�This looks like a good place,� J.R. said as the sun slipped over the western horizon and the long shadows of late evening blended into the twilight.
They had been skirting a large rugged hill, searching for a suitable niche or recess in which to spend the night, where they could hopefully rest with reduced risk of discovery. Following J.R.�s gaze, Betty saw a dry runoff channel at the foot of the hill, one of many.
Erosion had created many such channels that ran down the sides of the rugged hills, forming wide troughs at the base. In the one J.R. had selected, the upper tip made a slight curve, and when sitting or lying down, it would conceal them on all sides from anyone who might pass by.
J.R. motioned for Betty to enter first, and she complied, moving up the gradual slope between the two low rims, and settled into the curve. J.R. followed, casting a final glance at the desert behind him. The desert remained devoid of any indication of life or movement, and he hoped that the drug dealers had decided to either leave the area or bed down for the night, giving them at least a few hours of respite.
Supporting his injured ribs with his hand, J.R. sank down onto the ground with a low, exaggerated groan that conveyed more of his extreme weariness than actual pain. He could not recall a single time in his entire life when he had been so tired.
Betty sat down across from him and wiped the perspiration from her forehead, leaving a smudge there could be seen even in the rapidly diminishing light, and it brought a smile to J.R.�s lips.
�What?� she asked in response to his smile.
�You. Us.� He indicated his formerly crisp white shirt, now covered with sweat and grime. �I feel like I�m wearing half the Mojave Desert.�
She managed a weak smile, but her heart wasn�t in it. �You look like you�re wearing half the Mojave Desert, but I guess I must be wearing the other half!� She sighed, wistfully. �What I wouldn�t give for a long hot shower. No, on second thought, a long hot bubble bath. Complete with flower petals and bath beads. And maybe a glass of champagne to sip on. Soft music in the background.�
He smiled. �Ah, in the need of a little pampering, eh?�
�M�dear, I need a lot of pampering, after this experience.�
�Well, hopefully tomorrow you�ll get your wish. It can�t be too much longer before they find us. As for me, all I want is a shower followed by a good meal, about twenty glasses of water, and then about three days of uninterrupted sleep under a good, strong air conditioner!�
�If you drink twenty glasses or water, you will not have three hours of uninterrupted sleep, much less three days!� Betty teased.
They smiled at one another in the fading light, experiencing a closeness known only to those who have shared a dangerous encounter or a brush with death. �No, I guess not,� he agreed. �Make it ten glasses of water, then, instead of twenty. I�m so dehydrated, I think I can handle that much!�
They fell silent for several moments, then Betty shifted her eyes to the rugged landscape, searching for the ever-present danger that lurked somewhere out of sight, and asked, �Do you think they�re still out there?�
J.R. nodded. �Yeah, I think they�re out there. They�re running out of time, and they know it. The rescue crews will be expanding the search area, and the druggies know they will eventually find the plane, so it�s unlikely that they�ll try to return to civilization tonight. They may even search all night, but I doubt it. There are so many shadows and rock formations out here that it would be unproductive. I expect they aren�t accustomed to much physical exertion, so they�re probably pretty tired, too. I think they�ll probably bed down in the desert someplace and then try to get an early start in the morning. I wish I knew where their camp was. I�d try to sneak in and swipe one of their guns to even the odds a bit!�
�You will do no such thing!� Betty said firmly with that �big sister� tone of voice again. �If you got caught, there�s no telling what they would do to you!�
�Yeah, and they probably will have a guard posted, anyway, which is what I think we should do. We�ll take turns.�
Betty turned her head, gazing at the first stars of the evening, lost in thought.
J.R. watched in silence. She appeared to be miles away, depressed and discouraged. �What are you thinking?� he asked.
