Standoff (11 page)

From the start, Tiel had thought the allegations were nonsense. It was a foregone conclusion that Mrs. Bradley's life expectancy was a matter of days. A man due to inherit a fortune could afford to wait until nature took its course.

Besides, Dr. Stanwick was affluent in his own right, although he put a lot of his income back into the oncology clinic to be used for research and indigent patient care.

Even if he had euthanized his wife, Tiel wasn't ready to cast the first stone. The controversy surrounding euthanasia left her in a moral quandary to which she had no satisfactory resolution. On that subject, she tended to agree with the last impassioned speaker.

But, strictly from a practical standpoint, she strongly doubted that Bradley Stanwick would risk his reputation even for his beloved wife's sake.

Unfortunately for him, his in-laws persisted until the

DA's office ordered an investigation—which proved to be a waste of time and manpower. No evidence was found to substantiate the relatives' charge of criminal wrongdoing.

There was no indication that Dr. Stanwick had done anything to hasten his wife's death. The DA declined even to present the case to the grand jury, claiming there was no basis for it whatsoever.

Nevertheless, the story didn't end there. During the

weeks that investigators were interrogating Dr. Stanwick, his colleagues, his staff, friends, family, and former patients, every aspect of his life was extensively examined and debated. He lived beneath a shadow of suspicion that was especially unsettling since the majority of his patients were considered terminally, irreversibly ill.

The hospital where he practiced soon found itself in the spotlight too. Rather than standing behind him, the administrators voted unanimously to revoke his privileges at the facility until he was cleared of all suspicion. No fool,

Bradley Stanwick knew he would never be cleared of all suspicion. Once a seed of doubt is planted in the public's mind, it usually finds fertile ground and flourishes.

Perhaps the ultimate betrayal came from his partners at the clinic he had established. After working together for years, pooling their research and case studies, combining their knowledge, skills, and theories, forging friendships as well as professional alliances, they asked him to resign.

He sold his share of the practice to his former partners, unloaded his stately home in Highland Park for a fraction of its appraised value, and, with a "Screw you all" attitude, left Dallas for parts unknown. That's where the story ended. If Tiel hadn't lost her way and wound up in Rojo

Flats, she probably would never have thought of him again.

She asked him now, "Is Sabra the first patient you've treated since you left Dallas?"

"She isn't a patient, and I didn't treat her. I was a cancer doctor, not an OB-GYN. This is an emergency situation, and I responded. Just as you did. Just as everybody has."

"That's false modesty, Doc. None of us could have done for Sabra what you did."

"Ronnie, okay if I get a drink?" he suddenly called out to the boy.

"Sure. Okay. The others could probably use some water too."

Leaning forward, Doc took a six-pack of bottled water from the shelf. After taking two of the plastic bottles for

Tiel and himself, he passed the rest up to the boy, who then asked Donna to distribute them.

He drank almost half his bottle in one swallow. Tiel twisted off the cap and drank from her bottle, sighing after taking a long draft. "Good idea. Trying to change the subject?"

"Good guess."

"You don't practice medicine here in Rojo Flats?"

"I told you. I ranch."

"But they know you around here as Doc."

"Everybody in a small town knows everything about everyone."

"But you must've told somebody. Otherwise, how'd it get around—"

"Look, Ms. McCoy—"

"Tiel."

"I don't know how it got around that I once practiced medicine. Even if I did, what's it to you?"

'Just curious."

"Uh-huh." He was looking straight ahead, away from her. "This isn't an interview. You won't get an interview from me. So why not save yourself the breath? You might need it later."

"Prior to the… the episode, you lived a very active life.

Don't you miss being at the center of things?"

"No."

"You don't get bored out here?"

"No."

"Aren't you lonesome?"

"For what?"

"Companionship."

He turned his head and readjusted his position so that his shoulders and torso were almost facing her. "Sometimes."

His eyes moved downward, over her. "You volunteering to help me out on that?"

"Oh, please."

And when she said that, he began to laugh, letting her know that he hadn't been serious.

She hated herself for falling for the ruse. "I hoped you were above that sexist crap."

