Desert Exposure (29 page)

“They don’t know we’re here. They might think we’re with the gang.”

His eyes were filled with pain. Rachel pulled in a deep breath. Something was wrong. She’d been so caught up in her own thoughts his distress hadn’t registered. “What? What is it?”

He let go of his hold, and scuffed the toe of his sneaker at the soft ground. “I have a record.”

“A what?”

“Record,” he said. “Police record. Assault and battery.”

Such a big guy, and so strong, Rachel knew if he’d fought with someone the other person had not come out of the assault too well. But Manuel…her gentle giant? He looked so ashamed. “Did you do time?” she asked gently.

He shook his head. “The charges were dropped.”

“Well, that’s good,” she said, and took a couple of steps. “So, no problem.”

“I’d rather not go.” Manuel grimaced. “You don’t know how it is to be Latino in these parts. They don’t hear your story. And Arturo was my roommate. I’m going back to the car.”

Rachel nodded, and noticed how dispirited he sounded.

He shoved the gun inside his jacket. “I wouldn’t shoot anyone, except to help and protect you. And Michael had no chance against those assault rifles.” He began to walk away.

Ah, so that’s what his mood is about
. She totally got it now. He tried to justify his actions. He’d probably never shot a human being before. Not even in self-defense. That had to be horrible to think about. And she knew she’d have nightmares about this for months, maybe even years. She hurried to catch up to him.
Would their car still be there? Would it be surrounded by police vehicles?

Chapter Nineteen

When the ambulance arrived, Mantis yelled to the SWAT team that he worked with Michael and Stanton. Michael nodded his agreement, although he couldn’t find his voice, and nobody could see him anyway. Stanton rushed to Mantis’ side and seemed to be confirming that, although Michael watched it all from a distance, he could catch an occasional word, or a gesture.

He was a bit winded, needed to stay still and catch his breath before he tried to climb out of the hole. A tall, dark-haired civilian came out onto the verandah. He stood next to Mantis and they talked and gesticulated. Michael smiled. In a minute he’d wave his hand, and call out. Henry was already struggling to do that.

“Give them another minute,” Michael murmured. “Too confusing.” What a mess it was out there, bodies and emergency people and cops everywhere. He figured it was exactly like Mantis to have solicited the help of another civilian. Still, it looked like Stanton had a handle on who were the good guys, and who were the bad. Then it hit him. That was Jack Fischer. So who had been on the rise? Jack loped across the driveway, and then jumped into a vehicle as it prepared to take off. He must be happy to know his assassins had been dealt with. Probably he wanted to check out that Pedro had been captured or killed.

Henry eased up beside him, unable to hold back another second. The old man yelled that they needed help, and climbed halfway out of the grave. Michael had to duck to miss his flailing skinny legs. Then he saw Mantis slip behind the cabin, and disappear into the trees.

“Thanks,” he whispered, in farewell to Mantis.

“I’m not leaving you,” Henry said, looking down at Michael. “Medic. Medic.”

No use explaining. The effort and stress of the shootout had almost been too much for him, and Michael felt woozy. He patted the old man’s ankle. “I know. Thanks…for everything.”

“You too. We make a good team.”

“Good work,” Michael murmured, and then the paramedics arrived.

Inside the ambulance, an intravenous was started. Michael insisted that they also bring Henry into the hospital, and he began to explain the elderly man’s last couple of weeks where he’d been the victim of abuse and deprivation. Stanton had already wrapped Henry in a blanket, and he agreed.

“It’ll only take a second,” Stanton called out to the paramedic. He helped Henry stand, and walked him carefully toward the ambulance. Then he left, and rejoined the group huddled around the cabin.

“In the back,” Henry said. He indicated he’d be happy to sit next to Michael.

Michael smiled from behind his oxygen mask. He pulled it down for a minute.

“Hope they don’t need to do any surgery,” he said, and winked at Henry, and then looked up at the paramedic. “My man and I had a fruit juice and a granola bar, about an hour ago.”

