Sheriff’s Runaway Witness

desperate to find his daughter-in-law and get his grandchild back. His organization was huge and far-reaching; he probably had people in every city, county, state and federal law enforcement agency in Southern California. They’d be monitoring every radio call, patrolling every possible escape route, land, sea or air. Carlos could not afford to let Rachel get away, and he’d move heaven and earth to find her.

And his only grandchild.

How many hours had it been since that call had gone out about a nun wandering in the desert? How long would it take Delacorte to put two and two together and pick up the trail?

J.J. snatched up his hat and jammed it on his head. He tossed the keys to his trailer to Deputy Daryl.

“Take care of my dog,” he growled on his way out the door.

Rachel woke from a light sleep, alerted by something she couldn’t immediately identify: faint sounds, scuffles, breathing…small things that told her she wasn’t alone. She opened her eyes-a fraction of a second before they were covered by something soft and white.

She screamed, but the sound collided with the thick softness that covered her mouth. She tried to suck in air, and sucked in cloth instead. In desperation now, she struck out with both hands, clutching, scratching, clawing viciously at whatever she could reach. The screams she couldn’t utter tore at her throat as her body arched and bucked with all the strength she had left.

Not enough.

She heard voices, muffled voices, low, guttural voices. Brutal, strong hands pressed down on her shoulders. In one final desperate burst of strength, she lashed out with both arms and legs, and heard a growl of pain as her nails raked skin, maybe even drew blood. Then…the loud crash of something being overturned, the sharp thwack of heavy plastic hitting the vinyl tile floor. It was a sound that sent horror ricocheting through her brain, because she knew exactly what it was: The bassinet and cart her newborn son slept in, close beside her bed.

My baby! Jethro-help!

It was her last thought before the darkness came.

J.J. had never driven so fast in his life. Not so fast as to be out of control, though; after nearly going airborne through a dip, he had to keep reminding himself that he was no good to anybody dead, or spun out and stuck in a sandy gully somewhere. He drove with full lights and siren, heart thumping, eyes glued to the road ahead, hands glued to the wheel, ears tuned in to any reports that came in over his radio. No reports of any disturbances at Ridgecrest Hospital, though. So far, so good. Maybe he’d get there in time.

He had to slow down coming into the town of Ridgecrest, what with traffic and stoplights, and drivers who evidently had no clue they were supposed to pull over to the curb for emergency vehicles with flashing lights and sirens. It was as he was approaching an intersection with the traffic signal against him, slowing to make his way around bewildered drivers who had stopped in the middle of whatever lane they happened to be in, that he saw, coming along the cross street, a whole line of cop cars, both city and county, lights flashing and sirens blaring, slowing now to make the turn. Heading, evidently, in the same direction he was.

His heart rate kicked up several notches. He waited, swearing vehemently and aloud, for the posse to pass, then threaded his own way through the intersection and gunned it, following hot on their trail.

He had a bad feeling about this. A cold sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The feeling got a whole lot worse when he turned into the hospital parking lot and nearly collided with a black SUV with tinted windows as it came lurching out of the lot, made the turn with squealing tires and sped away down the street in the direction he’d just come from. Something-call it instinct, call it gut, or maybe just a lot of years chasing down bad guys-zapped through J.J. like a jolt of electricity, and he almost- almost-hung a U-turn and went in pursuit of the black SUV. Instead, he drove on in the wake of the other law enforcement vehicles, but with an increasing heaviness around his heart.

Too late, he thought. Dammit. Too late.

Chapter 5

Rachel came back to awareness and an overwhelming sense of grief and terror. She tried to cry out, but something cold and hard was covering her face. She clawed at it, and then at the hands that tried to stop her from doing so. She was crying, sobbing uncontrollably. And there were voices, voices saying words that made no sense to her. Soothing words, nevertheless, and the voices, some of them, were women’s.

“It’s okay…you’re safe now…it’s just a little oxygen. It’ll help you feel better. It’s all right…”

But Rachel was inconsolable. “They…took him. They took…”

“No, no, dear-he’s fine. Your baby is fine. He’s in the nursery. We took him for tests, so you could sleep…”

They were lying, of course. Telling her that just to calm her. She knew, because she had heard them-heard the bassinet fall. It had happened, just as she’d known it would. Carlos had sent his men to kill her, and they had taken away her baby.

The hospital appeared outwardly calm. Sure, there were cop cars drawn up before every entrance, but nobody was shouting, running or shooting at anybody. Nobody was being evacuated, which meant probably nobody was being held hostage. All of which only confirmed J.J.’s suspicion that the perpetrators, whoever they were and whatever they’d been up to, had already fled the scene, most likely in the black SUV he’d nearly collided with on his way in.

I shouldn’t have left her, he told himself. Dammit, should never have left her alone.

You didn’t know who she was at the time, his reasoning self told him. How could you have known?

But he had known. He’d known something wasn’t right. I should have stayed until I heard from Katie.

But as he knew all too well, knowing what he should have done-or not done-after it was too late wasn’t worth diddly. Now, he was going to have one more life-possibly two-on his conscience.

Along with the God-only-knew how many more that were there already.

He went in through the emergency entrance, figuring the nurse on watchdog duty would probably recognize him from when he’d brought Rachel and her baby in and give him a minimum of grief. She did, and would have waved him right on in, but the two cops guarding the door needed more convincing.

“A little out of your jurisdiction, aren’t you, San Bernardino?” one of them said as he studied J.J.’s identification.

“A bit,” J.J. said. He was trying to hide his impatience, his urgent need to move on, but the Ridgecrest cops were no dummies.

“Can I ask what you know about what just went down here?” the one with his ID said, glancing up at him while his partner moved in just a bit closer.

J.J. raised his eyebrows and played dumb. “Something happen? When?”

“Few minutes ago someone assaulted one of the patients here.” He took a notepad out of his uniform pocket, glanced at it, and put it back. “Name of Rachel Malone. You know anything about that?”

Giving up the act, J.J. ran a hand over his beard and swore under his breath. “She okay?”

“Looks like it,” the cop said, giving him a long, close look as he handed back his ID.

“And her baby?”

“Mind telling me what’s your interest, San Bernardino? Like I said, you’re way out of your jurisdiction.” He paused, obviously thinking about it. “You her husband? Different name, but that don’t mean much these days.”

“Nope, no relation,” J.J. said easily. He really didn’t want to step on a fellow lawman’s toes. If he could help it.

“You the baby’s father?”

Why won’t they give me a straight answer? Oh, right, he thought, trying to curb his