Promise Kept (25 page)

Donovan held his breath. Could Phyl be that close?

Dugan hit eighty as soon as he left town. But it would still take them a good twenty minutes to get there.

****

Phyl waited. And waited some more.

Nothing but silence from the next room. She had to do this before it got pitch black. Before she was too terrified to do anything. It was already dark, but her eyes were accustomed to the darkness now. Still, she didn’t want to face her lifelong fear another night.

She knocked on the door. “Mr. Mateo?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m hungry.”

He mumbled something she didn’t understand. “Stand back. I’ll give you another can of tuna.”

She wasn’t about to do as he asked.

“Are you away from the door?”

Quickly, she tiptoed across the room, called out, “Yes!” then moved back to stand next to the door again. The key slid into the lock. Holding her breath, she brought the board up. What had her dad called them? Slats?

The door opened.

His head came in as he bent to put the tuna on the floor.

He must have spotted her shoes. “Hey!”

She slammed the board down as hard as she could.

The brittle wood broke in half. Mateo collapsed with a groan.

As she pulled the door open further, she saw blood running down his face. Had she killed him? She hoped not, but right now she didn’t care. At some point his plan was to kill her.

She ran past him, into the darkened living room and out the door.

She wasn’t that far from the Callahans.

Could she get there before Mateo came to and came after her? If he was alive.

She was halfway down the drive when shots rang out.

Not dead. But she would be if she didn’t run faster or hide.

She was running as fast as she could now. She didn’t hear him behind her. She guessed she had a few more minutes.

Mateo couldn’t see in the dark any better than she could. The thought was little comfort.

It was getting darker. But there was a sliver of moon. Maybe that was good. It would make hiding easier. If she didn’t, he was sure to find her. When he did, he’d kill her.

The thought gave her another burst of speed.

She heard him behind her now. But he wasn’t running, more like stumbling. Still, he was strong and he had a gun.

There was a curve in the drive. She rounded it so fast she almost slammed into a car with no lights as it came slowly down the drive. She swerved out of its way just in time to keep from getting hit.

The car came to a stop.

She ran faster. Had someone from the cartel come to help Mateo? Was this what Mateo was waiting for?

Her legs pumped faster now. She had a rhythm going and wasn’t about to slow down.

“Phyl?”

She skidded to a stop.

Breath heaving, she turned, saw a figure run toward her in the semi-darkness. She’d know that voice anywhere.

“Donovan!”

He pulled her into his arms, held her so tight she couldn’t breathe.

“Are you all right?”

“Mateo!” Gasping, she managed to say, “Mateo right behind me—with a gun.”

“Stop right there!” a voice rang out. Dugan.

“He has a gun,” she yelled.

But the warning came too late. Several shots pierced the darkness.

Dear God, no! Not Dugan.

She screamed, pushed away from Donovan, and ran toward the car.

But not before she saw Donovan pull a gun from his pocket, point it straight ahead and run.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Donovan’s heart stopped when the first shot rang out. “Dugan?” he yelled, running to the cruiser. Except for their pounding feet, there was silence.

“Dugan?” he called out again, pointing the gun to the front, the side. He saw no one. Heard nothing.

Over the years, there had been more times than Donovan wanted to admit, when he worried about the danger a sheriff faced every day. Now it crashed down on him. His baby brother could be dead.

Where was he? Where was Mateo?

Phyl tore past him. “Wait,” he called after her, his voice strangled.

Light! He had to see. Dugan was hurt or he would have answered, and Mateo was out there somewhere with a gun. They were in terrible danger.

Opening the cruiser’s door, he turned on the cars lights, blinked in the sudden brightness, and saw Dugan slumped against the hood. A few feet away Mateo was sprawled in a puddle of dark blood.

Though his first thought was his brother, Donovan ran over to Mateo, kicked the gun out of his reach before running back to Dugan.

Phyl was struggling to get him up. “Dugan,” she begged. “Please be all right.”

“Don’t,” Dugan whispered. “Wait a minute.”

“I’m so sorry, Dugan. So sorry,” Phyl said over and over.

Donovan tucked his gun in his jeans. “Where did you get it?”

“Shoulder,” Dugan rasped. “Feels like a son-of-a-bitch.”

