to work up her usual level of enthusiasm, but she knew it was lacking and only hoped that the viewing audience wouldn't notice, or that if they did that they would assign her lack of verve to the ordeal she had endured.

The report certainly had a dramatic backdrop. She had shouted into her microphone as the CareFlight helicopter lifted off, bearing Ronnie Davison to the nearest emergency center, where a trauma team was standing by to treat the gunshot wound in his chest. The fierce winds created by the whirling blades whipped sand into her eyes. It was the blowing sand to which she attributed her unprofessional tears.

As soon as she concluded her ad-libbed summary of the events that had transpired over the past six hours, she listlessly passed the wireless mike back to Kip, who kissed her cheek, said, 'Terrific," then rushed off to shoot more B-roll, taking advantage of the access he had to the scene because of his association with her.

Only after finishing that piece of business had she consented to having her bleeding palms and knees examined.

Now, speaking to the paramedic, she said, "You must know something."

"I'm sorry, Ms. McCoy. I don't."

"Or you aren't telling."

The woman gave her a retiring look. "I don't know."

She recapped the bottle of antiseptic. "You really should go to the hospital and let someone look at these hands under better light. There might be glass slivers-"

"There aren't. I'm fine." She jumped off the gurney.

Her knees were becoming sore and stiff from the multiple cuts, but she hid her grimace from the paramedic. "Thank you."

"Tiel, you okay?" Gully came huffing up to her. "These sumbitches wouldn't let me past till you got those hands and knees seen to. The video looks great, kid. Best you've ever done. If this doesn't get you the Nine Live spot, then life ain't fair and I'm gonna quit the TV business myself."

"Have you heard anything about Ronnie's condition?"

"Not a thing."

"Sabra?"

"Nothing. Not since the cowboy turned her over to that Dr. Giles and they took her off in the chopper."

"Speaking of Doc, is he around?"

Gully didn't hear her. He was shaking his head and muttering, "Wish they had given me a crack at Dendy. A couple of minutes with me and he'd've been hating life."

"I assume he's under arrest."

"The sheriff had three deputies-meanest-looking cusses I've ever seen-haul his ass off to jail."

Even though she had seen it with her own eyes, she still found it impossible to believe that Dendy had shot Ronnie Davison. She expressed her dismay to Gully. "I don't understand how that could have happened."

"Nobody was paying him any attention. He had put on a good show for Galloway. Crying, wringing his hands. Admitted that he'd mishandled things. He led us to believe that he had seen the error of his ways, that all was for given, and that he only wanted Sabra to be safe. The lying bastard."

Tiel's pent-up emotions boiled to the surface, and she began to cry. "It's my fault, Gully. I promised Ronnie it would be safe for him to come out, that if he surrendered, he wouldn't be hurt."

"That's what we all promised him, Ms. McCoy."

She turned toward the familiar voice, her tears drying instantly. "I'm very put out with you, Agent Galloway."

"As your colleague just explained, I fell for Dendy's act of contrition. Nobody knew he had brought a deer rifle with him."

"Not just that. You could have warned me about that Huerta character when I brought the baby out."

"And if you'd known who he was, what would you have done?"

What would she have done? She didn't know, but somehow that seemed irrelevant. She asked, "Did you know Martinez was a Treasury agent?"

Galloway looked chagrined. "No. We assumed he was one of Huerta's henchmen."

Remembering how the wounded, shackled man had flung himself at Dendy, she remarked, "He did an awfully brave thing. Not only did he blow his cover, but he also risked his life. If any of the other officers had reacted more quickly…" She shuddered to think of the young man's body being riddled with bullets from fellow officers' guns.

"I've thought of that," Galloway admitted grimly. "He'd like to talk to you."

"Me?"

"Are you up to it?"

Galloway led her to another ambulance, apprising her along the way of Martinez's condition. "The bullet went straight through his leg without nicking a bone or an artery. Twice tonight he got lucky." He assisted her into the back of the ambulance.

The temporary dressing Doc had put on Martinez's thigh had been replaced by a sterile gauze bandage. The bloody T-shirt had been added to the pile of other infectious waste materials about to be discarded. Seeing it caused Tiel's heart to constrict. She recalled seeing Doc's hands fashioning the crude bandage for the wound he had inflicted.

Martinez was hooked up to an IV and was also getting a transfusion of blood. But his eyes were clear. "Ms. McCoy."

"Agent Martinez. You're very good at your job. You had us all fooled."

He smiled, showing the very straight white teeth she had noticed before. "That's the goal of an undercover operative.

Thank God Huerta was also fooled. I've been a member of his organization since last summer. A truckload of people came across the border last night."

"It was intercepted about an hour ago," Galloway informed them. "As usual, the conditions inside were deplorable.

The people locked in were actually grateful for being taken into custody. They considered it a rescue."

"Huerta and I were on our way to make the sale to a wheat farmer up in Kansas. Huerta was to be arrested as soon as the transaction went down. We stopped here to get a snack."

