Standoff

CHAPTER

9

WHO'S THIS?"

When the latest arrival was escorted into the FBI van,

Galloway had ignored Russell Dendy's rude question and instead stood up to shake the man's hand. "Mr. Davison?"

"You've got to be kidding me." Dendy had sneered with disgust. "Who invited him?"

Galloway had pretended Dendy wasn't even there. "I'm

Special Agent Bill Galloway."

"Cole Davison. Wish I could say it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Galloway."

Judging by his appearance, one would guess Davison to be a rancher. He wore faded Levi's and cowboy boots. His starched white shirt had pearl snaps in lieu of buttons.

Upon entering the van, he'd politely removed a straw cowboy hat that had left a deep indentation in his hair and a pink stripe across his forehead, which was several shades paler than the lower two-thirds of his suntanned face. He had a stocky build and walked with a bowlegged gait.

He didn't ranch. He owned five fast-food franchises

and lived in Hera only to escape "metropolises" like Tulia and Floydada.

Galloway had welcomed him with a "Thank you for coming so quickly, Mr. Davison."

"I'd've come whether you asked me to or not. Soon's I

heard my boy was holed up here, I was anxious to get here. I was on my way out the door when you called."

Dendy, who'd been fuming in the background, had grabbed Davison by the shoulder and spun him around.

He thrust his index finger into the other man's face. "It's your fault my daughter is in the mess she's in. If anything happens to her, you're dead and so is the miscreant you spawned—"

"Mr. Dendy," Galloway had interrupted sternly. "Once again I'm on the verge of having you physically removed from this van. One more word and you're out of here."

The millionaire, ignoring Galloway's warning, had continued his harangue. "Your kid," he'd declared, "seduced my daughter, got her pregnant, and then kidnaped her.

I'm going to make it my life's mission that he never sees the light of day or breathes a breath of freedom. I'm going to make certain that he spends every single second of his miserable life in prison."

To Davison's credit, he had kept his cool. "It appears to me you're partly to blame for all this, Mr. Dendy. If you hadn't come down so hard on those kids they wouldn't've felt the need to run away. You know's well as I do that Ronnie didn't take your girl against her will. They love each other and ran away from you and your threats, is what I

think."

"I don't give a fuck what you think."

"Well, I do," Galloway had said, shouting over Russell

Dendy. "I want to hear Mr. Davison's take on the situation."

"You can call me Cole."

"All right, Cole. What do you know about this? Anything you can tell us about your son and his frame of mind will be helpful."

To which Dendy had said, "How about some sharpshooters?

A SWAT team? Now that would be helpful."

"Using force would risk the lives of your daughter and her baby."

"Baby?" Davison had exclaimed. "It's come?"

"From what we understand she delivered a baby girl about two hours ago," Galloway had informed him. "Both are reportedly doing okay."

"Reportedly," Dandy had snorted. "For all I know my daughter is dead."

"She's not dead. Not according to Ms. McCoy."

"She could've been talking to save her own hide. That lunatic could have been holding a gun to her head!"

"I don't think so, Mr. Dendy," Galloway had said, striving to remain calm. "And neither does our psychologist, who was listening to my conversation with Ms. McCoy. She sounds in perfect control, not like someone under duress."

"Who's this Ms. McCoy?" Davison had wanted to know.

Galloway explained, then he'd regarded Davison closely. "When was the last time you spoke to Ronnie?"

"Last night. He and Sabra were about to go over to the

Dendys' house and tell her parents about the baby."

"How long have you known about the pregnancy?"

"A few weeks."

Dendy's face had turned beet red. "And you didn't see fit to tell me?"

"No, sir, I didn't. My son confided in me. I couldn't betray his trust, although I urged him to tell you." He had

turned his back on Dendy and addressed the remainder of his remarks to Galloway.

"I had to run up to Midkiff today on account of a deep fryer going out. I didn't get home until late this evening.

Found a note from Ronnie on my kitchen table. It said they'd come by hoping to catch me. Said they had run away together and were headed for Mexico. Said they'd let me know how to reach them when they got where they were going."

"I'm surprised they would pay you a visit. Weren't they afraid you'd try and talk them into returning home?"

"Truth is, Mr. Galloway, I told Ronnie if they ever needed my help, I was pleased to offer it."

Dendy had attacked so quickly no one saw it coming, least of all Davison. Dendy landed on Davison's back with all his weight behind him. Davison would have fallen forward, had not Galloway caught him and broken his fall. As it was, both men landed hard against the wall of the van that was lined with computer terminals, TV monitors, video recorders, and surveillance equipment. Sheriff

Montez grabbed Dendy by the shirt collar and hauled him backward, slamming him into the opposite wall.

