by Brenda Novak
She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, taking solace in the high-pitched whine of the blow-dryer because it cocooned her in noise and allowed her a few minutes of privacy to gather her thoughts before Warden Crumb and Sergeant Hansen arrived. They were going to be here any minute, and she still wasn’t sure exactly what to say to them. She’d always been a strong proponent of law and order, of truth. How was she going to sit across from the men she worked for and perpetuate the lies she’d started at the Bountiful Harvest Egg Ranch? Especially, with David looking on? Surely her ex-husband would see through her even if Crumb and Hansen did not.
But she was in too deep to back out now.
“Gabby, they’re here,” David said, rapping on the bathroom door.
Gabrielle shut off the blow-dryer and set it on the counter. “I’ll be right there.”
She listened to his footsteps retreat, heard low voices coming from the living room, and knew she could no longer stay locked in the bathroom. Letting her hair fall loose around her shoulders, she buttoned the white cotton shirt she’d ironed for the occasion and removed a few specks of lint from her khaki pants. Then she slipped on her black sandals and belt, braced herself and unlocked the door.
“Would you like some coffee?” she heard David ask as she made her way down the hall. The warden accepted, but Sergeant Hansen refused.
“There’s our new officer,” Sergeant Hansen said when she appeared, but the insincerity of his smile was enough to remind Gabrielle how much she disliked him.
“Hello, Sergeant Hansen,” she said, offering her hand.
“Glad to have you back safe,” he said as they shook.
“I’m glad to be back.” She turned to the Warden. “Warden Crumb.” Crumb shook her hand before accepting his coffee from David. Then he sat forward on one end of the couch, as though conscious of not wrinkling his suit. Sergeant Hansen sat on the other. Gabrielle took the chair opposite both of them, her presence immediately attracting Allie’s attention. The child had been standing by the coffee table, staring wide-eyed at the strangers who’d just infiltrated her world. When she toddled over to Gabrielle, David tried to scoop her up, but Gabrielle waved him away.
“She’s fine,” she said, and curled her arms protectively around her daughter. David hesitated only briefly before leaning against the kitchen doorway, where he kept a polite yet supportive distance.
“How are you doing, Officer Hadley?” the warden asked.
She remembered their meeting in his office, the way he’d hidden his real feelings by pretending to be so genteel. “Better, now that I’ve had some sleep,” she said.
“You’ve been through quite an ordeal.”
“The past few days certainly didn’t work out the way I’d planned. How’s Officer Eckland?”
“He’s fine. He has a cast on his leg, of course,” Crumb said. “But it’ll heal.”
“I’m glad.”
“And the others? The people in the truck?”
“They’re both fine.”
“Good.”
The warden cleared his throat, set his cup on the coffee table and leaned forward a little further. “You know, Gabrielle—you don’t mind if I call you Gabrielle, do you?”
Gabrielle didn’t mind his using her first name. His patronizing tone, however, grated on her nerves. “No,” she said.
“Great.” He rubbed his hands together. “You know, we understand that you’re new at the prison. And with a thirty-percent vacancy rate, Lord knows we need good officers.” He bestowed a benevolent smile on David this time, then quickly sobered. “But Officer Eckland has told us some things that we, quite frankly, find worrisome.”
Gabrielle had been so preoccupied with the questions she knew they’d ask about Tucker, this took her by surprise. “What things?” she asked.
Crumb and Hansen glanced at each other. “He said you caused the accident. He said you yanked on the wheel, trying to force him to pull over when he refused to stop and remove Randall Tucker’s cuffs,” Crumb said.
“Yanked on the wheel!” Gabrielle cried. “I never touched the wheel.”
“But you did remove the inmate’s cuffs, did you not?”
“After the accident, I did. I was afraid leaving them on would cause him to sustain further injury. His hand was broken before Eckland cuffed him, remember?”
“I remember you thought it was broken.” Crumb took a sip of his coffee. “So after you removed the prisoner’s handcuffs, what happened?”
Everything. Her whole world had changed. But Gabrielle couldn’t say so. She stuck with the story she’d told David, that she started into the desert but got lost before she could find Tucker, that she didn’t run into him until she came upon the egg ranch. She told them she last saw him when he’d tied her up, but she said he’d tied her up twelve hours earlier than he had, hoping the added hours would send them off-course long enough to give Tucker a small advantage.
“So you encountered him Tuesday evening?” Hansen asked, jumping into the conversation.
“Yes.”
“What time was that?”
“I don’t know. I’d managed to glean some water by making a desert still, but the heat was getting to me. I’m afraid I was pretty disoriented.”
“Three days in the desert with little water and no food would disorient anyone,” David said.
“Of course it would,” the warden replied. His tone was congenial enough to let Gabrielle know he’d heard the defensive note in David’s voice and was working to defuse it.
“Actually, I did have some food,” Gabrielle admitted. “I…I had the lunch I’d packed, and Tuesday night I shot a rabbit and roasted it.”
“You did?” Sergeant Hansen said.
She nodded.
“That’s pretty resourceful. How’d you start the fire?”
“I had a book of matches in my purse, left over from my daughter’s birthday.”