�I was just wondering what Barnaby is doing right now. He must be worried sick about us, wondering if we�re still alive, or . . . .�
�Yeah. I had hoped we wouldn�t be spending another night out here. Looks like Tyler did a good job of steering us far from his flight plan.� He sighed heavily with regret, and his voice was apologetic as he said, �Betty, I am really sorry about all this. If I�d had any idea that Tyler was not on the up-and-up, I would have agreed to a commercial flight instead of insisting on his shuttle service. I guess this falls under the old adage: If it looks too good to be true, then it probably is. If I can�t use better judgment than this, I don�t have a chance in hell of being a decent lawyer.�
�Hey, don�t go doubting yourself,� she told him. Sensing that he needed a bit of reassurance, she reached out and rubbed her hand up and down his arm with genuine affection for her father in law�s much younger cousin. �You�re going to make a fine lawyer. You have good instincts.�
He was unconvinced. �Yeah, right. That�s why were sitting out here in the desert being chased by a gang of drug dealers.�
�You just trusted a friend who had gotten himself into something over his head. You had no way of knowing that he was doing illegal business. This isn�t your fault, J.R.�
�Then why does it feel like it�s my fault?
�Don�t go there, honey. This is Tyler�s fault, not yours. You are not responsible for the things he got himself into.�
For a moment, she considered revealing to him the fact that she had checked out Tyler�s shuttle service before leaving Los Angeles, but decided that he would take it wrong. He would probably think she didn�t trust him, when in truth it was Tyler she hadn�t trusted. Even though her sources had reported that Tyler Abbott was a responsible pilot with an excellent safety record, a nagging feeling had persisted that the service what not what it seemed, and it had been against her better judgment when she had agreed to the flight.
�J.R., he was using us as cover to make it look like a legitimate flight, and when he knew we were going down, he flew us far off his flight plan so he could hide the drugs before a rescue party could reach us. There was no way you could have foreseen all this.�
He was quiet for several moments, finally accepting the truth in her words. �I thought I was the one who was supposed to do the comforting, here.�
�It�s a shared task. Everyone needs a little comforting sometimes.�
�We need to be up early in the morning. Why don�t you try to get some sleep? I�ll take the first watch.�
�Maybe you should sleep first, and let me take the first watch,� she countered.
�Why?�
�Because I know you, J.R. If I�m asleep, you won�t wake me up to take my turn standing guard.�
He made a growling sound, but conceded that she was right in her theory that he would allow her to continue resting while he remained awake. �Oh, all right. You have a wristwatch, so wake me in three or four hours.�
She glanced at her watch, checking the time. �Okay. Good night.�
��night.�
He stretched out on the ground beside her as Betty moved to a position where she could see over the rim of the runoff channel.
For a long time, there was no sound, not even a slight breeze to help cool them. The last glimpse of light faded into darkness. The moon rose over the horizon, and a host of stars shimmered in the cloudless sky.
Betty continued to watch the surrounding area, paying particular attention to the occasional shadows that scurried across the barren landscape, realizing that it was the desert nightlife that had been absent during the daylight hours, emerging from their burrows to feed.
She turned her wrist over to see her watch and pressed the small button on the side to illuminate the face. Only twenty minutes had passed since J.R. had lain down. It was going to be a long night, but as weary as she was, she knew she would be unable to sleep when her turn came. The dryness in her mouth was a persistent reminder of her thirst, and the knowledge that they were being pursued by killers would make it impossible for her to relax.
Beside her, J.R. turned over onto his right side and tucked his arm beneath his head, apparently having difficulty resting, too. After a moment, he removed a small rock from beneath his hip and tossed it aside, then tried again to relax.
Another twenty minutes dragged slowly by. High overhead, an owl circled gracefully in the night sky, searching the ground below for a meal. Betty watched it until it finally swooped down to the ground, and she knew that it had captured something. A moment later, it took to the sky again with something clutched in its talons. She was unable to determine what it was, but presumed it was probably a desert rodent of some kind.
Her body gave an involuntary shudder, in spite of the lingering heat. Nature�s way, she reminded herself. The desert was unforgiving of mistakes and carelessness.
Unable to find a comfortable position on the hard ground, J.R. attempted to turn over onto his left side, but was unable to do so because of the pain in that side. �Dammit,� he muttered, annoyed, as he pushed himself up on his elbow.
