Holding the baby close, she spun around, wondering how Ronnie had managed to get off such a clear and accurate shot, one so well placed that it had disabled Juan but hadn't endangered the baby.
But Ronnie still had the bore of his pistol trained on Two's chest and seemed as surprised as anyone that a gun had been fired.
Doc had been the marksman. He was lying on his back on the floor, a small revolver in his hand. Tiel recognized Agent Cain's weapon, the one she had kicked beneath the freezer and forgotten. Thank God Doc had remembered it.
He took advantage of the momentary silence. "Gladys, get over here."
The old lady came scurrying around the Frito-Lay display.
"Did you kill him?"
"No."
"Too bad."
"Take the baby so Tiel can tend to Sabra. I'll take care of him," he said, referring to Juan. "Ronnie, relax. Everything's under control. No need to panic."
"Is the baby okay?"
"She's fine." Gladys carried the crying infant over to where Ronnie could see her for himself. "She's mad as hell, and I can't say as I blame her." Glaring back at Juan where he now sat on the floor gripping his bleeding thigh, she snarled with contempt.
Several jabs of Ronnie's pistol sent Two skulking back to his original spot. His expression was meaner and more agitated than before.
Doc placed Cain's revolver high on a grocery shelf, well out of Juan's reach, and knelt down to cut open his trouser leg with the scissors. "You'll live," he said laconically after assessing the damage and stuffing gauze pads into the wound. "Lucky for you the bullet missed the femoral artery."
Juan's eyes blazed with resentment.
"Doc?" Tiel had got Sabra to lie back down, but fresh blood was making the floor around her slick. The girl was ghastly pale.
"I know," Doc said soberly, picking up on Tiel's unspoken alarm. "I'm sure she reopened the tear in the perineum.
Make her as comfortable as you can. I'll be right back."
He had hurriedly bandaged Juan's wound and fashioned a tourniquet with another of the souvenir T-shirts.
Evidently in excruciating pain, Juan was sweating profusely, and his straight, white teeth were clenched. But, to his credit, he didn't cry out when Doc unceremoniously and none too gently hoisted him to his feet and supported him as he hopped on one foot.
As they went past Cain, the agent addressed the gunshot man. "You goddamn fool. You could've got us all killed. What were you-"
Quicker than a striking rattlesnake, Juan, using the foot of his injured leg, kicked Cain viciously in the head. The sudden move cost him dearly. He grunted with pain. Even so, his boot heel had connected solidly with bone, and the snapping sound was almost as loud as the pistol shot. Cain went silent and unconscious in the same instant. His chin dropped forward onto his chest.
Doc pushed Juan to the floor, propping him against the refrigerator well away from his confederate. "He's not going anywhere. But just to be safe, better bind his hands, Ronnie. His too," he added, motioning toward Two.
Ronnie instructed Vern to tape the two men's hands and feet like Cain's. He held the pistol on them while the old man went about the task. Juan was too involved with his injured leg to waste energy on invectives, but Two was under no such constraints. He kept up a litany of what was presumed to be Spanish vulgarities until Ronnie threatened to gag him if he didn't shut up.
The ringing telephone had gone unanswered and largely ignored. Tiel, who had snapped on a pair of gloves with an alacrity that amazed her, was working frantically to replace the blood-soaked diaper beneath Sabra, when the phone suddenly stopped ringing and she heard Ronnie shout, "Not now, we're busy!" before slamming the receiver back into the cradle. Then he called, "How's Sabra?"
Tiel addressed him over her shoulder. "Not good." She was vastly relieved to see Doc returning. "What's going on?" 'Juan kicked Cain in the head. He's unconscious."
"I never thought I'd be thanking that man for anything."
"Vern is binding them. I'm glad they're… contained."
She noticed the intensity in his face, and knew that Sabra's worsening condition wasn't the only reason for it.
"Because they're loose cannons? They really had nothing to lose by trying to seize control of the situation."
"True. But what did they have to gain?"
Did Ronnie Davison really represent a threat to tough-looking hombres like them?
After thinking about it, she said, "Nothing that I can see."
"Nothing that you can see. That's what bothers me.
There's more," he continued in a lower voice. "Men with rifles have taken up position outside. Probably a SWAT team."
"Oh, no."
"I saw them moving into place and taking cover."
"Has Ronnie seen them?"
"I don't think so. That shot I fired must've got everyone nervous. They're probably thinking the worst. They might storm the building, try coming in through the roof or something."
"He would freak."
"That's my point."
The telephone rang again. "Ronnie, answer it," Doc called to him. "Explain to them what happened."
"Not until I know Sabra's all right."
Although Tiel wasn't a medical expert by any means, Sabra's condition appeared critical to her. But, like Doc, she didn't want Ronnie any more frazzled than he already was.
"Where's Katherine?" the girl asked weakly.
Doc, who had done his best to stem the flow of fresh blood, peeled off his glove and smoothed her hair away from her forehead. "Gladys is taking good care of her.
She's rocked her to sleep. Seems to me that baby girl is as brave as her mother."
Even a smile seemed too much of an effort for her.
"We're not going to get out of here, are we?"
"Don't say that, Sabra," Tiel whispered fiercely, watching Doc's face as he read the blood-pressure gauge.
"Don't even think it."
"Daddy's not going to give up. Neither am I. And neither is Ronnie. He can't now anyway. If he did, they'd just put him in jail."
She divided a glassy, hollow-eyed gaze between Tiel and Doc. "Tell Ronnie to come over here. I want to talk to him. Now. I don't want to wait any longer."
Although she didn't specifically mention their suicide pact, her meaning was clear. Tiel's chest grew tight with anxiety and despair. "We can't let you do it, Sabra. You know it's wrong. It's not the answer."
"Please help us. It's what we want."
Then, of their own volition and against her will, her eyes closed. She was too weak to reopen them and lapsed into a doze.
Tiel looked across at Doc. "It's bad, isn't it?"
"Very. Blood pressure's dropping. Pulse is high. She's going to bleed out."
"What are we going to do?"
Sternly staring into the girl's pale, still face, he thought on it a moment, then said, "I'll tell you what I'm going to do."
He stood up, retrieved the pistol from the shelf, stepped around the Frito-Lay display, and approached Ronnie, who was waiting for an update on Sabra's condition.
chapter 13
Why aren't they answering the phone?" Events had reduced Dendy's characteristic bellow to a high-pitched squeal. He was beside himself.
Indeed, the gunshots had plunged everyone inside the van into a state of near panic. Cole Davison had rushed outside, only to return moments later, yelling at Galloway because the SWAT team had been mobilized.
"You promised! You said Ronnie wouldn't get hurt. If you pressure him, if he feels like you're closing in on him, he might… might do something like he did before."
"Calm down, Mr. Davison. I'm taking precautionary measures as I see fit." Galloway held the telephone receiver to his ear, but thus far his call into the convenience store had gone unanswered. "Can anybody see anything?"