Dead to Rights

EIGHTTEEN

“What’s happening with the Highway Patrol?” Joa

“They’re moving,” Tica responded. “They have vehicles headed into the area coming from both Bowie and Texas Canyon. It’s going to take time for them to get into position. We’ve also asked the Willcox City Marshal for assistance. The problem is…”

“I know. Timing. What about Deputy Casey?”

“The ambulance crew and Chief Deputy Voland both just reached the scene. That means Casey’s on his way to you along with Deputies Voland and Hollicker. The emergency response team is also on its way.”

“Good,” Joa

The road was more winding now. Staying on it require all her concentration as she raced through what she knew to be scrub-oak-dotted foothills. Zigging and zagging and bouncing through one wash after another, it was impossible to see any distance ahead. The only consolation was that if she couldn’t see very far ahead or behind her, then neither could Hal Morgan. If the Willcox City Marshal was moving into position at the junction, Hal Morgan wouldn’t have the same kind of long-term warning he’d had of the roadblock at Township Butte. This time, maybe, they’d catch him.

“Sheriff Brady.” The radio squawked again.

“Yes.”

“Tom Givens from the city of Willcox is now in place,” Tica reported.

“He didn’t meet anybody coming northbound?”

“Not so far.”

Joa

“He’s been warned.”

So have I, Joa

The road took a sharp jog to the left and then straightened again. Ahead, Joa

“Damn!” Joa

When she reached the junction where Highway 181 heads off up into the monument itself, she found that both lanes of the roadway were blocked by a Ford Taurus bearing a city of Willcox insignia.

Recognizing her, Torn Givens stepped out of the vehicle. “Hey, there, Sheriff Brady. I got here just as fast as I could. Didn’t see anything along the way,” he added. “Not a damned soul. Do you think maybe he might have stopped off at one of the ranches?”

“Douse your lights for a minute,” Joa

Once again she grabbed up the night-vision goggles. This time she trained them on the part of Highway 181 that climbed up the mountainside.

“There he is,” she crowed a minute later when she finally spotted the glow of a single headlight from a moving vehicle. “That’s got to be him.”

“But why the hell is he going up there?” Tom Given; asked. “There’s only one way in and one way out.”

“That’s right,” Joa

With that, Joa

Joa

Wrenching the Blazer into a quick U-turn, Joa

Thank you, God, for bringing us this far. Be with Debbie Howell and Ted Long. And be with me, too. Please.

Just as Tom Givens had pointed out, the biggest danger would come when Hal Morgan finally figured out that he had nowhere else to run. Joa

What had set him off? She found herself wondering. He had seemed so reasonable when she talked to him in the hospital. According to Father Michael McCrady, Morgan had followed her advice and had been in touch with Burton Kimball about retaining him as a defense attorney. What, then, would have provoked him into going on a suicidal rampage in which he had attacked two of her deputies?

None of it made sense, but then it didn’t have to. Someone who would take the law into his own hands-someone who would resort to murder in the first place-couldn’t be thought to be long on logic. As Joa

Rounding a particularly sharp curve where one massive five-ton boulder balanced on top of another, she had to jam on the brakes to keep from rear-ending the Buick. Lights out, it was stopped in the middle of the roadway. Too late, she realized this had to be a trap. Hal Morgan was waiting for her, knowing she, too, would have no place to run.

Switching off the engine and dousing the lights, she ducked down on the seat and waited, breathless, for the barrage of gunfire she knew had to come. While Joa

As far as she could see, the darkened vehicle was empty. Still expecting a trap, however, she scrambled around until she could reach the switch on her side-mounted spotlight. Turning it on, she sent a blinding beam of light in the direction of the Buick.

With both the inside and outside of the vehicle brilliantly illuminated, there was still no sign of life anywhere around the Buick. Cautiously, Joa

“Mr. Morgan,” Joa

Holding her breath, Joa

“Mr. Morgan,” she called again. “Where are you?”

This time there was an answer, but not from a voice. Instead of coming from the surrounding woods, there was a muffled thumping noise that seemed to come from the vehicle itself.

Straining her ears, Joa

“Mr. Morgan. We’re here to help you. Come out with your hands up.”