Betty looked down at him, curiously. �What�s wrong?�
�I can�t sleep. I can�t even get reasonably comfortable.� He sat up. �Why don�t you go ahead and try to sleep? I�ll keep watch.�
�You�re exhausted, J.R. You really should try harder.�
�You can�t force yourself to sleep.�
�I know. I don�t think I could sleep either,� she admitted. I�m too wound up.�
He dragged himself closer to her, and looked over the rim of the channel at the desert. �See anything out there?�
�No, just some animals moving about.�
�That�s good, that�s good,� he said, speaking so rapidly that the words nearly ran together. �It�s good just to rest for a while, even if we can�t sleep. It�s starting to cool down a bit, too,� he added.
She nodded, grateful for the relief from the intense heat of the day. �Do you think the rescue crews find us tomorrow?�
He was unable to give her a definitive answer. �I hope so.�
�J.R.,� she began, then paused, as if choosing her words carefully.
�Hm?� he asked.
�I hate to bring this up, but the rescuers won�t have guns. They won�t have any idea what they may be walking into.�
He knew where her thoughts were going. �I know. I�ve thought about that, too. I�m hoping that once they see the rescuers, the druggies will simply withdraw.�
�What if they don�t? If there is only one rescue chopper that finds us, then they will be vulnerable.�
He gazed at her steadily through the darkness that separated them. �I know,� he said, finally. �I guess we�ll have to alert them somehow.�
�How?�
�I have no idea. I guess we�ll have to cross that bridge when we get to it.�
Thinking about that, they fell silent again.
It was still dark when J.R. and Betty left their hiding place and began the trek back toward the crash site, hoping that they could reach the site before the drug dealers got on their trail again.
Although he kept his worries to himself, J.R. was growing increasingly concerned that they had taken a wrong direction at some point and had become lost. It seemed to him that they should have reached the final hill by then. Calculating distance and noticing landmarks was difficult while being chased by men with guns, plus the added difficulty of such rugged terrain. In every direction, the desert looked exactly the same.
By midmorning, under the burning sun once again, Betty was experiencing the same worries as her companion. �We�re lost, aren�t we?� she asked as they stopped to rest.
J.R. looked at her solemnly. �I don�t know,� he answered as he scanned the horizon. �I think we�re going the right direction, but everything looks the same, no matter which direction we�re looking. Every hill is identical to its neighbor.�
�In other words, we could be going in circles,� Betty concluded.
He turned to face her, and noticed that the skin of her nose and cheeks were bright red. �You�re getting sunburned.�
She gingerly touched the tender skin of her burned nose with her fingertips. �I�m not surprised.� She suddenly became focused on something over his shoulder, and she pointed toward the distance behind him. �J.R.?�
He turned to look in the direction indicated, and saw a flock of large dark birds circling over the hills in the distance. His expression was grim. �Buzzards.� He turned back to Betty and they gazed solemnly at one another for several moments, then he said, �That�s the direction we need to go,� he said.
With grim resolution, they began walking in the direction of the buzzards, knowing that they were circling the body of Tyler, lying somewhere in the hills south of the crash site.
After a short time, a distant sound broke the intense silence of the desert. J.R. froze, bringing up his hand for silence, and they both listened intently. It was the faint sound of a helicopter.
�Do you hear that?� J.R. asked.
She nodded. �Do you think it�s a rescue chopper, or DuHart�s men?�
He shook his head. �Impossible to say without seeing it. Let�s stay close to the hill, in case we need to find a place to hide again.�
The sound of the chopper faded away again, and J.R. and Betty resumed their walk toward the circling buzzards, keeping close to the shelter of the long line of hills.
Unexpectedly, a man leaped from behind a clump of boulders, his weapon held at the ready as he faced the man and woman. It was the one called Kline. His white polo shirt was now brownish with dirt and sweat, and his slacks were even filthier. He was clearly not in a good mood.
Startled, Betty and J.R. froze at the unexpected appearance of the drug dealer. J.R. felt his heart sink, knowing that the outcome of this encounter would not be good.
