CHAPTER SIX
DIDN’T ANYONE GIVE YOU an aptitude test before hiring you as a prison guard?
She should have shot him, Gabrielle decided as she trudged wearily back the way she’d come. She would’ve been perfectly justified. But he wasn’t likely to survive in the desert, anyway. And the highway hadn’t seemed so far away then. As long as he was letting her go, she hadn’t felt in imminent danger—until now.
Gabrielle doubted it had been much more than thirty minutes since she’d seen Tucker, but already it felt like days. The desert stretched in front of her in all directions, so much the same she could be traveling in circles and never know it. And the terrible thirst! Her tongue, thick and unwieldy, seemed foreign to her mouth.
If only for a small drink, just a sip. Then she could think straight again. Then she could find her way out of this hell of cactus and sand….
Shading her eyes, she squinted into the sky and cursed the blazing sun. Would it never go down? The heat was making her stumble and weave and feel as though she might throw up. She considered sitting for a few minutes—she couldn’t seem to reach the other side of this oven-like valley—but there was no shade. Without shade, the ground was too hot to touch for more than a couple of minutes.
Licking dry lips that were already beginning to crack, she thought of the small treasures Tucker had stolen from her when he’d taken her bag. At first she’d lamented the loss of her credit cards and driver’s license, even thought she might miss, at least until payday, the thirty bucks she had in her wallet. But none of that meant anything to her anymore. At this point she longed only for her chapstick and sunblock—and water, of course. Nothing mattered more than water.
Gabrielle imagined coming face-to-face with Tucker again, the water jug between them, and thought she could very possibly shoot him now. That consoled her for a moment…until she tripped over a cactus she’d anticipated clearing and landed chest-first in the rocky, arid dirt.
“Ouch,” she cried as several sharp spines stabbed through the fabric of her pants and entered the flesh of her leg. She scrambled off the plant and yanked the spines out one by one, but even after they were gone and the stinging had faded, she couldn’t seem to gather the energy to stand. The ground below her felt as hot as the sun above, but even when her bottom began to burn, the pain wasn’t enough to motivate her to stand.
If help doesn’t arrive soon, I’m not going to make it.
It was the first time Gabrielle had allowed herself to really consider that fear. She hated giving in to it now, hated knowing discouragement would only weaken her. But at this point, the fact that she had little chance of ever seeing her baby again seemed so obviously the truth, she could no longer deny it.
David would take care of Allie; he’d never let anything happen to her. She’d been saying those words to herself over and over, only this time she followed them with a sincere prayer of thanksgiving for the man who’d been her best friend for nearly ten years. Then she pulled her knees to her chest and rested her head on them. She’d wait. Someone would come. Someone would come soon….
A rustling in the underbrush brought Gabrielle’s head up. What was that? A lizard? A pack rat? Or…a snake? The image of a rattlesnake slithering up beside her finally gave Gabrielle the adrenaline jolt she needed to get back on her feet. She jumped up and stood teetering on shaky legs, wishing the ground would stop spinning so she could tell if there was, indeed, something poisonous in the vicinity. But she couldn’t see any creatures near her, wasn’t sure what had moved, and then the soreness in her leg from the cactus collision gave her an idea. Cacti stored water to survive their harsh surroundings. If she could cut into one and extract the moisture, she might make it to the road. She’d once heard that the Pima, who’d lived in the desert during the time of the Spanish explorers, got water that way. There were certainly plenty of barrel cacti around.
Except she didn’t have a knife or anything sharp to cut into one. And she’d also read or heard somewhere that only one species of barrel cactus yielded potable water—the others were toxic. How would she tell the difference?
Did it matter? she asked herself, taking a hard look at reality. Either she found water and lived. Or she didn’t find water, in which case she was going to die anyway.
Withdrawing her pistol, she began shooting at the biggest barrel cactus she could find, but her aim was no longer true. She had to go right up next to it, just inches from the thick curved spines, to do any damage. Even then her Glock left nothing in its tough skin but small bullet holes surrounded by gunpowder residue. No water dripped out at all.
