Standoff (Random House Large Print) - Hardcover

Brown, Sandra

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0375430547 ISBN 13: 9780375430541

Publisher: Random House Large Print, 2000

Synopsis

Ambitious TV reporter Tiel McCoy is driving through New Mexico when she hears over the radio that Sabra Dendy, the 17 year-old daughter of Fort Worth multimillionaire Russell Dendy, has been kidnapped.  Tiel calls her editor and learns that Sara was "kidnapped" by her boyfriend Ronnie and is pregnant.  Tiel is at a gas station store when an armed couple robs the cashier and orders all the customers to the floor.  The girl goes into labor and Tiel realizes that she has a huge story on her hands.

A tense standoff begins as the FBI and Russell Dendy wait outside.  Tiel learns that Sabra and Ronnie are more afraid of her father-who plans to put the baby up for adoption-than of the FBI and would rather die together than surrender and be kept apart.  Now it is more than just a story to Tiel as she fights to prevent these two kids from becoming a tragedy.

About this title

About the Author

Former TV personality and model Sandra Brown is as beloved an author as she is prolific.  Sandra is married to her college sweetheart, Michael, who is a video producer.  They have two children and live in Arlington, Texas.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Standoff

By Sandra Brown

Random House Large Print Publishing

Copyright ©2000 Sandra Brown
All right reserved.
ISBN: 0375430547

Chapter One

"I just heard the news bulletin on my car radio."

Tiel McCoy didn't begin this telephone conversation with anysuperfluous chitchat. That was her opening statement the instantGully said hello. No preamble was necessary. Truth be known, he hadprobably been expecting her call.

But he played dumb anyway. "That you, Tiel? Enjoying your vacationso far?"

Her vacation had officially begun that morning when she left Dallasand headed west on Interstate 20. She had driven as far as Abilene,where she stopped to visit her uncle, who'd lived in a nursing homethere for the past five years. She remembered Uncle Pete as a tall,robust man with an irreverent sense of humor, who could barbecue amean brisket and knock a softball out of the park.

Today they had shared a lunch of soggy fish sticks and cannedEnglish peas and watched an episode of Guiding Light. She'd asked ifthere was anything she could do for him while she was there, likewrite a letter or buy a magazine. He had smiled at her sadly andthanked her for coming, then gave himself over to an attendant who'dtucked him in for his nap like a child.

Outside the nursing home, Tiel had gratefully inhaled the scorching,gritty West Texas air in the hope of eradicating the smell of ageand resignation which had permeated the facility. She had beenrelieved the family obligation was behind her, but felt guilty forthe relief. By an act of will she shook off her despair and remindedherself that she was on vacation.

It wasn't even officially summer yet, but it was unseasonably warmfor May. There'd been no shade in which to park at the nursing home;consequently her car's interior had been so hot she could have bakedcookies on the dashboard. She flipped on the AC full-blast and founda radio station that played something other than Garth, George, andWillie.

"I'm going to have a wonderful time. The time away will be good forme. I'll feel a lot better for having done it." She repeated thisinternal dialogue like a catechism, trying to convince herself ofthe truth of it. She had approached the vacation as though it wereequivalent to taking a bad-tasting laxative.

Heat waves made the highway appear to ripple, and the undulatingmovement was hypnotic. The driving became mindless. Her minddrifted. The radio provided background noise of which Tiel wasbarely aware.

But hearing the news bulletin was like getting goosed by thedriver's seat. With a lurch, everything accelerated-the car, Tiel'sheart rate, her mind.

Immediately she fished her cell phone from her large leather satcheland placed the call to Gully's direct line. Again declining anyunnecessary conversation, she said to him now, "Give me the skinny."

"What's the radio putting out?"

"That earlier today a high school student in Fort Worth kidnapedRussell Dendy's daughter."

"That's about the gist of it," Gully confirmed.

"The gist, but I want details."

"You're on vacation, Tiel."

"I'm coming back. Next exit, I'll make a U-turn." She consulted herdashboard clock. "I'll be at the station by-"

"Hold on, hold on. Where're you at, exactly?"

"About fifty miles west of Abilene."

"Hmm."

"What, Gully?" Her palms had become damp. She experienced thefamiliar tickle in her belly that only happened when she wasfollowing a hot lead to a super story. That unique adrenaline rushcouldn't be mistaken.

"You're on your way to Angel Fire, right?"

"Right."

"Northeastern part of New Mexico ... Yeah, there it is." He musthave been reading a highway map as he spoke. "Naw, never mind. Youdon't want this assignment, Tiel. It would take you out of yourway."

He was baiting her, and she knew he was baiting her, but in thisinstance she didn't mind being baited. She wanted a piece of thisstory. The kidnaping of Russell Dendy's daughter was big news, andit promised to become even bigger news before it was over. "I don'tmind taking a detour. Tell me where to go."

"Well," he hedged, "only if you're sure."

"I'm sure."