�My, but the two of you led us on a good chase, didn�t you?� Kline said, mockingly. �You put up a good fight, but you had to have known that we could catch you in the end.� He gestured with the pistol, a distinct �come here� gesture. �Hand it over.�
J.R. moved slowly in front of Betty, shielding her with his own body, and he spread his hands to show that they were empty. �We don�t have anything. What is it you want from us?�
�Don�t give me that! You know exactly what we want!�
�Hey, we were just passengers on a private flight to Phoenix,� J.R. told him. �We have no idea what it is that you�re looking for!�
�You think we�re stupid?� the man retorted. �If you had no idea, why have you been running from us?�
�Wouldn�t you run from men carrying guns if you had no idea what they wanted?� J.R. retorted.
�Good try, but I�m not buying. You were hiding before the helicopter ever landed. You knew we would be coming, and you hid in these hills.�
�I swear, we didn�t. We had sought shelter in the hills to get out of the sun,� J.R. insisted.
�Wrong. You had shade near the crash site. We saw your camp site. If you were innocent in this, you would have flagged us down the moment you saw the chopper!�
J.R. gave up. He knew that was true, and observed the fact that his attempts to play dumb were agitating the drug dealer. The man was shifting nervously from one foot to the other, his finger on the trigger of the gun that he was pointing casually at J.R., his arm bent.
Kline waved the pistol, threateningly. �Now, where is it?�
�Where�s what?� J.R. asked.
The man straightened his arm and pointed the gun directly at J.R.�s chest. The detective took an involuntary step backward, stepping on Betty�s foot. She was watching over his shoulder with frightened eyes, her hands on his shoulders, and she pulled her foot from beneath his heel, so frightened that she hardly felt his weight on her toes.
�The suitcase!� the man shouted, impatiently. �Tell me where it is, now, or I�ll drop you where you�re standing!�
J.R. swallowed hard, his heart pounding loudly in his ears, as he stared at the round black hole, waiting for the muzzle flash to signal the end of his life. �I don�t know where it is,� he said. �That�s the honest truth, I swear. Tyler took off with it after dark the night we crashed. We haven�t seen him or the suitcase since.�
�We found Abbott on the other side of the valley, and he didn�t have the suitcase with him.�
�You killed him, didn�t you?� J.R. asked, accusingly.
�J.R.!� Betty hissed in his ear, urging him to withhold any accusations that might agitate him further.
The drug dealer grinned, menacingly. �The penalties for refusing to cooperate with us are severe. Now, WHERE IS IT?�
J.R. shrugged. �I�m telling you the truth. We don�t� have it. Tyler took it with him. He must have hidden it somewhere in the hills.�
Kline shifted nervously again, and glanced over his shoulder, apparently expecting his partner to offer assistance, but he was nowhere in site. They had obviously split up to cover more ground, and Kline seemed uncertain what to do about the possibility that the younger man was telling the truth.
While he was distracted, J.R.�s muscles tensed as he started to rush him, then changed his mind when Kline turned back toward him. �Don�t even think about it,� he warned, noticing that the detective�s posture had changed.
J.R. raised his hands as if in surrender.
Lifting the walkie-talkie to his mouth, the drug dealer said, �Holsey, this is Kline. I have the man and woman. They say they don�t know where the suitcase is.�
There was a pause, presumably as Holsey reached for his unit to respond. �What did you expect them to say?� came the muffled, sarcastic response that was heard by all three of them. �They�re all in this together. I�m sure we can convince the woman to cooperate. Meet us at the crash site with her.�
�What if she doesn�t tell us anything?� Kline asked, his eyes nervously scanning the horizon. �I mean, we�re running out of time here. Those rescue choppers we saw this morning will be covering this area eventually. And when they get here, we�d better be gone!�
J.R. glanced over his shoulder at Betty. That had been a rescue chopper that they had heard!
