“Lost radio contact,” Joanna repeated. “How can that be?”
“Hold it,” Tica said. “I’m getting something.”
During the seemingly endless pause that followed, Joanna held her breath and drove like a maniac. Eventually Tica came back on the air. “Officer down, code three,” she said. “Deputy Casey has abandoned the roadblock and is on his way to the scene. So’s an emergency medical squad from Douglas.”
“What the hell happened?”
“Morgan rammed the patrol car,” Tica Romero answered. “Flipped him right over. According to Deputy Long, he’s pinned inside his vehicle and needs help.”
Even as Tica spoke, the flashing lights of Deputy Casey’s patrol car appeared from around the curve and came speeding south. Between Joanna’s Blazer and that one there was no sign of any other vehicle.
“And the suspect?”
“Gone,” Tica answered.
Except it wasn’t possible that he was gone completely. “He didn’t come north past Deputy Casey?”
“Not so far.”
And no vehicle had come southbound toward Joanna, either. That meant Hal Morgan was out there somewhere, out on the vast plain of the Sulphur Springs Valley, and about to make good his escape. Joanna was north of Rucker Canyon Road by then. That meant he couldn’t have turned off there.
Her first urge was to go racing off to the scene, to do what she could to help Deputy Long. But the truth was, help for him was on the way-both in the form of Deputy Casey and the emergency medical technicians from Douglas. Joanna’s prime concern had to be capturing Hal Morgan.
Forcing herself to respond logically, Joanna pulled over, stopped on the shoulder of the road, and doused the lights. Groping in the glove box, she located a pair of long-range night-vision binocular goggles. Several pairs had found their way into Joanna’s department through participation in the M.J.F., a multi-jurisdiction task force created solely to help local authorities deal with border-focused crime.
As Joanna scanned the horizon, the flashing lights of Deputy Casey’s southbound patrol car were even more clearly visible. Between Joanna and the flashing lights was a slowly dissipating cloud of dust. She was sure the dust marked the site of the ramming. Shaking her head, Joanna resolutely turned the goggles away from there and looked out toward the black mound of the Chiricahuas rising out of the desert to the east. Slowly she scanned back and forth between High way 191 and the mountains along what she thought had to be the approximate location of Highway 181. There were other, smaller, roads the suspect might have taken, but 181 was the main road leading up to the Wonderland of Rocks, a most popular camping and picnicking area known officially as the Chiricahua National Monument. The road was paved and well-maintained, for one thing, and it was the only route that would offer Hal Morgan any real chance of escape. If the suspect stayed on 181, skirting along at the base of the mountains, eventually he would come to a junction with Highway 186. That would take him into Willcox. And beyond that, onto Interstate 10.
Forcing herself to be patient, Joanna continued to scan the horizon. Eventually-after a space of several minutes-it paid off. In a place where, a moment earlier, there had been nothing, there was now a speeding vehicle. Not one that was starting from a dead stop. No, this one was already traveling at full speed when the headlights came on. No, make that headlight. A single lamp. From a vehicle no doubt damaged by running into another.
“Got him!” Joanna yelped triumphantly to the emptiness of the starlit desert sky.
Racing back to the car, she fastened her belt before slamming the car into gear. The tires sprayed rocks and dirt high into the air behind her as she plunged forward onto the high-way. As soon as the Blazer was safely back on the pavement, she switched on the radio.
“Suspect vehicle, missing one headlight, is eastbound on 181, probably two to three miles east of 191.”
“Copy,” Tica replied.
“Contact the Highway Patrol,” Joanna continued. “We need them to set up a roadblock south of Willcox where 181 meets 186. If he makes it all the way into Willcox, we may lose him completely.”
By then, she had reached the place where Deputy Casey’s patrol car was pulled over on the shoulder of the road. Neither Deputy Long nor his wrecked vehicle was visible from the Blazer until Joanna reached a spot where a wash crossed the road. There they were, down in the wash. Barely slowing, Joanna drove straight past.
“I just drove by Deputies Long and Casey,” Joanna said. “What’s the status?” she asked.
“Deputy Long is conscious and talking,” Tica replied. “The ambulance is still a good fifteen minutes out.”
Fifteen minutes! In a situation like that, fifteen minutes could mean the difference between life and death for Deputy Casey. And fifteen minutes was a terribly long time for Joanna to go without backup. Still, she couldn’t very we expect Deputy Casey to walk away, leaving his fellow officer gravely injured and alone.
“As soon as emergency crews reach the scene, tell Casey to follow me on 181. I’ll need him for backup, but not until someone’s there to take care of Deputy Long. Got that?”
“Got it,” Tica replied.
Gripping the wheel, flying toward the looming darkness of the Chiricahuas, Joanna felt incredibly alone. Once again her hands were so sweaty and slick that it was all she coould do to maintain control of the Blazer.
It had been years since she had traveled Highway 181 hut she knew it all too well. It led to a place in the mountains where volcanic activity, combined with wind and water erosion, had carved a forest of spindly rhyolite columns and magically balanced boulders. As a child, that part of the Chiricahuas had been Joanna Lathrop’s favorite place on earth. Her love affair had ended fifteen years earlier, when Ii Hank Lathrop died on that road while bringing home a carload of Girl Scout weekend campers. Since that day, Joanna had never once returned Io the Wonderland of Rocks.
Now, for the first time since that fateful Sunday afternoon, Joanna Lathrop Brady was back on that same stretch of highway. Her father had come to his end unwittingly. When he stopped to change a stranded motorist’s tire, there had been no way for him to tell in advance that his life was in danger. This was different. Joanna was up against a known killer. Hal Morgan was someone who hadn’t hesitated at resorting to violence on more than one occasion.
Joanna knew she was doing the right thing. She had no intention of tackling Morgan on her own. She had called for assistance and fully intended to wait until her backup arrived, but what if help came too late? What if lightning struck twice in the same place? Maybe Highway 181 would take Joanna’s life in much the same way it had taken her father’s.
Not bloody likely, she muttered under her breath. With that, she reached again for the radio.
EIGHTTEEN
“What’s happening with the Highway Patrol?” Joanna demanded into the radio.
“They’re moving,” Tica responded. “They have vehicles headed into the area coming from both Bowie and Texas Canyon. It’s going to take time for them to get into position. We’ve also asked the Willcox City Marshal for assistance. The problem is…”
“I know. Timing. What about Deputy Casey?”
“The ambulance crew and Chief Deputy Voland both just reached the scene. That means Casey’s on his way to you along with Deputies Voland and Hollicker. The emergency response team is also on its way.”
“Good,” Joanna said. An intense feeling of relief washed over her. Help was coming. Whatever happened, she wouldn’t have to face it alone.