Exit Wounds - J. A. Jance [126]
“We think Stella Adams is headed for the old crusher on the southwest side of Warren,” she told Tica. “We need backup officers to come from the west side of town, out past the Juvenile Detention Center, to rendezvous there. The K-9 unit is on the suspect’s trail. Detective Carpenter and I are to the east of the old crusher. I don’t want anybody caught in a cross fire. No weapons are to be fired under any circumstances until we positively locate the suspect and our guys are in the clear. Got that?”
“Got it,” Tica Romero repeated.
“The suspect may be injured, and we believe she may have lost one or more shoes. But she’s still to be considered armed and dangerous.”
Something cold and wet trickled down Joanna’s neck and into the cleavage of her bra. The afternoon rainstorm had left the desert surprisingly cool, but the sweat dribbling under Joanna’s clothing had nothing to do with heat and everything to do with fear.
Another fence appeared out of nowhere. Stella Adams wasn’t following a road; neither were Deputy Gregovich and Spike. Again, there was no time to go looking for a gate. Once again, Ernie backed off a few feet before gunning the Blazer forward. Around them breaking wires sprang apart with a screeching twang.
“Sounds like God just broke his guitar string,” Joanna said to Ernie. A moment later, although it wasn’t that funny, they were both laughing—laughing and driving and sitting in their own rank, fear-spawned sweat.
That’s when they heard the shot. The single roar of gunfire crackled through the air and echoed off the surrounding hillsides and buildings. Ahead of them, Joanna saw both Terry and Spike dive for cover. At least she hoped they were diving for cover. Hoped that they had fallen of their own volition rather than because Stella Adam’s single, well-aimed shot had found its mark. A moment later Joanna and Ernie, too, were on the ground, scrambling forward.
It probably took them less than a minute to reach the low rise where Terry Gregovich and his dog huddled behind a thick mound of creosote. “Looks like we found her,” Terry muttered.
“Are you both all right?” Joanna demanded.
“Yes. We’re fine, but this woman is a damned good shot. Watch yourselves.”
“We didn’t see where it came from.” Ernie Carpenter was out of shape and out of breath. “Did you?”
Terry pointed. “Over there,” he said. “Behind the wall of that first building. What the hell is this place?”
Remembering that the manufacturer called her Kevlar vest “bullet-resistant” rather than “bulletproof,” Joanna managed to utter a one-word answer: “Crusher.” Then she pulled herself together. “Okay, guys,” she added. “Spread out. We’ll be better off behind the wall than we are out here in the open. We move forward at the same speed. No one gets too far ahead, and no one drops behind.”
“By the way,” Terry said, “she’s bleeding pretty good.”
Joanna looked at the ground in front of her and saw the faint reflection of moonlight off droplets of moisture leading them forward. And Deputy Gregovich was right. It was more than mere droplets.
Weapons drawn, the three officers and the accompanying German shepherd inched forward, crawling on their bellies. They reached the relative shelter of the wall with no additional shots being fired.
“Stella,” Joanna called. “We know you’re in there. We also know you’re hurt. Give yourself up. Throw out your weapon. Let us help you.”
“I don’t want help,” Stella called back.
“Good work, boss,” Ernie muttered. “You’ve made contact and got her talking.”
“Think of your son,” Joanna said. “Think of Nathan. He loves you and needs you.”
“He doesn’t. I’ve wrecked his life. It’s spoiled. Everything I tried to do is gone. And it’s all Carol’s fault. And Andrea’s. How could they do that—to me and to Nathan? Why couldn’t they leave well enough alone? And why did Carol have to decide to go and open her big mouth?”
Stella’s voice came from only a few feet away, from the other side of the roofless wall. Joanna thanked God for the thick concrete that separated them.
“Maybe she