Holsey seemed impatient with his co-worker. �I�m aware of that, Kline, but I�m sure we can break her. If not or if we run out of time, then we�ll have to fly her to DuHart for interrogation. He has ways to loosen her tongue.�
Kline�s eyes fixed on J.R. �What about the man?�
There was a moment of silence as Holsey considered the question. �The man may be a hindrance. Kill him.�
J.R. felt Betty�s fingers tighten on his shoulders, horrified that he was about to be murdered, and terrified of the abuse that awaited her at the hands of the criminals. �No, please!� she said, hastily, her voice trembling with fear. �You�ve already killed the only man who knows where the drugs are.�
Kline cocked his head, curiously. �I never said anything about drugs.�
Betty exhaled sharply, and tipped her head forward to rest her forehead on J.R.�s shoulder. �Oh, God,� she whispered, realizing that she had just made their situation worse.
�Innocent, ay? You�ve been lying to me all along!�
J.R. spoke up quickly. �All right, I saw what was inside the suitcase, but I swear, we don�t know where he hid it. He knocked me down with the suitcase, and took off with it.�
�I don�t believe you,� Kline said. Shifting his glance to Betty, who had lifted her head again and was staring at him over J.R.�s shoulder, he scrutinized her for a long moment, then asked, �You�re not Crystal, are you?�
Betty was too frightened to do anything except shake her head, negatively.
�No, I didn�t think so,� he answered himself, gazing at her intently. �Abbott said that Crystal is a blonde, and, no offense, but you�re quite a bit older than she would be. You�re a handsome woman, though,� he added, admiringly. �Fixed up in clean clothes, I bet you�re a real knock-out.� Shifting his eyes back to J.R., he added, �Is she your woman?�
�No. She�s my cousin�s wife.� There was no point in specifying the details that his father and Barnaby were first cousins, and that Barnaby�s son was Betty�s husband.
�Just wondering,� he added. �I mean, I can see that you�re younger than she is, but what the hell? That makes no real difference, anymore, does it? You two look real close.�
�We are close,� J.R. told him. �We�re family,�
He looked at Betty again. �He missing you? You�re man?�
�He�s dead,� she answered, her voice shaking.
His eyebrows lifted, intrigued. �Oh? A widow then?�
Betty felt her insides tighten, realizing that Kline was the man who had been so interested in her undergarments back at the ridge. She did not answer his question.
�All right, you heard what the boss said, and you know what I have to do. We�ll be taking you with us, lady.� He made a gesture with his gun, urging her to step aside. �You�d better move away from him,� he suggested.
Betty looked as if she had just experienced a bitter taste in her mouth at the thought of J.R. being shot to death right in front of her eyes. �No, please. Just let us go. We don�t have any idea who you are. There�s no way we could identify you. Don�t add another murder to your list of crimes.�
�I�m not calling the shots, here. Holsey is. I have my orders. Now, move away from him, or I�ll drop him with you right there behind him! You might just catch the same bullet!�
�You heard your boss. He wants me alive,� Betty said, more terrified than she had ever been in her life, but determination had steadied her voice as she attempted to move in front of J.R., hoping to dissuade the drug dealer from carrying out his orders.
Realizing what she was attempting, J.R. grasped her arms and pushed her away from him. �No, do as he says,� he instructed, his voice quiet, as if he had accepted his fate.
�J.R., no!� she protested, turning toward him.
�I�m afraid there is nothing we can do to stop this from happening, Betty,� he told her, his voice barely above a whisper. His words were intended only for her. �I don�t think the rescuers are going to get here in time to save me, but with a little luck, they can save you.�
Tears squeezed out of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. �J.R.,� she murmured, helplessly.
He placed his hands on both sides of her head, and rested his forehead against hers for a long precious moment. �You have to hold it together,� he told her. More terrified than he had ever been in his life, he somehow managed to keep his voice calm. Then he drew back and they looked at one another for a long moment, not the look of lovers, but of dear friends who did not wish to say good-bye in this manner. �Just cooperate with them, and wait for your chance to get away,� he whispered.
�Oh, J.R.,� she said quietly, a tremble in her voice as she raised her hand to stroke his cheek.
