Truth And Consequences. Lenora Worth
passengers craning their necks to see what had happened. Her fellow officers would conduct interviews with the few passengers waiting to return to the train. Maybe they, or some of the passengers about to board for the first time, had seen something.
Whitney leaned over the two men. “Hey, I’m Officer Whitney Godwin with the Desert Valley K9 Unit.” For now. Just until she could get through this murder investigation and, she hoped, move back to Tucson. Centering her gaze on the young, good-looking one, she asked, “Can you tell me what happened here?”
He nodded and blinked as if refocusing, his hand splayed across a bloody shirt covering the other man’s wound. “Two men came up the aisle, heading for the exit.” He pointed to his left, indicating the third coach seat from the door. “They had two big duffels, and they ran smack into Mr. Gallagher here.” He stopped and sucked in a breath. “A bag ripped open and packages fell everywhere. All different colors but about the same size. Pretty obvious that they were carrying drugs.”
Whitney nodded and took notes. No wonder Hunter was champing at the bit. Drugs? “Okay. What happened after that?”
“One of them stabbed Mr. Gallagher.” He motioned to the injured man. “That same one saw me moving up the aisle and pulled a gun on me, but when they heard voices outside, the other man talked him out of shooting me. They grabbed their duffels and left. I watched them get into a dark SUV in the parking lot.”
He checked the injured man’s pulse and talked to him in soothing, reassuring tones. “Hang on, Mr. Gallagher. Help is coming.”
Whitney went over her notes to make sure she had everything, his soothing voice calming her, too. He had a distinctive accent, a Southern drawl. “Did they pull a gun on the victim?”
“No. He surprised them. The man stabbed him, probably to keep anyone from hearing. But I saw the whole thing, so he pulled the gun on me.” David shook his head. “I guess they thought everyone had exited already, and we both surprised them.”
“He’s telling the truth,” Mr. Gallagher said in a weak voice. “He threatened this young man if he talked. Threatened me, too, but I’m not scared of any criminal. Drug runners are getting mighty bold these days.”
“Got it,” Whitney said, glancing at the man aiding the victim. Obviously he hadn’t taken that threat seriously, either. “And again, where were you, sir, when this took place?”
He looked up at her with deep brown eyes that were now clear and sure. “The last seat on the right, near the door to the next car. I...I’m an army medic. I mean, I’m a former army medic.”
“Army medic?” That brought a heavy pain to Whitney’s heart. Her brother had been a sergeant in the army. But he’d been killed almost a year ago. Before she could figure out how to tell him about all the changes in her life.
I made it, Lucas. She had so much she wanted to tell her big brother, such as that she’d passed through her second stint of training without a hitch and that she had an amazing responsibility in her life, her baby daughter, Shelby, but now it was too late.
At least her brother had accepted her choice of careers before he’d died. Wishing he could have seen her graduate after her second attempt to finish the rigorous twelve-week K9 training here in Desert Valley, Whitney pushed aside the too-sad thoughts of her brother and got back to her job.
“Okay, that’s good. You’re both doing great. The paramedics should be here any minute.”
Already she could hear another dog barking. Probably one of her fellow rookies coming to help out. They were all stuck here on the big investigation into the murder of Veronica Earnshaw and the suspicious deaths of the two rookies.
Whitney didn’t have time right now to think about those deaths, even though she’d been personally involved with one of the victims.
For now this stabbing had to be her top priority. She needed to get the details right or she’d hear an earful from Chief Jones. The chief had her on his radar since she’d gone to him with a theory regarding one of those deaths, a theory he’d found hard to believe. If she messed this up, he might think she wasn’t qualified for the job.
The medic seemed calmer now, so she hoped she could trust his eyewitness details to be accurate. He seemed capable and sure, even if he was a bit disoriented.
Then, because she wanted to know, and needed to know for her report, she asked, “What’s your name?”
“David Evans.” He waited as if he expected her to say something else, his brown eyes bright with anticipation.
Whitney wrote his name in her notes. They’d run a background check on him. “You’re passing through?”
With what looked like relief in his eyes, he shook his head. “No. I’m here to stay for a while. Maybe.”
Surprised, Whitney added that to her notes. “Welcome to Desert Valley.”
He gave her a tight smile. “Thanks. Is it always like this?”
Whitney shook her head. “No. More like routine traffic stops and bar brawls. But...we do get some drug runners through here now and then.” She glanced back at her anxious partner. Hunter wanted to get on the move. “Did you happen to see the license plate on the SUV?”
He squinted, blinked. “I...I think. But only partly. The numbers one and five and...and several letters that might be some sort of vanity plate. I can’t remember the name, but there was a symbol over the plate—on the back of the SUV. I didn’t get the details, but it was small. I got a quick glance.”
“Maybe it’ll come back to you,” Whitney said, observing his clipped chestnut-brown hair. He seemed to be in good shape other than the shock that must have hit him right after he’d witnessed all of this. But he wore a mantle of weariness, too. He looked world-weary and rugged, almost haggard. And tired.
She jotted down what he’d said. “Can you describe the two men?”
“I’m not sure of their race, but both had dark hair, and they were kind of disguised and wearing baseball caps—one was red. The guy who stabbed Mr. Gallagher and pointed a gun at me—he had a thick beard and longer hair, and he wore a black hat. He was tall. The other one was shorter. They had on sunglasses.” He gave her their estimated heights and weights. “And...they both had the same kind of dark bag. Old and worn and full of what looked like birthday gifts or some kind of shipment, but it had to be drugs.”
“We’ll do a thorough check of the train,” she said, never doubting he was correct. Mr. Gallagher was right. This was happening a lot lately.
When Whitney heard sirens, she breathed easier. The heat inside the train was stifling even though it was early spring. She wouldn’t go home until she and Hunter had sniffed and searched this entire train and talked to the other employees and questioned the few passengers who waited to board. She was relieved that help for this injured man was on the way.
“You did a good job,” she told David. “Now you can relax and let my friends take over.”
But Mr. Brown Eyes grabbed her arm. “I’m pretty sure those two will try something else. Drug couriers are ruthless, pretty packages aside.”
Whitney nodded, suspecting the same thing. “My partner, Hunter, will alert if any drugs have been transported, and we’ll put out a BOLO on the suspects.”
When they heard the paramedics coming onto the train, David turned to Mr. Gallagher. “The posse’s here, sir. You’ll be in good hands. I know you’re in pain, but I think you’ll be fine. The wound isn’t as deep as it feels and thankfully, from what I can tell, the knife didn’t hit any major organs.” He glanced at Whitney. “I’ll give them the rundown on his vitals.”
“Thank you, son,” the older man said. “You’re a hero.”
“You’re welcome, sir,” David replied, wearing an embarrassed expression, his face coloring.
Mr.