THIRTY-SIX

Betsy Ann jumped when her phone rang. The other biddies shuffled toward her with quizzical anxiety on their faces. She clicked it on as she took in a gulp of air. “Hello?”

“It’s Detective Hemphill. I got hold of Blake.”

She shoved her shoulders down in a sigh and cupped her hand over the phone. “It’s Connor Hemphill. Blake knows.”

The ladies relaxed as well and sat back down.

“So, what’s happening? Have you learned where Janie is?” She punched the speaker button.

“Not yet.” His voice penetrated the room. “We’re tracking the GPS on her cell phone. Appears to be coming from a ranch southwest of Austin. Does she know anyone down there?”

Betsy Ann scanned the room as each lady shrugged or shook her head. She spoke into the phone. “No, Connor. Not that any of us are aware. Maybe she followed a lead.”

His moan came over the airwaves. “Yeah, that’s what we’re afraid of. Wait. Hold on.”

His voice became a murmur. Another man’s could be heard as well.

Ethel tucked her lip into her teeth.

Mildred wrung her napkin through her hands.

Babs grabbed Betsy Ann’s free hand and sniffled.

“Betsy Ann?” Hemphill’s voice became more audible. “Hornsby sent a text to the A.P.D. He left his phone on. The GPS coordinates match those of Janie’s phone. They’re together.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Well, the text said 10-71.”

“Oh, no. It’s the police distress code, correct? Officer needs assistance.” Ethel placed her hand over her eyes and shook her head.

Gasps filtered around the room.

“Yeah, ’fraid so. They have a squad headed in that direction. I’ll keep you posted.”

Betsy Ann put her phone down, a lost expression in her eyes. Her voice quivered. “I’m getting so tired of this. If I ever see Janie again, I’ll kill her.”

Everyone laughed, mostly out of stress relief.

Betsy Ann’s cheeks turned the ruby color of the nail polish she wore as she slapped her hand over her lips.

Babs wrapped her arm around her shoulder. “We all feel the same way, honey. Trust me.”

Mildred stood. “Time to pray, ladies.”

Eleven heads bowed in unison.

~*~

Ellie and Jamie sat, knees tucked to their chest in the lounge chairs of their parents’ hotel room. Mel perched on the end of the bed as her eyes followed her husband’s pacing. “We should check out of this hotel and head back, Blake.”

He slammed one fist into his other one. “Dang that woman. First, she says she wants to solve my caseload so we can go on vacation, then she ruins it by trying to solve another one in my absence.”

His wife shot to her feet with a whimper. He coaxed her into his embrace as he raised his gaze to his children. “Sorry, kids. I don’t mean to bad-mouth your grandmother.”

Ellie gave him the defiant teenager glare. “We aren’t kids. And we’re just as worried as you two.”

He gave his wife a squeeze. “OK, let’s pack and get out of here. Jamie, Ellie. Meet ya in the lobby in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, Dad.” The two responded in unison and left the room.

He cupped Melody’s chin and peered into her now tear-stained face. “She’s a tough ol’ bird. You know that. Dollars to donuts we’ll be halfway home, and Connor will call with the all clear.”

She wiped her face. “I hope you’re right. Even so, I want to be there when she gets home.”

Blake’s lips curved into a soft smile. “To hug her or spank her?”

Melody grinned. “Both.” She shook her head. “You’re right, you know. The roles are reversing.”

“Uh, huh. Let’s start packing.”

He folded his clothes and laid them in his suitcase, hoping he could continue to mask the concern he felt in his heart. He opened his phone and read Hornsby’s text, sent two hours ago. Gate’s open. Going in. Not expecting a warm greeting.

Blake sighed. And he gave the man permission to court his mother-in-law. When Melody discovers that tidbit, he better already have his pillow and blanket stationed in the doghouse. He’d be sharing it with Rex for a long while.

~*~

Two officers parked their vehicle at the edge of the farm to market road. They’d killed their lights as soon as they left the highway. Another patrol car followed them and stopped. Connor stepped out first. The others exited their vehicle as well.

The four gathered in a tight circle. “From here we walk it. According to the GPS, both Detective Hornsby and the woman should be a half mile that way.” He strapped on his APD bulletproof vest.

“Right, Detective Hemphill. We’ll follow your lead.”

The other three did the same. They walked in the soft moonlight, sticking to the shadows it cast among the mesquite trees as much as possible. When they reached the dirt road, Connor and Marley zigzagged across the field as the other two stuck to the rutted path.

A few minutes later, Connor got a soft buzz. He looked at his phone. Woman’s car empty. He showed it to Marley. “Great. Where did they take her?”

The officer pointed. “What’s that, sir? A shack?”

Connor drew his weapon. “Right. Let’s go.”

He texted their coordinates to his backup and squatted close to the ground, his gun clicked off the safety feature. They stepped flat-footed through the knee-high prairie grasses trying to minimize the rustling. Off to the left they saw the other two policemen on the road. Their pace quickened to a trot. Then they stopped.

Another text. Hornsby down. Faint pulse.

Connor typed back. 10-4. Calling it in. He peered at the map on his phone. He pressed his finger to copy and pasted the coordinates to headquarters. N30.117448 W975720.57. He typed in 10-52 to request an ambulance.

His partner gave him a quizzical eyebrow cock. Connor motioned forward. They continued toward the shack. One of the other cops joined them. He spoke in a barely audible whisper. “Jeff stayed with Hornsby. As soon as the sirens near, we better be ready.”

Connor nodded. He motioned for the cop to go with him and for his partner to veer off to the left. When they reached the front porch, he stopped and pointed down. Even in the soft gray of the moonlight he could detect the worn and bowed planks. Better than a bell. Once they stepped foot on them, they’d creak loud and clear. He raised his finger and counted on them. One, two...

On three, the two dashed up the porch, flicked on their halogen flashlights, arms extended and weapons aimed. They stormed the door and shoved it open. “Police, drop your weapons.”

Chief Gates and another man crouched and raised their hands to their faces to shield them from the sudden brightness.

“Hands in the air where we can see them. Now.”

Gates lifted his as high as he could, but the other man yanked the gun from Gate’s fingers and fired three rounds blindly into the sound of their voices.

Connor returned one round, straight into the shooter’s chest.

The man dropped to the floor. His eyes rolled back and his mouth gaped. Blood oozed from his torso onto the floor. The third cop rushed in and yanked Gate’s arms behind his back, shoved him to the wall, and cuffed him.

Marley kicked the gun out of the other man’s now limp hand. He called it in via the walkie-talkie on his shoulder. “All clear. One suspect down. Need additional ambulances. Victim bound and...”

Connor placed two fingers on Janie’s throat. She blinked and groaned.

“...Alive, but barely conscious. Woman, early sixties.”

Janie spoke in a raspy whisper. “Early sixties, huh?” A weak smile spread across her lips.