Desert Exposure (30 page)

“I’m not sure.” The chief looked contrite.

“She’s staying with Fred, in Desert Scapes. I can get you the number.”

“I’ll call Stanton.”

Michael nodded.
Good idea
. “Anyone update Jack?”

“Yeah,” the chief said. And then he raised a hand in farewell and moved away as the nurse advanced. “Get some sleep.”

Update Jack? Wait a minute, he’d been there too. Or had he dreamed that? The nurse checked his vital signs, and gave him some intravenous pain relief. And Stanton, he remembered talking to him. He hadn’t contacted Rachel like he’d asked. He had asked him, hadn’t he?

Chapter Twenty

Michael was moved from the Recovery Room. Even with his arm in the sling, and an intravenous cannula attached to an IV bag that dripped electrolytes into a vein in his right hand, he moved easily from the gurney to the bed in the main surgical wing. The blood transfusion had been completed. He hadn’t needed much replacement, thanks to the quick thinking of Mantis and Henry. He wasn’t feeling too much pain, either.

His strength returned with every passing hour. He’d slept a lot. The nurse had told him the intravenous cannula would be removed soon, and then he could make phone calls. And she’d also said, much to his surprise, that he’d be able to check out in the morning. He could be patient. He could wait that long. Surely.
Where had the day gone?
He’d still learned nothing about Rachel. Although the Recovery Room nurse had said Stanton had been by to visit.

He must have been asleep.

It seemed every time he woke up, they zapped him back to fuzzy land. Unable to wait for the IV to be removed, he reached for the phone, awkwardly lifting the handset, and asked for directory assistance. He propped the handset against his ear with one shoulder, ignoring the sudden jolt of pain, and scratched the number onto the front of a golfing magazine the nurse had left.
Who the hell had time for golf?

He took in a few calming breaths, making sure to release them slowly, and when the pain eased, he pressed in the numbers of the bar in Desert Scapes and waited. Fred answered.

“Can I speak to Rachel, Fred? This is Michael Delaney.”

“She’s not here,” Fred said, his voice gruff.

“Ah, do you know where she is?”

“She took off in the middle of the damn night, took the dog, too. But she left all of her stuff.”

“What?” Michael jerked his body up, and winced at the pain that shot through his arm. He had to stop doing that. He breathed through the pain for a moment or two, panting like a dog. Where could she have gone? Henry’s cabin had been destroyed. Her house was in shambles. Did she still have the spare key to his apartment? He had given her one, hadn’t he?

“Do you know where she went?”

“No. Didn’t leave a note.”

“But she had no vehicle.”

“Yeah,” Fred said. “I know.”

“Did you report her missing?”

“No. Like I said, she left her stuff. Wasn’t sure what you’d want me to do.”

“Okay. Do you have any ideas?”

“I figured she’d gone for a walk…or something,” Fred said, sounding contrite.

“I understand,” Michael said, impatient for information. His damn wound throbbed like hell. He needed to rest.

“I caught the news this morning, so I didn’t worry. I guessed she was with you. I heard all about the strife down there in Ocotillo Flats. You’re some kind of hero—it’s been playing on the telly all morning. Heard you were in surgery at JFK Hospital. You sound good.”

“Yes. I’m fine now. I’ll be out of here soon.” Michael pulled in a deep breath, and tried to stifle his disappointment. If the news was out, then Rachel would know what had happened, and to where he’d been transported. So, why hadn’t she visited? He pressed his lips tight. She’d been angry about not being included in the take down, but surely, she wouldn’t hold that against him. Would she?

“You want me to call anyone?” Fred asked.

“No. I’ll do that.” Michael hung up the handset, and thought it all through. Where could she have gone? He dialed Stanton.

****

Michael finished the last spoonful of Jell-O and then he scraped the little container with the teaspoon to see if he’d missed any. He was starving, but he knew a steak, or a burger, was out of the question. Maybe tonight he’d get more food.