He shrugged, as though to say they knew the rest. "I'm just glad that neither of us went into that store armed.

We'd left our weapons in the car-something that never happens. It was a twist of fate, or divine intervention, whatever. If Huerta had been carrying, it would've got real ugly real soon."

"Will you be in danger of reprisal?"

Again he flashed a smile. "I'm trusting the department to make me disappear. If you ever see me again, you probably won't recognize me."

"I see. One more question, why did you try and take the baby?"

"Huerta wanted to rush Ronnie, overpower him. I volunteered to distract everyone by grabbing the baby. Actually, I was afraid he'd do something to the child. That was the only way I knew to protect her."

Tiel shivered at the thought of what might have been.

"You seemed particularly hostile toward Cain."

"He recognized me," Martinez exclaimed. "We'd worked a case together a couple years ago. He didn't have the good sense to keep his trap shut. Several times he nearly blew it for me. I had to shut him up." Looking at Galloway, he added, "I think he needs a refresher course at Quantic"

Tiel hid her smile. "We have you to thank for several acts of bravery, Mr. Martinez. I'm sorry you got shot for your effort."

"That guy-Doc-did what he had to do. If the situation had been reversed, I'd have done the same. I'd like to tell him I don't hold a grudge."

Galloway said, "He's already left."

Hiding her disappointment and despite the small cuts on her palm, Tiel shook Martinez's hand and wished him well, then was helped down out of the ambulance, where Gully was smoking a cigarette while waiting. As the ambulance pulled away, Gladys and Vern joined them.

Apparently they had returned to their RV, because they were wearing different clothes, smelled of soap, and were looking as spry and alert as though they'd just returned from a two-week visit to a health spa. Tiel hugged them in turn.

"We couldn't leave without giving you our address and getting your promise to stay in touch." Gladys handed her a slip of paper on which was written an address in Florida.

"I promise. Are you continuing the honeymoon from here?"

"After a stop in Louisiana to see my son and grandchildren,"

Vern said.

"Who are without a doubt the five most ornery little bastards on earth."

"Now, Gladys."

"I'm only telling it like it is, Vern. They're heathens and you know it." Then her demeanor changed. She blotted away the tears that suddenly appeared in her eyes. "I just hope those two young people come through this. I'll be worried sick until I hear that they're all right."

"So will I." Tiel squeezed Gladys's small hand.

Vern said, "We had to give our statements to the sheriff, then to the FBI agents. We told them you couldn't help hitting that Cain with the chili on account of he was such an idiot."

Gully snickered. Galloway tensed, but he let the criticism go without comment.

"Donna's hogging the TV cameras," Gladys said with pique. "To hear her tell it, she was a heroine."

Vern reached into his tote bag, removed a small videocassette, and pressed it into Tiel's hand. "Don't forget this," he whispered.

Actually, she had forgotten the camcorder tape.

Gladys said, "We sneaked back into the store to get it."

"Thank you. For everything." Tiel got emotional again when they said their final farewell and headed for their RV.

"Honeymoon?" Gully asked as they moved away.

"They were terrific. I'm going to miss them."

He looked at her strangely. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Because you're acting sorta weird."

"I've been up all night." Straightening her shoulders and adopting the demeanor she assumed when cameras were about to roll, she turned to Galloway. "I suppose you have a lot of questions for me."

In the van, Galloway plied her with coffee and breakfast burritos donated by the ladies' auxiliary of the First Baptist Church. It took over an hour for him to get from her all the information he required.

"I think that's it for now, Ms. McCoy, although we'll probably have some follow-up questions."

"I understand."

"And it wouldn't surprise me if the respective DAs ask you to attend when we convene to discuss the charges against Ronnie Davison."

"If you convene," she said softly.

The FBI agent looked away, and Tiel realized he bore a large measure of guilt over what had happened. Perhaps even more than she. He admitted to being duped by Russell Dendy's playacting. He hadn't noticed Dendy returning to the private charter helicopter he had arrived in and retrieving a deer rifle from it. If the unthinkable happened and Ronnie died, Galloway would have much to account for.

"Have you received any update on Ronnie's condition?"

"No," Galloway replied. "All I know is that he was alive when they put him in the chopper. I've heard nothing further.

The baby is fine. Sabra is listed in poor condition, which is better than I had hoped for. She's received several units of blood. Her mother is with her."

"I haven't seen Mr. Cole Davison."

"They let him accompany Ronnie in the helicopter. He was… well, you can imagine."

They were quiet for a moment, impervious to the activity of the other agents, who were busy with the "mopping up." Eventually Galloway signaled her out of her chair and escorted her outside, where the morning was now full blown.

"Good-bye, Mr. Galloway."

"Ms. McCoy?" Having started to walk away, she turned back. Special Agent Galloway looked slightly ill at ease with what he was about to say. "This was a terrible ordeal for you, I'm sure. But I'm glad we had someone in there who is as level-headed as you. You helped keep everyone sane and acted with remarkable composure."

