CHAPTER
7
It was out before she could recall it. She hadn't intended for Doc to know that she recognized him. Not yet, anyway.
Although maybe her slip of the tongue had been subconsciously intentional. Maybe she had addressed him by name just to see how he would react. Her reporter's yen for provoking a response to an unexpected question or statement had goaded her into tossing out his name to see what his spontaneous, unrehearsed, and therefore candid reaction would be.
His spontaneous, unrehearsed, and candid reaction was telling. In sequence he looked at first astonished, then mystified, then irked. Finally, it was as though a shutter had been slammed shut over his eyes.
Tiel held his stare, her steady gaze virtually daring him to deny that he was Dr. Bradley Stanwick. Or had been in his previous life.
The telephone rang again.
"Oh, hell," Donna grumbled. "What do I tell 'em this time?"
"Let me answer." Ronnie reached for the phone. "Mr.
Galloway? No, like the lady told you, he's not dead."
Sabra had been roused by the ringing telephone. She asked to hold her baby. Tiel laid the infant in her arms.
The new mother cooed over how sweet Katherine looked now, how good she smelled.
Tiel stood up and stretched. She hadn't realized until now how taxing the final hour of labor and the birth had been. Her fatigue couldn't compare to Sabra's, of course, but she was exhausted nonetheless.
Physically exhausted, but mentally charged. She took stock of the present situation. Gladys and Vern were sitting together quietly, holding hands. They looked tired but content, as though the night's events were being enacted for their entertainment.
Donna was hugging her bony chest with her skinny arms and picking at the loose, scaly sacks of skin that passed for elbows. The taller, leaner Mexican man was focused on Ronnie and the telephone. His friend was watching the FBI agent, who showed signs of coming around.
Vern had propped Agent Cain's back against the counter with his legs and feet stretched out in front of him. His ankles were bound together with silver duct tape.
His wrists were likewise secured behind his back. His head was bowed low over his chest, but every now and then he tried to lift it, and when he did, he moaned.
"We've got him tied up," Ronnie was telling Galloway over the telephone. "We fired our guns almost at the same time, but the only one hit was Doc. No, he's okay." Ronnie glanced at Doc, who nodded in agreement. "Who's Ms.
McCoy?"
"Me," Tiel said, stepping forward.
"How come?" Ronnie gave Tiel a quizzical once-over.
"Well, I guess it's okay. How'd you know her name? Okay, hold on." As he extended the receiver to Tiel, he asked,
"Are you famous or something?"
"Not so you'd notice." She took the receiver. "Hello?"
The voice was government-issue—crisp and concise.
"Ms. McCoy, FBI Special Agent Bill Galloway."
"Hello."
"Are you in a position to speak freely?"
"Yes."
"You're under no duress?"
"No."
"What's the situation there?"
"Exactly as Ronnie described to you. Agent Cain caused a near disaster, but we were able to quell it."
Taken aback, the senior agent was slow to respond. "I
beg your pardon?"
"Sending him in here was a bad call. Miss Dendy needed an obstetric specialist, not the cavalry."
"We didn't know—"
"Well now you do. This isn't Mount Carmel or Ruby
Ridge. I'm not trying to tell you how to do your job—"
"Really?" he said dryly.
"But I urge you to cooperate with Mr. Davison from now on."
"It's the Bureau's policy not to negotiate with hostage-takers."
"These aren't terrorists," she exclaimed. "They're a couple of kids who are confused and scared and feel that they have exhausted all other options."
Raised voices could be heard in the background. Galloway covered the mouthpiece to speak to someone else.
Agent Cain raised his head and looked up at Tiel through
bleary eyes. Did he recognize her as the one who had knocked his lights out with a can of chili?
"Mr. Dendy is very concerned about his daughter's welfare."
Galloway said when he came back on the line. "The cashier—Donna?—told me that Sabra has delivered."
"A baby girl. Both are… stable." Tiel glanced at Doc, and he gave her a small nod. "Assure Mr. Dendy that his daughter is in no immediate danger."
"Sheriff Montez informs me there's a local man in there with you who has some medical training."
"That's right. He assisted Sabra through the labor and birth."
Doc's eyes narrowed a fraction—the gunslinger about to draw.
"Sheriff Montez can't recall his last name. Says he goes by Doc."
"Correct."
"You don't know his name?"