How do you survive being shot and left for dead in the Chihuahuan Desert? By being found by a beautiful wildlife photographer willing to risk her life to save yours.
A bitter ex-cop fights for his life after he runs to the sound of gunfire on the Ri...
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Character Designs by Dana Nicole Joiner
Brewster County Sheriff's Deputy Amos Mendoza was in a deep sleep when the cell phone rang. And rang.
His wife shook his shoulder. "Amos," she murmured. "Phone."
Hearing the trill of the cell phone on his bedside table, Amos opened his eyes. Still dark. He snatched the vibrating device. "Mendoza." He ran his hand over his face.
"Amos," the sheriff's department dispatcher said, "EMT just brought in a gunshot victim from Big Bend."
Son of a bitch. Why was it someone had to kill someone every time he was the deputy on call? Amos pressed his eyelids with thick fingers and blinked, looking at the time. He yawned. "I'll head to the hospital."
"One more thing, Amos." She paused too long.
"What?" Amos sat up, turning on the bedside lamp. "What one more thing?"
"Somehow, Tillie's involved. She brought the victim to the EMTs."
He threw back his covers, swinging his feet to the floor. "Tillie?"
"Yeah."
"I'm on my way."
His wife, Yvonne, sat up beside him. "What's happened to Tillie?"
"She brought in a gunshot victim from Big Bend." He was already up. "I've got to go."
"But she's okay?"
"I guess. Go back to sleep. Kids'll be up before long."
Yvonne lay back, pulling heavy covers up and around her neck. "Tell her I'll call her."
***
The sky was cobalt blue, a radiant tangerine orb peaking over the mountains as the deputy pulled into the parking lot at the hospital in Alpine. Stepping out of his pickup, Amos saw his breath, rubbed his hands, cupped, and blew into them. The temperature dropped more than they'd predicted. He arched his back and stretched his arms wide, looking up at the painted sky, filling his lungs with clean, high desert air.
He spotted a woman standing outside the emergency room entrance, drinking something. Coffee. Steam wafted from the Styrofoam cup. Almost black hair fell to her shoulders, and in the early morning light, it glistened, copperish.
Amos held his hands around his mouth like a bullhorn. "Tillie!"
She startled, turned, eyes wide, lips parted. "Amos? What are you doing here?"
"What the hell!" He strode across the parking lot toward her, his voice booming, his arms outstretched. "What are you doing with a gunshot victim?"
"I'm pretty sure they made this yesterday. It's awful. Do you have a smoke?"
