Sophia didn’t know what to say. The situation didn’t look good. Starkey had taken two bullets, one that had barely missed his heart and one that had punctured a kidney. That had been part of the nurse’s update. Fortunately, neither of those injuries had proved instantly fatal, but he’d lost a lot of blood. Maybe too much.
“I’m praying he does,” she responded. He’d saved their lives. How he’d found the strength to interfere when he did, she had no idea. He’d been so weak when she’d seen him slumped in the doorway. The only thing she could figure was that he’d heard her call for Rafe and realized his son was still alive but would die if he didn’t do something. “He’s always been tough,” she added, and that, together with a smile, seemed to have the most positive effect on Rafe.
“I’m praying, too.” Careful not to come too close to his grandma, who sat on his other side, he settled back in his chair.
Starkey’s mother, her face pinched with worry, glanced at him, but she didn’t speak—to him or to Sophia. She’d been silent almost since they’d arrived. But Sophia hadn’t expected her to be friendly. Somehow she blamed Sophia for Starkey’s inability to straighten up and live a law-abiding life. She’d once claimed that he’d be a different person if Sophia had married him.
Sophia knew he wouldn’t have changed. But she wasn’t going to argue with the woman. Grandma Starkey had lived a hard life. She’d worked in a two-bit diner for the past two decades and didn’t have a lot of reserves—mentally, physically or financially. She would’ve taken Rafe from Starkey years ago if she’d been in a better position to raise him.
“The guy who shot him is dead, though, right?” Rafe piped up. He was still trying to process everything that had occurred.
Sophia nodded. She’d shot him. Then she’d left him lying on the floor of her living room. The sheriff’s department had come while the paramedics were loading Starkey into the ambulance. Because Sophia had fired her weapon, she couldn’t also work the police end, couldn’t get involved in it at all. The sheriff would handle that, and possibly the FBI. On her way out she’d passed Cooper, who’d indicated he was going to call Van Dormer.
What conclusions were they drawing from the evidence? She couldn’t even make a call to see what was going on. Cell phone use wasn’t permitted in the hospital. She didn’t want to interrupt them in the middle of their work, anyway.
Planning to step outside so she could notify Rod of her whereabouts, she stood up, but Rafe grabbed her arm.
“Where’re you going?” he asked. “You’re not leaving, are you?”
He didn’t particularly like his bony grandmother, who looked eighty instead of sixty and often muttered aloud but rarely made sense. Reading the panic on his face at the prospect of being left alone with her, Sophia didn’t have the heart to abandon him, even for a few minutes. “You can come with me, if you want. I’ll just be a minute.”
He shook his head. “No. What if the nurse comes?”
Judging by the determination on his face, he wouldn’t budge. She decided to wait until they heard about his father. But in the rush to get Starkey the help he needed, Sophia hadn’t been able to check in with Rod. She’d tried once, in the ambulance, got his voice mail and hadn’t left a message because she’d planned to call back right away. What with all the chaos and people coming at her with questions, she hadn’t had a second chance, not until everything had slowed to a crawl right here in the waiting room. And then she couldn’t use her cell.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. Almost two. Surely Rod would’ve started looking for her by now. He must’ve already stopped by her house and talked with Van Dormer or the sheriff, so he’d know where she was and why. Or maybe when she didn’t show up at the dude ranch, he’d called the sheriff’s department to see if they’d heard anything. Those were his two most logical options and, either way, he would’ve been given the same information.
Putting her phone back in her purse, she slipped her arm around Rafe. She needed to relax and concentrate on getting him through this. Rod was probably waiting for her at the Boot and Spur.
The ranch truck rattled and chugged as Rod pushed it to go faster on the drive to Charlie Sumpter’s ranch. He’d received a call from Sophia earlier, but had somehow missed it. He wasn’t sure how; he’d never heard it ring. And now it kept transferring to voice mail on the first ring, as if she’d shut it off. Considering what he’d learned from Bruce, he was terrified Sophia had come out here and gotten herself killed. She didn’t believe Charlie was dangerous—not really. Of all the names listed on that limited partnership agreement, his was the one she’d been most skeptical of. She obviously had some affection for him. So Rod was afraid she hadn’t been as cautious as she should’ve been. The UDA killer could be almost anyone.
He couldn’t be sure Charlie was dangerous, but he was going straight to the place she’d said she’d be, just in case she needed him. He couldn’t imagine where else she could’ve gone. She hadn’t shown up at the Boot and Spur. He’d called the ranch four times. He’d even had the manager check the lot for his Hummer and go down and bang on the door of his cabin.
Once he hit the long straight section of road heading toward the ranches near the border, he pushed the needle on the speedometer higher and called Sophia again.
It was no use. She didn’t answer.
What the hell was going on? Why wasn’t she picking up? He’d left her at least six messages, all of which had gone unanswered.
Had her stepfather caught up with her? Waylaid her somehow? Hurt her? That thought was almost as frightening as thinking of her face-to-face with the UDA killer. For all he knew, Gary was just as dangerous. But his best guess was that she’d be at Charlie’s, because that was where she’d been heading when he left her.
Charlie’s place came up on the right. Rod remembered it from when he was a kid. Jorge used to bring him out here to help load the pickup with wrapped meat from a butchered cow for the Family. The Dunlaps purchased one each fall.
Slowing so abruptly the truck shuddered, he turned into the narrow, dirt drive. His tires spun rock and gravel and his back end fishtailed, but he got the truck under control. Then he rolled down his window and crept along, taking in everything he could see in the darkness, everything he could hear on the quiet night air.