CHAPTER
10
Tiel was washing her chest with one of the baby wipes when she sensed movement behind her. She glanced around quickly, and it would be difficult to say who was the most discomfited, her or Doc. His eyes involuntarily dropped to her lilac lace brassiere. Tiel felt a warm blush rise out of it.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"I was a mess," she explained, bringing her shoulder back around to conceal her front. Her blouse had been stiff with the dried sanguineous fluid it had absorbed when she first held the newborn against her chest. Doc had been conferring with Ronnie, so Tiel had taken advantage of a moment's privacy to remove her blouse and wash. He'd returned before she expected him. "I thought
I should clean up before appearing on camera."
She disposed of the towelette and picked up the spare
T-shirt she had taken from the rack earlier. After pulling it on, she turned and held her arms out to her sides. On the front of the T-shirt was the Texas state flag with the word
home underneath. "Not exactly haute couture," she remarked ruefully.
"It is in these parts." He checked on Sabra, then joined
Tiel where she had sat down with her back to the freezer chest. She passed him a bottle of water. He drank after her with no compunction.
"How is she? Any better?"
Doc nodded a hesitant affirmative, but his brow was furrowed with concern. "She's lost a lot of blood. It's coagulated somewhat, but she needs to be sutured."
"There wasn't a suture kit in the doctor's bag?"
He shook his head. "I checked. So, even though the bleeding has slackened, infection is a real concern."
Sabra and the baby were sleeping. After Tiel's telephone conversation with Agent Galloway to arrange the videotaping, Ronnie had resumed his post. He was most wary of the Mexicans and Cain. He watched them vigilantly.
Vern and Gladys were dozing, their heads together.
Donna was thumbing through a tabloid magazine, much as she would do on any other night when business was slow. For the time being, everything was quiet.
"What about the baby?" Tiel asked Doc.
"Holding her own." He had listened to Katherine's chest through the stethoscope included in the doctor's kit. "Heartbeat's strong. Lungs sound okay. But I'll feel a lot better when she's getting neonatal care from experts."
"Maybe it won't be much longer. My friend Gully runs our news operation. For several hours now he's known that I'm among the hostages. I'm almost certain our station has a crew already here. Galloway's checking on that, and promised to get back to me as soon as possible. I have every confidence in the effectiveness of video. It will soon be over."
"I hope so," he said, giving the young mother and baby another worried glance.
"You did a terrific job, Doc." He looked at her suspiciously, as though waiting for the other shoe to drop. "I
mean that sincerely. You're very good. Maybe you should have chosen obstetrics or pediatrics over oncology."
"Maybe I should have," he said grimly. "I didn't have a very good success rate combating cancer."
"You had an excellent success rate. Far above the average."
"Yeah, well…"
Yeah, well, I couldn't cure the one that really counted. My own wife. Tiel mentally finished the thought for him. It would be pointless to argue how commendable his efforts to conquer the disease had been when, in his own mind, that single casualty had cost him the war.
"What directed you toward oncology?"
At first it seemed he wasn't going to answer. Finally he said, "My kid brother died of lymphoma when he was nine."
"I'm sorry."
"It was a long time ago."
"How old were you?"
"Twelve, thirteen."
"But his death had a lasting impact on you."
"I remember how tough it was on my parents."
So he'd lost two people he loved to an enemy he had failed to defeat, Tiel thought. "You were powerless to save your brother or your wife," she observed aloud. "Is that why you quit?"
"You were there," he said curtly. "You know why I quit."
"I know only what you were willing to impart to journalists, which was precious little."
"It still is precious little."
"You were bitter."
"I was pissed." He raised his voice to the level of a stage whisper, but it was loud enough to cause Katherine to flinch in her mother's arms.
"At whom were you pissed?" She knew she was pressing her luck. If she probed too hard, too fast, he might clam up altogether. But she was willing to take the chance.
"Were you angry at your in-laws for making an unfounded allegation? Or at your associates for withdrawing their support?"
"I was angry at everybody. At everything. Goddamn cancer.
My own inadequacy."
"So you just threw in the towel."
"That's right, thinking 'What's the fucking use?' "
"I see, so you banished yourself to this no-man's-land where you could really be useful."
Her sarcasm wasn't lost on him. His features tightened with mounting annoyance. "Look, I don't need you or anybody else analyzing my decision. Or questioning it. Or judging it. If I decided to become a rancher, or a ballet dancer, or a bum, it's no one else's business."
"You're right. It's not."
"And while we're on the topic of business," he added in the same biting tone, "this videotape idea of yours…"
"What about it?"
"Is it strictly for Ronnie and Sabra's benefit?"
"Of course."
He looked at her with blatant mistrust, which stung. He even chuckled skeptically.