She picked up a rock with a sharp edge and tossed it from hand to hand until it cooled, then used it to chip away at the bullet-ridden cactus. The rock only made a few cuts and dents near the holes. Before long, she didn’t have the energy to continue banging away at it.
“Damn!” she cried, finally dropping the rock as tears of frustration and hopelessness welled in her eyes. She was so hot. She’d never been so hot and miserable in all her life, and she knew it was going to get worse. A person could live in the desert without water for three days. But it wasn’t really living. It was more like a slow, terrible death.
She stared at her Glock. Her second magazine was empty now. But she had one more in her belt. If help didn’t come soon, maybe she wouldn’t have to go the slow way.
* * *
TUCKER SHIFTED his position to avoid the rock that jutted into his left shoulder blade, and leaned his head back to rest against the wall of the cave. It was hot, even in the shade, but at least he didn’t have to move in the open sun anymore. Now that he had water, he could be more cautious about his escape. He could sleep during the day, when the police would be out looking for him, and travel at night. Under cover of darkness, he could move faster and more freely. He wouldn’t go through his water so quickly. He could double back toward the highway and follow it to civilization, where he was most likely to find help.
But the gunshots that had rung out, breaking the tomblike silence only moments before, bothered him. He knew it was Hadley—had to be her with that pistol she’d been carrying—though why she’d be emptying her gun, he had no idea. He’d counted a couple of separate shots and then ten more in rapid succession. Was it meant as some kind of signal? A smart way to lead the rescue party to her?
Or was it a cry for help? An act of desperation?
Opening one eye and then the other, he stared down at the purse at his side as though it had turned into one of the rattlesnakes for which he’d searched the cave so carefully before crawling inside. He hated that purse. It symbolized how far he’d fallen from the Little League dad he’d once been. He’d sponsored fundraisers for politicians and different charities; he’d been on the school board and driven a Porsche; he’d owned a half-million-dollar home and another few million dollar’s worth of real estate. Never in his life had he dreamed he’d have reason to steal anything. But the fact that he hadn’t thought twice about taking whatever was inside Hadley’s purse, as well as the water, showed him he wasn’t the man he used to be.
Why hadn’t he dumped out the personal stuff and given it back to her? The pictures and money and whatever else she kept in that big bag? He’d considered it briefly, but another part of him had instantly rebelled. There might be something inside he would need—change for a pay phone, a few bucks for a meal, a credit card to rent a car. Why should he give away something he could use? What had clean living done for him in the past? Nothing. Andrea had failed him. Truth and justice had failed him. Even the guards at Florence had failed him. He had no more faith in the system, no more belief that right would prevail. Survival of the fittest, that was what he believed in now. Taking what he needed was the only way back to his son.
Grabbing Hadley’s purse with his good hand, he yanked out the water jug and poked through her sack lunch. A turkey sandwich, potato chips, a little bag of carrot sticks, a handful of cookies and a diet soda. He turned the purse upside down and dumped out everything else, let it all tumble onto the ground as though the bits and pieces of Hadley’s life meant nothing to him: one pack of gum, a few gum wrappers, some loose crayons, a baby’s pacifier in a plastic bag, a packet of Kleenex and another of Band-Aids, a box of diaper disposal bags, a tube of diaper rash ointment, a handful of small change, a book of matches, a wallet with a twenty and several ones, keys, sunblock, chapstick, some other glossy lip stuff and various items of make-up, a book of checks that gave her address as 618 Pueblo Street, Space 13, and birth-control pills.
Birth control pills. Tucker picked them up and turned them over in his hand, wondering about the father of Hadley’s baby. He was a lucky son of a bitch. So why wasn’t he taking better care of his wife, his family? The man had to be stupid not to care more about a woman like Hadley. She was so beautiful she could steal Tucker’s breath at twenty yards, even when she was covered in dust and sweat and wearing that damn uniform. She had the kind of body that begged to be touched—soft and curvy in all the right places. And those eyes…Big and luminous, they revealed everything she was feeling. Tucker loved that. He was tired of coy and cynical, had lived with Andrea long enough to know he didn’t appreciate secrets.
