CHAPTER FIVE
HE WAS ESCAPING. Gabrielle couldn’t believe it. She used what little room the cuffs allowed to stand outside the open door of the car, where she could watch Tucker cross the deserted highway. Once he reached the other side, he started jogging into the desert as blithely as though he’d planned the whole thing. Jogging! He was jogging!
“Damn you, Tucker,” Gabrielle muttered, even angrier with herself because she’d let him fool her. This was what her compassion had brought her. An escaped convict, an injured guard, another disabled vehicle with God only knows how many people inside—and the burning desire to bring Tucker back, regardless of anything else.
Eckland managed to meet her hand with his keys, and she unlocked herself. It took some doing and by the time she was free, Tucker was well on his way.
Should she go after him? She glanced at Eckland, then the other car, and decided she’d better attend to the injured.
Eckland was swearing a blue streak, but his condition hadn’t worsened. The truck, which had rolled at least once, was still partially on the highway. The windshield hadn’t shattered, but it was cracked into a spiderweb Gabrielle couldn’t see through. A peek in the side window, which was still intact, revealed two occupants—a middle-aged woman driver and a man who looked to be in his early twenties. The driver had hit her face on the steering wheel and cut her lip. She was bleeding, though not profusely, and the man was rubbing a knot on his forehead where he’d banged into the windshield or dash. They were both luckier than Eckland.
Gabrielle helped them out and away from the truck, got a first-aid kit out of the patrol car for their use, and lit some flares to warn other motorists to slow down. Then she stood off to the side 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…”
He had to stop to catch his breath. Though some mountains in the desert rose eight thousand feet, this wasn’t one of them—thank God. Still, it was difficult climbing with the use of only one hand, the sun robbing him of all moisture.
At least the pain was starting to ease now that the cuffs had been off long enough to allow his blood flow to return to normal. But the figure following undauntedly in his footsteps, slowly closing the distance between them, dragged at him like a lead weight.
Why didn’t Hadley turn back? What did she think she could do, even if she caught up with him? Especially now that they were so far from the highway? He didn’t even know where he was going, just somewhere, anywhere, the first small town, outpost or ranch where he could call his brother or Robert, his old business partner, for help. He could wind up lost or dead before he made contact with the outside world, and so could she. Nothing but sun-baked earth and low shrubs—creosote bush and white bursage, the two most drought-tolerant plants on the whole continent, with a few cholla and columnar cacti thrown in—surrounded them on all sides and certainly didn’t provide much to navigate by.
“You’re crazy, you know that, lady?” he said into air so dense with heat he could scarcely breathe. “What’s one more felon mean to you? Go back to the thousands waiting for you at the prison. Go back to the riots and the homemade-knife fights and the gangs, and leave me the hell alone.”
He forged on, determined to forget the slight figure trudging through the barren valley below him. She wasn’t going catch him. She’d live or she’d die. It made no difference to him. He wasn’t expected to care one way or the other—and he wouldn’t. He didn’t care. She was a guard, the enemy, almost a stranger to him.
She is also a woman, with a child at home, his conscience answered. A woman who wouldn’t be where she was if not for him. And she was one of the only people who’d shown him any compassion since the day he was accused of murdering Andrea.
The memory of Hadley wiping the blood from his lip flashed through Tucker’s mind, and he imagined her standing over him again, her hands on his face. Only this time she was tilting up his chin to give him a drink of water….
Thirst so powerful it nearly brought him to his knees swept through him. The dryness of his throat made it difficult to swallow, and he feared it wouldn’t be long before he dropped like a stone. Then what good would he be to Landon?
He had to get some water—and there was only one place to find it. Maybe he was fortunate Officer Hadley had followed him, after all. She might prove his salvation once again.
Reaching the top of the mountain he’d been scaling, he hid behind a rock outcropping that rose like a spire into the broad cloudless sky and leaned against its solid mass to wait.
The minutes ticked by, slowly. He felt her coming close, knew she’d pass the same way he’d come. She hadn’t deviated a step from his path so far. He doubted she’d change now. She felt too confident, toting that pistol that was about to do her no good.