Galloway had instructed one of his subordinates to drag

Dendy the hell out of there.

"No!" Dendy had had the wind knocked out of him and was gasping for breath, but he managed to rasp, "I want to hear what he has to say. Please."

Somewhat mollified, Galloway had relented. "There will be no more of that crap, Dendy. Do you understand me?"

Dendy was red-faced and furious, but he nodded.

"Yeah. I'll get even with this son of a bitch later. But I want to know what's going on."

Order restored, Galloway had asked Davison if he was all right. Davison had picked his cowboy hat off the floor

and dusted it off on the leg of his jeans. "Never mind about me. I'm worried about those kids. The baby, too."

"Do you think Ronnie was coming to you for money?"

"Could be. Regardless of what Mr. Dendy here thinks, I

didn't offer to help them run away. In fact, just the opposite.

My advice to them was that they should stand up to him." The two parents exchanged dirty looks. "Anyhow."

Davison had continued, "I reckon they could've used some cash. Ronnie works after school at a driving range to earn spending money, but his salary wouldn't finance a move to Mexico. Since I missed him today, I guess he decided to do this."

He'd gestured toward the store, his expression remorseful.

"My boy's not a thief. His mother and stepfather have done a good job with him. He's a good boy. I reckon he was feeling desperate to take care of Sabra and the baby."

"He's taken care of her, all right. He's ruined her life."

Paying no attention to Dendy, Davison had asked Galloway,

"So what's the plan? Have you got a plan?"

Galloway had brought Ronnie Davison's father up to speed. Checking his wristwatch, he'd added, "Fifty-seven minutes ago, he gave us an hour to persuade Mr. Dendy to leave them alone. They want his word that he won't interfere in their lives, that he won't give away their baby.

That—"

"Give away the baby?" Davison had looked at Dendy with patent dismay. "You threatened to give away their baby?" His disdainful expression spoke volumes. Shaking his head sadly, he'd turned back to Galloway. "What can I

do?"

"Understand, Mr. Davison, that Ronnie will face criminal charges."

"I reckon he knows that."

"But the sooner he releases those hostages and surrenders, the better off he's going to be. So far no one's been hurt. Not seriously anyway. I'd like to keep it that way, for

Ronnie's sake, as well as the others."

"He won't be hurt?"

"You have my word on that."

"Tell me what to do."

That conversation had resulted in Cole Davison placing a call to the store just as the deadline expired.

"Dad!" Ronnie exclaimed. "Where're you calling from?"

Tiel and Doc moved forward and listened carefully to what Ronnie was saying into the telephone. Judging by his reaction, he hadn't expected the call to be from his father.

From what Gully had told her earlier, Tiel knew the two were close. She imagined Ronnie was feeling a mix of shame and embarrassment, as any child experiences when caught red-handed doing something wrong by a parent he respects. Perhaps Mr. Davison could impress upon his son the trouble he was in and influence him to end the standoff.

"No, Dad, Sabra's doing okay. You know how I feel about her. I wouldn't've done anything to hurt her. Yeah,

I know she should be in a hospital, but—"

"Tell him I'm not leaving you," Sabra called to him.

"It's not just me, Dad. Sabra says she won't go." As he listened, his eyes cut to Sabra and the baby. "She seems to be doing okay too. Ms. McCoy and Doc have been taking care of them. Yeah, I know it's serious."

The young man's features were taut with concentration.

Tiel looked around at her fellow hostages. All, including the Mexican men, who didn't even understand the language, were still, silent, and alert.

Doc felt her gaze when it moved to him. He raised his shoulders in a small shrug, then returned his attention to

Ronnie, who was gripping the receiver so tightly his knuckles had turned white. His forehead was beaded with sweat. His fingers nervously flexed and contracted around the pistol grip.

"Mr. Galloway seems like a decent man to me too, Dad.

But it doesn't really matter what he says or guarantees. It's not the authorities we're running from. It's Mr. Dendy.

We aren't going to give up our baby and have strangers adopt her. Yes he would!" the boy stressed in a voice that cracked with emotion. "He would."

"They don't know him," Sabra said, her voice as ragged as Ronnie's.

"Dad, I love you," Ronnie said into the receiver. "And

I'm sorry if I've made you ashamed of me. But I can't give up. Not until Mr. Dendy promises to let Sabra keep the baby."

Whatever Ronnie was hearing made him shake his head and smile at Sabra sadly. "Then there's something you,

Mr. Dendy, the FBI, and everybody else ought to know,

Dad. We—Sabra and I—made a pact before we left Fort

Worth."