From the start Galloway had doubted Dendy's allega tion of a kidnaping. Instead he leaned heavily toward the more viable version: Sabra Dendy had run away from home with her boyfriend in order to escape her domineering father.
Galloway's dressing-down had left Russ Dendy practically spitting with fury. "I'm on my way out there."
"I don't advise that."
"As if I give a rat's ass what you advise."
"There's no room in our chopper for extra passengers," the agent called to Dendy's retreating back.
"Then I'll take my Lear."
He stormed from the room and began shouting orders to his band of flunkies who were ever present, as silent and unobtrusive as pieces of furniture until Dendy's strident commands jump-started them. They filed out behind him. Mrs, Dendy was ignored and not invited to go along.
Galloway disengaged the speaker phone and picked up the receiver, so he could hear the other agent more clearly. "Guess you heard all that."
"You've got your hands full, Galloway."
"And then some. How're the locals out there?"
"From what I understand, Montez is a competent sheriff, but he's in way over his head and is smart enough to know it. He's getting backup from the Rangers and highway patrol."
"Will they resent our presence, you think?"
"Don't they always?" she came back dryly.
"Well, it came to us as a kidnaping. I'm leaving it at that until I know better."
"Actually, Montez will probably be glad to land the problem in our lap. His chief concern is that there be no heroics. He wants to avoid bloodshed."
"Then he and I are on the same page. I think what we've got here is a couple of scared kids who've got themselves trapped in a situation and can't find a way out.
What, if anything, do you know about the hostages?"
She gave him the breakdown by gender. "One's been identified by Sheriff Montez as a local rancher. The cashier is a fixture at the convenience store. Everybody in Rojo Flats knows her. And that Ms. McCoy who talked to Sheriff Montez?"
"What about her?"
"She's a reporter for a TV station in Dallas."
"Tiel McCoy?"
"So you know her?"
He knew her and mentally formed an image: slender, short blond hair, light eyes. Blue, possibly green. She was on TV nearly every night. Galloway had also seen her outside the studio among reporters at the scenes of crimes he'd investigated. She was aggressive, but objective. Her reports were never unfairly inflammatory or exploitative.
She was a looker and utterly feminine, but her delivery merited credibility.
He wasn't thrilled to hear that a broadcast journalist of her caliber was at the epicenter of this crisis. It was a compounding factor he could easily have done without.
"Great. A reporter is already on the scene." He ran his hand around the back of his neck, where tension had begun to gather. It was going to be a long night. He predicted the previously unheard-of Rojo Flats would soon be swarmed by media, contributing to the mayhem.
The other agent asked, "Gut instinct, Galloway. Did that boy kidnap the Dendy girl?"
Beneath his breath, Galloway muttered, "I only wonder why it took her so long to run away."
CHAPTER 5
While they waited for the promised doctor to arrive, Doc gleaned a pair of scissors and a pair of shoelaces from the store's stock. He placed them to boil in a carafe usually used for water with which to mix instant hot drinks.
He also took from the shelves sanitary napkins, adhesive tape, and a box of plastic trash bags.
He asked Donna if they stocked aspirators. When she stared at him blankly, he explained. "A rubber bulb syringe.
To suck the mucus from the baby's nose and throat."
She scratched her scaly elbow. "Don't have much call for those."
Ronnie was nervous when Doc picked up the carafe of boiling water. He ordered him to let Gladys pour out the water, which the elderly lady was all too happy to do.
Following that activity, the wait grew to be interminable.
Everyone inside the store was aware of the increasing number of arriving vehicles. The distance between the gasoline pumps and the store's entrance was like a DMZ; it was kept clear. But the area between the pumps and the highway became congested with official and emergency vehicles. When that space was filled, they began parking on the shoulder of the highway, lining both sides of the state road. They hadn't arrived running hot, but the absence of flashing lights and sirens made their presence even more ominous.
Tiel wondered if the back of the building was seeing as much activity as the front. Obviously that possibility occurred to Ronnie, too, because he asked Donna about a rear door.
She said, "In the hall going to the bathrooms? See that door? Through that is the stockroom. Also the freezer where those crazy kids locked me in."
"I asked about the back door."
"It's steel and bolted from the inside. It has a bar across it, and the hinges are on the inside, too. It's so heavy I can barely open it for deliveries."
If Donna were telling the truth, no one would be coming through the rear door silently. Ronnie would be signaled of an attempt well ahead of time.
"What about the rest rooms?" he wanted to know. "Any windows in them?"
She shook her head no.
"It's true," Gladys chirped. "I was in the ladies'. If you ask me, better ventilation wouldn't hurt."
Those worries laid to rest, Ronnie divided his attention among Sabra, his hostages, and the increasing movement outside, which was more than enough to keep him occupied.
Tiel excused herself from Sabra's side and asked Ronnie if she could get into her satchel. "My contacts are dry. I need my wetting solution."
He glanced quickly toward the bag where it sat on top of the counter. She'd left it there after retrieving the hand wash for Doc. He seemed to be debating the advisability of granting her permission when she said, "It won't take a sec. I can't be away from Sabra long. She likes having another woman nearby."
"Okay. But I'm watching you. Don't think I'm not."
The young man's bravado was affected. He was scared and frazzled, but he still had his finger on the trigger of the pistol. Tiel didn't want to be the one responsible for sending him over the edge.
She moved to the counter where Ronnie could see her digging into her satchel in search of the small vial of solution.
She uncapped it and tilted her head back to apply the drops. "Damn," she cursed softly, holding a finger over her eye. She then removed her contact lens, dug around in the bag for another bottle of solution and proceeded to clean the lens in a small pool of solution in her palm.
Without turning to look at Gladys and Vern, she spoke to them in a whisper. "Does your camera have a tape in it?"
Vern-bless him-was inspecting a loose cuticle on his left hand and looking about as conspiratorial as an altar boy. "Yes, ma'am."
"Fresh batteries too," Gladys added as she folded her crew sock down to form a cuff around her ankle. She inspected it, then, deciding she liked it better the other way, rolled it back up. "It's all set to go. Get ready. We've got a distraction planned."
"Wait-"
Before Tiel could finish, Vern went into a fit of coughing.
Gladys leaped up, tossed their tote bag onto the counter within Tiel's reach, then started whacking her husband hard between his shoulder blades. "Oh, Lord,
Vern, not one of your strangling spells. Of all times to get choked on your own spit. For mercy's sake!"