The thought that he’d be taking something she needed just as badly as he did sent a flicker of guilt through Tucker, but he knew it was only a shadow of what he would’ve felt before prison had turned him into the man he was. He ignored it. Landon needed him. And without her precious jug of water, Hadley would be forced to go back.
* * *
WHERE WAS HE?
Gabrielle paused to take another sip of water as she squinted at the dirt, rocks and thorny shrubs farther up the mountain. Tucker wasn’t hard to follow through the wide, flat valleys—there she could see for miles, and he was the only thing moving—but he’d disappeared over the crest of the mountain, which was still a hundred yards or so away, and she hadn’t seen him for ten minutes or more.
He knew she was following him. He’d looked back at her several times already and increased his speed. Was he hurrying down the other side, still trying to leave her in his dust? Or had he settled on a more intelligent plan?
She listened carefully, hoping for some indication of where he was. But she couldn’t hear any movement, just the hushed quiet of a desert in midafternoon, when even lizards knew enough to stay out of the sun. Maybe she was still too far away to hear him. Or maybe he’d changed direction and was slipping among the rocks of the mountain peak. In that case, she might never find him.
Telling herself she’d definitely be smarter to imitate the tortoise than the hare, she resisted the urge to start jogging. Instead, she capped the water jug and resumed moving at the same measured pace. At first the oppressive heat had made her curse the warmth of her uniform. But now she was grateful for her long sleeves and pants. She had sunblock in her purse—she always carried it for Allie—but it was the small “glue stick” kind meant for faces and wouldn’t have gone far. The fabric of her uniform saved much of her skin from the sun, protected her legs from cacti and other spiney plants, and gave her some hope of withstanding a rattlesnake strike should one occur.
The thought of surprising a rattler made Gabrielle shudder, but rattlers weren’t the only creatures she had to worry about. Though not nearly as common, the western coral snake, with its red, yellow and black bands, had a bite just as toxic. Then there were Gila monsters, the large poisonous lizards so common to the Sonoran Desert, and bark scorpions and brown recluse spiders. Even the Sonoran Desert toad was poisonous, although there was little chance of running into one of those.
Checking behind a piece of fallen cactus before stepping over it, Gabrielle thought about picking up a stick—if she could find one of any consequence in this barren place—to use in case she happened upon any threatening wildlife. The small coral snake might not be a common sight, but enough snakes had similar markings to make her nervous about being able to tell the difference.
Sweat trickled down the sides of her face. She wiped it away with one arm as she neared the top of the mountain, hurrying now despite the heat because she was beginning to feel so alone in the vastness. Tucker couldn’t be far. As soon as she saw him, she’d relax…a little. He might be more dangerous than any snake, but he was human, and knowing someone else was within earshot brought her a degree of comfort. Besides, the closer he was, the sooner she’d capture him. Then they could both turn back and by the end of the day, it would all be over. He’d be where he was supposed to be. She’d be safe. No more worrying about snakes or—
Suddenly, Gabrielle stopped. From where she stood she could see part of the valley below. Tucker wasn’t there, but a giant rock stood between her and a full panorama. He could be hurrying down the mountain beyond her sight, in which case she was losing valuable time. Or he could be standing behind the rock that obscured her view, in which case caution could save her life.
She carefully scanned the area, but nothing—no movement, sight or sound—gave him away. Pressing herself to the outcropping that could just as easily be providing him with cover, she pulled out her gun. “Tucker? Are you there?”
No answer. She inched forward, craning her neck to see farther than a couple of feet at a time. “Tucker? I’m not here to hurt you. You know I’ll be as fair as possible. But what you’re doing isn’t right, and it isn’t safe.”
She stopped, listened. Nothing. Was he even there? She was probably making a fool of herself. “Come on, Tucker. We both know I have to take you in.”
She heard the sound of small rocks being dislodged farther down the mountain, and let her breath go in relief. She was jittery, that was all. He’d hurried on.
