by Leann Harris
She took his blood pressure and examined the glands in his throat. Removing the thermometer, she read his temperature. One hundred and three.
“Tell me your symptoms,” Alex commanded.
“I feel like hell. Achy, chills, tired, lost weight.” His speech was slurred.
“Can you be more specific about how long you’ve been feeling bad?”
He rubbed his forehead. “Started feeling this way about the time we were in Mexico City with Jorge.” He looked at Simon. “How long ago was that?”
Simon nearly choked at Randy’s question. For several tense moments the two men glared at each other. Alex didn’t doubt that if Simon had had a gun, he would’ve shot Randy to shut him up.
“How long, Simon?” Randy crossly demanded.
Hostility gleamed in Simon’s eyes. “A month.”
“Rats,” Alex mumbled to herself. “Randy, I need for you to be honest with me. Your life may depend on it.” She had his attention now. “How long have you been using steroids?”
Randy shook his head. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Alex placed herself squarely in front of her patient. “There’s TB in Saddle. You’re exhibiting signs of the disease. If you’ve been abusing steroids that makes you a high-risk patient and you could easily die from the TB. I can’t help you unless I know what I’m dealing with. How long have you been using steroids?”
His gaze touched Simon, then came back to rest on her face. “A year.” He coughed again and brought up more blood.
“You need to be hospitalized—now.” She walked into her office and phoned the hospital in Alpine. “I have an emergency here. Is the Medi-Vac helicopter available?”
“Yes,” the nurse answered.
“I need it dispatched to Saddle. Immediately. I’ve got a TB patient who’s a steroid abuser. I think he’s in serious trouble. Warn your doctors.”
“The copter will be there in thirteen minutes.”
She hung up and walked back into the examining room to speak to Randy. “You’re going to the hospital. They can take better care of you there.” Alex turned to Simon. “Let’s read your TB test.”
Simon’s expression resembled a thundercloud. His mood darkened further over the next few minutes as she read his test as positive, then took an X ray.
“Am I going to die like Randy?” Simon asked, a rising note of panic in his voice.
Alex glanced away from the film. “Are you abusing like Randy?”
“Do I look bulked up?” The rage rumbling around inside Simon shone in his eyes and the tightness of his jaw.
“What I meant was unless you have some hidden problem I don’t know about at this moment—”
The sound of a helicopter broke into her concentration. Alex hurried outside and waved to the chopper hovering overhead. It took less than five minutes to load Randy into the helicopter and give the nurse his vital signs, but by the time Alex finished answering the questions of the gathered crowd and returned to the clinic to speak to Simon, he was gone.
Retrieving the Davises’ file from the waiting room, Alex locked the clinic and climbed into her car.
* * *
“Hi, sweetie, how are things going there at home?” Derek asked Sarah, shifting the phone from one ear to the other. He and Beavins had spent the past hour closeted in the ranch office going over Simon’s phone records.
“You missed all the excitement, Dad. Some guy who works for Mr. Moore got sick, and Alex got a helicopter to take him to Alpine.”
A sense of doom settled over his heart. “Did Alex go with the guy to Alpine?”
“No. I watched her talking to everyone after the helicopter left.”
“Do you know if she’s at the clinic?”
“I don’t see her car parked along the side.”
Panic added to his sense of doom. “Thanks, sweetheart.” Derek immediately called the clinic, but no one answered. Next he phoned Sam Davis and discovered that Alex had just left his ranch and was on her way to the Moore ranch.
“What’s the matter?” Beavins asked, walking back into the office, a cup of coffee in his hand.
“You know that guy we suspected of abusing steroids? Well, Simon brought him into the clinic today. Apparently the guy was so sick he had to be taken by helicopter to the hospital in Alpine.”
“So?”
Derek explained the danger Randy faced.
“Still, I don’t see what is so critical.”
“I’ve got this nagging feeling that something’s going down. I just don’t know what.” He stood and walked to the window. He tried calling Alex on the cellular phone, but the line was busy. “I think I’ll drive out and see if I can intercept Alex before she gets to Simon’s ranch.”