“If you had matches, why didn’t you light a fire to signal any rescuers who might be looking for you?” Hansen asked. “It might’ve helped us locate you.”
For a moment Gabrielle’s breath caught in her throat. Why did she have to volunteer more information than necessary? That was stupid, idiotic…. “I—I didn’t think of that,” she said. “I was traveling at night and trying to stay out of the heat during the day, so I wasn’t in one spot for long. It never occurred to me to start a fire and stay put.” Probably because she and Tucker weren’t trying to attract anyone to them. They couldn’t, without compromising his future. They were both scrambling to reach safety, but safety meant something different for Tucker than it did for Gabrielle.
“Not even when you were sleeping?”
“She just told you how disoriented she was,” David said.
“I heard,” Hansen replied, but his eyes didn’t so much as flick David’s way. They were boring holes in Gabrielle. “So that must be why, when you ran into Tucker at the egg ranch, you didn’t use your gun.”
Gabrielle crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. “My gun was empty by then, Sergeant Hansen.”
“From killing rabbits?”
“From shooting at rabbits, among other things. I’d also tried to shoot off part of a cactus to see if I could get some moisture from inside. I was pretty desperate most of the time. What I did might not have made sense. I realize that now.”
“Since you were so disoriented, maybe it was better you didn’t have a useable weapon when you found Tucker,” the warden said. “If he’d been able to relieve you of your gun, you might not be here today.”
The image of Tucker’s head blocking the bright sun as he bent over her while she lay on the desert floor flashed through Gabrielle’s mind, bringing defensive words to her tongue. But she said nothing. She couldn’t have Hansen or the warden guessing how split her loyalties were. Especially when they already suspected her of being too sympathetic to Tucker because she’d tried to help with his injuries. I remember you thought it was broken….<
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“How do you think Tucker managed to survive?” Hansen asked. “He had no water, no gun, no food.”
“He must’ve figured out a way to collect rainwater, too,” she said. “Or something.”
Or something. They’d collected rainwater together. They’d eaten together. They’d slept together. They’d almost made love…. The truth seemed to vibrate through Gabrielle, and her cheeks flushed hot, which made her discomfort that much more acute, because Hansen didn’t seem to be missing a thing. Pressing his hands together in a prayerlike attitude and resting his chin on them, he pursed his lips. “I can’t imagine how he could’ve done that. What would he have collected it in?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I can’t say what he did. Like I told you, I didn’t run into him until I got to the egg ranch.”
“And that’s where he tied you up and left you. All night. Is that correct?”
“Until I was able to rid myself of the gag in my mouth and call for help. Some immigrant workers heard me and came to see what was going on sometime the following morning.” For the first time since the incident, Gabrielle understood why Tucker had said he was doing her a favor by tying her up. He’d given her valuable proof.
“This was Wednesday morning?”
“Must’ve been.”
“I see. Why didn’t you call the prison as soon as you were rescued?”
“I did. I had David call as soon as we got home.”
“But you didn’t call from the egg ranch.”
“I’d just spent three days lost in the desert! I wasn’t thinking straight. And I had nothing to tell you, anyway. I didn’t know where Tucker was.”
“You were the last person to see him.”
“He’d already been gone fifteen hours. Depending on whether or not he had outside help, he could be anywhere. I hardly thought I could add anything useful, and I was pretty sick, as you can probably imagine.”
“It’s not as though you were left in the dark,” David said. “She asked me to call you.”
Gabrielle felt more guilt than relief for David’s help. He was getting sucked in, too. She didn’t want that. She didn’t want to hurt him.
The clock on the wall seemed to tick more loudly than normal as the warden sipped his coffee. “Do you have any idea where Tucker might be heading?” he asked, obviously choosing to change course.
Gabrielle didn’t doubt that Tucker was heading straight to his son, wherever that was. But she wasn’t about to give him away. “Wouldn’t most escaped convicts try to cross the border?”
The warden shrugged. “Maybe. But Tucker doesn’t strike me as the usual convict.”
Tucker wasn’t usual in any way—at least she wasn’t the only one who recognized that. “How do you think he’s different?” she asked.
“He’s arrogant. He may think he can outsmart us, but I promise you this, we’ll catch him. And when we do—” he smiled “—he’ll be sorry he ever put us to so much trouble.”
A chill cascaded down Gabrielle’s spine. That was exactly what she feared most for Tucker—Crumb and Hansen’s retribution.
“Is there anything else you can think of that might help us?” Hansen asked.
Gabrielle shook her head. “Our contact was too brief. He snuck up on me from behind, tackled me and tied me up so I couldn’t give him away at the ranch. He was looking for some lead time, I suppose. That’s all.”
“He didn’t—” Hansen’s gaze swept over her body before rising again to her face “—take advantage of you sexually, did he?”
Gabrielle got the impression Hansen was actually hoping to hear a positive answer. From the look of anticipation on his face, she suspected he’d delight in the thought that she’d been raped. Wouldn’t that show her? Wouldn’t that teach her for siding with an inmate? “No, Sergeant Hansen. He didn’t rape me. He didn’t hurt me at all.”
