The Territory (Josie Gray Mysteries #1)(54)
“Look,” Marta said, and pointed downstream, to the Mexican side of the river. A line of headlights were driving slowly down the gravel access road. “They’re probably two miles from here.”
Jimmy yelled to Sanchez to cut the lights, and he and Marta reached for two of the suspects, attempting to pull them up to a standing position to get them into Marta’s jeep. Neither of them budged. All three had gone limp, their bodies dead weight. Marta placed her gun in the back of the head of the lead driver, ordering him to move, but he refused. It became obvious a contingency plan was about to be carried out, and Marta feared the three officers were seconds away from a group execution.
Jimmy pulled his gun and shot the driver of the pickup in his upper arm. “I’ll shoot all three of you if you aren’t up and in the back of that police car in ten seconds!”
The sound of the gunshot and their partner screaming in pain prompted the other two to scramble up on two feet and move. As the cars approached the river crossing, Jimmy was stuffing the third gunman into the backseat of Marta’s squad car, a jeep barely large enough to hold four people. Marta got in and started the engine as Sanchez squeezed next to her. Jimmy placed one knee on the passenger seat, facing backwards toward the oncoming cars and hanging on to the open door frame for support.
“Go!” he shouted.
“What about the explosives?” Marta asked. Her head was pounding, and she prayed in the back of her mind as she tried to keep her focus on the approaching cars. She had heard countless stories of cartel members torturing police officers, and she felt her throat constrict in fear.
Still in four-wheel drive, she shoved the jeep into first gear and spun gravel as she pulled her car onto River Road. Sanchez’s thigh was pressed against the gear stick, and she had difficulty shifting into second gear. Jimmy ducked back inside the car and faced the backseat. He pointed his gun directly at the three men and began shouting in Spanish not to move and to stay quiet or they were all dead men. Marta tried to block out the cries of the man in the middle who had been shot in the arm.
They heard gunfire from across the river.
“They’re shooting at the explosives truck! Jesus, they’re going to blow it up!” Jimmy yelled.
Marta pulled off the road and into the desert scrub to the north of the river to get space between their car and the horse trailer.
“Now circle around, cut your headlights, and get the car pointed back toward the river so we’ve got a good visual,” Jimmy said. “You stay in the car and keep a gun on the prisoners. Sanchez and I will keep guns trained on that explosives truck. I just talked to Border dispatch. ETA on backup is five minutes. I talked to Josie. She’s on her way with everyone she can find.”
Once she’d maneuvered the jeep into place, Marta kneeled in the driver’s seat and faced the three men in the backseat of the jeep, crowded in on top of one another, with one man bleeding and moaning, and all of them worried the night sky was about to light up with an explosion that might kill them all. Sanchez and Jimmy were outside the jeep, standing behind the opened driver’s and passenger side doors with two .45-caliber pistols facing what appeared to be a small army of Mexicans across the river. The Mexicans had spotted them and were standing down. Marta hoped it was enough to keep them across the river until backup arrived.
A lone siren was heard coming from the north. Marta was certain it was Josie. Josie parked her car ten feet behind Marta’s jeep, and Jimmy waved her car up next to theirs. She rolled down her windows to speak with them.
He yelled, “We’ve got three prisoners in the back of the jeep. Keep your lights and sirens on. We need a huge presence here as fast as we can get.”
Josie yelled back over the sound of the sirens, “Sheriff’s department is on their way. Martínez is right behind me.”
Shortly after, a trail of two sheriff’s deputies and two DPS cars approached from the east. Within minutes, the area was teeming with local police vehicles as well as Border Patrol and DPS, their cars pointed toward the river, sirens blaring, officers crouched behind car doors for protection. An ambulance arrived and Josie directed them to Marta’s jeep.
Josie split the prisoners up, and the sheriff sent two of them to the Arroyo County Jail with a sheriff’s deputy. She asked an EMT driver to get the man who’d been shot stabilized but to stay on-site and prepare the Trauma Center team. It was too soon to leave with the county’s only ambulance.
After things quieted down, Josie pulled Marta into her squad car and shut the doors. Marta filled her in on the details, her voice still unsteady from the stress of the night. Josie sat in the driver’s seat listening.
“How do we deal with this? How can one small town fight an army equipped with this kind of firepower?” Marta finally asked.
“The sheriff and I called several ranchers along the border and asked them to be on alert tonight. We talked to six families, all living within a half mile of the river.”
Marta looked surprised. “They aren’t trained for this kind of fight.”
Josie pointed to the row of police cars, lights, and the similar row of cars facing them from across the river. “We’re beyond training. We’re just trying to hold the line. I’ve already called Moss and told him we’ve got to get National Guard presence immediately. He doesn’t want to admit we can’t handle this on our own, but surely he realized it tonight.”