Shoving her Glock into her holster, she abandoned caution in favor of catching a glimpse of him before he could disappear again. But her forward motion was halted midstride when he tackled her, bringing her down hard on her left side.
The jolt of pain that accompanied her fall stole her breath as Randall Tucker landed on top of her. Blinking to clear the sudden spots from her eyes, she felt panic surge through her body like an electric current as he loomed over her.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to object to a return trip,” he said, keeping her pinned beneath him while he took her gun.
Every muscle in Gabrielle’s body tensed as she waited to see what he’d do with the weapon. She stared into his eyes, hoping to read his intent so she could formulate some type of defense. But his face remained hard and resolute, his eyes empty. And that scared her more than anything. Until that moment of complete vulnerability, she’d never really believed something this terrible could happen to her.
“What are you going to do?” She gasped because his weight made it difficult to speak. It would be all too easy for him to shoot her and walk away. Or maybe he’d rape her first. She understood how it was with the inmates, how they looked at her, what they said. He was already sentenced to life without parole. A man in that situation didn’t have a lot to lose.
Only he wasn’t acting as though he had any interest in raping her. He didn’t even seem particularly interested in shooting her. He looked as though he was going directly for…the water!
Tossing the gun almost carelessly out of reach, he eased himself up and began to slip the strap of her purse over her head. That was when Gabrielle made her move. Suddenly bucking and writhing, she managed to knock him off balance just enough to twist out from under him. He grabbed her with his right hand—an instinctive action, she guessed, judging by the expletive that came out of his mouth when his injured hand couldn’t hold her. By the time he corrected his error and tried to anchor her with his left, she had the gun.
“Get up,” she said, scooting farther away and aiming the muzzle at his chest. The hot ground had burned her back through the fabric of her shirt, and she’d taken a few cactus spines in her hand when she’d lunged for the gun, but adrenaline was pumping through her body by the gallon and she could hardly feel a thing as she forced her shaky legs to support her.
Her purse, and the water in it, lay between them. Fortunately, the cap was the screw type and had survived their little tussle.
She watched Tucker’s eyes flick toward the jug as he got slowly to his feet.
“Take a short drink, then shove the water over here,” she said.
“No problem.” He shrugged, but his gaze was watchful, and Gabrielle didn’t trust his nonchalance. He closed his eyes in apparent relief as he drank, then capped the jug. But instead of pushing it her way, as she’d told him, he settled it in her purse as though it was as precious as a newborn baby and slung the strap crosswise over his body. Because of his size, the bag hit him between the shoulder blades and looked funny resting so high—and being carried by someone so masculine—but Gabrielle knew from experience why he’d want the purse to tote the water.
“Give me the water and the rest of my stuff, or I’ll shoot,” she warned. “It’s over. We’re going back now.”
He seemed to take her measure, then shook his head. “I don’t think so, Hadley.”
Gabrielle’s heart started beating so loudly she had trouble hearing her own voice over the steady thrum in her ears. Sweat mixed with sunblock dripped into her eyes, stinging them, causing tears. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision and told herself to stay calm. She had him right where she wanted him; she just had to convince him she was in charge.
“Do as I say,” she insisted. “I don’t want to use this, but I will.”
His gaze locked onto the gun. “Have you ever killed anything before? Anyone?” he added softly.
“I’ve never had to. But I will.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh, yeah?” She knew she needed absolute credibility now. Pointing to a prickly pear cactus sprawled to the left of him, she squeezed off a shot. The tip she’d been aiming at instantly disappeared, but the only acknowledgment she received from Tucker was a casual glance at the evidence of her marksmanship and a slight lift of his brows.
“So you’ve killed a cactus. Nice shootin’, Tex, but I’m afraid that isn’t going to change my mind. Whether or not you can hit me isn’t the question. Not at this range, anyway. I’m more concerned with whether or not you will.”
“I will,” she said, fighting to keep her voice steady.
“No, you won’t.”
Perspiration poured down Gabrielle’s spine, beaded on her top lip, wetted the hair at her temples. “Are you willing to bet your life on that?”
“I guess I am,” he said.
