Sheriff’s Runaway Witness

And suddenly, for the first time in a very long time, she felt not only free, but safe.

There was a lot more that needed to be done before J.J. was ready to transport his “patient” and her newborn son to the hospital in Ridgecrest, but thankfully, enough of the initial euphoria hung around long enough to get him through it. There was a bad moment or two concerning the placenta-he’d forgotten about that little detail-but they’d gotten through that, and then it was just a matter of wrapping her up, keeping both her and her baby warm and getting them to the hospital as quickly as he possibly could.

For him, it was a strange, tense ride. Even Moonshine kept looking at him and whining, as if she knew something about him was a little bit off. The truth was, he didn’t feel like himself. He wasn’t normally a worrier, but he kept glancing up at his rearview mirror just to make sure Rachel and the baby were okay. They were both sleeping, exhausted after what they’d been through. He could hardly blame them, even though he’d rather have her awake and talking, just to reassure him.

He still couldn’t believe it, the thing she’d done, even though he’d seen it with his own eyes.

He couldn’t believe what he’d done, either. What if he hadn’t found her? It occurred to him that he might even have saved her life, and her baby’s life, too. He thought he could be forgiven for feeling a little bit full of himself about that, but the funny thing was, he didn’t. What he felt was humble. Because he knew that nothing he’d done with his life up to now, and nothing he might hope to do with the rest of it, was ever going to compare with what this little fragile-looking woman had done today.

He felt something else, too, something he couldn’t put his finger on, but it was what made him keep looking in that rearview mirror, tense and alert as if lives were on the line.

It wasn’t until they were at the hospital, and he was watching Rachel being strapped onto a gurney, that he realized what it was he was feeling. He watched her hold out her arms for her baby, and the EMT give her son to her and then walk along beside the gurney, kind of touching her, for security’s sake. And he realized the stab of pain underneath his ribs was something akin to jealousy. Truth was, he didn’t like turning her over to someone else’s care. He wanted to be the one walking alongside her, protecting her. He’d delivered that baby, he’d saved that mother’s life, probably. Dammit, they were his responsibility.

And there it was. Whether or not he really was, the truth was he felt responsible-for both of them, mother and child. He knew himself, and knew he wasn’t going to be able to just let them be whisked away into the E.R. and never see them again. The questions he had…those bruises on her face…

He wasn’t going to be able to let this go.

He was chewing on all that in his mind when Rachel looked back over her shoulder and saw him standing there. She said something to the EMT walking beside the gurney, and they all stopped there just before the automatic doors while Rachel turned and held out her hand to J.J. He went over to the gurney and took her hand, marveling all over again at how small and fragile it seemed when he knew she was anything but.

She squeezed his hand and said, “Thank you,” with a catch in her voice. Then she looked him straight in the eyes and said, “You’re Jethro, right?”

“J.J.,” he said, wondering how in the hell she knew his given name. He sure couldn’t remember telling her. “Just…J.J.”

She studied him for a moment, smiling a crooked little bit of a smile. “No…not just J.J. It’s got to be J.J. something.”

“Okay, you got me. It’s Fox. Deputy Sheriff J. J. Fox-at your service, ma’am.” He dipped his head, since he wasn’t wearing a hat to tip, and grinned. “Not thinking of naming your baby after me, I hope.”

Her smile came and went, and she said softly, seriously, “His name is Sean Nicholas, after his father-and mine.”

“Ah. Of course. Good name.” But he felt oddly let down-not about the name, but because somehow the fact that the baby had a father had slipped his mind. Well, hell, of course the kid had a father. And presumably she had a husband, somewhere; now that he thought about it, he realized she was wearing a wedding ring. Which maybe should have seemed wrong, to go along with the nun’s habit, except…weren’t they supposed to be married to Christ or something? Only, of course, she wasn’t really a nun, was she? Which left…the husband.

He wondered if the husband was the one who’d put those bruises on her face. Seemed odd, though, that she’d name her son after him, if he was.

Still, women did some unexplainable things, especially when it came to the men they loved.

“They’re both dead,” Rachel said.

“I’m sorry.” But it was an automatic response, and given the way his heart had jumped when he said that, he wondered if he meant it.

There was an awkward pause, and then J.J. said, “Well-” at the same time she started to say something, so he stopped and said politely, “Go ahead.”

“There’s no way I’ll ever be able to thank you. I can’t imagine what-” She looked down at the bundled baby in her arms and kind of shook her head.

“No need to thank me. Just doin’ my job,” J.J. muttered, again knowing that wasn’t the way he felt. What he was really feeling was gruff and uncomfortable and heroic and utterly fraudulent.

He reached out and touched her arm, then the baby bundle. “You just have a good life-keep this little guy safe, okay?” She nodded. He nodded to the EMT, and the gurney started to roll. “You can call me if you need anything, now, you hear?” he heard himself say. She didn’t respond; all her attention was focused now on her baby.

Which was as it should be, he thought morosely. He watched as the gurney was wheeled away into the E.R., and the automatic door whisked shut, closing him out.

Yeah, why in the hell would she need you? He gave a snort of self-mockery and went to clean out his patrol vehicle, which he imagined would be getting pretty ripe by now, warming up in the heat of the day.

He got a large-sized evidence bag out of the back of the SUV and started gathering up the clothing and shoes he’d shucked off Rachel and tossed out of the way during the chaos of delivering her baby. And-oops-there was the envelope that had come off with the clothing, the one that had apparently been taped to her stomach. Damned if he hadn’t forgotten about it in all the excitement. Now, sitting behind the wheel of his patrol vehicle, he examined the envelope more closely. The name-Rachel Malone Delacorte. Delacorte. Why did that name ring a bell? Where had he heard it before?

Holding the envelope and pondering whether or not he could justify opening it, he thumbed his radio on. “Katie, do you copy?”

“Yeah, J.J.” Katie’s voice was higher than normal and breathless with poorly suppressed excitement. “How is-”

“Everybody’s fine. Including me,” he added wryly, and got a chuckle in response. “Mother and son are fine-just dropped ’em off at Ridgecrest E.R. Ah…Katie, I want you to run a name for me. Put a rush on it.” He gave her the name. “You copy?”

“Copy that,” Katie said. “When you gonna be back in the office?”

“On my way,” J.J. drawled.

What he really wanted to do was go find a quiet spot and a nice cold beer and take an hour or two to ponder the events of the morning. After all, wasn’t every day he got to rescue a pregnant woman masquerading as a nun out in the middle of the desert and deliver her baby in the backseat of his patrol vehicle. But since his work day was barely half over, he stuffed the envelope-unopened-into the bag containing Rachel’s clothes and took everything inside to the E.R. reception desk. Back outside in the midday sun, he called to Moonshine-no dummy, she’d found a shady spot under a parked ambulance-got in his patrol vehicle and, making mental note to look for a car wash on the way, headed back to his own jurisdiction.

Once again, Rachel drifted. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew there were things she should be thinking about, planning for. But for the moment, she felt no more capable of controlling the course of her life than a leaf caught in a river’s current. And for now, that current was benign, a placid and peaceful stretch after what had been a turbulent, hazardous, sometimes terrifying, sometimes exhilarating ride. For the time being, for the first time in more than two years, she was free of the Delacorte family. For the first time in six months, she was free from fear. Tomorrow, she would think about what to do next. For today, she could allow herself to drift.