Standoff (2 page)

"Got your notepad?" he asked suddenly.

"Uh, yeah."

Whatever germs had been teeming on the telephone were probably living with her now. Reconciled to that, she propped the receiver on her shoulder and held it there with her cheek while she removed a notepad and pen from her satchel and placed them on the narrow metal ledge beneath the wall-mounted telephone.

"Shoot."

"The boy's name is Ronald Davison," Gully began.

"I heard that much on the radio."

"Goes by Ronnie. Senior year, same as the Dendy girl.

Won't graduate with any honors, but he's a solid B student.

Never in trouble until today. After homeroom this morning, he boogied out of the student parking lot in his

Toyota pickup with Sabra Dendy riding shotgun."

"Russ Dendy's child."

"His one and only."

"Is the FBI on it?"

"FBI. Texas Rangers. You name it. If it wears a badge, it's working this one. Waco all over again. Everybody's claiming jurisdiction and wants in on the action."

Tiel took a moment to absorb the broad scope of this

story. The short hallway in which the pay phone was located led to the public rest rooms. One had a cowgirl in a fringed skirt stenciled in blue paint on the door. The other, predictably, had a similar silhouette of a cowpoke in chaps and ten-gallon hat, twirling a lasso above his head.

Glancing down the hall, Tiel spotted the real thing coming into the store. Tall, slender, Stetson pulled down low on his forehead. He nodded toward the store's cashier, whose frizzy, over permed hair had been dyed an unflattering shade of ocher.

Nearer to Tiel was an elderly couple browsing for souvenirs, apparently in no hurry to return to their Winnebago.

At least Tiel assumed the Winnebago at the gas pumps outside belonged to them. Through bifocal eyeglasses the lady was reading the ingredients of ajar on the shelf. Tiel heard her exclaim, "Jalapeno pepper jelly? Good lord."

The couple then joined Tiel in the hallway, moving toward their respective rest rooms. "Don't dally, Gladys," the man said. His white legs were virtually hairless and looked ridiculously thin in his baggy khaki shorts and thick-soled athletic shoes.

"You mind your business, and I'll mind mine," she retorted smartly. As she moved past Tiel she gave her a men-think they're so smart but we know-better wink. Another time, Tiel would have thought the senior couple cute and endearing. But she was thoughtfully reading what she'd taken down almost verbatim from Gully.

"You said 'riding shotgun.' Strange choice of words,

Gully."

"Can you keep a secret?" He lowered his voice significantly.

"Because my ass will be grass if this gets out before our next newscast. We've scooped every other station and newspaper in the state."

Tiel's scalp began to tingle, as it did when she knew she was hearing something that no other reporter had heard, when she had uncovered the element that would set her story apart from all the others, when her exclusive had the potential of winning her a journalism prize or praise from her peers. Or of guaranteeing her the coveted spot on Nine Live.

"Who would I tell, Gully? I'm sharing space with a fresh-off the-range cowboy buying a six-pack of Bud, a sassy granny lady and her husband from out of state—I'm guessing by their accents. And two non-English-speaking

Mexicans." The pair had since come into the store. She'd overheard them speaking Spanish while heating packaged burritos in a microwave oven.

Gully said, "Linda—"

"Linda? She got the story?"

"You're on vacation, remember?"

"A vacation you urged me to take!" Tiel exclaimed.

Linda Harper was another reporter, a darned good reporter, and Tiel's unspoken rival. It stung that Gully had assigned Linda to cover such a plum of a story, which rightfully should have belonged to her. At least that's the way she saw it.

"You want to hear this or not?" he asked cantankerously.

"Go ahead."

The elderly man emerged from the men's room. He moved to the end of the hall, where he paused to wait for his wife. To kill time, he took a camcorder from a nylon airline bag and began tinkering with it.

Gully said, "Linda interviewed Sabra Dendy's best friend this afternoon. Hold on to your hat. The Dendy girl is pregnant with Ronnie Davison's kid. Eight months gone. They've been hiding it."

"You're kidding! And the Dendys didn't know?"

