CHAPTER
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KIP'S VIDEOTAPE WAS PLAYING SIMULTANEOUSLY on two monitors in the van, with everyone inside clustered around to view them. One of the FBI agents was manning the control panel, standing by to freeze the picture at Galloway's command.
"Where's my daughter? I don't see Sabra."
Galloway detected liquor on Dendy's breath. Periodically he had been stepping outside "to get some fresh air."
It seemed he was taking in more than oxygen.
"Patience, Mr. Dendy. We're anxious to see all of it. I
need to know where people are positioned. Once I have an overview, we'll restart the tape and pause it on the segments that warrant closer study."
"Maybe Sabra tried to send me a private message. Like a signal."
"Maybe," was the senior agent's noncommittal reply.
His nose was no farther than ten inches from the color monitor as he listened to Tiel McCoy's opening remarks.
She was poised, he'd give her that. Unruffled. She looked
a little worse for wear in her Texas flag T-shirt, but she was as composed and articulate as she would have been in a television studio, safely behind a sleek news desk.
"That son of a bitch," Dendy snarled when Ronnie appeared on the screen.
"If you can't keep your mouth shut, Dendy, I'll be happy to shut it for you." Cole Davison issued the threat in a soft voice, but there was muscle behind it.
"Gentlemen," Galloway said.
No one else spoke while Ronnie was delivering his speech. But the silence became even heavier when the camera moved to Sabra and her newborn. The images were poignant, heart-rending. The dialogue was disturbing.
No new mother cradling her infant should be threatening to take her own life.
For several seconds after the tape ended, no one spoke.
Finally Gully had the courage to say out loud what everyone else was thinking. "Guess that settles the question as to who's responsible for all this."
Galloway held up his hand, discouraging any further unsolicited editorial comments on Russell Dendy's culpability.
He turned to Cole Davison. "What about Ronnie?
How does he seem to you?"
"Exhausted. Scared."
"High?"
"No, sir," Davison replied briskly. "I told you, he's a good boy. He doesn't do drugs. Maybe a beer now and then. That's the extent of it."
"My daughter certainly isn't a druggie," Dendy remarked.
Galloway remained centered on Davison. "Did you see anything unusual that should alert us to an unstable state of mind?"
"My eighteen-year-old son is talking about killing himself,
Mr. Galloway. I think that sums up his state of mind."
While Galloway sympathized with the man—he had teenagers of his own—he pressured him for more information.
"You know him, Mr. Davison. Do you think Ronnie is bluffing? Does he sound sincere to you? Do you believe he would go through with it?"
The man wrestled with his answer. Then he lowered his head dejectedly. "No, I don't think so. Truly, I don't.
But—"
"But?" Galloway pounced on the qualifier. "But what?
Has Ronnie ever shown suicidal tendencies?"
"Never."
"A violent streak? Uncontrollable temper?"
"No," he replied shortly. However, he appeared uncomfortable with his preemptive answer. Nervously his eyes shifted from Galloway to the others, then back to the agent. "Well, only one time. It was an isolated incident.
And he was just a kid."
Inwardly Galloway groaned. He was very sure he didn't want to hear about the one time Ronnie Davison had lost it. "It may not be relevant—probably isn't—but maybe you'd better tell me about it."
After a long, uneasy silence, Davison began. "Ronnie was staying with me during his summer vacation. It hadn't been long since his mother and I had divorced. Ronnie was having trouble adjusting to the split. Anyway," he said, shifting his feet self-consciously, "he took a shine to this dog that lived a few blocks over. He told me her owner was mean to her, didn't always feed her, never bathed her.
Stuff like that.
"I knew the owner. He was a mean ol' bastard, drunk most of the time, so I knew Ronnie was telling the truth.
But it was none of our business. I told Ronnie to stay away
from the dog. But, as I said, he'd formed a real attachment to the mangy thing. I guess he needed a companion.
Or maybe he liked the animal because it was as miserable as he was that summer. I don't know. I'm no child psychologist."
