Page 68 of Waiting for Devon
Then she saw them. Dusty tire tracks.
Follow the trail.
Devon turned the steering wheel and started following the tire tracks. A few minutes into her escape from the tin shack, the landscape disoriented her. She lost her bearings. Everything looked the same. Her energy failed as the adrenaline rush subsided.
Don’t give up.
She grew sleepy.
Don’t give up. You can’t let Digger die. You can’t let your baby die.
Ahead she saw a dust storm. She drove straight into it.
“Digger Sharpe! Stop your vehicle!”
Like an automaton, Devon responded to the disembodied voice of authority. She pressed the brakes, came to a complete stop, and shifted into park.
“Step out of the vehicle with your hands in the air!”
The command snapped Devon back to reality. She obeyed and heard Jack yell, “Don’t shoot! It’s Devon!” Turning toward Jack’s voice, her gaze fell upon Reed. Instinct propelled her into his arms.
Tears tracked dirt down her cheeks as she sobbed against his broad chest. “You found me! Oh, God, Digger planned…planned to… I shot him! He’s in the shack!”
When Reed remained stiff and unyielding, his arms at his side instead of around her, Devon lifted her head and wiped her face with the palms of her hands. “Reed?”
He gripped her upper arms and pressed his forehead against hers for a brief moment before he brushed her lips with his and set her away from him. She swayed on her feet, staring at Reed in disbelief. “Go with Jack.” His voice was like granite.
Devon’s legs buckled beneath her, and she would have fallen to the Texas scrub if Jack hadn’t caught her.
“You fucking son of a bitch,” he muttered as he lifted Devon into his arms. Jack felt her dead weight when she fainted.
“Dr. Brooks needs to be checked out at the hospital,” Detective Kennedy announced, approaching them. “We’ve got two dead bodies, and Digger Sharpe is in serious condition in the shack a couple of miles back.”
Jack carried her to one of two fire rescue trucks that had accompanied the calvary to find Devon and handed her to the EMTs. He climbed in behind her and told the first responders he would check out his ex-wife himself.
Even traveling at top speed with lights flashing and sirens blaring, it took almost thirty minutes for them to arrive at Dallas General Hospital. Asserting his authority, Jack barked orders at the ER nurses.
“Dr. Brooks is severely dehydrated and needs fluids ASAP,” he commanded. “Her wrists are chafed and bleeding and her hands have first degree burns.”
Dr. Bailey happened to be on duty and greeted Jack. “I’ll take it from here, Dr. Taylor.”
Two hours laterDevon lay awake in an ER cubicle and faced Detective Kennedy. With a second bag of fluids pumping through her veins, her color had returned. Cool salve and bandages made her wrists and hands feel better, too. Jack sat next to the bed with a hand resting protectively on her arm. In the aftermath of her being rescued and brought to the hospital, they had not had a moment alone to talk.
“How are you feeling, Dr. Brooks?” Detective Kennedy asked.
“Tired but good.”
“Are you able to answer a few questions?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s begin with what happened in the parking garage at Barrington Industries.”
“I was on my way to the airport after meeting with Jasper Barrington, and someone came up behind me and jabbed a needle in my neck. I don’t know how long I was unconscious before I woke up in that shack. Harry and Smitty mentioned I had been missing four days. I counted three when I was awake.”
“What did they say to you?”
“Harry owed money and thought he and Smitty could ransom me until I told them I wasn’t worth anything to the Barringtons. I offered them my own money and had almost convinced them to take it before the other guy showed up. I recognized him. Digger Sharpe. He came into the clinic and warned me to watch my back. Digger killed Harry and Smitty and planned to sell me on the black market. I fought him off and managed to get my hands on his gun. I shot him in the knees. Is he okay?”