�We don�t have time for this!� Kline said, roughly. �You�ve said your good-byes, now step back from him, lady!�
�Go on,� J.R. urged.
Betty backed away several steps, and Kline raised his pistol again and pointed it straight at J.R.�s head. She immediately looked away.
J.R. knew he intended to pull the trigger this time, and turned his face away with a grimace. Like Betty, he did not want to see it happen.
�POLICE! FREEZE!�
Kline jerked the trigger as he turned quickly toward the shout, and his gun went off. Acting on reflex, J.R. dove at Betty, and he heard the bullet whiz past his head like an angry bee as he collided with her, taking her to the ground with him. He landed on top of her and remained there. Straddling her, he folded his arms around her head and rested his cheek against hers, shielding her from the bullets and from the awful scene that was being played out only a few yards away.
Before they even hit the ground, several more shots rang out, and Kline�s body twitched and jerked as each bullet struck him. His own gun went off again, this time into the ground at his feet. Then, the pistol dropped from his hand, and a moment later he landed on top of it.
Lieutenant Biddle returned his pistol to his shoulder holster that was concealed beneath his jacket, and quickly knelt beside the critically wounded drug dealer. He shoved Kline onto his back, and confiscated the pistol. Kline moaned, but offered no resistance. Lifting his walkie-talkie, Biddle said, �Unit One, we have one suspect in custody. Bring in the paramedics to our location.�
�Roger,� crackled the reply.
J.R. got up quickly and, taking Betty�s hands, he helped her to her feet. �Are you all right?� he asked.
�Yes,� she replied, shakily. �You?�
�Still alive,� he answered.
She wrapped her arms around him tightly and wound her fingers into the hair at the back of his head so tightly that it hurt. �Oh, thank God!� she wept, overcome with emotion.
�Betty! Jedediah!� Barnaby exclaimed as he rushed toward his relatives.
�Barnaby!� Betty cried. Releasing J.R., she rushed into the arms of her father-in-law. �Thank God you got here when you did!�
�Yes, seems we weren�t a moment too soon,� Barnaby agreed, turning toward his cousin.
J.R.�s legs were wobbly, and he staggered to the boulder and placed his hand on it to steady himself. When his legs threatened to give out completely, he sat back against it and stared at the ground between his feet, visibly shaken and suddenly overcome with exhaustion.
�You all right, Jedediah?�
J.R. drew a long, deep, shuddering breath. �The truth is, I�m not feeling too good right now,� he admitted. �Man, I thought I was going to buy it, that time. If you hadn�t shown up when you did, I�d be dead right now.�
Betty withdrew from Barnaby�s arms, and went to J.R. and embraced him tightly again. Both of them were trembling, slightly.
Barnaby moved toward him, and for the first time ever, he drew his cousin into his arms, embracing him tightly, patting him affectionately on the back. �When you went down, Jedediah, for a moment there, I thought . . . .�
Emotion burned behind J.R.�s eyes at the unexpected fatherly embrace, then they parted, both feeling somewhat embarrassed at the public display of affection, and knowing that it probably would never happen again. Barnaby was a considerate, compassionate man, but there was a rather distant quality about him, and physical affection was rarely demonstrated. It had made this embrace all the more meaningful.
As J.R.�s pulse and respiration began to return to normal, he noticed that several more police officers had joined them. He addressed Biddle, who was still kneeling beside the groaning man on the ground. �Lieutenant, there are three more of them. One of them is somewhere on this side of the valley, and the other two are in the hills on the other side.�
�I know. I have men out scouting the area,� Biddle replied. �They�ll find them.�
�They came in by helicopter,� J.R. told him. �If they get back to it ---�
�We found their chopper, and I have men posted there waiting for them to come back to it.�
J.R.�s brows knitted in a puzzled frown. �What are you doing here?� he asked, curiously. �You and the other officers, I mean. I expected that Barnaby would join the search, but ----�
�We got an anonymous tip that drug dealing may be involved.�
�Anonymous?� J.R. asked.
