Never Say Never (26 page)

Eunice met them at the door. “My heavens! Jill, are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She nodded, reaching to take Joey from Dustin’s arms. Tears shone in her eyes. “We’ll be okay, now, Dustin. Please go get Holly back.”

Jill was right. There wasn’t time for him to stay and care for them the way he wanted. Even now, he could hear the burst of sirens wailing down the main road, alerted no doubt by his furious pounding on the truck’s horn. He’d certainly done his best to sound the alarm.

“I’ll get her,” he promised, determination filling him like red-hot lava inside a volcano. And when he found Curtis Lynch, the hood was going to have to smoke cigarettes through a gap in his teeth for the rest of his life. “Don’t worry,” he said to Jill, before turning to run to his truck.

At the bottom of the hill, any sign of police presence was long gone. From the distant sirens, he could tell Curtis had headed away from town. Traveling toward Oklahoma, no doubt. The baby-napper had made his exit from an obscure path in the pecan trees. Dustin knew a farm road where he could meet up with the motorcycle. Jill’s puffy face, swollen from what looked to have been a pretty mean punch, jumped into his memory, taunting him. She’d put up the struggle of a lifetime to have earned that blue-bruise mark of distinction. Oh, he was going to meet up with that motorcycle.

He promised himself that there would be hell to pay when he did.

Speeding his truck around the curve of the farm road, Dustin didn’t take his foot from the pedal when he saw the police blockade up ahead. He honked, cruising on through, knowing that Curtis would have been too smart to take the obvious path. Taking another turn in the road, he came out on a road used mainly by tractors and other slow-moving machinery. It was a dangerous road because it wasn’t well-paved, and the meandering curves met the busy main road all at once in a dizzying array of traffic.

Pushing the truck to its limit, yet watchful of any headlights he might see so he could slow down in time, Dustin knew he had to be close to Lynch. Still, the tightness inside him wouldn’t relax until he knew for certain that monster wasn’t going to elude him.

Suddenly, he realized there was another vehicle on the road ahead. It had pulled to the side, its oblong shape only a darker shadow in the night. He slowed, a strange sort of premonition in his mind.

It was Marsh. Dustin pulled alongside, backing his truck into place along the cruiser.

“What the hell took you so long?” Marsh demanded.

Dustin ignored him. “He hasn’t been by?”

“Nope. Turn your lights off. We don’t want him getting suspicious and turning back. Last radio transmission said he never made it to the police barricade.”

Dustin nodded. Of course Lynch was too smart for that. “Good.”

“Yep. Now we just wait and watch.”

“How are you planning on stopping him?”

“Nothing says I have to. I can tuck in for a nice long drive into Oklahoma if necessary. The gas is going to run out of his tank eventually.” He patted the seat beside him. “Got me some root beer in here for emergencies.”

“I’m going too.”

“Nah.” Marsh shook his head. “You don’t like root beer and you’d disturb my concentration. You can follow in your truck if you like, though. Better yet, why don’t you park it about twenty-five feet up the way, sort of angle it a bit so you can follow when we whiz past you?”

“Why don’t I put out some flares?” The idea hit Dustin out of nowhere. “You have any flares, Marsh? Maybe he doesn’t know this road as well as we do. Maybe he doesn’t realize it dead-ends if you don’t stay on the farm road.”

“Hey, you’re thinking like a cop now.” Marsh went to his trunk, opening it to retrieve some flares. He lifted his head. “But you better hurry. I think I hear something, and it doesn’t sound like a pedestrian.”

Dustin heard it too. Running up the road, he lit the flares and tossed them to the ground in a misleading direction. Then he waited off the shoulder, prepared to run out to reroute any unfortunate driver who might slow down for the signals.

But it was a motorcycle heading their way. The whining roar of the motor was unmistakable. “Come on, Lynch,” Dustin muttered to himself. “Have I got a surprise for you.”

As he’d expected, the rider slowed, then came to a complete halt. The road was difficult to see in the darkness, the curve making matters worse. Dustin could hear cursing, then a baby’s wail. White-hot anger ripped through him, nearly as blinding as the motorcycle’s headlight. From the other direction, he saw Marsh snaking forward. Curtis got off the bike, walking the road, obviously confused. Dustin stayed still, seeing Marsh halt in the shadows. A second later, he was creeping toward the bike.

