Promise Kept

by Mitzi Pool Bridges

  Chapter Twenty-One

  They were back at the sheriff’s office by eight that evening.

  The four Callahan brothers, TJ at their side, stood together as Jeff Powell, the FBI agent in charge, gathered information from those who had searched a grid.

  With a colored pencil, he marked off each area as they called out their findings. The end result being that no one had found a trace of either Mateo or Phyl.

  Douglas stood on one side of Donovan, Darin the other, giving Donovan the support he needed. He was about to drop. Where had Mateo, or whatever his name was, taken Phyl? They’d searched most of the county. If they weren’t here, it meant he’d made it out before the roadblock was set up. They could be anywhere.

  Or Phyl could be dead by now.

  His mind screamed no. She couldn’t be. He’d feel it. Know it.

  When the FBI agent received the report from the last person, Dugan gave Donovan’s shoulder a squeeze.

  Donovan couldn’t talk, couldn’t ask what their plan was now.

  “It’s late. Let’s go home,” TJ suggested.

  But Donovan couldn’t move. It was as if his legs were stone.

  “C’mon, Donovan,” Darin said. “There’s nothing more we can do today.”

  “I can’t,” Donovan whispered, his voice thick. “You guys go ahead.”

  “I’ll be here,” Dugan said. “The rest of you go back to the house. We’ll keep in touch.”

  TJ went to Dugan. “Don’t let him stay out much later. He needs rest.”

  “I know,” he said.

  The room thinned out. Soon there wasn’t anyone left but a couple of FBI agents, Dugan, his deputies, and Donovan.

  “I’m going outside,” Donovan said.

  “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  Donovan stepped into the dwindling light, watched the town slowly shut down. Lights went out at the drugstore, Carter’s, Potter’s. Molly’s was still open. He headed that way.

  He opened the door, stepped into silence. Usually, Molly’s was a beehive of gossip. The town was small enough for everyone to know everything or almost everything about everybody. Not so good sometimes, but that was the way it was.

  He ordered a cup of coffee.

  A couple of the folks came over to pat him on the back. They didn’t have to say anything.

  It was as if Phyl were already dead, and they wanted him to know they were sorry. He fought the urge to tell them Phyl was out there somewhere waiting to be found.

  Instead he just sat and drank his coffee, and prayed she wasn’t in the dark.

  A couple of booths were filled with high school kids celebrating after a football game.

  He felt like he was sitting on an island—that he was the only person there. Words held no meaning. The smell of burgers and fries usually made his mouth water. Now they didn’t move him. The sight of all the kids’ bright, happy faces only made him sad.

  Would life have meaning if he never saw Phyl again? He’d never told her she meant anything to him, much less everything. There was so much they needed to talk about. Would they get the chance now? Or was it too late?

  “Must be a ghost,” one of the kids said. Spreading his hands in front of his face, he said, “Boo!”

  Donovan saw it was one of the football jocks, Jack Spencer, having a good time.

  The girls tittered.

  “Maybe you saw lights because you couldn’t handle a kiss from a real woman.”

  That from Jenny Michaels, a cheerleader.

  If Donovan had to bet, Jenny had kissed Jack, and wasn’t going to let him forget it.

  They all laughed, Jack the loudest. “I dunno,” he said. “The light wasn’t in my head.”

  “Maybe it was a lantern held by a headless dude,” another jock mocked.

  “There you are,” Dugan said.

  Ignoring his brother, Donovan walked to the booth where the kids were talking. “Where did you see a light?”

  “What’s going on?” Dugan asked.

  Donovan held up a hand. Waited for the kids to answer.

  “Nowhere,” Jack said. “We’re just kidding around.”

  “Tell him, Jack. Tell him how you and Jenny were parked where you shouldn’t have been, doing what your mom warned you not to do,” another one of the girls said.

  Donovan looked at her. Cissy Troy sat in the corner of the booth pouting. Jealousy oozed around her, putting her mouth in a sneer.

  Dugan came closer, gave the kids his sheriff eye. The look that said you’d better come clean or you’re in trouble.

  “Aw, heck,” Jack said. “Jenny and I were parked last night at the Adams place. No one’s been there forever.”

  “And you thought you could make out and no one would be the wiser?” Dugan asked.

  Jack ducked his head.

  “What did you see?” Donovan demanded.

  “A light. Okay? Weaving—like a flashlight. But maybe I was seeing things.”

  “Where, exactly?” Dugan looked at Donovan.

  Donovan held his breath

  “In the back. Behind the barn.”

  “Where the hell were you parked?” Dugan spit out.

  Jack got a frightened look in his eyes. “I didn’t want anyone to see my car, so I turned off the motor and coasted up behind the house.”

  “How long did you stay after you saw the lights?” Dugan asked.

  “Not long,” Jenny said. “We were home way before curfew.”

  Donovan turned and ran. Dugan right behind him.

  “Didn’t someone go to the Adams place today?” Donovan asked as they ran for Dugan’s cruiser.

  “They did. Do you want to find out who it was?”

  “Not a chance. We need to get there as fast as we can.”

  Using his cell phone, Dugan told his deputy and the FBI where they were going. “If you come in—come in quiet. No lights, no bells and whistles. If he’s there, he’s dangerous.”

  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 t
ell 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.