“But there’s no evidence of anything going on.”
Derek paused by the door. “I’ve learned from hard experience to listen to my gut feeling.”
* * *
The mobile phone rang, making Alex jump. She answered it. “Hello.”
“Who’s this?” the male voice asked.
“Dr. Alexandra Courtland. Who are you?”
“Ah, Doc, sorry about that. This is Sheriff Wesley Clayton. I was trying to get in touch with Derek, and having a woman answer his mobile number was a shock.”
“Derek wanted me to use it while I was visiting several of the ranches.”
“Do you know where he is? I’ve tried his office and radio but don’t get any answers.”
“He’s at his ranch with Agent Beavins going over some information.”
“Thanks. By the way, I heard about the case you sent to Alpine.”
“How’d you hear about that?” Alex asked.
“I was at the hospital when the chopper left. How’s the guy doing?”
“Don’t know. But I’m on my way to the Moore ranch now. The housekeeper called in a panic. Her son is running a fever and she asked me to come take a look at him. I’ll check with the hospital when I get there.”
“Doctor, y—” The phone connection crackled, then broke up.
“Hello, Sheriff, you there?”
Static filled her ear.
With a sigh she hung up. As she drove on, she wondered why Sheriff Clayton had sounded so odd before she lost him.
* * *
“Wait, Derek,” Beavins yelled, racing out the front door. “The sheriff’s on the phone. He needs to talk to you.”
Derek sprinted inside. “Wes, what is it?”
“The NCIC computer just gave me five names of known dealers that Simon has called in the past six months. Jorge Martinez is on the top of the list.”
Derek cursed. Jorge Martinez was a slippery little fish. He always managed to be around something illegal but was smart enough never to leave his fingerprints on anything. So far he’d been connected to half a dozen crimes, but the authorities on either side of the border never had enough evidence to charge him.
“DEA thinks he’s up to his old tricks and are watching his house in El Paso. From phone records and surveillance, we can piece together that Jorge left his house immediately after Simon placed a call to him yesterday.”
The knot in Derek’s stomach tightened. “What kind of car does Jorge drive?”
“A recent-model green Jag.” The sheriff gave the license plate number.
“Thanks, Wes.”
“Derek, one other thing. When I was trying to get hold of you, I got Dr. Courtland on your mobile phone. She was on her way to the Moore ranch. I tried to warn her not to go, but the call broke up and I couldn’t get her back.”
Derek’s original vague feeling of doom crystallized into bone-chilling fear. He knew in his heart that Alexandra was heading into trouble. “Wes, I’m going out to the Moore ranch now. I’ll radio you for backup if I see Jorge’s Jag.”
Derek briefed Beavins on the conversation.
“Want me to go with you?” Beavins asked.
Derek nodded, and both men ran to Derek’s Jeep. The engine roared to life and Derek floore
d the gas pedal, all the while praying he wouldn’t be too late.
* * *
Alex parked her car behind a green Jaguar, which was parked behind Simon’s Cadillac.
“Well, at least the man’s at home,” Alex muttered, “even if he does have company.” Grabbing her bag, she climbed out of her car.
As she raised her hand to knock, she heard voices. Although she couldn’t make out the individual words, the angry tones came through loud and clear. She hesitated only a moment before taking the brass knocker and banging it against the door.
The voices stopped and several moments later the door flew open. Simon Moore frowned at her. “What now, Doctor?”
Alex didn’t much care for the man’s surly tone, but she’d give him some leeway since he was still probably upset about Randy’s condition and his own TB. “Mrs. Burns called and asked me to come by and see her son. Also, I need to read the test results of the other people here.”
A maniacal light appeared in Simon’s pale blue eyes. She’d seen that same look this past year in several of the soldiers’ eyes when they had lost touch with reality.
“Yeah, Doc, come in. There’s someone I want you to meet before you see the boy.”
Alex took a step backward. Simon’s arm whipped out and he grasped her upper arm. “This way, Doc.”