The paramedic grinned. “Probably saved you from passing out.”

“Chocolate,” Henry said.

“I think a good clean up, and some stitches, and you’ll be back on the job in no time.” The paramedic looked over at Henry. “You, on the other hand, could use a good meal or two.”

Henry laughed. “Tell me about it.”

“Where’s my phone?” Michael asked, and then tried to sit up.

“Don’t worry about anything right now, just rest.” The paramedic said, easing him back onto the stretcher. “Everything will be taken care of.”

“I need to give Stanton some information,” Michael said, removing the mask from his face again. “We had help from someone on the hill. Don’t want them to be mistaken for gang members, plus, whoever it was could have been hurt.”

“Stop stressing,” the paramedic said sharply.

Michael blinked hard, and then clamped down on his jaw.

“And keep that mask in place,” the paramedic said, softening his tone of voice. “Better still, I’m exchanging it for a nasal cannula.”

“He’s right,” Henry said to the paramedic. “Better do that. Call Stanton. Have to make sure every good guy gets out of here unharmed, or—”

“Fair enough.” The paramedic spoke tersely, but he stood and peered out the back of the ambulance. After a few moments, he yelled, and beckoned. “Hey, Stanton, you’re needed over here.”

He then drew up a shot of something from a small vial. Michael hoped for morphine, but not to be given yet. No medications, not until he could give Stanton a couple of important details.

Stanton ran over. “What’s up?”

Michael told him his story. Stanton beckoned someone else over and barked out several orders.

“SWAT guys say they’ll check it out,” Stanton said, leaning inside the back of the ambulance. “You get that arm taken care of.” He slapped the back door jamb. “Get my men out of here.”

The paramedic who was the driver nodded. The second one sat between the two patients.

“Call Rachel,” Michael yelled to Stanton, as the driver closed the back doors.

“We’re on our way,” the second paramedic said, lifting the intravenous line and injecting something into it.

The driver ran around, and jumped into the ambulance, and Michael settled back as the sound of the siren blurted out a farewell to the carnage around the cabin. Stanton had heard him, hadn’t he? He looked over at Henry. He’d fallen asleep. No sense in waking him so that he could find his cell phone. He knew it would be somewhere, in one or the other of their pockets. Everything started to go fuzzy around the edges, and he smiled up at the attendant. He felt his entire body go weightless. Maybe it was in his pants? He tried to reach with his good hand and realized the paramedic had restrained him.

His eyelids got heavy.
Have to call Rachel. Will, soon as I get to the hospital.
His job was done. The Kingpin was dead, Henry was found, and Jack was safe. And Mantis had come back to help out. It was all good. He closed his eyes again, and let sleep overtake him.

****

Rachel and Manuel lowered themselves, for a few moments, behind the large foliage at the base of a couple of tall Ocotillo plants. The sun was up now.

They’d have to make a run for the car soon. But she wasn’t concerned, there were no bad gang members left standing. And while she didn’t relish the thought of killing, and she certainly couldn’t celebrate that they were dead and would no longer cause harm to anyone, she did feel relieved. The loss of life still bothered her though. What odd feelings.

A mile or so to the west, and across the river, was the motor home park. The ambulance transporting the injured parties had long gone. She felt like a criminal, hiding out from the cops. Behind them they could see the helicopters had taken off over the ridge, heading back toward Indio, or maybe to take a coastal route to San Diego. She glanced around with a frown. Maybe this was part of San Diego County? She couldn’t remember. Panic gripped her.

Were the emergency vehicles out of San Diego? Would they take Michael, if it had been Michael on that stretcher, to a hospital there, or to one in Brawley? How would she find him?

“All clear,” Manuel said. “Let’s make a run for it. Let’s get the hell away from here.”

Rachel nodded and they ran, using whatever plants they could as cover, dodging in and around them. Arriving at the car, they hurled their bodies inside, and panting looked at each other without a word. They were safe. Manuel did a u-turn and took off.