Donovan opened his cell, called for an ambulance just as two cars came to a screeching stop behind them.

Though their lights had been off, they turned them on when they saw Donovan wave at them.

Agent Ted Young was the first out. He ran over to Phyl. “Are you all right?”

“I am, but Dugan’s been shot.”

Ted went to check on the fallen sheriff, ran back to his car and came back with a towel that he stuffed against the wound. “Keep the pressure on.”

“What happened?” Agent Powell asked, his voice and demeanor all cop.

“Mateo shot Dugan,” Donovan explained. “I’m not waiting for an ambulance.” He took hold of Dugan, all but carried him to the cruiser, put him in the backseat. “We’ll be at the hospital. Get in, Phyl.”

His heart in his throat, he shut the door and started the motor.

“Sorry, I’ll need her here to tell us what went down,” Agent Powell said.

She looked over at Donovan. He nodded. “Stay. I have to get Dugan to the hospital. This is Special Agent Jeff Powell with the FBI. He’ll take care of you.”

****

He turned the cruiser around. With lights flashing, they sped away. When he reached the road, Phyl heard the siren. He’d make it to the hospital in record time. She prayed Dugan would be all right.

“He’ll get there before the EMT’s get here,” Powell said.

Phyl turned toward the agents who were examining Mateo. She couldn’t stop trembling. Agent Powell wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. The warmth did little to thaw the ice covering her heart. She was safe, but Dugan could die. Because of her.

Every cell in her body wept at the thought. Nellie would never forgive her. Neither would the rest of the family. They had to know. Borrowing a cell phone from one of the deputies, she called the ranch. Nellie was so happy to hear her voice she started to cry. But when Phyl told her that Dugan had been shot, that Donovan was taking him to the hospital, there was silence. Then nothing. The phone was dead. She didn’t get a chance to talk to Mark.

Her mother’s heart broke at what Nellie was going through.

Turning to Powell, she asked, “What do you need to know? Dugan’s hurt and I’m responsible. I need to be with him.”

Powell pulled her aside. “We’ll need a statement about everything that happened from the minute you were abducted to right now.” He looked at her. “Just remember one thing, this wasn’t your fault. No matter what happens to Sheriff Callahan, it was that guy over there who shot him. You had nothing to do with it.”

“If I hadn’t come here in the first place, none of this would have happened,” she snapped.

“That’s one way to look at it,” he drawled. “On the other hand, if you hadn’t, you and your son would more than likely be dead.”

He was right. But the guilt stayed with her.

“Is Mateo dead?” she asked.

“That’s not his name, but Callahan shot him right through the heart.”

“Not his name? Then who is he?”

Powell watched the action around them, called Ted over. “Take charge. When the ambulance gets here, pack up the body, and have it taken to San Antonio. I’m taking Ms. Leander into the sheriff’s office to get her statement.”

He looked at Phyl. “Where were you held?”

Phyl told him.

“Secure the scene,” he told Ted. “We’ll have to wait until morning to get forensics in here.”

“Will do.”

Ted turned to Phyl. “I’m sorry, Phyl. I didn’t see the guy. This never should have happened.”

“He must have been in the barn when we got there,” she said. “I don’t blame you for anything.”

“Just don’t blame yourself.”

Agent Powell drove them back to town in record time. “If his name isn’t Mateo, what is it?” she asked again.

“We’re not sure. Could be a guy by the name of Erik Tilton, but we won’t know until we check his fingerprints.”

It took over an hour for her to make her statement on camera. “Can I go now? I have to check on Dugan.”

“I’ll take you. We’ll need you back here tomorrow to sign the statement.”

She didn’t bother to answer. Her thoughts were on Dugan and the family.

The family that filled the hospital waiting room.

“Mom!”

Mark ran and jumped into her arms. Tears fell down her cheeks as she hugged him with all her might. Happy tears. There were long hours when she thought this moment would never come. When she wondered if she was going to die. If she’d ever see Donovan again. Or the family. Her heart squeezed with love for all of them. She held Mark tight against her. Her baby.

Thank you, God, for this blessing.

“I knew Donovan would find you,” Mark said.

“He did. He saved me.” Because he loved her. She was sure of it. Did he know? Would he tell her?