He pulled her down the hall past the living room to a door on the opposite wall. Pushing it open, he dragged Alex behind him.
“Doc, I want you to meet another sick bastard. He knew he had TB. He quit taking his medicine, didn’t you, Jorge?”
The man standing by the window appeared healthy at the moment. He flashed Simon a smile. “Mi amigo, the doctors don’t know what they are talking about. I had the sickness, then took their medicine, and now I feel fine.”
“How long ago were you diagnosed with TB?” Alex asked.
The man shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. “Six, seven months ago. I took the pills for a couple of months and now I am fine.”
Alex glanced at Simon and prayed her alarm didn’t show.
“He’s the one who gave it to me, isn’t he?” There was a sinister note in Simon’s voice that made Alex’s skin crawl.
“I can’t say for sure.”
Simon reached into the middle drawer of his desk and pulled out a .44 Magnum. Calmly he pointed it at Jorge. “Sure you can. I’ve spent a lot of time with Jorge here. We’ve been in real close quarters. And he’s been coughing in my face the whole damn time.”
Alex tried to keep all expression off her face, not wanting to give Simon any more reason to use his gun.
“Didn’t you say that, Doc? That I could get TB from being in an enclosed space for a long time with someone who had it? Maybe like being cooped up in an airplane for hours with Jorge here.”
“You could’ve gotten it from Randy or Norma.”
“Randy works for Jorge. He’s only been with me the last couple of weeks.”
Simon was, in his own sick way, pinning down the source of the TB bacteria. It made sense. Norma hadn’t left Saddle for the past six months, so chances were that someone had infected her. And here stood her best suspect.
“You’re wrong, my friend,” Jorge said, edging toward the door.
“Don’t move,” Simon warned. “Doc, am I right? Is this the bastard who gave me the sickness?”
Alex hesitated. “I can’t say.”
“See, she does not know,” Jorge said.
Simon looked at her, and his feverish gaze searched hers.
The next thing Alex knew, Jorge was pulling a gun from under his sports jacket, but before he could pull the trigger, Simon fired. The force of the bullet slammed Jorge against the wall, and he slid to the floor.
Alex’s gaze fixed on the blood staining the wall and she froze, unable to move or speak.
* * *
Derek didn’t bother with the road that would have added ten to fifteen minutes to the trip. He cut straight across the flat land.
The direct line dumped them at the rear of Simon’s house. Derek parked his Jeep behind a small shed that had been a smokehouse in earlier times, and the two men raced to the main house.
Derek and Beavins crouched down and worked their way along the side of the building. Halfway around they heard angry voices coming from a window above their heads. Racing forward, Derek found his worst fears confirmed when he peeked around the corner of the brick house and saw Jorge’s green Jaguar, Simon’s Cadillac and Alexandra’s Mustang.
“Everyone’s here,” Beavins whispered.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll call for backup, then position myself by that back door I saw. Give me five minutes before you go in.”
“All right,” Derek answered.
As he watched Beavins work his way to the Jeep, Derek moved back to the window where he’d heard the voices. He could make out a few words. Simon was railing at Jorge and asking Alexandra questions. Then he heard a gunshot.
Alexandra! Derek’s brain yelled. Instantly he was running. Terror chilled his blood as he imagined all sorts of horrors that could’ve happened to her. He grabbed his pistol from his holster and shoved open the front door.
The moment he stepped inside he saw the housekeeper, Mrs. Burns, rush into the hall. She froze and Derek motioned her back into the kitchen. After she left, he cautiously made his way down the hall.
“He deserved it.” Simon’s voice floated past the open library door.
Silence greeted his statement.
His heart racing, Derek slowly looked around the library door. Alex stood staring at the bloody wall. Simon hovered over the body sprawled on the floor; he glanced up and saw Derek in the doorway. His hand shot out, yanking Alex to his side.
“Put the gun down, Simon,” Derek ordered.
“No. And don’t come any closer, because I’ll hurt the doc here.”
