Dead Wrong

“Help with their dogs,” Joa

“And deal with the others,” Millicent interrupted.

“Exactly,” Joa

“I’m not doing this for the county,” Millicent Ross declared. “I’m doing it for Jea

“Thank you,” Joa

When she finished the phone call, Deputy Thomas was looking at her out of the corner of his eye. “So where are we going?” he asked.

“San Simon,” she said. “Once we get that far, I’ll direct you the rest of the way.”

As they drove toward Benson and the junction with I-10, Joa

“We’re already overcrowded. We could take in five or maybe ten animals at the outside, but none of the vicious ones.”

“That’s about what I thought,” Joa

By the time they reached the junction, the urgent pressure on Joa

She was washing her hands at the rest-room sink when Deputy Thomas pounded on the door. “Sheriff Brady. We’ve gotta go!”

“What is it?”

“Carjacking,” he a

Deputy Thomas’s words and the presence of two helpless children made Joa

“The guy who did this has to be Tony Zavala,” Joa

“The guy in the mug shot?” Deputy Thomas asked. “The guy suspected of shooting those three people over by San Simon?”

Joa

“Well, no,” he replied. “I had it on for the traffic stop, but once Dispatch sent me out to the Triple H to pick you up, I took it off and put it in back.”

“Stop the car and put it on,” Joa

“But we’re wasting time,” he began. “Shouldn’t we just-”

“That’s an order, Deputy Thomas!” Joa

Thomas jammed on the brakes. Mumbling under his breath, he exited the car and headed toward the tailgate while Joa

“Sheriff Brady here,” she said. “Dispatch, what have you got?”

“Red Dodge Grand Caravan with Texas plates heading westbound on I-10 with two unidentified children in the back,” Larry Kendrick a

“Where are they?”

“An RV driver took off after them. He followed them as far as the second Benson exit, but the grade’s too steep for him to keep up. He’s falling behind and says the guy is driving like a bat out of hell. Where are you?”

“At the third Benson exit,” Joa

Deputy Thomas slammed the cargo doors shut and returned to the driver’s seat, fastening his Kevlar vest. “Where to?”

“Drive as far as the freeway and stop underneath,” Joa

Thomas shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I mean, I passed that part of my academy exam.”

“What about target shooting?”

“I did all right.”

A bare “all right” wasn’t the answer Joa

“Okay, then,” she said. “Turn on your lights. You drive. I’ll shoot.”

By then they were parked under the freeway. “Dispatch,” Joa

“The RVer still has a visual. According to him, the ‘Van’s approaching your exit right now. Nope. He’s not stopping. Went right on past.”

“Okay,” Joa

“We’re on it,” Joa

“We’ve called DPS. They know of the situation. They’ve got cars headed that way, but with children involved, they’re not going to lay down any spike strips.”

“Right,” Joa

“Frank’s on his way, but he’s a long way off.”

“Okay. We’ll do our best.”

She watched as the speedometer rose past seventy-five miles per hour, past eighty, past eighty-five. The interstate was chock-full of eighteen-wheelers. As Deputy Thomas dodged between them, Joa

“Hey, Larry,” Joa

“On his radio. Why?”

“If he’s still around, see if he can send word to trucks up ahead to keep a lookout for the Caravan. Once the drivers catch sight of him in their mirrors, have them slow him down and keep him trapped behind them.”

“Good idea,” Kendrick responded. “Hold on. I’ll see what I can do.” There was a long pause before the dispatcher returned. “A couple of J. B. Hunt drivers had him stuck in behind them, but one of them just reported that the suspect turned off at exit 297. He’s headed northbound on Mescal Road. Got that?”

Joa

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Just keep after him,” she urged. And to Larry Kendrick she said, “Okay. We’re on Mescal heading north, too. Does everyone else know?”

“Yes.”