Truth And Consequences

A black SUV slid up next to the tracks, its tires burning rubber and slinging dirt and rocks. The driver opened the passenger-side door. “Hurry. We’ll take care of this later.”

The man sped up, but Hunter nipped at his pants and tore part of the left pants leg away before the suspect threw himself inside the vehicle. It took off while he was still climbing inside. Hunter stood with the torn piece of fabric at his feet.

“Hunter, stay!” Whitney screamed at David, “Let me up!”

He rolled away, his gaze following the disappearing SUV.

“Give me my gun!” Whitney lifted herself up and started after them.

But a strong hand grabbed her and tugged her back.

David shook his head. “Let’s get out of here,” he said into her ear. “It’s too dangerous.”

“No,” she said, disbelief making her angry. “I have to go after them. It’s my job, and you’re hindering me from doing it.”

He held her there, his eyes as rich as dark leather. “They’ll kill you.”

If he thought that would hold her back, he was mistaken. Whitney pushed up again. Every muscle in her body hurt, and her skin burned with abrasions. “I said, let me go. Now!”

Hunter sensed she might be in danger and growled, his black eyes centered on David.

“I don’t like this,” she said. “Hunter’s reacting to my stress. He thinks you’re hurting me.”

But David wasn’t listening. He glared across the train tracks, watching, waiting, his hand holding her arm. “They’ve stopped. They might be coming back. They’ll ambush you again.”

Whitney took in a deep breath and called Hunter to come. She didn’t want to agree with the man, but she’d already messed up on so many levels. She couldn’t do this alone. Pushing back anger and frustration, she glared at him.

“I have to report in,” she said, reaching for her radio as she sank against a rock. After giving the dispatcher her location and a description of the men and the vehicle, she shifted away from David, her body still shaky. “We’ll up the search and the BOLO alert.”

When she tried to stand, one of her legs buckled. David tucked her weapon into his waistband and then scooped her up into his arms and started walking.

“Put me down,” Whitney shouted as David carried her through the heavy brush next to the train tracks. He might be tall and lanky, but the man had surprising strength. She should turn her weapon on him.

But when they heard a vehicle’s engine revving up down the tracks, Whitney looked up and into David’s eyes.

“They’re back,” he said. “We need to hide and wait for help.”

Taking her to a small copse of spindly pines, he gestured to a huge jagged rock, and they crouched behind it, David in front of her as if he were waiting for a battle to begin.

And maybe a battle was about to begin. These men were desperate and dangerous.

Whitney glared at him, her breath coming in huffs. “You should have stayed out of this. They know you. They’ve seen your face. That’s why they turned around. They have to eliminate any witnesses.”

He inhaled and stared through the bushes. “Yes, they saw my face when they came close to shooting me the first time. I’m trying to keep you from going after them because they know you now, too.”

Whitney struggled to find footing, his words sobering. “I don’t need your help. I mean it. Let me go.”

When they heard hurried footsteps, they stopped arguing.

David glanced at her, relieved. “That’s probably one of your patrol officers coming to check on us.” Then he gave her an imploring stare. “You heard those men. They’ll keep coming. To deal with this problem.”

Whitney had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t referring to the other bags of heroin.

* * *

“You shouldn’t have interfered.”

David glanced over at the woman who’d practically forced him to get into her vehicle earlier so she could take him in to give a statement and look at mug shots. After she’d been confronted by the same two men a second time, both Whitney and Chief Jones had decided now would be a good time to identify them.

After they’d both been checked over by the EMTs at the scene and she’d gone over the details with Chief Jones and handed over the suspect’s handgun and the torn fabric from his pants as evidence, David had been questioned. Then she’d brought him to the police station, where it seemed the whole rookie team had gathered for some sort of briefing.

David had noticed at least five other K9 officers, four men and one other woman, plus several older officers milling around. For a small-town department, Desert Valley sure had a lot of willing law enforcement personnel right now.

And they’d all checked him out in one way or another.

He’d glanced at mug shots for what seemed like hours. He’d also described what he’d remembered about the symbol he’d seen on the license plate of the SUV. “It looked like an arrow, pointing up. And feathers. Three or four, maybe, dangling down.” There was something else, but he couldn’t remember what he was missing.

“We get a lot of that around here,” Whitney’s fellow officer, Eddie Harmon, had said with a shrug. “And we don’t have an artist on site to sketch it out for us.”

“I saw a tattoo on one of the men’s arms,” Whitney had told David and Eddie. “Could be the same.” She’d glanced over at a tall female officer with short brown hair who had an Amazonian-type build. “Louise, maybe you can do some research on tattoos for us, based on the description.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” the woman had replied.

David had gone back to searching the mug shots, but he was glad Whitney had verified what he’d seen. Maybe it was some sort of cartel symbol or a popular Southwestern tattoo.

But he couldn’t match any of the faces in the books to the two men who’d caused all the trouble on the train. Now he wondered if they’d both disguised themselves.

“Go home, Godwin,” the chief, a tall man with a paunch and thick gray hair, had finally commanded. “And stay home and rest tomorrow morning. You look a little beat up, and I noticed you’ve been favoring that left leg.”

Whitney had frowned, but she hadn’t argued with the man. Instead, she’d made a couple of phone calls and seemed anxious to leave the station.

After the two hours or so they’d spent together, she’d also offered to give David a ride to the nearest inn. “It’s on the way,” she’d explained. “So get in and don’t argue with me.”

Now back in the squad car with her, and refusing to apologize for coming to her aid, David said, “I was trying to help. There were two of them, and they’re obviously ruthless. They might have killed you if I’d left you there.”

“But I’m a trained officer,” Whitney replied, her blue eyes popping fire. “I could have handled it.”

“You’re also a rookie,” David said. “And Desert Valley isn’t exactly a large town.”

She stopped the car in front of the Desert Rose B and B, which seemed to live up to its name. The big Victorian house was painted a blush pink and surrounded by rosebushes. “How did you know I was a rookie?”

David realized he’d made a mistake. But he’d learned to listen and observe during his years on the front lines. “I...uh...heard you talking back at the train station, to that other officer—Eddie. I think he was teasing you about it.”

Which was true. David had witnessed how the older officer’s teasing seemed to rub her the wrong way. To change the subject, he said, “Let me have a look at your hands again.”

“My hands are fine,” she said, her expression full of fatigue.

“Let me check,” he said, his gaze moving over her.