Desert Exposure Read Free Page A

compartment, and pulled out Grandpa’s pistol. He’d taught her well. She’d fired a gun at the firing range, and had even taught Debbie how to shoot. Tin cans she did well, but she’d never shot at a human target. She sat tall and calmed herself by taking several deep breaths. With the gun wedged between her thighs, her dog on the passenger seat, and the Hummer gaining on her, she prayed for help. With Grandpa gone, and maybe even dead, no way in hell she’d let Ralph become an orphan.
    “We’ll be okay, baby,” she said, and her voice didn’t even crack. She kept her gaze on the road ahead, and prayed Dave would reach her before the bad guys did.
    ****
    Detective Michael Delaney made a quick call to the Indio PD. The Salton Sea was in their jurisdiction. He reeled off his police identification, and then added deep undercover.
    “There’s a man on the beach, injured, adjacent to the old bait shop. There were shots fired. I’m on the tail of one of the guys, old white Chevy truck. One, Bravo, Delta, couldn’t get anything else on the plate. Last seen heading north on the eighty-six.”
    He closed the cell phone and cursed. He’d lost the skinny guy in the baseball cap and windbreaker, the one pretending to be an early morning wildlife photographer.
    Yeah, right. More like a drug dealer. Who the hell else would be hanging around the cold, deserted beach at dawn? He’d seen all types in his career. But now, with a new undercover assignment and working with the Indio PD, he needed to prove himself all over again. He felt like a damn rookie. It really pissed him off that the dude had gotten away.
    He’d tracked the constantly moving Suarez brothers for a week now. He knew they were back in the area. His case meant finding them and flushing them out before they got their revenge on the ex-DEA agent. If this skinny guy wasn’t one of the brothers, he could be a go-between, and Michael wanted every ounce of information he could squeeze out of the little weasel. And if he proved to be one of the brothers, he sure as hell wanted him.
    He made a careful three point turn, ready to return to the beach and assist with the injured man. He had questions to ask him. Up ahead, a puff of dust caught his attention, and a vehicle sped off. Someone was in one hell of a hurry. He’d passed that turn a few minutes ago. He was too far away to determine if it was the white truck. But, it was too big of a coincidence.
    There are no coincidences . He gave a dry laugh, floored the Hummer, and roared down the highway, turning sharply onto Airport Boulevard, noticing the tire marks in the sand. Yeah, the dude is moving . It had to be his man.
    He zipped past Jacquelaine Cochrane Regional airport, but couldn’t see the truck. A small airport for such a big name, he thought, with a quick shake of his head as the sign flashed by. Nothing bigger than a Cessna, or a Comanche Piper, flew out of the airport. But it gave air support to the Indio PD. And it had a fire station on the grounds. He hadn’t checked out the place yet, and slowed.
    Would the truck have pulled in there to hide amidst other vehicles? Nah. No detours. Follow your first instinct. He pressed down on the accelerator, and minutes later saw what he thought might be the old truck up ahead.
    “You can’t outrun the Hummer,” he murmured, and patted the steering wheel.
    He liked to use the Hummer for surveillance. Any man worth his salt could detect an undercover cop’s car. For the past couple of nights he’d been a drugged out rocker; wastrel son of a wealthy doctor; a stoned singer in a two bit bar. He even had his guitar on the back seat.
    He patted the gun in his shoulder holster. A siren sounded in the distance. He didn’t want to scare off the guy in the truck, or make him do anything crazy. But then again, it was all good because he’d have back-up. Another siren sounded to the north of him.
    Up ahead, a black and white took the corner of a side street on what