The vacant look in Alex’s eyes worried Derek. “Alexandra,” he softly called.
Simon’s arm slid around her neck and he pressed the barrel of the gun to her temple. Something flickered in her eyes.
“Alexandra.” Derek tried again to reach inside her panic and touch the rational part of her mind. Her eyes focused on him and he saw recognition return to the blue depths.
“Put the gun down, Derek, and move out of my way,” Simon ordered. “Now.” His arm flexed around Alex’s neck.
Derek laid his gun on the edge of the desk. “Simon, there’s no way you’re going to escape. Just put down the weapon and everything will be okay.”
“No, it won’t. I’m not going to jail for shooting that scum. He deserved it. Now, if you don’t get out of my way, I’ll shoot the doc here.”
Derek’s gaze again met Alex’s. As clearly as if she had spoken, Derek knew she was going to act, and he prepared himself.
“Move away from the gun,” Simon shouted, waving his weapon, indicating for Derek to step back. Derek didn’t move.
Simon tried to take a step toward the door, but Alex collapsed against him. Her deadweight caught him by surprise and he staggered forward. Derek lunged for his gun, aimed at Simon and fired.
At the same instant Simon pulled the trigger of his Magnum.
The noise reverberated in Alex’s brain. She fought against the rising hysteria threatening her and concentrated on the sound in the room. Behind her, Simon was screaming; Derek lay on the floor before her, his teeth gritted against the pain of the wound in his upper thigh.
Alex picked up Simon’s gun then glanced at him. He lay on his side, one hand clutching his upper arm. Pushing up Simon’s short sleeve, she examined the flesh wound. He could wait.
She moved to Derek’s side and knelt. Blood gushed between his fingers as he held his leg. A sense of urgency gripped her.
“Let me see,” Alex commanded Derek.
The instant he moved his hand away, blood seeped through the fabric of his pant leg. With a strength born of an adrenaline surge, she put her fingers in the tiny bullet hole in the material and ri
pped. The amount of blood made it hard to see the entry point of the wound, but experience with gunshot wounds having this much blood dictated that Derek’s articular artery, the main blood vessel in his thigh, had been nicked or severed. If she didn’t put pressure on the wound, Derek would bleed to death in a matter of minutes.
“How bad is it?”
Alex glanced up and saw Beavins standing above her. “Get me something that I can use to put over his wound to stop the bleeding. A towel, a shirt, anything.”
Alex placed her hand over the wound. Blood oozed between her fingers and seeped out under her palm.
“Here.” Beavins shoved a towel in her face.
She grabbed it and put it over the wound, then pressed with all her might.
“I’m going to need that Medi-Vac copter here. Now. Derek doesn’t have much time.”
Beavins nodded and disappeared out of the room.
Derek tried to smile at her. “You seem to know what you’re doing, Doc.” His breathing was shallow, and he sounded out of breath.
“You forget, this is what I’ve been doing for the last few years.”
“I trust you with my life.” His eyes fluttered closed.
“Dammit, Derek Grey. Don’t you give up on me.”
Beavins entered the room. “The copter is on its way. What about the other two over here?”
Alex didn’t bother to look at the other men. “Martinez is dead. Simon has a flesh wound, nothing serious.”
Alex leaned her weight on the wound, praying that help would get here before Derek went into shock. His color was getting bad and when he opened his eyes, his pupils looked dilated.
It seemed like forever until she heard the chopper blades. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye as relief swept over her. If she had equipment, IVs, she could help Derek. Without it, all she could do was watch him die. “Tell the paramedics to hurry,” Alex told Beavins. She leaned forward. “Help’s here, Derek.”
The corner of Derek’s mouth kicked up, but his eyes remained closed. “It’s always been here, Doc.”
* * *
Alex leaned back against the wall outside surgery room one and closed her eyes. She was exhausted and emotionally wrung out.
“How’d it go, Dr. Courtland?”
Slowly Alex opened her eyes and saw Sheriff Wesley Clayton and Agent Beavins standing in the hall.