Hadley had more than looks. She had guts and compassion. Without any but the most nominal support from her fellow guards, she’d stopped the fight and come to his cell to treat his wounds. This morning, when she knew he was in pain, she’d defied Eckland by insisting he loosen the cuffs, which meant she’d have hell to pay later.
And he’d stolen the water along with her purse and left her to make it, if she could, on her own.
With a grimace, Tucker tossed the birth-control pills back inside her purse and started gathering up everything else. He didn’t want to see this stuff. It made Officer Hadley too human, made her seem no different from the kind of person he’d once been. She was just living her life, trying to make ends meet while raising a kid. He might’ve had more money than she did, might have lived in a nicer home, known more prestige—but so what?
He thought of the way she’d felt beneath him when he’d tackled her, remembered the defiance in her face—admired it—then paused with a hand on her wallet. While taking stock of his current resources, he’d checked to see how much money she had in there, but he hadn’t let himself pore through the pictures opposite her coin purse. He knew better than to do it now…except he couldn’t help himself.
A baby stared back at him first, a chubby baby with a round head, fuzzy blond hair and a big gooey smile. Wearing a pink-and-white frilly dress, she had a matching bow stuck to her head, and resembled Hadley through the eyes. Next came a tall, lean man in a suit. Tucker didn’t look very long at him; for some reason, he didn’t really want to see him. And then he found what had to be a family photo. The man from the second picture stood next to Hadley, who held the baby in her arms.
The shot had obviously been taken with a regular camera and been cut down to fit the wallet, which meant it had special significance for Hadley, and it was no wonder. In it they were all smiling happily, but not for the camera—for each other. The man had his arm wrapped protectively around Hadley, grinning as though he was the happiest soul on earth. Hadley was wearing a tank top and shorts, which showed plenty of glowing, tanned skin, and was kissing the baby’s head. The baby was jamming a chubby finger in her mouth.
Tucker couldn’t quit staring at the three of them. He memorized the way the man’s hand curled around Hadley’s shoulder, studied the angle of his head as he leaned toward her, noted the pride on his face and wished…wished things were different. He belonged with Landon, even though there was no more Andrea, and Hadley belonged with this man and this child.
Would she make it?
So far, Tucker was innocent of murder. He’d never so much as struck Andrea. The night his wife disappeared, they’d had a particularly bad argument, and she’d tried to slug him. In the end, he’d stormed off but he’d left her very much alive. And that was how he’d left Officer Hadley—alive.
Only he wasn’t sure she’d stay alive. And if she didn’t, this baby would never see her mother again. Because of him.
Closing the wallet, he put it back in her purse and shoved the whole thing away.
* * *
Go to sleep. You didn’t ask her to follow you out here. You didn’t ask for any of this.
But he’d taken her water….
If she doesn’t make it out on her own, help will find her in time. She’ll be okay.
But he didn’t know that, couldn’t be sure. He thought of the entries in her check register listing small amounts for groceries and diapers. She was a mother, a woman. She was innocent—
He was innocent, too, dammit! Why’d she have to work at Florence? Why couldn’t she be someone else? Hansen or Eckland? Someone who deserved to wander around the desert for a while?
Another gunshot sounded, and he froze. She was close. What was she doing with that damn pistol?
Angry that he could still care, Tucker finally slipped out of his cave and went to look for her. It was crazy, he knew, and risked everything he’d gained in the last few hours. If he went back to prison he’d probably die before he hit forty. And yet, he had to answer to himself at some point. Evidently that hadn’t changed—or at least not enough.
* * *
“THAT SMELLS like my sunblock,” Gabrielle mumbled, thinking she had to be hallucinating when the aroma of coconut registered in her brain. She opened her eyes to see Randall Tucker bending over her.
“That’s because it is your sunblock,” he said.
“Oh, well, we wouldn’t want you to get burned.” She closed her eyes, knowing that when she opened them again, he’d be gone—wham, zap, vanished into thin air—along with the water jug he was getting out of her purse. But then a man-size hand lifted her head, and he told her to open her mouth, and it all felt very real.
