“Got him!” Joanna yelped triumphantly to the emptiness of the starlit desert sky.
Racing back to the car, she fastened her belt before slamming the car into gear. The tires sprayed rocks and dirt high into the air behind her as she plunged forward onto the high-way. As soon as the Blazer was safely back on the pavement, she switched on the radio.
“Suspect vehicle, missing one headlight, is eastbound on 181, probably two to three miles east of 191.”
“Copy,” Tica replied.
“Contact the Highway Patrol,” Joanna continued. “We need them to set up a roadblock south of Willcox where 181 meets 186. If he makes it all the way into Willcox, we may lose him completely.”
By then, she had reached the place where Deputy Casey’s patrol car was pulled over on the shoulder of the road. Neither Deputy Long nor his wrecked vehicle was visible from the Blazer until Joanna reached a spot where a wash crossed the road. There they were, down in the wash. Barely slowing, Joanna drove straight past.
“I just drove by Deputies Long and Casey,” Joanna said. “What’s the status?” she asked.
“Deputy Long is conscious and talking,” Tica replied. “The ambulance is still a good fifteen minutes out.”
Fifteen minutes! In a situation like that, fifteen minutes could mean the difference between life and death for Deputy Casey. And fifteen minutes was a terribly long time for Joanna to go without backup. Still, she couldn’t very we expect Deputy Casey to walk away, leaving his fellow officer gravely injured and alone.
“As soon as emergency crews reach the scene, tell Casey to follow me on 181. I’ll need him for backup, but not until someone’s there to take care of Deputy Long. Got that?”
“Got it,” Tica replied.
Gripping the wheel, flying toward the looming darkness of the Chiricahuas, Joanna felt incredibly alone. Once again her hands were so sweaty and slick that it was all she coould do to maintain control of the Blazer.
It had been years since she had traveled Highway 181 hut she knew it all too well. It led to a place in the mountains where volcanic activity, combined with wind and water erosion, had carved a forest of spindly rhyolite columns and magically balanced boulders. As a child, that part of the Chiricahuas had been Joanna Lathrop’s favorite place on earth. Her love affair had ended fifteen years earlier, when Ii Hank Lathrop died on that road while bringing home a carload of Girl Scout weekend campers. Since that day, Joanna had never once returned Io the Wonderland of Rocks.
Now, for the first time since that fateful Sunday afternoon, Joanna Lathrop Brady was back on that same stretch of highway. Her father had come to his end unwittingly. When he stopped to change a stranded motorist’s tire, there had been no way for him to tell in advance that his life was in danger. This was different. Joanna was up against a known killer. Hal Morgan was someone who hadn’t hesitated at resorting to violence on more than one occasion.
Joanna knew she was doing the right thing. She had no intention of tackling Morgan on her own. She had called for assistance and fully intended to wait until her backup arrived, but what if help came too late? What if lightning struck twice in the same place? Maybe Highway 181 would take Joanna’s life in much the same way it had taken her father’s.
Not bloody likely, she muttered under her breath. With that, she reached again for the radio.
EIGHTTEEN
“What’s happening with the Highway Patrol?” Joanna demanded into the radio.
“They’re moving,” Tica responded. “They have vehicles headed into the area coming from both Bowie and Texas Canyon. It’s going to take time for them to get into position. We’ve also asked the Willcox City Marshal for assistance. The problem is…”
“I know. Timing. What about Deputy Casey?”
“The ambulance crew and Chief Deputy Voland both just reached the scene. That means Casey’s on his way to you along with Deputies Voland and Hollicker. The emergency response team is also on its way.”
“Good,” Joanna said. An intense feeling of relief washed over her. Help was coming. Whatever happened, she wouldn’t have to face it alone.
The road was more winding now. Staying on it require all her concentration as she raced through what she knew to be scrub-oak-dotted foothills. Zigging and zagging and bouncing through one wash after another, it was impossible to see any distance ahead. The only consolation was that if she couldn’t see very far ahead or behind her, then neither could Hal Morgan. If the Willcox City Marshal was moving into position at the junction, Hal Morgan wouldn’t have the same kind of long-term warning he’d had of the roadblock at Township Butte. This time, maybe, they’d catch him.
“Sheriff Brady.” The radio squawked again.
“Yes.”
“Tom Givens from the city of Willcox is now in place,” Tica reported.
“He didn’t meet anybody coming northbound?”
“Not so far.”
Joanna breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Then we still have a chance of catching him. Givens knows what we’re up against?”
“He’s been warned.”
So have I, Joanna thought.
The road took a sharp jog to the left and then straightened again. Ahead, Joanna could see the flashing lights of Tom Givens’s patrol car. Between Joanna and the lights, there was nothing-no sign of any other vehicle, not on the road nor on either side of it.
“Damn!” Joanna muttered under her breath. “We’ve lost him again.”
When she reached the junction where Highway 181 heads off up into the monument itself, she found that both lanes of the roadway were blocked by a Ford Taurus bearing a city of Willcox insignia.
Recognizing her, Torn Givens stepped out of the vehicle. “Hey, there, Sheriff Brady. I got here just as fast as I could. Didn’t see anything along the way,” he added. “Not a damned soul. Do you think maybe he might have stopped off at one of the ranches?”
“Douse your lights for a minute,” Joanna said. “Just long enough for me to check something out. You can turn then on again if you see anybody coming.”
Once again she grabbed up the night-vision goggles. This time she trained them on the part of Highway 181 that climbed up the mountainside.
“There he is,” she crowed a minute later when she finally spotted the glow of a single headlight from a moving vehicle. “That’s got to be him.”
“But why the hell is he going up there?” Tom Given; asked. “There’s only one way in and one way out.”
“That’s right,” Joanna said. “We both know that, but maybe this guy doesn’t. Hal Morgan is from out of town. Get on the radio and notify the ranger station to be on the look out. And contact my department, too. My backup’s on the way. They’ll need to know we’ve got him cornered.”
With that, Joanna headed back for the Blazer. Givens followed her. “The biggest danger is going to come when Morgan figures that out for himself. Do you want me to comp along?”
Joanna shook her head. “No. You stay here, just in case he manages to double back and slip by me after all. And get your lights turned back on so somebody doesn’t run into you in the dark.”
Wrenching the Blazer into a quick U-turn, Joanna started off up the mountain. She was surprised to realize that her hands were no longer sweating. Maybe the bracing chill outside while she talked with Tom Givens had cured the sweat problem. True, she was still scared, but she was also amazingly calm. It was as though the interior of the Blazer had become the eye of a storm. In that sudden stillness Joanna Brady did something she had forgotten to do before. She prayed.
Thank you, God, for bringing us this far. Be with Debbie Howell and Ted Long. And be with me, too. Please.