"I'm not remarkable, Mr. Galloway. Bossy maybe," she said with a wan smile. "If it hadn't been for Doc-" She tilted her head inquisitively. "Did he give you his statement?"

"Sheriff Montez took his."

He motioned her toward the sheriff, whom she hadn't noticed leaning against the side of the van in the shade.

He tipped his wide-brimmed hat and ambled toward her, but ignored her unspoken question about Doc.

"Our mayor has offered to put you up at the local motel. It's not the Ritz," he warned with a chuckle. "But you're welcome to stay as long as you like."

"Thank you, but I'm returning to Dallas."

"Not right now you're not." Gully had joined them, and with him was Kip. "We're going back in the chopper and deliver this tape to the editor so she can start putting the piece together."

"I'll go too, and send someone back for my car."

He was shaking his head before Tiel finished speaking.

"Not enough room for more than two passengers, and I gotta get back. No telling what that freak with the rings in his eyebrow has done to my newsroom. You take the mayor up on his kind offer. We'll send the chopper for you later, along with an intern to drive your car back to Dallas. Besides, you stink. A shower wouldn't hurt."

"You really know how to turn on the charm when you have to, Gully."

It seemed the matter was settled, and she was too exhausted to put up much of a fight. They specified a time and place for her to meet the helicopter, and Sheriff Montez promised to have her there. Gully and Kip said their good-byes and hustled off toward the waiting chopper with the station's call letters painted on the sides.

Galloway extended his hand. "Good luck to you, Ms.

McCoy."

"And to you." She shook hands with him, but when he would have withdrawn, she detained him. "You said you were glad it was me who was in there," she said, nodding in the direction of the store. "I'm glad it was you out here, Mr. Galloway." And she meant it. They'd been very lucky to have him as the agent in charge of such a delicate situation.

Another might not have handled it with the sensitivity he had shown.

The implied compliment seemed to embarrass him.

"Thank you," he said briskly, then turned and reentered the van.

Sheriff Montez retrieved her bags from her car and placed them in the back seat of his squad car. She protested his chauffeuring her. "I can drive myself, Sheriff."

"No need. You're so tuckered out, I'd be afraid you'd fall asleep at the wheel. If you're worried about your car, I'll send a deputy over for it. We'll keep it parked at our office where we can keep an eye on it."

Surprisingly, she found it a welcome change to relinquish control and to not have to make any mind-taxing decisions. "Thank you."

It was a short trip to the motel. Six rooms were lined up along a covered breezeway that provided a hair's-breadth of shade. All the doors were painted UT orange.

"No need to check in. You're the only guest." Montez slid from behind the steering wheel and came around to assist her out.

He had the room key and used it to open the door. The air conditioner had already been turned on. The window unit hummed loudly and one of its internal parts clanked intermittently, but these were friendly sounds. A vase of sunflowers and a basket filled with fresh fruit and baked goods wrapped in pink plastic had been placed on the room's one small table.

"The Catholic ladies weren't about to be outdone by the Baptists," he told her.

"You've all been very kind."

"Not at all, Ms. McCoy. Weren't for you, it could've gone a lot worse. None of us wanted Rojo Flats to be put on the map by something like a massacre." He touched the brim of his hat as he backed out, pulling the door closed behind him. "You want anything, call the desk.

Otherwise nobody'll bother you. Rest well. I'll be back for you later."

Ordinarily the first thing Tiel did upon entering a room was switch on the television set. She was a news junkie.

Whether or not she was actually watching the screen, she was always tuned to a twenty-four-hour news station. She fell asleep to it, and woke up to it.

Now, she moved past the TV set without even noticing it and carried her toiletry bag with her into the minuscule bathroom. The shower was barely large enough to turn around in, but the water was hot and there was plenty of it. Standing beneath the steaming spray, she let it pound against her skull before shampooing. She lathered lavishly with her imported soap sold exclusively at Neiman's. She shaved her legs, avoiding the lacerations on her knees.

She used her hair dryer only long enough to blow out most of the water, then bent over the sink to brush her teeth.

All of which felt wonderful.

So why did she feel so lousy?

She had just filed the most important story of her career. Nine Live was as good as hers now. Gully had said so.

She should be dancing on the ceiling. Instead her limbs felt as though they weighed a thousand pounds apiece.

Where was the fizzy high she derived from a good news story? Her spirit was as flat as three-day-old champagne.

Sleep deprivation. That was it. Once she had napped for several hours, she would be right as rain. Her old self.

Recharged and ready.

Back in the bedroom, she took a tank top and briefs from her suitcase and put them on, set her travel alarm clock, then turned down the bed. The sheets looked soft and inviting. It occurred to her that her knees and palms might bleed on them, but she was beyond caring.

When she heard the knock, she took it for another ping in the air conditioner's mechanism. But when it was followed by a second, she moved to the door and pulled it open.