“Here you go. Drink a little. It’ll help.”
The water was hot, almost as hot as the ground and his body, but all her previous hallucinations had ended with her sucking in nothing but air. This time she felt the liquid roll down her throat and hit her stomach and once she’d gulped enough, she grabbed hold of his wrist to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. “It is you,” she cried.
“How many other men do you know running around this desert carrying a purse?” he asked.
Her thoughts seemed to whirl around in her head, making her chase them. “At least you’re not wearing my makeup,” she said. A silly remark, but it was the first thing she could come up with.
“I took a few birth-control pills, though. Hope you don’t mind.” He capped the water and helped her to sit up.
Again it took her a few seconds to respond. “That’s okay. I’ve missed a few days so I have some to spare,” she finally said, even though she hadn’t taken the Pill in a couple of months. Since her divorce, she’d only dated a few times and certainly hadn’t come close to making love with anyone.
“Why’d you come back?” she asked.
He scowled, and when he spoke his voice was much gruffer than it had been only moments before. “I didn’t, or not very far, anyway. You’ve been going in circles and I just happened to see you.”
“And you thought you’d give me a drink?”
“Since I have so much.”
“Right.”
“Can you get up?”
“What?”
“Get up.”
The command seemed to grow loud, then soft, then loud again and made no sense to Gabrielle. When she didn’t move, he grabbed her by the shirtfront and hauled her to her feet.
“Is that my Chap Stick, too?” she asked, grabbing onto him so she wouldn’t fall while staring at the shine on his lips. He felt good, so solid and alive.
He pried her fingers away as though he’d rather not be touched, retrieved the Chap Stick from her purse and applied it liberally to her mouth. Then he took out her sunblock and smoothed it on her face.
“There you go,” he said, holding the water to her lips and allowing her to drink freely again. “You’re all set.”
“I feel a little better already,” she admitted. “Thank you. I really can’t thank you enough. I thought—”
He raised a hand. “I don’t want to hear what you thought. And I don’t want your thanks. I don’t want to know anything more about you. Here’s your baby’s pacifier and your diaper rash ointment and your wallet.” Keeping only the water, he settled her purse over her shoulder and pointed her toward a mountain range that looked exactly like the one she’d emerged from not long ago.
“Just start walking. The highway’s over there. If you keep on a more or less straight course through those mountains, you’ll eventually find it. Okay? And it might be a good idea to fire that gun every once in a while. That way, if they’re looking for you, they’ll know where to go. Good luck.”
“Good luck?” she echoed.
“Yeah, good luck. Get going. You should be fine now.”
She didn’t feel fine. She felt numb, unable to process words as easily as she normally did. “You’re leaving me again?”
He scowled. “What did you expect? An escort?”
She wasn’t sure that she’d expected anything. She just couldn’t bear to see him walk away from her right now, not when she was feeling so weak. She wouldn’t make it out, wouldn’t see Allie or David again, would never be able to confront Naomi or meet her sister.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped.
She blinked and nodded obediently, feeling the inevitability of soldiering on alone. It wasn’t over. She wasn’t done yet.
Some of the discouragement she felt must have communicated itself to him, because he suddenly pulled her back and shoved the water jug into her purse. “Take the damn water, too,” he said. “Just get out of here.”
The water nearly toppled her, though it couldn’t have weighed all that much. He seemed to notice her unsteadiness and his expression darkened, but Gabrielle took a deep breath and told herself to forget him. She didn’t need him. She didn’t need anyone. She’d come this far on her own, hadn’t she? She’d been alone since she was three years old….
She turned away and started walking, but when she lifted her eyes to the sky, something in the distance made her wonder if she was seeing things. A dark cloud seemed to be moving her way. Only it didn’t come slowly, as clouds usually did. It rushed toward her, filling the sky, blocking out the sun, eating up the horizon. “What’s that?” she breathed.
Tucker must’ve heard her, or maybe he’d already spotted it himself. When she glanced over her shoulder, she found him staring in the same direction, a mixture of surprise and disbelief on his face. “Oh, no,” he said. “Not now.”