Serious again, he said, "And I hoped you were above asking questions, particularly personal ones, at a time like this. Just as I was beginning to like you."

Strangely, the way he was looking at her now, with that probing intensity, had a greater effect than the smarmy sexual insinuation. That had been phony. This was real.

Her tummy lifted weightlessly.

But then an uproar on the far side of the store brought her and Doc scrambling to their feet.

CHAPTER

8

Tiel had dubbed the shorter, stockier Mexican man

Juan. It was he who had caused the commotion. He was bending over Agent Cain, lavishly cursing him—at least she assumed he was cursing. His shouted Spanish had an epithetical quality.

Cain was repeatedly screaming, "What the hell?" and futilely straining to free himself from the duct tape.

To everyone's dismay, Juan slapped a strip of duct tape over the FBI agent's mouth to shut him up. Meanwhile,

Juan's taller companion let fly with a stream of Spanish that sounded both reproachful and confused by Juan's sudden attack on the agent.

Ronnie brandished his pistol, shouting, "What's going on? What're you doing there? Vern, what happened?"

"Damned if I know. I had sorta dozed off. I woke up when they started tussling and yelling at one another."

"He just jumped on him," Gladys contributed in her prissy manner. "For no apparent reason. I don't trust him.

Or his friend either, for that matter."

"Quepasa?"Doc asked.

The others fell abruptly silent, surprised that he spoke

Spanish. Apparently Juan was more surprised than anyone.

He whipped his head around and glared at Doc. Undeterred by the smoldering eyes, Doc posed the question a second time.

"Nada, "Juan muttered beneath his breath.

Then Doc just stood there and exchanged glowers with the Mexican. "Well?" Tiel prompted.

"Well, what? That's the extent of my Spanish vocabulary except for hello, good-bye, please, thank you, and shit.

None apply to this particular situation."

"Why'd you jump him?" Ronnie asked the Mexican man. "What's the matter with you?"

Donna said, "He's a nutcase, that's what. Knew it the minute I laid eyes on him."

Juan answered in Spanish, but Ronnie impatiently shook his head. "I can't understand you. Just take that tape off his mouth. Do it!" he ordered when Juan failed to obey immediately. Ronnie made himself understood by pantomiming peeling the tape off Cain, who was listening and watching the proceedings with round, wide, fearful eyes.

The Mexican leaned down, pinched up a corner of the tape, and ripped it off the agent's lips. He yelped in pain, then shouted, "You son of a bitch!"

Juan actually seemed pleased with himself. He glanced at his partner and they both laughed, as though amused by the federal agent's embarrassment and discomfort.

"You're all going to jail. Every damn last one of you."

Cain looked balefully at Tiel. "Especially you. You're to blame for the fix we're in."

"Me?"

"You impeded a federal officer and prevented him from performing his duty."

"I prevented you from needlessly taking a human life just so you could earn your spurs, or get your rocks off, or whatever it was that motivated you to come in here and further complicate an already complicated situation.

Under the same set of circumstances I would clobber you again."

His hostile gaze moved from one hostage to the other, eventually landing on the Mexican who had attacked him.

"I don't understand. What the hell is wrong with you people?"

He nodded toward Ronnie. "He's the enemy, not me."

"We're only trying to keep this standoff from ending in disaster," Doc said.

"The only way that's going to happen is with a full surrender and the release of the hostages. It's a Bureau policy not to negotiate."

"We heard it already from Galloway," Tiel told him.

"If Galloway thinks I'm dead—"

"We assured him you aren't."

The agent sneered at Ronnie. "What makes you think he would believe you?"

"Because I confirmed it," Tiel said.

Doc, who'd returned his attention to Sabra, said, "I

need another package of diapers."

They couldn't be for the baby, Tiel reasoned. Katherine hadn't wet that much. It took only a glance for her to understand that the replacements were for Sabra. Her bleeding had not abated. If anything it had increased.

"Ronnie, may I get another carton of diapers?"

"What's wrong? Something with the baby?"

"The baby's fine, but Sabra is bleeding."

"Oh Jesus."

"May I get the diapers?"