Lynch whirled, aware he had company. He turned toward the motorcycle, but not before Dustin landed on him in a tackle.

“Shit!” the man lying underneath him screamed. Lynch bucked, freeing himself for a moment. The two of them rolled over and over on the hard-packed dirt, each vying for control. Though Dustin was taller, he immediately sensed his opponent was no wimp. Mean strength was an advantage as Lynch pummeled him with blows. Dustin knew those same fists had hit Jill and his son, and uncontrollable rage burst in his veins. Working himself into a sitting position above the hood, he sent a knock-out blow to his chin. Lynch was suddenly still beneath him.

Marsh walked forward with the basket. “Good work.”

“Yeah.” Dustin rubbed his sore chin. “Thanks for staying out of it.”

“You didn’t need my help.” Marsh laughed, the sound carrying in the sudden stillness. “He’s flatter than a rug.”

Dustin stood, not proud at all of his handiwork. The baby’s wail was reassuring in a way, but it was also an upfront reminder that he had a family scared stiff and injured at home.

“I guess I should help you haul his ass to your cruiser,” he said reluctantly. “Get your cuffs. I need to get back.” He peeked into the basket, seeing tiny fists beat the air. “I don’t think she suffered any damage.”

“No. She’s just pissed to be out for a breezy night ride when she could be at the Reed Ranch basking in front of the fire,” Marsh said, laying the basket down and striding forward to handcuff Lynch.

The sight of Lynch rising to his knees caught Dustin off guard. Marsh cursed and moved swiftly, but not before the hood pulled a small gun from inside his jacket. Dustin launched himself forward to protect his friend, but his motions seemed delayed as a fire burst rent the stillness. Marsh hit the ground with a groan.

Roaring, Dustin threw himself on the punk. Marsh might be dead, all because of this creep. If he didn’t wrest the gun away, Dustin knew he was going to end up in the same condition as Marsh. Dead on the side of the road. The hood aimed a purposeful knee at his groin, but Dustin arched, taking it painfully on the thigh. Enraged, he delivered a crushing chop to Lynch’s temple.

“Don’t kill him,” Marsh’s voice came weakly.

“Why the hell not?” Dustin demanded. The man lay still underneath him and Dustin grabbed the gun away, checking for any other weapons. “It would be a pleasure.”

“I know.” Marsh struggled to sit up while Dustin handcuffed the hood’s hands behind his back, leaving him lying facedown on the frozen road. “He’s not worth it, Dustin, believe me.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Reluctantly, he moved away. Marsh was right. He wasn’t going to feel good about killing that son of a bitch when the raw anger finally dissipated later. “Are you going to bleed to death?” he asked Marsh, suddenly concerned by his friend’s lack of conversation. The sheriff was usually like a Hallmark card with a witty remark for every occasion. “Marsh?”

But there was no reply. Gnawing fear shot through Dustin. Checking his friend over, he saw that the hood had made target practice of Marsh’s leg. Cursing and praying, Dustin pulled off his jacket and his flannel shirt. Carefully, he wrapped the shirt around Marsh’s leg, though he wasn’t certain it would do any good. Shrugging his jacket back on over his T-shirt, Dustin lifted Marsh to his feet, dragging him to the truck. Jerking down the gate, he let Marsh slump over so that he could push him inside. Tossing some horse blankets over him, he slammed the gate, praying that the sheriff wouldn’t awaken until he got him to the hospital.

And praying that, once there, he
would
awaken.

Putting baby Holly’s basket securely in a seat belt on the truck seat, Dustin threw an uncertain glance Lynch’s way. He’d come to eventually. But there wasn’t a lot of time for him to waste sympathy on the punk. Picking up the body like a bag of heavy manure, Dustin snatched the cruiser keys from the ignition, opened the trunk, and stuffed Lynch inside. Closing it, he strode to the front and grabbed the radio inside.