"Okay then. Not too far in front of you is a turnoff onto statehighway Two-oh-eight. Take it south to San Angelo. On the south sideof San Angelo you're gonna intersect with-"

"Gully, about how far out of my way is this detour going to takeme?"

"I thought you didn't care."

"I don't. I'd just like to know. Rough estimate."

"Well, let's see. Give or take ... about three hundred miles."

"From Angel Fire?" she asked faintly.

"From where you are now. Doesn't count the rest of the way to AngelFire."

"Three hundred round trip?"

"One way."

She expelled a long sigh, but was careful not to let him hear it."You said highway Two-oh-eight south to San Angelo, then what?"

She steered with her knee, held the phone with her left hand, andtook notes with her right. The car was on cruise control, but herbrain was in overdrive. Journalistic juices were pumping faster thanthe pistons in her engine. Thoughts of long pleasant evenings spentin a porch rocker were swapped for those of sound bites andinterviews.

But she was getting ahead of herself. She lacked pertinent facts.When she asked for them, Gully, damn him, turned mulish on her. "Notnow, Tiel. I'm as busy as a one-armed paperhanger, and you've gotmiles to cover. By the time you get where you're going, I'll have alot more info."

Frustrated and supremely irked with him for being so stingy with thedetails, she asked, "What's the name of the town again?"

"Hera."

The highways were arrow-straight, flanked on both sides by endlessprairie with only an occasional herd of cattle grazing in irrigatedpastures. Oil wells were silhouetted against a cloudless horizon.Frequently a tumbleweed rolled across the roadway in front of her.Once she got beyond San Angelo, she rarely saw another vehicle.

Funny, she thought, the way things turn out.

Ordinarily she would have elected to fly to New Mexico. But days agoshe had decided to drive to Angel Fire, not only so she could visitUncle Pete along the way, but also to get herself into a holidayframe of mind. The long drive would give her time to decompress,work the kinks out, begin the period of rest and relaxation beforeshe ever reached the mountain resort, so that when she did arrive,she would already be in vacation mode.

At home in Dallas, she moved with the speed of light, always in arush, always working under a deadline. This morning, once she hadreached the western fringe of Fort Worth and put the metropolitansprawl behind her, when the vacation became a reality, she had begunto anticipate the idyllic days awaiting her. She had daydreamed ofclear, gurgling streams, hikes along trails lined with aspens, cool,crisp air, and lazy mornings spent with a cup of coffee and afiction best-seller.

There would be no schedule to keep, nothing but hours in which to belazy, which was a virtue unto itself. Tiel McCoy was way past due toengage in some unabashed ennui. She'd already postponed thisvacation three times.

"Use 'em or lose 'em," Gully had told her of the vacation days shehad accumulated.

He had lectured her on how her performance, as well as herdisposition, would greatly improve if she gave herself a breather.This from the man who hadn't taken more than a few vacation days inthe past forty-something years-counting the week required to havehis gallbladder removed.

When she reminded him of this, he had scowled at her. "Precisely.You want to wind up an ugly, shriveled, pathetic relic like me?"Then he'd really hit the nail on the head. "Taking a vacation isn'tgoing to jeopardize your chances. That job'll still be up for grabswhen you get back."

She easily inferred the meaning behind that sly remark. Miffed athim for homing in on the real reason behind her reluctance to leavework for any period of time, she had grudgingly consented to goingaway for a week. The reservations had been made, the trip scheduled.But every schedule should have a little bit of flexibility built in.

And if flexibility was ever called for, it was when Russell Dendy'sdaughter was allegedly kidnaped.

Tiel held the pay phone's sticky receiver pinched between the padsof her thumb and index finger, loathe to touch any more of thesurface than necessary. "Okay, Gully, I'm here. Well, near, atleast. Actually, I'm lost."

He cackled. "Too excited to concentrate on where you're going?"

"Well, it's not like I've missed a thriving metropolis. You saidyourself, the place isn't even on most maps."

Her sense of humor had worn off about the time she'd lost allfeeling in her butt. Hours ago, her posterior had gone numb fromsitting. Since talking to him, she had stopped only once, and thenonly out of extreme necessity. She was hungry, thirsty, tired,cranky, achy, and none too fresh because she'd been facing into thesetting sun for a long portion of the trip. The car's AC had gonehumid from overuse. A shower would be bliss.

Gully didn't improve her mood any by asking, "How'd you manage toget lost?"

"I lost my sense of direction after the sun went down. The landscapelooks the same from every angle out here. Even more so after dark.I'm calling from a convenience store in a town with a population ofeight hundred twenty-three, according to the city-limit sign, and Ithink the chamber of commerce fudged that number in their favor.This is the only lighted building for miles around. The town iscalled Rojo something."

"Flats. Rojo Flats."

Naturally Gully knew the full name of this obscure hamlet. Heprobably knew the mayor's name. Gully knew everything. He was awalking encyclopedia. He collected information the way frat ratscollected coeds' phone numbers.

The TV station where Tiel worked had a news director, but the manwith the title conducted business from inside a carpeted office andwas more a bean counter and administrator than a hands-on boss.