"I think anything we can do to sway Dendy will help defuse this situation." Even to her own ears she sounded self-defensive, but she continued anyway. "I don't get the impression that Agent Galloway is enjoying this standoff.
Regardless of what Cain says, Galloway sounds like a de
cent man who's doing his job but doesn't relish the thought of blazing guns and bloodshed. I think he's willing to try and negotiate a peaceful settlement. I merely offered my services, which I believe will facilitate a peaceful resolution."
"But it'll also make one hell of a story for you."
His soft and intuitive voice, along with his piercing eyes, made her guiltily aware of the audio recorder in her pants pocket. "Okay, yes," she admitted uneasily, "it'll make a great story. But I'm personally involved with these kids. I
helped bring their child into the world, so my idea isn't completely selfish.
"You're biased, Doc. You dislike reporters in general, and, given your experience with the media, your aversion is understandable. But I'm not as cold-hearted and unfeeling as you obviously think. I care a great deal what happens to Ronnie and Sabra and Katherine. I care what happens to all of us."
After a significant pause, he said quietly, "I believe that."
His eyes were just as piercing as before, but the substance of this gaze was different. The heat of vexation that had suffused her gradually intensified into heat of another kind.
"You were terrific, you know," he said. "With Sabra. You could've fallen apart on me. Freaked out. Thrown up.
Fainted. Something. Instead you were a calming influence.
A real help. Thanks."
"You're welcome." She laughed softly. "I was awfully nervous."
"So was I."
"No! Honestly?"
He drew an invisible X over his heart.
"You'd never know it."
"Well, I was. I haven't had that much experience with childbirth. I observed a few during med school. Assisted with a couple when I was a resident, but always in a well-equipped, sterile hospital with other doctors and nurses around. I'd forgot most of what I'd learned. This was a scary experience for me."
She stared into near space for a moment before her eyes came back to his. "I was nervous up to the point where I saw the baby crowning. Then the wonder of it all overtook me. It was… tremendous." The word fell short of defining the memorable experience, but she wasn't sure a single word could encompass it or capture its myriad dimensions. "Truly, Doc. Tremendous."
"I know what you mean."
Then for what seemed an endless time, they held each other's stare.
Finally he said, "If I ever find myself in another emergency childbirth situation…"
"You know who to call for backup. Partner."
She stuck out her hand, and he took it. But he didn't shake it to confirm the partnership. He held it. Not so tightly that it was uncomfortable, but snugly enough to make it personal, almost intimate.
Except for the time she had taped the gauze to his shoulder wound—and that had been so fleeting it really didn't count—this was the first time they had touched.
The skin-to-skin connection was electric. It created a tingle that made Tiel want to pull her hand back quickly. Or to continue holding on to his forever.
"Do me one favor?" he asked softly.
Mutely, she nodded.
"I don't want to be on camera."
Reluctantly she pulled her hand away. "But you're integral to the story."
"You said the story was secondary to your purpose."
"I also conceded that it's a heck of a story."
"I don't want to be on camera," he repeated. "Keep me out of it."
"I'm sorry, Doc, I can't. You're already in it. You're neck-deep in this story."
"For us in here I am. I had no choice but to get involved.
But I don't owe anybody out there a damn thing, especially entertainment at the expense of my privacy.
Agreed?"
"I'll see what I can do." The secreted tape recorder felt very heavy in the pocket of her slacks. "I can't speak for the cameraman."
He gave her a retiring look that asked her not to insult his intelligence. "Of course you can. You're calling the shots. Keep me out of it." He emphasized each word, so that there would be no misinterpretation of his meaning.
He got up to check on Sabra. As he moved away from her, Tie! wondered if his compliments and hand holding had been calculated to break down her defenses, a handsome man's way of buttering her up. Rather than taking a belligerent stance, had he purposefully shown her his softer side? The honey over vinegar approach, so to speak.
She also wondered what he would do when he learned that the tape about to be recorded wouldn't be the only source of video available to her when she put her story together. He had already been recorded on video and didn't know it.
She would have to worry about that later, though. The telephone was ringing.
Galloway quickly came to his feet when the van's side door opened. Sheriff Montez, whom Galloway had come to respect as a wise, savvy, and intuitive lawman, entered
first. He motioned inside a bandy-legged, potbellied, balding man who smelled like the pack of Camels that were visible in the breast pocket of his shirt.
"My name's Gully."
"Special Agent Galloway." As they shook hands, he added, "Maybe we should talk outside. It's becoming crowded in here."
Inside the van now were three FBI agents in addition to
Galloway, the FBI psychological profiler, Russell Dendy,
Cole Davison, Sheriff Montez, and the newcomer, who said, "Then kick somebody else out, because I'm staying until Tiel is safe and sound."