“I wouldn’t call leaving you in the desert to die being kind,” Crumb put in.
“I didn’t say he was kind, Warden Crumb.”
“No, you didn’t. But I’m not detecting a great deal of anger, either,” Hansen said.
“That’s not fair,” David said. “How do you know what she feels?”
Hansen glanced at him but didn’t deign to answer. His attitude told everyone in the room he thought David had no business even joining the conversation.
“I have nothing to be angry about,” Gabrielle said. “I was trying to transport a prisoner who managed to escape. I went after him—”
“And nearly lost her life doing it,” David added, his voice more emphatic.
“—and I wasn’t able to recapture him,” Gabrielle went on. “To me, there’s nothing personal in that. I did what I could.”
“It doesn’t bother you that there’s a man out there who may murder another innocent person tonight because you were worried about his cuffs being fastened too tight?” Hansen asked.
“I didn’t cause the wreck,” Gabrielle said. “Eckland did.”
“The whole thing would never have happened if—”
“That’s enough,” David said. “I think it’s time for the two of you to go. Gabby’s told you everything she knows. She’s been through too much already.”
“I agree, Hansen,” the warden said. “What’s done is done. I suggest we put the past behind us and talk about the future. We can probably all benefit from that.” He smiled at David, again trying to soothe him, before returning his focus to Gabrielle. “Are you planning on coming back to work, Officer Hadley?”
Gabrielle thought of the prison, of going back and facing Eckland, with his broken leg and accusing eyes. She thought of Officer Bell, who resented her for taking the stand she was too afraid to take, of Hansen, who could barely contain his resentment of her, of the catcalls and disrespect of the prisoners. Then she thought of returning to Phoenix and trying to build a life there. If she did, she’d eventually remarry David. She wasn’t good at withholding, especially when she knew that her refusal hurt someone she cared about deeply.
“I haven’t decided,” she hedged.
“Well, we’d like you to be able to keep your job, if you want it,” Warden Crumb said. “We got off to a rocky start, I’ll grant you that, but I think it was more a big misunderstanding than anything else. Wouldn’t you say?”
A misunderstanding that Tucker couldn’t get the medical treatment he needed? That Hansen wouldn’t break up the fight, even after the Border Brothers had gotten Tucker on the ground? What was there to misunderstand about that?
Gabrielle didn’t answer, but he continued anyway.
“Considering what’s happened, I think a move is in order. If you come back, I’m going to transfer you to Eyman Complex. You’ll be working with a new bunch of officers there, and the facility is state of the art. Serious incidents are rare, so we shouldn’t have any more trouble.”
That was because Eyman Complex, located two miles from where she worked now, housed level five prisoners who were locked down twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. They lived in cells by themselves and remained alone virtually all the time. They ate in their cells. They were let out to shower and exercise only three times a week. Their exercise consisted of an hour alone in a cement room the size of a racquetball court, with a handball if they wanted. Those who persisted in being difficult were strapped to gurneys whenever they were transported through the complex for visits with attorneys or for medical reasons.
Still, even in this restrictive environment, the inmates managed to fabricate knives, ropes—Gabrielle had heard that one guy had actually made a viable rope out of toilet paper—and blow darts, so it wasn’t the safest place in the world. But the complex was new, as the warden had said, and offered electronic security the old Territorial prison complex couldn’t compete with. It was cooler in summer, warmer in winter, and far quieter than central unit.
And Hansen wouldn’t be there.
“That sounds good,” Gabrielle said, thinking maybe she could get her life o
n track again, after all.
She could tell David wasn’t pleased with her answer. “She’s still recovering,” he said. “Let’s give her a few days to decide.”
The warden deposited his cup on the coffee table and stood. “I understand. I won’t expect you until next Wednesday. Call me if for any reason you won’t be there.”
Gabrielle nodded.
“And if you happen to think of something that might be helpful in apprehending Randall Tucker, let me know.”
“I will.”
He and Hansen moved to the door and Gabrielle followed to let them out.
“Get some rest,” Crumb said.
“If you can sleep tonight,” Hansen muttered as he passed her.
Crumb must have heard him because he scowled, but Hansen hardly looked repentant when he gave her a parting smirk. “We’ll miss you at central.”
“You know, now that I think about it, there is something that might help you find Tucker,” Gabrielle said. Both men turned.
“What is it?” Crumb demanded, brows raised.
“When he was tying me up, he kept cursing his injured hand and blaming Sergeant Hansen for the pain, saying he’d be glad when he finally settled the score. But—” she frowned “—Tucker doesn’t know where you live, does he, Sergeant Hansen?”
The blood drained from Hansen’s face and Gabrielle knew he was remembering how well Tucker could fight, what Tucker might be able to do on an even playing field, when Hansen wasn’t in possession of any weapons and Tucker wasn’t cuffed or behind bars. He had to know how easy it would be for Tucker to find him, too.
“He wouldn’t dare come near me,” Hansen said, his voice full of bravado.
“You’re right.” Gabrielle shrugged. “He’s probably too afraid.” She smiled to keep up her veneer of civility, but they both knew Tucker felt no fear of Hansen, only contempt.