"According to the friend, nobody did. That is, not until last night. The kids broke the news to their parents, and

Russ Dendy went apeshit."

Tiel's mind was already racing ahead, filling in the blanks. "So this isn't a kidnaping. It's a contemporary

Romeo and Juliet."

"I didn't say that."

"But… ?"

"But that'd be my first guess. A view shared by Sabra

Dendy's best friend and confidante. She claims Ronnie

Davison is crazy about Sabra and wouldn't harm a hair on her head. Said Russell Dendy has been fighting this romance for more than a year. Nobody's good enough for his daughter, they're too young to know their own minds, college is a must, and so forth. You get the picture."

"I do."

And what was wrong with the picture was that Tiel

McCoy wasn't in it and Linda Harper was. Damn! Of all times to go on vacation.

"I'm coming back tonight, Gully."

"No."

"I think you sent me on this wild goose chase so it would be impossible for me to return."

"Not true."

"How far am I from El Paso?"

"El Paso? Who said anything about El Paso?"

"Or San Antonio. Whichever is closer. I could drive there tonight and hop a Southwest flight in the morning.

Do you have their schedule handy? What time does the first flight depart for Dallas?"

"Listen to me, Tiel. We've got it covered. Bob's working the manhunt-law enforcement angle. Linda's on the kids'

friends, teachers, and families. Steve's practically moved into the Dendys' mansion, so he'll be there if a ransom

call comes in, which I don't expect. And, bottom line, those kids'll probably turn up before you could get back to Dallas anyway."

"So what am I doing out here in the middle of freaking nowhere?"

The old man shot her a curious glance over his shoulder.

"Listen," Gully hissed. "The friend? Sabra mentioned to her a few weeks back that she and Ronnie might just hightail it to Mexico."

Mollified because she was closer to the Mexican border than she was to Dallas, Tiel asked, "Where in Mexico?"

"She didn't know. Or wouldn't say. Linda had to twist her arm to get that much from her. She didn't want to betray

Sabra's confidence. But the one thing she did say is that Ronnie's dad—his real dad; his mom's remarried—is sympathetic to their predicament. Awhile back he offered his help if they ever needed it. Now, you're gonna feel really bad about yelling at me when I tell you where he hangs his hat."

"Hera."

"Satisfied?"

She should have apologized, but she didn't. Gully understood.

"Who else knows about this?"

"Nobody. But they will. It works to our advantage that

Hera is a one-horse town, not on any beaten path."

"Tell me about it," she muttered.

"When word gets out, it'll take everybody a while to get there, even by helicopter. You've got a definite head start."

"Gully, I love you!" she said excitedly. "Direct me out of here."

The elderly lady emerged from the ladies' room and rejoined her husband. She admonished him for fiddling

with the camcorder and ordered him to put it back in the tote bag before he broke it.

"Like you're an expert with video cameras," the old man retorted.

"I took the time to read the instruction book. You didn't."

Tiel poked her finger in her ear so she could hear Gully better. "What's the dad's name? Davison, I presume."

"I've got an address and phone number."

Tiel wrote down the information as fast as he reeled it off. "Do I have an appointment with him?"

"Working on it. He might not agree to go on camera."

"I'll get him to agree," she said confidently.

"I'm dispatching a chopper with a photographer."

"Kip if he's available."

"Yall can meet in Hera. You'll do the interview tomorrow as soon as it's arranged with Davison. Then you can continue on your merry way."

"Unless there's more story there."

"Uh-uh. That's the condition, Tiel." She envisioned him stubbornly shaking his head. "You do this bit, then you're off to Angel Fire. Period. End of discussion."

"Whatever you say." She could easily agree now, then argue about it later if events warranted.

"Okay, let's see. Outta Rojo Flats…" The map must have been right there on his desk, because within seconds he was giving her further directions. "Shouldn't take you long to get there. You're not sleepy, are you?"

She was never more wide awake than when pursuing a story. Her problem was shutting her mind off and going to sleep. "I'll buy something caffeinated to take along."

"Check in with me as soon as you get there. I've got you a room reserved at the only motel. You can't miss it. I'm told it's at the blinking traffic light—the one and only.