Rachel leaned forward, catching her breath, and thanking the universe for their good luck. The cops hadn’t had time to put a boot on the car, preventing them from driving it away. She raised her head, about to congratulate Manuel on their good fortune, and gasped.

Manuel’s face had turned from its usual deep olive to the color of cappuccino foam. His hands gripped the steering wheel, each knuckle sharply pronounced. Up ahead was a police roadblock. A cop stood in front of it and flagged them down.

Manuel slowed their speed. “Gun,” he said.

About to say he couldn’t shoot a cop, she finally understood what he meant. She nodded and lowered herself into the seat, and took the gun from the glove compartment. She shoved it far back, beneath her seat, and prayed the cop would not search their vehicle.

****

Michael didn’t recall much about arriving at the hospital, or going into surgery. They must have given him a light anesthetic. He looked around. The gurneys and dividing curtains told him it was a recovery room.
Wonder where Henry is?

He stretched his eyelids wide, and saw the worried frown on the chief’s ruddy face. “What are you doing here?” he asked, trying to work his drug addled brain, and get some moisture into his dry mouth.

“Not supposed to be in here,” the chief said quietly. “But I insisted.” He grinned down at him. “Good job, Delaney. Excellent job.”

“What about Younger Brother?”

The chief frowned. “Who?”

Michael smacked his lips. “The younger Suarez brother…the decoy…ah…Pedro.”

The chief grinned wider. “Here, try some ice chips.” He shoveled a spoonful into Michael’s mouth. “We got him. He’ll provide us with even more information on the cartels. How they work. How they control the overland drug smuggling routes from Central America. Who works for whom, and—”

“Good.” Michael nodded, glad they’d captured one of them. “More ice, please.”

After another spoonful he glanced around the room. “Is Rachel here?” He tried to raise his head.

The chief frowned.

“Ah, hell,” Michael said, and sat up. His alarm monitor beeped. “Do I have to do everything? Did nobody tell her where I am?”

The chief raised his hands and his eyebrows.

“Shit. She’ll be going nuts by now,” Michael said, ignoring the shrill monitor. “How long have I been here? Where the hell is Stanton?”

“Steady on there.” The chief put a hand on his chest, and pushed him back onto the gurney.

The nurse re-attached the monitor lead that had ripped from his chest when he’d tried to get up, and then she fussed around checking everything else in sight. “I thought you said you wouldn’t disturb him,” she said to the chief. “I’m going to have to insist that you leave.”

“Not his fault,” Michael said, and winced at the tugging pain in his left arm.

The chief nodded his agreement, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Can we have five minutes?” Michael asked. “Please?”

The nurse grimaced. “Two minutes, and that’s it.” She turned toward the chief. “Then I’m giving him another pain killer. So, you’d better ask whatever it is that’s so important, and then leave the poor man to rest.”

She smiled at Michael. “Morphine will keep
you
quiet.”

Michael looked down, and saw his left arm was in a sling. He had a cannula in his right hand and red intravenous tubing was attached. He looked up, and saw the slow, steady drip of a blood transfusion.

“Tell me everything you need to,” the chief said, and leaned against the bed rail. “But go slow, take your time, and most important things first. There’s nothing worth getting yourself agitated about. There’ll be time for a full report later. You’ve got some healing to do.”

The nurse shot them both another warning glance, and moved on to check on the next patient. Michael brought the chief up to speed. He skirted around the extent of his feelings for Rachel, but he’d noticed the rise and fall of the chief’s eyebrows. Fortunately the chief didn’t put pressure on him for further information. It seemed he understood that he and Rachel had formed a partnership of sorts.

The chief said Henry was fine, but the doctor wanted to keep him in the hospital for a couple of days. He had a few nasty scratches and sores that needed attention, and he appeared malnourished.

“Has he been in contact with Rachel? Has anybody?” Michael tried hard to keep calm, especially when he discovered it was now after two in the afternoon.