"Sure, sure," he said absently.

"Some hero you are, Davison," Cain remarked snidely.

"To save your own skin, you're willing to let your girlfriend and baby die. Yeah, it takes real courage to let a woman bleed to death."

"Wish that Mexican had used tape you cain't pull off."

Donna grumbled. "You got a real fat mouth on you, G-man."

"For once, you're right, Donna," Gladys said. Speaking to Cain, she added, "What a hateful thing to say."

"All right, be quiet, all of you!" Ronnie said. Everyone instantly fell silent, except for the two Mexican men, who were conferring in whispers.

Tiel rushed back to Doc's side with the box of disposable diapers. She tore it open and unfolded a diaper for him, which he positioned beneath Sabra's hips. "What made you think of this?"

"She's bleeding through the napkins too fast. These diapers are lined with plastic."

The exchange was spoken in an undertone. Neither wanted to panic the girl or further fluster Ronnie, who was watching the wall clock behind the counter. Its long, sweeping second hand was circling dreadfully slowly.

Doc moved to Sabra's side and took her hand. "You're still bleeding a little heavier than I'd like."

Her eyes darted to Tiel, who laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "No need for immediate alarm. Doc's just thinking ahead. He doesn't want things to get so bad they can't get better."

"That's right." Leaning down nearer to her, he spoke softly. "Would you please reconsider going to the hospital?"

"No!"

He appealed to her. "Before saying no, listen to me a minute. Please."

"Please, Sabra. Let Doc explain."

The girl's eyes moved back to Doc but they regarded him warily. "I'm thinking not only of you and the baby." he said, "but of Ronnie too. The sooner he brings this to an end, the better it's going to be for him."

"My daddy will kill him."

"No he won't. Not if you and Katherine are safe."

Her eyes filled with tears. "You don't understand. He's only pretending to want us safe. Last night when we told him about the baby, he threatened to kill it. He said if he could, he would cut it out of me right then and strangle it with his bare hands. That's how much he hates Ronnie, how much he hates our being together."

Tiel gasped. She'd never heard a flattering word about

Russell Dendy, but this testimony of his cruelty was shocking.

How could anyone be so heartless? Doc's lips compressed into a thin line.

"That's the kind of person my daddy is," Sabra continued.

"He hates to be crossed. He'll never forgive us for defying him. He'll have Ronnie sent to prison forever, and he'll make certain that I never see my baby again. I don't care what he does to me. If I can't be with them, it doesn't matter what happens to me."

She tilted her head down and rested her cheek against her newborn. The peach fuzz on the baby's small head blotted Sabra's tears from her cheeks. "You've both been great to me. Truly. I hate to disappoint you. But you won't change my mind about this. Until they let Ronnie and me walk out of here with Daddy's promise to leave us alone,

I'm staying. Besides, Doc, I trust you more than I would any doctor at a hospital my daddy sent me to."

Doc swiped his sweating forehead with the back of his

hand and sighed. He looked across at Tiel, who raised her shoulders in a defeatist's shrug.

"Okay," he said reluctantly. "I'll do my best."

"I don't doubt that." Sabra winced. "Is it really bad?"

"There's nothing I can do about the bleeding from the tear. But the vaginal bleeding… Remember earlier when

I told you to rest because I might have to ask you to do something for me later?"

"Um-huh."

"Well, I'd like for you to nurse Katherine."

The girl shot Tiel a stunned glance. "The nursing will cause your uterus to contract and reduce the bleeding." she explained.

Doc smiled down at Sabra. "Ready to give it a try?"

"I guess so," she replied, although she seemed unsure and embarrassed.

"I'll help you." Tiel reached for the scissors, which had been wiped clean. "Why don't I use these to clip the shoulder seams of your dress? We can pin them back afterward, but that'll keep you from having to get undressed."

"That'd be good." She seemed relieved to give over some of the decision-making to Tiel.

"I'll let you ladies have some privacy. Uh, Ms., uh, Tiel?"

Doc motioned her to stand, and they held a brief, private consultation. "Do you know anything about this?"

"Nothing. My mother stopped breast-feeding me when