�Yes. A woman called the station late last night. She said she had heard about the disappearance of the airplane, and said that it was a drug deal gone bad and that the plane had probably been taken down by a rival cartel. She also indicated that the intended recipients of the drugs might try to find them, and that any survivors would be in danger. She sounded very upset, and it also explained why the pilot flew so far off his flight plan, so we decided to treat it as a legitimate call rather than a prank.�
J.R. and Betty exchanged meaningful glances. �Crystal,� they said together.
�Crystal?� Biddle asked.
�Tyler�s girlfriend. I don�t know her last name, but she�s a commercial airline stewardess and sometimes flies with Tyler as hostess for his passengers. She must be worried about him.�
�I�m sure we can track her down,� Biddle said with confidence. �We�ve already arrested the mechanic, and he confirmed much of what the woman had told us. What about the pilot? Where is he?�
Betty and J.R. exchanged somber glances again. �He ran out on us the night of the crash with the suitcase full of drugs. They caught up with him yesterday morning. We heard a couple of gunshots, and this morning we saw buzzards circling over the south range, so I�m sure he�s probably dead.�
�Lieutenant, how did you get here without us hearing you?� Betty asked.
�A small private pilot flew over the crash site a few hours ago and radioed the coordinates of the airplane. He flew in low enough that he could see your suitcases against the bluff, therefore confirming that there were survivors who had gotten out, but he couldn�t land because of the rough terrain. We pinpointed the location through his reports, and when we saw the other chopper, we decided to set it down far enough away that they couldn�t hear us.�
�You nearly got here too late,� J.R. commented.
Barnaby placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it.
The eggbeater sounds of an approaching helicopter diverted their attention, and they watched as the Fire and Rescue helicopter selected a landing position nearby, and settled slowly to the ground.
The side door slid open, and two Los Angeles County paramedics emerged from it with their equipment. Both rushed to the man who lay groaning on the ground and knelt beside him. With the skill and silent cooperation of an experienced team, they divided their tasks, one checking vital signs while the other set up an i.v.
The others watched in silence until finally, while one paramedic continued to monitor the shooting victim, the other moved toward J.R. and Betty.
�Take care of her first,� J.R. told him. �She has an injured shoulder.�
As he started to move toward her, Betty shook her head. �No, he�s hurt worse than I am. He may have some broken ribs.�
�Did anyone ever tell you have a stubborn streak?� J.R. asked.
�Don�t argue and let the man work!� she instructed.
�Yes ma�am,� he replied with a smile. To the paramedic, he asked, �I don�t suppose you�d have any water on you?�
The medic smiled. �I do, in fact.� He presented a canteen. �Only a few sips, though. You�ll need to be re-hydrated under a doctor�s supervision.�
J.R. took the canteen and passed it to Betty. �Ladies first.�
This time, she did not argue. Gratefully, she tipped the canteen to her lips and took several deep swallows before the paramedic grasped it and pulled it away from her.
�Easy, there!� he told her.
�Sorry,� she apologized, wiping the delicious wetness from her mouth.
He then passed it to J.R., and he tipped it up, intended to take only to few sips, as they had been instructed, but as Betty had done, he found it difficult to stop. Again, the paramedic had to force the canteen away from him.
�I know it�s hard,� the medic said. �We�ll let you have a little more, later.�
�Hey, Steve,� said the other paramedic to his partner.
Steve turned his attention to his partner, who was tending to the wounded drug dealer.
�We need to get this one to the hospital quickly, or he�s not gonna make it.�
Steve ran back to the chopper for the stretcher, and the gravely wounded drug dealer was lifted onto it and placed inside the helicopter.
�You two come with us,� Steve said, motioning for J.R. and Betty.
Betty turned to Barnaby, who nodded. �You two go ahead. I�ll catch up to you later.�
Together, Betty and J.R. walked to the helicopter and climbed into it.
Standing beside John Biddle, Barnaby shaded his eyes with his hand and watched as the chopper rose into the air and flew away, disappearing into the brilliant blue sky.
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