Sharon Sala - Race Against Time

“Where are you now?” Anton asked.

“Outside the police station waiting for her to—Oh, hell.”

“What?” Anton shouted.

“Two ambulances just rolled up to the police station.”

“What does that mean?” Anton cried.

“I shot at the woman as she was riding away. I might have hit her.”

“She was holding my son in her arms and you shot at her?”

Dev realized what he’d just said.

“What do you want me to do?” Dev asked.

“Did she see you?”

“I don’t know. It was dark. I doubt it.”

“You doubt it? You fucking doubt it? Here’s what I want you to do. I don’t want a witness left who can identify you. Get rid of her and bring me my son.”

Anton knew he’d just assigned an impossible task. One that would probably get Dev killed. He didn’t care.

“Yes, sir,” Dev said and disconnected.

Anton slipped his phone back in his pocket, sat down beside Star and took her hand.

“Star, Star, can you hear me?”

Star moaned.

He reached out, then drew back, uncertain of a safe place to touch.

“Sammy is not dead. Someone found him and took him to the police department. I will get him back for you. Do you hear me? I will get him back.”

She opened her eyes.

“You lie.”

He frowned. People did not accuse him in such a manner.

“I do not lie.”

“You lied to me. You told me Sammy and I would always be safe with you, and then you made a deal to sell me. I will hate you forever.”

He had no response to that.“I will find Sammy and bring him back. You will see,” he said.

“Stop talking, Anton. Your words mean nothing to me anymore. I just want to die so that all of this will be over. I can’t bear any more pain. I can’t bear any more heartache. I’m sorry I didn’t die. I’m sorry Sammy didn’t die. Then we would both be free of you,” she said and closed her eyes.

* * *

Nick followed the ambulances to the hospital. By the time he located the redhead in ER she was on an examining table, naked, bloody and unconscious. He could hear the baby crying a couple of doors down, but a toddler couldn’t tell him anything he needed to know. He just had to wait, hoping the woman would wake up enough to tell him what the hell happened to her. And if that baby wasn’t hers, who did he belong to?

* * *

Quinn woke up to bright lights and chaos, bathed in a pain she could feel all the way to her bones. Someone was trying to turn her over and someone else was talking in loud, staccato syllables. A part of her sensed the urgency in the voice, which was not a reassuring sound.

Where was she?

What had happened to her?

Was she going to die?

Someone was yelling in her ear. A woman.

She frowned. Why were they yelling? She wasn’t deaf.

“Honey, can you hear me?”

Quinn moaned, struggling to pull herself out of the pain-induced fog.

“Yes.”

“What’s your name? Can you tell me your name?” the woman asked.

Quinn was struggling to stay conscious.

“Quinn.”

“Thank you, Quinn. Do you know where you are?”

“Hospital.”

“Yes,” the woman said. “You’ve been shot.”

Quinn felt someone running a hand across her midriff, pressing into the taut flesh. She reached out, trying to grab it.

“Police. Need police,” she mumbled.

Nick’s heart skipped.

“Here! I’m here,” he said, as he moved to the foot of the bed. “Detective Nick Saldano, Las Vegas Homicide.”

“The car...on fire. Two dead inside. Found baby there.”

“Where?” Nick asked. “Where did you see this?”

“93...”

Nick frowned.

“Highway 93?”

Quinn shuddered as a ripple of pain rolled through her and reached toward her shoulder.

“Ma’am? Quinn? Highway 93?” Nick asked again.

Her eyelids fluttered. The word came out on a sigh.

“Yes.”

“Who shot you?”

“Don’t know. Someone...in the desert.”

“Did you see what they were driving?”

But Quinn didn’t answer. She was unconscious again.

“That’s all for now, Detective. She’s still bleeding. Must have nicked a vein. She’s going to surgery.”

Nick backed up and watched as they wheeled her out of ER. Something terrible had happened out in the desert, and he had a hunch Quinn was a witness someone had tried to kill. The fact that she was still breathing put her in danger all over again.

“Go with God,” he said and left the examining room. He needed to call his lieutenant about the reported murder, and get a guard on this woman ASAP. And then check and see if someone from Child Welfare was here for the kid.

* * *

Quinn woke up again as they were moving her to the operating table. The simple act of moving her from the bed to the table was excruciating. Tears welled.

“Hurts. Please don’t,” she mumbled.

Someone patted her arm.

“I’m sorry, dear. We’ll get you comfortable soon. Take a deep breath.”

She didn’t see the anesthesia going into her IV but she felt it. A fleeting thought went through her mind that if she died today, there would be no one to grieve her passing, and then she felt nothing.

* * *

The county authorities who were dispatched to find the crime scene drove several miles north on Highway 93 watching for signs of a fire off in the desert.

What they saw instead were floodlights and smoke. They drove up on a chopper parked near what was left of a smoldering car and a large number of vehicles parked a safe distance away.

Sheriff Baldwin frowned as they pulled up and parked. What in hell had they come up on?

Two men separated themselves from the crowd around the burned-out car and came to meet them.

“I’m Sheriff Baldwin,” he said. “We’re here to investigate a report of a car fire. Who are you and what are you doing with my crime scene?”

The man nodded at Baldwin, then flashed his badge as he introduced himself.

“Sheriff, Federal Agent Carl Gleason and this is my partner, Federal Agent Lou Powers.”

Baldwin was noticeably surprised by Feds on the scene as Gleason continued.

“The victims in the burned-out car are two of our own, so we’ve taken control of the crime scene.”

Baldwin frowned.

“Then you might like to know that the biker who reported this also found a survivor. The witness was shot leaving the scene but made it to the Las Vegas police precinct before she collapsed.”

Gleason’s pulse shifted gears.

“So the baby survived?”

“How did you know the survivor was a baby?” Sheriff Baldwin asked.

Gleason didn’t answer. He just asked another question.

“Was there any sign of the mother?” Gleason asked.

“No one else was mentioned to me when they called this in,” Baldwin said.

“Where is the baby now?” Agent Gleason asked.

“I have no idea, but why all the secrecy?”

“The kid is Anton Baba’s,” Gleason said. “The rest is on a need-to-know basis.”

Baldwin frowned.

“This is my county, and I need to know why someone shot at a woman and a baby as they were leaving this wreck, understand?”

Gleason thought about it a moment and then decided he could let Baldwin in on this...to a degree.

“My agents had taken the woman and her baby into protective custody and were on their way to a pickup site. When they didn’t arrive as scheduled, we started looking for them and found this. We assumed Baba took them back, but if you’ve got a witness on the scene who has the baby, then maybe there’s still a chance to save him. We have to get to the kid before Baba does or he’ll take that woman out for sure. For all we know, she may already be dead.”

“Bad deal all around,” Baldwin said. “You need to call the Homicide Division at the Vegas police department. They’ll be able to fill you in with the details on the witness.”