"You're good at shooting off your mouth," Ronnie said to Tiel. "You do the talking."
She came to her feet and made her way past Sabra and
Doc, past the Frito-Lay display and across the open space to the counter. She wasted no time calling nine-one-one.
As soon as the operator answered, she said, "I need the sheriff to call me. Don't ask questions. He is aware of this emergency situation. Tell him to call the convenience store back." She hung up before the operator could proceed with the routine drill, which would be a waste of valuable time.
They waited in tense silence. No one said a word.
Gladys and Vern were huddled close together. When Tiel glanced in their direction, Vern subtly drew her attention to the tote bag in his lap. Somehow he had managed to retrieve it without Ronnie's being aware. A crafty Casanova.
That in itself would make a good story, Tiel thought. Except that she had a better one, in which she wasn't just a reporter, but a participant. Gully would be ecstatic. If this story didn't secure the Nine Live spot for her—
Although she'd been expecting the telephone to ring, she jumped when it did. She answered it immediately.
"Who's this?"
She avoided a direct answer by saying, "Sheriff?"
"Marty Montez."
"Sheriff Montez, I've been appointed spokesperson.
I'm one of the hostages."
"Are you in immediate danger?"
"No," she replied, believing it.
"Are you being coerced?"
"No."
"Give me a rundown."
She began with a brief and concise account of the robbery, starting with Ronnie's shooting out the security camera.
"It was interrupted when his accomplice went into labor."
"Labor? You mean labor like having a baby?"
"Exactly like that, yes."
After an extended pause during which she could hear the heavy breathing of an overweight man, he said, "Answer me if you safely can, miss. Are these robbers by any chance a coupla high school kids?"
"Yes."
"What's he asking?" Ronnie demanded to know.
Tiel covered the receiver with her palm. "He asked if
Sabra was in pain and I answered."
'Jee-sus," the sheriff exclaimed in a near whistle. In a low voice he passed along to his deputies—or so Tiel assumed —that the hostage-takers were the kids "outta Fort
Worth." Then to her, he asked, "Is anybody hurt?"
"No. We're all unharmed."
"Who-all's in there with you? How many hostages?"
"Four men and two women besides myself."
"You're a smooth talker. You wouldn't by any chance be a Ms. McCoy?"
She tried to hide her surprise from Ronnie, who was lis
48 I SANDRA BROWN
tening to her intently and closely monitoring her facial expressions. "That's correct. No one has been wounded."
"You are Ms. McCoy, but you don't want 'em to know you're a TV reporter? I see. Your boss, guy name o' Gully, he's called my office twice, demanding we put out an APB
for you. Said you started from Rojo Flats and was supposed to call him—"
"What's he saying?" Ronnie asked.
She interrupted the sheriff. "It would be in everyone's best interest if you could provide us with a doctor. An OH
if possible."
"Tell him to bring along anything he might need for a difficult delivery."
Tiel relayed Doc's message.
"Be sure he knows that the baby is in a breech position."
Doc added.
After Tiel conveyed that, the sheriff asked who she was getting her information from. "He goes by Doc."
"You're shittin' me," the sheriff said.
"No."
"Doc's one of the hostages," she heard him pass along.
"Doc says the Dendy girl needs a specialist, huh?"
"That's right, Sheriff. And as soon as possible. We're concerned for her and the baby."
"If they surrender, we'll get her to a hospital pronto.
They have my guarantee."
"I'm afraid that's not a contingency."
"Davison won't let her go?"
"No," Tiel said. "She refuses to leave."
"Shee-ut, what a mess," he expelled on a heavy sigh.
"Okay, I'll see what I can do."
"Sheriff, I can't impress on you enough how badly this young woman is suffering. And…"
"Go ahead, Ms. McCoy. What?"
STANDOFF | 49
"The situation is under control," she said slowly. "For the time being everyone is calm. Please don't take any drastic measures."
