Taking the Heat. Brenda Novak
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to wait for the ambulance.
But the sight of Tucker’s retreating figure, growing smaller and smaller as he made his way up the mountain closest to the road, taunted her. If she let him get very far into the desert, they might never find him. The Mexican border was only fifty miles or so to the south. He could slip across and easily disappear….
If he made it to the border. Chances were better that he’d die of dehydration long before he reached Mexico. He was injured, had no water, and they were in the middle of the Sonoran Desert, one of the hottest, driest places in all of North America. Temperatures this time of year often reached one hundred and twenty degrees. Though Gabrielle wasn’t sure exactly how that would translate into surface heat, she knew the ground would be a whole heck of a lot hotter than the air, probably one seventy or one eighty degrees.
What was Tucker thinking? That he’d rather die than go to Alta Vista?
Evidently.
Telling herself she’d worry about Tucker later, she walked back to see if there was anything she could do for Eckland, but he didn’t want her company.
“Stay the hell away,” he growled. “You’ve done enough.”
“Are you bleeding anywhere?” she persisted.
“My leg’s broke. That’s it. Nothing we can do but wait.”
“You don’t seem to have a back or neck injury. If it would make you more comfortable, I could probably help you out of the car.”
“I don’t want your help. I don’t want to be touched.”
“Okay.” Gabrielle took a deep breath. At least she’d tried.
When she rejoined the people from the truck, the man was using some gauze to help the woman stanch the bleeding on her lip. Gabrielle could tell from their exchange that they were mother and son, but they weren’t particularly interested in speaking to her. She didn’t have much to say, anyway. Other drivers were stopping to see if they could help, creating a diversion. And she was too busy flogging herself for letting Tucker escape in the first place.
Raising a hand to shade her eyes from the bright morning sun—which promised to raise temperatures even more by midafternoon—she watched Tucker’s progress through the haze of heat that shimmered all around him, making him look more like a mirage than a flesh-and-blood man. Though he was moving slowly now that he had to climb, he was nearly halfway up the first rocky mountain, which was probably a mile and a half away. Every step he took made Gabrielle grind her teeth in frustration. Soon he’d be out of sight, and then…and then there was no telling what would happen to him.
She remembered the pain in his eyes, knew he couldn’t have faked that as easily as he might have exaggerated his moans and grunts, and made the only decision she could live with. She might be responsible for Randall Tucker’s escape, but she wasn’t going to be responsible for his death.
Hurrying back to the car, she found Eckland, ashen-faced, head back, eyes closed. But the moment she ducked into the open passenger-side door and started rummaging around, he sat up and glared at her.
“What are you doing now?” he asked.
“I’m going after him.”
His brows knitted and anger flashed in his eyes. “You’re what? Are you nuts? It’s got to be over a hundred degrees already. You’ll get heatstroke inside an hour.”
“Exactly.”
“Exactly what, damn you?”
“He can’t survive.”
“You’re still worried about Tucker?” He winced and stared down at his leg.
“He could die if I don’t bring him back.”
“And you could die going after him. You could get lost, run out of water, get bit by a rattlesnake or—”
“I’m taking the gallon of water I brought and leaving you with yours,” she said, cutting him off because now that she was heading into the desert, there wasn’t any point in giving Tucker more of a lead. “I’ll have someone come and sit with you to answer the radio, in case—” she licked her lips “—in case you pass out or something. Help will be here soon. Try to hang on to that.”
She checked the magazine in her semiautomatic Glock 9 mm, then slid the warm metal nozzle back into her hip holster. She was trying to save Randall Tucker’s life, not take it, but if he attacked her…
She swallowed hard and chose not to think about what might happen if he got the better of her. The vast desert, the scorching sun, the scorpions and snakes would probably get her first. But that thought wasn’t much of an improvement over the last. Not with Allie waiting for her at home.
Thank God, David was there.
“I’d stay here with you if there was anything I could do,” she told Eckland as she gathered what food and water she had, “but there’s nothing. You said it yourself.”
He’d closed his eyes again while she was talking, and this time when he spoke, he didn’t open them. “Don’t do it.”
Trying to think of a way to carry the cumbersome water jug, which would prove heavy after a while, she grabbed her giant black leather purse that often doubled as a diaper bag. “I have to.”
“Why?” he rasped. “What’s one Randall Tucker, more or less? Our prisons are full of filthy murderers like him.”
Gabrielle remained silent long enough that he finally opened his eyes. “He’s out there because of me. And respect for human life might be the only thing that separates us from them.”
“Then you’ll be dead.”
“Maybe,” she said, and slipped the strap of her purse across her body so she could carry the water on her back. “But I’ve got the gun and food and water. He’s hurt, and he has no water, nothing. Why not show a little confidence and have a car waiting for me just in case I manage to bring him back?”
“Right,” Eckland said with a hoarse chuckle. “I’ll have a hearse parked right by the side of the road.”
TUCKER COULDN’T BELIEVE his eyes. He’d known the police would come looking for him eventually. But he’d never imagined Officer Hadley would strike out after him on her own. Evidently she wasn’t only an idealist. She was a reckless fool. He had good reason to risk his miserable life; she did not.
Pausing in the shade of a rock overhang—the only shade for miles, it seemed—he watched her approach, and felt his mood darken. The initial surge of exhilaration he’d felt at obtaining his freedom had staved off some of the pain in his hand, but now the throbbing surged up his arm and through his whole right side until he thought he might pass out. Battling the dizziness, he mentally pulled himself away from that void, and started climbing again. He had to reach Landon. He couldn’t care about what happened to Hadley.
Climb. He wasn’t going to let her drag him back to prison under any circumstances.
Climb. Her welfare wasn’t his problem.
Climb. Breathe. It was steeper now. His foot, shod only in thin-soled, prison-issue tennis shoes, slipped, and he nearly went down. He barely managed to keep his balance, but even the concentration required to make the ascent couldn’t banish Hadley from his mind.
Stop it! Eckland and the other guards can worry about her. There’s the ridge. That’s it. One foot in front of the other.
After all, she was one of them.
Focus. Shove the pain away. Ignore the heat. One more step…
He imagined Landon calling to him, just at the top of the next rise, and then the next, and that made the going easier. “I’m coming,” he promised. “I’m coming for you, buddy. You can depend on me. I won’t let you down. I won’t ever give up. I won’t…ever…”