The man in the trenches, the one who dealt directly with thereporters, writers, photographers, and editors, the one whocoordinated schedules and listened to sob stories and chewed asswhen ass-chewing was called for, the one who actually ran the newsoperation, was the assignments editor, Gully.

He'd been at the station when it signed on in the early fifties, andhad mandated that they would have to carry him out of the placefeetfirst. He would die before he retired. He worked a sixteen-hourday and begrudged the time he wasn't working. He had a colorfulvocabulary and countless similes, an extensive repertoire of yarnsabout bygone days in broadcast news, and seemingly no life beyondthe newsroom. His first name was Yarborough, but only a few livingpersons knew that. Everyone else knew him strictly as Gully.

"Are you going to give me this mysterious assignment or not?"

He wouldn't be rushed. "What happened to your vacation plans?"

"Nothing. I'm still on vacation."

"Uh-huh."

"I am! I'm not canceling my week off. I'm just postponing the startof it, that's all."

"What's the new boyfriend gonna say?"

"I've told you a thousand times, there is no new boyfriend." Helaughed his phlegmy, chain-smoker's laugh that said he knew she waslying, and that she knew he knew.

"Got your notepad?" he asked suddenly.

"Uh, yeah."

Whatever germs had been teeming on the telephone were probablyliving with her now. Reconciled to that, she propped the receiver onher shoulder and held it there with her cheek while she removed anotepad and pen from her satchel and placed them on the narrow metalledge beneath the wall-mounted telephone.

"Shoot."

"The boy's name is Ronald Davison," Gully began.

"I heard that much on the radio."

"Goes by Ronnie. Senior year, same as the Dendy girl. Won't graduatewith any honors, but he's a solid B student. Never in trouble untiltoday. After homeroom this morning, he boogied out of the studentparking lot in his Toyota pickup with Sabra Dendy riding shotgun."

"Russ Dendy's child."

"His one and only."

"Is the FBI on it?"

"FBI. Texas Rangers. You name it. If it wears a badge, it's workingthis one. Waco all over again. Everybody's claiming jurisdiction andwants in on the action."

Tiel took a moment to absorb the broad scope of this story. Theshort hallway in which the pay phone was located led to the publicrest rooms. One had a cowgirl in a fringed skirt stenciled in bluepaint on the door. The other, predictably, had a similar silhouetteof a cowpoke in chaps and ten-gallon hat, twirling a lasso above hishead.

Glancing down the hall, Tiel spotted the real thing coming into thestore. Tall, slender, Stetson pulled down low on his forehead. Henodded toward the store's cashier, whose frizzy, overpermed hair hadbeen dyed an unflattering shade of ocher.

Nearer to Tiel was an elderly couple browsing for souvenirs,apparently in no hurry to return to their Winnebago. At least Tielassumed the Winnebago at the gas pumps outside belonged to them.Through bifocal eyeglasses the lady was reading the ingredients of ajar on the shelf. Tiel heard her exclaim, "Jalapeqo pepper jelly?Good lord."

The couple then joined Tiel in the hallway, moving toward theirrespective rest rooms. "Don't dally, Gladys," the man said. Hiswhite legs were virtually hairless and looked ridiculously thin inhis baggy khaki shorts and thick-soled athletic shoes.

"You mind your business, and I'll mind mine," she retorted smartly.As she moved past Tiel she gave her amen-think-they're-so-smart-but-we-know-better wink. Another time,Tiel would have thought the senior couple cute and endearing. Butshe was thoughtfully reading what she'd taken down almost verbatimfrom Gully.

"You said 'riding shotgun.' Strange choice of words, Gully."

"Can you keep a secret?" He lowered his voice significantly."Because my ass will be grass if this gets out before our nextnewscast. We've scooped every other station and newspaper in thestate."

Tiel's scalp began to tingle, as it did when she knew she washearing something that no other reporter had heard, when she haduncovered the element that would set her story apart from all theothers, when her exclusive had the potential of winning her ajournalism prize or praise from her peers. Or of guaranteeing herthe coveted spot on Nine Live.

"Who would I tell, Gully? I'm sharing space with afresh-off-the-range cowboy buying a six-pack of Bud, a sassy grannylady and her husband from out of state-I'm guessing by theiraccents. And two non-English-speaking Mexicans." The pair had sincecome into the store. She'd overheard them speaking Spanish whileheating packaged burritos in a microwave oven.

Gully said, "Linda-"

"Linda? She got the story?"

"You're on vacation, remember?"

"A vacation you urged me to take!" Tiel exclaimed.

Linda Harper was another reporter, a darned good reporter, andTiel's unspoken rival. It stung that Gully had assigned Linda tocover such a plum of a story, which rightfully should have belongedto her. At least that's the way she saw it.



Continues...

Excerpted from Standoffby Sandra Brown Copyright ©2000 by Sandra Brown. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Edition details

• Publisher: Random House Large Print
• Publication date: 2000
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 0375430547
• ISBN 13: 9780375430541
• Binding: Hardcover
• Number of pages: 327