"I hear what you're saying, Ms. McCoy. No grandstanding.
No fireworks, SWAT teams, and such?"
"Precisely." She was relieved that he understood. "So far, no one has been injured."
"And we'd all like to keep it that way."
"I'm very glad to hear you say that. Please, please, get a doctor here as quickly as you can."
"I'm on it. Here's the number of the phone I've got with me."
She committed the number to memory. Montez wished her luck and hung up. She replaced the telephone on the countertop, glad to note that it was an older model and didn't have a speaker-phone feature. Ronnie might wish to listen in on future conversations.
"He's working on getting a doctor here."
"I like the sound of that," Doc said.
"How soon before he gets here?"
Turning to Ronnie, she replied, "As soon as possible.
I'm going to be honest with you. He guessed your and
Sabra's identity."
"Oh, hell," the boy groaned. "What else can go wrong?"
"They've been located!"
Russell Dendy nearly knocked down the FBI agent who happened to be standing in his path when the shout came from the adjacent room. He didn't apologize for causing the agent to spill scalding coffee over his hand. He barreled into the library of his home, which, since that morning, had been converted into a command post.
"Where? Where are they? Has he hurt my daughter? Is
Sabra all right?"
50
SANDRA BROWN
Special Agent William Galloway was in charge. He was a tall, thin, balding man who, if not for the pistol riding in the small of his back, looked more like a mortgage banker than a federal agent. His demeanor wasn't consistent with the stereotype either. He was calm and soft-spoken—most of the time. Russell Dendy had put Galloway's pleasant disposition to the test.
As Dendy stalked into the room blurting questions, Galloway signaled for him to pipe down and continued his telephone conversation.
Dendy impatiently punched a button on the telephone and a woman's voice filtered through the speaker. "It's called Rojo Flats. Practically in the middle of nowhere, west-southwest of San Angelo. They're armed. They tried to rob a convenience store, but it was thwarted. Now they're holding hostages inside the store."
"Damn him. Damn him!" Dendy ground his fist into his opposite palm. "He turned my daughter into a common criminal! And she couldn't understand why I objected to him."
Galloway once again signaled him to keep his voice down. "You said they're armed. Are there any casualties?"
"No, sir. But the girl is in labor."
"Inside the store?"
"Affirmative."
Dendy cursed lavishly. "He's holding her against her will!"
The disembodied woman said, "According to one of the hostages who spoke to the sheriff, the young woman refuses to leave."
"He's brainwashed her," Dendy declared.
The FBI agent from the Odessa office continued as though she hadn't heard him. "One of the hostages ap
STANDOFF | 51
parently has some medical knowledge. He's seeing to her, but a doctor has been requested."
Dendy thumped the top of the desk with his fist. "I want
Sabra the hell out of there, do you hear me?"
"We hear you, Mr. Dendy," Galloway said with diminishing patience.
"I don't care if you have to blast her out of there with dynamite."
"Well, I care. According to the spokesperson, no one has been injured."
"My daughter's in labor!"
"And we'll get her to a hospital as soon as possible. But
I'm not going to do anything that will endanger the lives of those hostages, your daughter, or Mr. Davison."
"Look, Galloway, if you're going to take a limp-dick approach to this situation—"
"The approach I take is my call, not yours. Is that understood?"
Russell Dendy had the reputation of being a real son of a bitch. Unfortunately, meeting him hadn't dispelled any myths or changed Galloway's preconceptions of the millionaire.
Dendy exercised despotic supervision over several corporations.
He wasn't accustomed to relinquishing control to someone else, or even to giving anyone else a vote in the way things were managed. His businesses weren't democracies, and neither was his family. Mrs. Dendy had done nothing all day except weep into her hankie and second her husband's answers to the agents' probing questions about their family life and their relationship with their daughter. She hadn't offered a single opinion that differed from his, or voiced any personal observations.
From the start Galloway had doubted Dendy's allega
52 | SANDRA BROWN
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."