Dendy interrupted. "Is this sad story going anywhere?"
Galloway shot him a look and came close to telling him to shut up before turning back to the other man. "What happened, Cole?"
"One day Ronnie unchained the dog and brought her to our house. I told him to return her to the neighbor's backyard immediately. He started crying and refused to.
Said he'd rather see her dead than living like that. I
scolded him and went to get my keys, meaning to drive the dog home in my pickup.
"But when I came back through the kitchen, Ronnie was gone and so was the dog. Long story short, I searched for them all night. Had neighbors and friends out looking for him, too. Early the next morning a rancher spotted him and the dog hiding behind his barn and called the sheriff.
"As we converged on the barn, I called out to Ronnie, telling him that it was time to take the dog back to her owner and go home. He shouted back that he wasn't going to give the dog up, that he wouldn't let her be mistreated the way she'd been."
He stopped speaking and stared at the brim of his hat as he slowly threaded it through his fingers. "When we came around to the back to the barn, he was crying his heart out. He was patting the dog where it was lying right there beside him. Dead. He'd hit it in the head with a rock and killed it."
The eyes he raised to Galloway were red with threatened tears. "Mr. Galloway, I asked my boy how he could
have done such a horrible thing. He told me he'd done it because he loved the dog so much." His wide chest shuddered when he deeply inhaled. "Sorry I got so longwinded.
But you asked if I thought he could possibly do what he says he'll do. That's the best way I know to answer you."
Galloway curbed the unprofessional impulse to press the man's shoulder. Instead he said tersely, "Thank you for the insight."
"So he's a head case," Dendy muttered. 'Just like I said all along."
Although Dendy's remark was unnecessarily cruel, Galloway couldn't entirely disagree with the connotation.
This incident from Ronnie's childhood dangerously paralleled the present circumstances. Cole Davison's story added another factor to the situation, and it wasn't a positive one. In fact, none of the factors had been positive since this standoff began. Not one.
He turned to Gully. "What about Ms. McCoy? Did you see any signs that suggest she's under duress? Is she trying to get across more than she's saying? Any double meanings to her words?"
"Not that I could tell. And I grilled Kip here real good."
The FBI agent turned to the video cameraman. "Everything was as they've told us? Nobody hurt?"
"No, sir. The FBI guy is tied up—taped, rather—but he's shooting off his mouth, so I guess he's all right." He glanced at Dendy apprehensively, as though remembering what happens to the bearers of bad news. "But the…
the girl?"
"Sabra? What about her?"
"There were a lot of bloody disposable diapers around.
They were wadded up and pushed aside. But I remember seeing them and thinking, Jeez."
Dendy strangled on an anguished exclamation.
Galloway continued with Kip. "Did you notice anything in your co-worker's manner or delivery that was out of the ordinary?"
"Tiel was same as always. Well, except for looking like hell. She was cool as a cucumber, though."
Finally the senior agent turned to Dendy, who had skipped the trip outside and was openly drinking from a silver pocket flask. "You mentioned the possibility of Sabra sending you a secret message. Did you see or hear anything to suggest one?"
"How could I tell by seeing the tape only that one time?"
The fact that the tyrannical entrepreneur was uneasy and indirect with his answer was in itself telling. Dendy finally had been confronted with the ugly truth: His mishandling of the original predicament had prompted
Sabra and Ronnie to take desperate measures, which had gone terribly awry.
"Rewind it," Galloway instructed the agent at the control panel. "Let's watch the tape again. Anybody notice anything, call out." The tape began again.
"Tiel picked that spot so we could see the people behind her," Gully remarked.
"That's the refrigerator where the door was shattered." one of the other agents said, pointing to a spot on the screen.
"Pause it there."
Leaning forward, Galloway focused not on the newswoman but on the group of people in the background.
"The woman leaning against the counter must be the cashier."
Sheriff Montez said, "That's Donna, all right. No mistaking that hairdo."
"And that's Agent Cain, right, Kip?" Galloway pointed to a pair of legs, which he could see only from the knees down.