Even though, now the anesthetic had worn off a bit, the damn arm throbbed like someone jabbed a hot poker into it. He’d have to take another dose of morphine soon. And while he knew not to do the whole macho bullshit thing and tough out the pain, he hated taking the drug because then he slept, and he always woke up again feeling mildly nauseous.

So, all in all, it was a good thing the nurse had held back on the solid food. He didn’t want to add upchucking to his condition. He put the Jell-O container down, and looked up to see Stanton standing in the doorway. He’d arrived in record time, having said over the phone that he didn’t know where Rachel had gone, but that he’d make some enquiries while driving over.

“Come on in,” Michael said, beckoning him with the teaspoon. “Any news on Rachel?”

Stanton scratched at his neck. “Yeah, ah…it’s the darndest thing.” He pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed. “It seems like she didn’t trust you to get the job done.”

“What?” Michael frowned, and his arm throbbed, causing his head to pound in competition with it. He glanced at the clock. It was after three, and Rachel had been missing since the middle of the night. And Stanton grinned like a fool.
What the hell is wrong with these people? Don’t they get the seriousness of the situation?
He shifted his arm, gently easing the sling so that it didn’t rub against his neck.

“She’s being held in Brawley PD.”

“What the hell,” Michael said, jolting his upper body forward. “What happened?”

Stanton grinned even wider, and he ran a hand over his buzz cut.

“My understanding is, she and Manuel, and Jack Fischer, followed us to Ocotillo Flats. They saw the car parked at the edge of the highway, and figured we’d cut across the Ocotillo fields. They followed us.”

“You’re kidding me?”

“Afraid not. Now I haven’t spoken with her myself. This is all secondhand information.”

“From whom?”

“Jack, but that’s another story. It seems Manuel shot at the gang members. You know the guys up on the rise, the ones who were giving us backup?”

“That was them?”

“Yeah. Cops are interrogating them at the moment. Seems they were escaping the crime scene, and met up with a roadblock. Manuel has a minor rap against him.”

“But what about Rachel? Why won’t they release her?”

“They’re getting to that,” Stanton said.

“Does she even know Henry is alive, and in the hospital?”

Stanton looked perplexed. “I forgot about that. You know what? I’m not sure.”

“Well, you should damn well find out—”

“Hold it,” Stanton said, and raised a hand. “It’s not my department, not yours either. Brawley’s in a whole damn other county,” he said, and scoffed. “It’s like a whole other country down there.” He looked away for a moment, and then dug into his pocket. “Here’s your cell phone. Maybe you can get your chief to make a call. They could be detained there all day.”

“I need to get the hell out of here,” Michael said, his anger rising. “This must be straightened out.” He pressed the buzzer for the nurse. “Even if I have to go to Brawley.”

“Not like this, you don’t,” Stanton said, waving his beefy arms around. “You’re pale as Casper. And you’re still weak. Stay still. Rest for the night. I’ll pick you up in the morning, when they release you. I’ll even drive you down to see her.”

Michael clenched his jaw against his annoyance. He needed to take some action.
Now
. He couldn’t let Rachel sweat it out in a holding cell.

The nurse came into the room. “What can I get for you, Michael?” she asked, and walked around behind Stanton to check the intravenous.

“He needs more sedation,” Stanton said gruffly, standing up, and moving his chair back. “Thinks he’s gonna’ get out of here now, and then go rescue his girlfriend.”

“That would not be wise,” the nurse said, and scowled at Michael. “You need to rest.”

“See, that’s what I told him.”

“I wasn’t planning to leave against medical advice,” Michael said. His father would never forgive him for that. “I—”

He broke off his explanation because he was so damn pissed at Rachel. He’d trusted her to stay put. He’d believed she’d finally understood the situation. He’d prided himself on the fact that Reckless Rachel had become wiser through knowing and working with him. So, it wasn’t so much about rescuing her as wringing her neck. Before Michael got to explain, the nurse administered another dose of morphine.