They'll wait up for you to give you a room key." Changing subjects, he asked, "Is the new boyfriend going to be pissed?"

"For the last time, Gully, there is no new boyfriend."

She hung up and placed another call—to her new boyfriend.

Joseph Marcus was as much a workaholic as she was. He was scheduled to fly out early the next day, so she predicted he would be working late at his desk, putting things in order prior to his being away for several days. She was right. He answered his office phone on the second ring.

"Do you get paid overtime?" she teased.

"Tiel? Hi. I'm glad you called."

"It's after hours. I was afraid you wouldn't answer."

"Reflex. Where are you?"

"The end of nowhere."

"Everything okay? You haven't had car trouble or anything?"

"No, everything's great. I called for a couple of reasons.

First, because I miss you."

This was the tack to take. Establish that the trip was still on. Establish that it was being delayed, not derailed. Assure him that everything was cool, then inform him of the slight wrinkle in their plans for a romantic getaway.

"You saw me just last night."

"But only briefly, and it's been a long day. Secondly, I

called to remind you to throw a swimsuit into your suitcase.

The hot tub at the condo complex is public."

After a pause, he said, "Actually, Tiel, it's good that you called. I needed to talk to you."

Something in the tone of his voice prevented her from prattling on. She stopped talking and waited for him to fill the silence that yawned between them.

"I could have called you on your cell phone today, but

this isn't the sort of thing… The fact is… And I'm sorry as hell about this. You can't begin to know how sorry I

am."

Tiel stared at the countless perforations in the metal surrounding the telephone. She stared so long without blinking that the tiny holes ran together. Absently she wondered what purpose they served.

"I'm afraid I can't get away tomorrow."

She'd been holding her breath. Now she released it, relieved.

His change of plans alleviated her guilt over having to change them herself.

However, before she could speak, he continued. "I

know how much you'd looked forward to this trip. And so had I," he rushed to add.

"Let me make this easier on you, Joseph." Meekly she confessed. "The truth is, I was calling to say that I need another couple days before I can get to Angel Fire. So I'm fine with a short postponement. Would your schedule allow us to meet on, say, Tuesday instead of tomorrow?"

"You don't understand what I'm saying, Tiel. I can't meet you at all."

The perforations ran together again. "Oh. I see. That is disappointing. Well—"

"It's been very tense around here. My wife found my airline ticket and—"

"Excuse me?"

"I said my wife found—"

"You're married?"

"Well… yeah. I thought you knew."

"No." Her facial muscles felt stiff and inflexible. "You have failed to mention a Mrs. Marcus."

"Because my marriage has nothing to do with you, with us. It hasn't been a real marriage for a long time. Once

I've explained my situation at home to you, you'll understand."

"You're married." This time it was a statement, not a question.

"Tiel, listen—"

"No, no, I'm not going to listen, Joseph. What I'm going to do is hang up on you, you son of a bitch."

The telephone receiver she had been so reluctant even to touch ten minutes earlier she now clung to long after replacing it on the hook. She leaned against the pay phone, her forehead pressing hard against the perforated metal while her hands maintained their grip on the greasy receiver.

Married. He had seemed too good to be true, and he was. Good-looking, charming, friendly, witty, athletic, successful, and financially secure Joseph Marcus was married.

If not for an airline ticket she would have had an affair with a married man.

She swallowed a surge of nausea and took another moment to compose herself. Later she would lick her wounded ego, berate herself for being such a Pollyanna, and curse him to hell and back. But right now she had work to do.

Joseph's revelation had left her reeling with disbelief.

She was furious beyond measure. She was terribly hurt, but more than anything she was embarrassed by her gullibility.

All the more reason she was not about to let the bastard affect her work performance.

Work was her panacea, her life support. When she was happy, she worked. Sad, she worked. Sick, she worked.

Work was the cure for all her ills. Work was the remedy for everything… even heartbreak so profound you thought you'd die.

She knew that firsthand.

She gathered up her pride, along with her notes on the

Dendy story and Gully's directions to Hera, Texas, and ordered herself to mobilize.