She looked over at Nellie as she stood in the center of her family. Tears shimmered in her eyes. Her son was hurt and she couldn’t help him. Phyl put Mark on the floor, went to Nellie. They looked at each other for a long moment, then reached out to wrap each other in a warm embrace.

“I’m so sorry, Nellie. How is Dugan? Have they told you anything?”

“Nothing,” TJ said, coming over to hug Phyl, Lisa right behind her to add her words of love and sympathy.

How can they be so loving when I’m the reason Dugan is in the hospital?

But every one of them came over to tell her how glad they were she was safe.

Amazing!

“Where’s Donovan?”

“Standing at the surgery room door,” Douglas said. “He won’t leave. Keeps trying to look in.”

The doctor came out, Donovan walking beside him.

Phyl tried to analyze their expression. Failed.

Donovan locked eyes with her, and wouldn’t look away.

She shouldn’t even be here. She should have stood her ground in California and let the authorities there handle it.

Should-have’s wouldn’t change a thing now though.

The Callahans huddled around the doctor. “How is he?” TJ demanded, bouncing the baby Duncan on her shoulder.

“Tough.” The doctor laughed.

“He’s going to be fine,” Donovan added. “Doc Pullman dug the bullet out of his shoulder and stitched him up. Said he could go home tomorrow.”

“He’s coming to the ranch,” Nellie said. “I’ll not have him in that tiny house the county provides while he’s recuperating.”

“You’re absolutely right, Nellie.” Doc Pullman grinned. “Now why don’t you all go home, and get some sleep? I’m going to keep Dugan knocked out tonight anyway.”

“Can we see him?” Nellie asked.

Doc Pullman looked around at the anxious faces. “Two at a time, and one minute each. Then you’re out of here.” He gave them that serious doctor look.

Like children, they nodded in agreement.

Nellie and TJ went first. Donovan and Phyl next. The others took turns. Within five minutes they were reassured their brother, son or, in Phyl’s case, friend and savior, would be okay.

Donovan picked up Mark, reached for Phyl’s hand. “Let’s go home.”

“We need to talk,” Phyl whispered.

“When we get home,” Donovan promised. The way he said home shimmered through her. As if the ranch were truly her home now, as if he thought of it that way. She couldn’t deny how the possibility of staying at the ranch made her feel almost giddy.

“I’m leaving Agent Gibson at the ranch,” Powell told them. “Just in case.”

Phyl went to him. “This isn’t over yet?” She couldn’t take anymore. Neither could the family.

“We thought it might be over before this happened. We’re not taking any more chances.”

“What about Ted?”

“He needs some rest. He’ll take over tomorrow.”

They walked out of the hospital doors and to their separate cars. “I’m taking Dugan’s cruiser,” Donovan told one of the deputies. “I’ll bring it in tomorrow.”

“Fine with me,” Arnie said.

Phyl buckled Mark into the backseat, gave him another hug. She couldn’t get enough of touching him, making sure he was okay, making sure she was.

“I knew Donovan would bring you home,” Mark said again, his voice sleepy.

Phyl looked over at Donovan as he started the motor and headed to the ranch. At the hard planes of his face, the set of his jaw, she knew how he felt. “You’re angry.”

“Yep.”

She knew it. All of the Callahans should be. “I can’t apologize enough, Donovan. I never should have come here. If I hadn’t, none of this would have happened, and Dugan wouldn’t be hurt.”

It took every ounce of strength she had to finish. “As soon as the authorities are through with me tomorrow, we’ll leave.” She paused, her chest so tight she thought she might have a heart attack, but he didn’t say a word. She swallowed hard. She had to say this. “Ted has another safe house lined up. I won’t bring more horror on you or the family. You’ve all been too good to me and to Mark.”

“I could strangle you,” he growled. “And not because of the reasons you just stated.”

What did that mean?

“You’re not going anywhere. Don’t you know by now that you belong here? Don’t you know how much we care about you?”

“The family has been wonderful. They could easily blame me for Dugan being shot, for your mom almost dying. They should. But they didn’t.” She paused to steady herself. “They’ve been supportive and loving ever since we got here. But you know as well as I do that the FBI will be even more careful now. I won’t have anyone else hurt. I simply won’t. Besides, you weren’t that happy to see me in California.”