She told herself to aim for a foot and pull the trigger. A violent felon stood facing her, eyes sparking with challenge. Arizona State Law authorized deadly force in two instances: when human life was at stake and/or to prevent an escape. She was within her rights.
But he wasn’t exactly attacking her, which made it feel unprovoked. Out here, even a small wound might kill him. She couldn’t drag a two-hundred-pound person across the desert for three hours to the highway. Neither could she get help in time to save him if the bullet did a little more damage than intended.
She imagined the recoil of the gun traveling up her arm, pictured his blood spilling onto the hot, parched earth, and knew he was right. She couldn’t do it. She’d never killed anything in her life, and she wasn’t about to start now, regardless of who or what he was.
They’d reached a stalemate. He wasn’t going to come with her; she wasn’t going to shoot him. Now what?
“You’re not thinking,” she said. “You could easily die out here even if I don’t shoot you.”
“Maybe. But it won’t be here and now.” He squinted at the horizon. “It’ll probably be out there somewhere. Tomorrow. Or maybe the next day.”
At least he knew how precarious his situation was. Maybe she could reason with him. “That’s exactly my point. You need water and medical treatment—”
He held up his broken hand. “And prison is just the place to get it, is that right?”
He had her there. But at least he’d stay alive in prison…probably. “This desert is over a hundred thousand square miles, Tucker. Regardless of what happened at Florence, your only chance for survival lies with me.”
“Then I have no chance,” he said, “because this is where we part company. Think of that baby waiting for you at home and take it slow on the way back. If you don’t panic and work up too much of a sweat, you can make it.”
Work up too much of a sweat? Her hands were moist and clammy on the butt of the pistol, which made it difficult to retain a firm grip, and she couldn’t blink fast enough to keep the sunblock and perspiration out of her eyes. “I won’t go back without you.”
“Yes, you will. There’s nothing else you can do,” he said, and started down the mountain as though she held nothing more dangerous than a Twinkie.
“Tucker!” She fired the weapon into the air, expecting him to dart for cover. But he didn’t. From what she could see, he didn’t even flinch.
“Don’t waste any more of that magazine,” he called over his shoulder when the echo of the report died away. “You might need a few bullets before you get back.”
She needed them now. Only she couldn’t bring herself to use them. “What am I going to need them for? We’re completely alone out here, you and I, and you’re leaving.”
“You never know who you might run into on the road.”
Gabrielle was pretty sure he was joking—an escaped convict telling her to be careful of whom she might meet—but she wasn’t in the mood for humor. “That’s all you have to say? I come clear out here to save your lousy skin, and you’re going to leave me on my own, without any water?”
“You’re trying to take me back to prison so you don’t lose your job. Am I supposed to feel indebted to you for that?”
Professional pride had figured into her initial motivation. She’d been angry that he’d taken advantage of her compassion and felt determined to bring him to justice. But it had been life-and-death considerations that had kept her trudging into the desert. “I have a baby at home, remember? Do you really think I’d be out here if my job was the only thing at stake?”
He shrugged. “Maybe you’ve got something to prove. In any case, let me give you a good piece of advice. Get going. There are coyotes and javelina and maybe even a few mountain lions out here, and none of them are too particular about what they eat if they’re hungry enough. Once the sun starts to set, even the rattlesnakes will be out foraging for food. It isn’t wise to waste much time getting back.”
“You’ll run out of water eventually. You know that, don’t you?” she said, watching him take another drink and already longing for one herself.
No answer.
“If you come back with me, I’ll put a few hundred dollars on your books so you can buy stuff from the prison store. That’s a better offer than you’re going to get from anyone else.”
Nothing.
“If you wait for the police to hunt you down, you’ll probably end up on death row.”
He stopped halfway down the mountain and faced her, and she felt a brief flicker of hope—until she saw the sun glinting off his teeth and knew he was laughing at her. “Didn’t anyone give you an aptitude test before hiring you as a prison guard?”
She let her breath go in a long sigh and put her Glock in its holster. “No.”
“Well, they should have. I don’t think you could shoot a rabid skunk,” he said and left.