“This is Dustin Reed. I’m on the farm road outside of Lassiter, just at the fork. You’ll see flares. Suspect is in trunk. Marsh was hit, so I’d appreciate nobody stopping me for a ticket as I come into town.”

He threw the radio down and ran to the truck. The truck bed was still; Marsh hadn’t moved. Dustin jammed the truck into gear and sped into town.

Chapter Sixteen

“Jill, dear, are you going to be okay?”

Eunice’s worried face hovered behind Jill in the mirror. Her face was bruised, swollen definitely, but nothing was broken. The punch had landed under her eye and across from her nose on the cheek bone, so although it had felt like her face had been shattered at the time, Jill knew she was fortunate not to be undergoing cosmetic surgery tonight.

“I’m fine, Eunice,” she said, applying another cold compress to her face. “I’m starting to get a little sore in my arms and legs, but that will pass, too.” She sighed deeply, looking down into the washbasin as she rinsed the cloth out. “I just wish somebody would call and tell us that Holly is safe.”

Eunice patted her shoulder. “The Christmas season means believing, Jill. I believe that Holly will be back here soon, snug in her little basket. I can’t imagine anything else.”

It
was
the season to believe, and if ever they could use a miracle, now was definitely the time. “I just keep hearing her cry…” Jill broke off, too distraught to continue. The phone rang, and after another soothing pat on the back, Eunice left to answer it. Joey, at least for the moment, had come through the situation pretty well. Jill had assured him the mean man was never coming back, and that Dustin would bring Holly home safely. Though he was anxious for his father to return, he was equally anxious to get on with the popcorn stringing. She smiled, letting the child’s one-track joy in the season lift her spirits.

“Jill! Dustin wants you on the phone!”

She dropped the washcloth and hurried down the stairs. Eunice’s ashen face told her the news wasn’t good.

“Yes?” she said into the receiver.

“Can you come down to the hospital and get Holly?”

The relief she felt at hearing his voice weakened her knees. All at once, she realized Dustin wanted her to come retrieve the baby. An obviously recovered, doing-just-fine, baby.

“Of course I can! I’ll be there as soon as I get directions from Eunice.”

“I’m in the emergency room right now. They’re treating Marsh for a gunshot wound, but he’s going to be fine. I don’t know when they’ll move him to another room. Check here first, I guess, then ask at the desk. I’ll be with him.”

“I’ll be right there.”

She hung up and ran to the hail to get her coat. “Did Dustin fill you in, Eunice?”

“Yes. Bad as it is, it could have been much worse, I suppose. Did he say if Marsh’s wound is life-threatening?”

Jill shook her head as she pulled on gloves. “I think not. Dustin mentioned they might move him to another room.”

“Oh, good.” She gave Jill rapid directions to the hospital.

“I should be back soon.” Hurrying into the kitchen, she took a few gingerbread men off the tray. She could sneak them to the sheriff. If anything would make him feel better, it would be food.

Jill found the two men easily, not from the desk nurse’s directions, but by the bellowing she could hear clear at the end of the hall.

“For heaven’s sake,” she said, entering the room, “it sounds like a brawl in here. Is there a boxing match on TV?”

Dustin’s eyes collided with hers in a frozen, suspended moment. She wanted to run to him, to ask him if he felt as bad as he looked. His raffish jet hair was in wild patterns of disarray. The square jaw she admired was sporting a bruise and there was a split in the lips that had claimed hers so firmly. She dropped her gaze, distressed to think that Dustin might have ended up like Marsh with a bullet hole in him.

“You’re one to be talking about boxing matches,” Dustin grumbled. “You look like you’ve been in one.”

She smiled, though it hurt. It was much easier to make light of what they’d all been through than to agonize over it. Laughter felt much better than crying, so for once she was falling in with Dustin’s and Marsh’s manner of dealing with discomfort.

“So. The lawman’s laid up.” She walked over and stared down at him. “You know that this is what you get for doubting me.” To counteract her words, she dumped the cellophane-wrapped gingerbread men on the blanket covering his chest. “I don’t suppose getting shot is going to interfere with your appetite.”

“Nope.” He waved a swiftly unwrapped cookie at her. “Thanks.”