Sandra Brown - Standoff

But she wasn't. Doc's expression told her as much. He withdrew his hand from between the girl's thighs and, hiding his concern, bragged on how well she'd done. He peeled off the gloves and reached for the bottle of hand wash, rubbing it vigorously onto his hands and forearms.

"Is everything all right?"

Ronnie was back. It was he who had asked the question, but Doc addressed his answer to Sabra. "You haven't dilated much."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that your labor is dysfunctional."

"Dysfunctional?"

"That's a harsh word, but that's the medical term for it.

As hard and frequent as your pains are coming, your cervix should be dilated more than it is. The baby is trying to push its way out, but not all the parts of your body are ready for the birth."

"What can you do?"

"I can't do anything, Ronnie, but you can. You can stop this foolishness and get Sabra to a facility where she'll receive proper obstetric care."

"I already told you, no."

"No," Sabra repeated.

Before there could be any further argument, the telephone rang.

THE UNEXPECTED, SHRILL SOUND STARTLED EVERYONE.

Donna was nearest to the ringing telephone. "What should I do?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"Ronnie, maybe you should let her answer it," Tiel suggested.

"How come? It's probably got nothing to do with me."

"That could be. But what if it does concern you?

Wouldn't you rather know what you're up against?"

He mulled it over for several seconds, then gave Donna the go-ahead to answer.

"Hello?" She listened for a moment, then said, "Hi, Sheriff. No, he weren't drunk. Just like he told you, this kid here has got us held at gunpoint."

Suddenly the front of the building was bathed in brilliant light. Everyone inside had been so focused on Sabra's condition that none had heard the approach of the three squad cars, which had now flashed on their headlights. Tiel deduced that the sheriff was probably calling from one of the units, which were parked just beyond the gas pumps.

Ronnie ducked out of sight behind a Frito-Lay display, yelling, "Tell them to turn off those damn lights or I'm going to shoot somebody."

Donna relayed the message. She paused to listen, then said, "About eighteen, I'd guess. Calls hisself Ronnie."

"Shut up!" Ronnie brandished the pistol at her. She screeched and dropped the telephone receiver.

The car lights went out, two pair almost simultaneously, the third pair seconds later.

Sabra moaned.

Doc said, "Ronnie, listen to me."

"No. Be quiet and let me think."

The young man was flustered, but Doc persisted in a low, earnest voice. "Stay here and see this thing through if you like. But the manly thing to do would be to let Sabra leave. The authorities will take her to the hospital, where she needs to be."

"I won't go," the girl said. "Not without Ronnie."

Tiel appealed to her. "Think of your baby, Sabra."

"I am thinking of our baby," she sobbed. "If my daddy gets his hands on the baby, I'll never see it again. I won't give it up. I won't give Ronnie up, either."

Seeing that his patient was close to hysteria, Doc relented.

"Okay, okay. If you won't agree to leave, how about this? What if a doctor were to come here?"

"You're a doctor," Ronnie argued.

"Not the kind Sabra needs. I don't have any instruments.

I've got nothing to give her to relieve her pain.

This is going to be a difficult delivery, Ronnie. There could be all sorts of serious complications, which I'm unqualified to deal with. Are you willing to risk Sabra's life as well as the child's? Because by allowing the situation to continue as it is, that's what you're doing. You could lose one or both of them. Then, no matter how it pans out, it will all have been for nothing."

Tiel was impressed. She couldn't have phrased an appeal any better.

The young man gnawed on Doc's words for a minute, then motioned Tiel toward the counter and the dangling telephone receiver. For several moments after Donna had dropped it, a man's voice could be heard, demanding to know what was going on. Now, it was silent.

"You're good at shooting off your mouth," Ronnie said to Tiel. "You do the talking."

She came to her feet and made her way past Sabra and Doc, past the Frito-Lay display and across the open space to the counter. She wasted no time calling nine-one-one.

As soon as the operator answered, she said, "I need the sheriff to call me. Don't ask questions. He is aware of this emergency situation. Tell him to call the convenience store back." She hung up before the operator could proceed with the routine drill, which would be a waste of valuable time.

They waited in tense silence. No one said a word.

Gladys and Vern were huddled close together. When Tiel glanced in their direction, Vern subtly drew her attention to the tote bag in his lap. Somehow he had managed to retrieve it without Ronnie's being aware. A crafty Casanova.

That in itself would make a good story, Tiel thought. Except that she had a better one, in which she wasn't just a reporter, but a participant. Gully would be ecstatic. If this story didn't secure the Nine Live spot for her- Although she'd been expecting the telephone to ring, she jumped when it did. She answered it immediately.

"Who's this?"

She avoided a direct answer by saying, "Sheriff?"

"Marty Montez."

"Sheriff Montez, I've been appointed spokesperson.

I'm one of the hostages."

"Are you in immediate danger?"

"No," she replied, believing it.

"Are you being coerced?"

"No."

"Give me a rundown."

She began with a brief and concise account of the robbery, starting with Ronnie's shooting out the security camera.

"It was interrupted when his accomplice went into labor."

"Labor? You mean labor like having a baby?"

"Exactly like that, yes."

After an extended pause during which she could hear the heavy breathing of an overweight man, he said, "Answer me if you safely can, miss. Are these robbers by any chance a coupla high school kids?"

"Yes."

"What's he asking?" Ronnie demanded to know.

Tiel covered the receiver with her palm. "He asked if Sabra was in pain and I answered." 'Jee-sus," the sheriff exclaimed in a near whistle. In a low voice he passed along to his deputies-or so Tiel assumed -that the hostage-takers were the kids "outta Fort Worth." Then to her, he asked, "Is anybody hurt?"

"No. We're all unharmed."

"Who-all's in there with you? How many hostages?"

"Four men and two women besides myself."

"You're a smooth talker. You wouldn't by any chance be a Ms. McCoy?"

She tried to hide her surprise from Ronnie, who was lis tening to her intently and closely monitoring her facial expressions. "That's correct. No one has been wounded."

"You are Ms. McCoy, but you don't want 'em to know you're a TV reporter? I see. Your boss, guy name o' Gully, he's called my office twice, demanding we put out an APB for you. Said you started from Rojo Flats and was supposed to call him-"

"What's he saying?" Ronnie asked.

She interrupted the sheriff. "It would be in everyone's best interest if you could provide us with a doctor. An OH if possible."

"Tell him to bring along anything he might need for a difficult delivery."

Tiel relayed Doc's message.

"Be sure he knows that the baby is in a breech position,"

Doc added.

After Tiel conveyed that, the sheriff asked who she was getting her information from. "He goes by Doc."

"You're shittin' me," the sheriff said.

"No."

"Doc's one of the hostages," she heard him pass along.

"Doc says the Dendy girl needs a specialist, huh?"

"That's right, Sheriff. And as soon as possible. We're concerned for her and the baby."