“Wait, wait a minute,” he said, his voice already sounding a little bit off to his ears. Did his words slur? Mad as he felt, he couldn’t let her suffer. “Stanton, call the chief, my chief. Tell him…everything…you’re on this case, remember…working together…clear Rachel…”

Michael’s eyelids got heavy, like they had lead weights on them. He tried to stretch his eyes wide, and finally gave up. The medicated sleep overtook him.

Chapter Twenty-One

While the cops in Brawley believed their story, they’d had to cover themselves and go by the book. An hour before their release, Jack Fischer had turned up with Debbie, and they had posted bail for Manuel.

“Thank goodness you were home,” Rachel said, moisture filling her eyes as she clung to Debbie, hugging her tight. “Where’s Ralph?”

“He’s in the car, sleeping on the back seat,” Jack said. “It’s going to be okay.”

She nodded and tried not to cry. No way would she ask about Michael. Besides, neither Jack nor Debbie knew how involved they’d become in this past week. She’d held her tears in for so long, through the drive to the PD. Not knowing where they’d taken Michael, or what had happened to him. But the fact that he hadn’t found her said so much. Through all of the questions, and now, when she should be relieved and happy, she blubbered like a baby. She swiped at her face. Why was it that she cried the most when she received tenderness and love from her friends? Someone could be mean, angry, could insult or hurt her, and she wouldn’t shed a tear.

“The bail is only a temporary requirement. You’ll both be fine,” Jack said. “The chief from the Indio PD has backed up your story. They questioned me, and even Debbie. We had to let them know why we were also on the case.”

“What? Why were you working this case?” Rachel swiped at her cheeks. She took the wad of tissues that Debbie held out to her and blotted her eyes. She must look like hell.

“The Suarez cartel—or what was left of them—were after me. Rumor had it that a hit was imminent. That’s why I’d set up surveillance. The only problem was they kept moving location. I had a reliable informant.”

She nodded again. “Mantis?”

“You mean Fernando?”

“Yes.” She shook her head slowly. “Man, he sure gets around. Where is Manuel’s car?”

“Impounded. Evidence,” Jack said, and shrugged. “But they’ll probably release that in a day or so. I’ll drive you back down to get it, Manuel.”

Rachel pulled in a deep breath. She needed to know, but hated to ask. She straightened her shoulders, and tried to sound casual. “Detective Delaney, Stanton, and Mantis…?”

“All made it.”

Dizzy with relief, Rachel smiled and gripped the top of the counter in the Brawley PD outer office for support. A cop handed Manuel some papers, probably to do with his car. She heard a murmur of conversation, but had to sit down. She plopped onto a hard seat, as the even harder, and colder, facts hit home.

Michael is okay. So why hadn’t he found her? Why hadn’t he come to her rescue?
She chewed at her bottom lip. A voice in her head said it all loud and clear, because work was more important to him. The case was over, and she was of no further use. She shouldered her bag and stood. She wouldn’t shed a tear.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said. “I left some stuff at Fred’s place in Desert Scapes. Can you stop there?”

“Sure thing,” Jack said, and slung an arm around her shoulder.

Debbie walked close to her on the other side, and Manuel walked quietly behind them.

It had been quite a day. There’d be a lot more questions asked, that’s for sure. And the cops had to see if bullets from Manuel’s gun had killed or injured anyone. She prayed he’d been a really bad shot, because she wasn’t certain how that would all play out. He hadn’t been sure if he’d hit anyone, although he had admitted to firing at the gang members.

****

When Michael woke up around 10pm, to the sound of the phone ringing, he grabbed for the handset with haste, almost dropping the damn thing. Maybe it was Rachel, or news about her. He readied himself for an argument. Not willing to let her off the hook.

“Mom,” he said, and winced at the blubbering over the line. There was nothing he could stuff into his ears, so he’d have to listen.

“I heard from your chief,” she finally said. “Daddy and I will come out—”

“No,” Michael said. “I’m fine, and we’ll see each other at Christmas. They’re letting me go home tomorrow.”