Second Chance

Second Chance

A Chance Colt Literary Mystery

Tom Hawks

Brighton Publishing LLC

435 N. Harris Drive

Mesa, AZ 85203

Second Chance

A Chance Colt Literary Mystery

Volume Two

Tom Hawks

Brighton Publishing LLC

435 N. Harris Drive

Mesa, AZ 85203

WWW.brightonpublishing.com

ISBN13: 978-1-62183-403-8

Copyright © 2016

eBook

Smashwords Edition

Cover Design: Tom Rodriguez

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction and a creation of the author’s imagination. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Dedication

In loving and respectful memory of my best friend, my greatest mentor and my biggest supporter, my dad,

Thomas J. Hawks, Sr.

1935-2015

You will always remain at my side and we will continue to walk this sacred journey together into eternity fighting the never-ending battle of good versus evil in this world.

Sometimes giving someone a second chance is like… giving them an extra bullet for their gun because they missed you the first time.

~Unknown

Chapter One

It appeared that Sheriff Chance Colt’s life and his luck had finally run out on him. Weakened by gunshots, he watched both of them slowly drain out from his brim-down cowboy hat and marveled to himself at the symbolism of it all.

He felt himself losing consciousness from the great loss of blood. The last thing he heard and saw before his world turned to black was a great gust of wind blowing through the shattered glass of his old Chevy Blazer, sending his cowboy hat skittering closer to him, landing brim up. He closed his tired eyes for the last time.

Not yet, whispered the familiar voice of his long-dead spirit guide, Sheriff George White.

A black Dodge Charger, with its hemi engine and throaty dual exhaust roaring like a lion, came flying over the hill that led to Chance’s campsite and came to a screeching halt near the overturned, smoking Chevy Blazer in the dry wash. A dark and determined young woman with black hair and hellfire burning in her brown eyes jumped out of the Charger and raced to the overturned Blazer.

Don’t you die on me yet, you son of a bitch! Detective Alexis Montoya reached inside the Blazer and checked the pulse of the unconscious lawman. He was alive! His seatbelt, still fastened, held him in a precarious upside-down position, and blood dripped onto the Blazer’s headliner below. Alexis immediately got on her police radio and requested an ambulance and paramedics to the scene. Shirley, the day-shift dispatcher, told her the paramedics were already en route.

It took the petite detective three tries to yank the damaged driver’s side door open. Alexis noted the smoke and the strong odor of leaking gasoline while she struggled to get her boss unfastened from his seatbelt before the Blazer caught on fire. She reached into Chance’s right pants pocket and felt around until she located his trusty old pocket knife, using the razor-sharp blade to cut the seatbelt in just two swipes. Chance’s limp body thudded onto the Blazer’s blood-soaked roof, and Alexis struggled to pull the two-hundred-and-twenty-five-pound man from the wrecked vehicle as quickly as she could.

Alexis was small yet fit and strong, and she was able to drag the dead weight of Chance’s body about fifty feet away from the Blazer. She laid him down face up on the flat surface of the desert sand and checked his wrist again. Slow, faint—but there. And he was breathing.

Boom! The blast of heat nearly knocked her off her feet. The Chevy Blazer had exploded into a huge ball of fire. Instinctively she ducked and shielded Chance’s body with her own. After a few moments, when the fire died down, she got up and ran to her vehicle, barely noticing the minor damage it had taken from the blast. She opened the trunk and grabbed a wool blanket, ran back to Chance, and covered him. The additional warmth might prevent shock—although it likely was too late for that.

She ripped open his blood-stained flannel shirt and used the pocket knife to cut his t-shirt away from his arms and torso so she could assess his wounds—not just injuries from the accident, but also multiple gunshots, she now saw. Blood oozed from wounds to his left shoulder, arm, and hand. Alexis quickly checked the rest of his body for any further wounds or injuries and found nothing major, just cuts and abrasions.

The blood loss must be stopped. She removed her own uniform shirt, used the pocket knife to tear it into several pieces, and applied pressure to Chance’s wounds. She spoke quietly and constantly to the sheriff while she furiously worked to stop—or at least slow down—the bleeding.

Another check of his pulse was fruitless. She tried on his neck and wrist. Come on, Chance, don’t you dare die on me, Alexis yelled in Chance’s face. Hang on and keep fighting. You’re too damn mean and stubborn to die. You gave me a second chance in this shitty world, and now it’s finally my turn to repay the damn favor. The ambulance will be here soon. I refuse to let you die on me, damn it! She held him close and applied constant pressure to his bleeding wounds, as tears filled her eyes. Come on, damn it! Where is that ambulance?

In a few short minutes that seemed like an eternity to Alexis, she began to hear the siren of the ambulance in the distance getting closer second by second to the scene of the crime. The ambulance soon arrived, and Detective Montoya stepped back to let the paramedics in to work on her boss and life-long friend and loyal compadre.

Deputy Graves and two fire trucks soon arrived on the scene as well. The firefighters sprayed foam on the flames that had engulfed the Chevy Blazer, and in a matter of minutes they extinguished the fading inferno.

***

On the opposite corner of the ranch, Sarah Colt heard the explosion and then heard sirens blaring. Horrified, she jumped into her Chevy pickup truck, along with the family’s tried and trusted black Lab, William Shakespeare. She sped off on the gravel side roads that crisscrossed the Sanctuary Ranch, steering her truck toward the ball of smoke and fire rising in the distance.

Sarah drove as fast as she could down the bumpy gravel roads, praying to God that the explosion and fire didn’t involve her husband. But in her head and her heart, she believed they did. He had headed out the day before to camp in that part of the ranch, and she hadn’t been able to reach him on his cell phone. Normally that wouldn’t shake her, but somehow… she knew.

When Sarah pulled up at the scene, she met the ambulance speeding in the opposite direction. Then she saw her husband’s Blazer flipped upside down, flanked by the fire truck and two other Sheriff’s Department cars, and she began to shake. Should she flip a U-turn and follow the ambulance or get the story from Alexis? The detective stood there in the desert, stripped down to her t-shirt and covered in blood and sweat. Sarah threw herself out of the truck and ran to Alexis, and the two women embraced in a long, heartfelt hug, their tears mingling.

Shakespeare raced to the upside-down, still-smoking Blazer to look for his best friend and loving master, but he was stopped short by two firefighters still on the scene. The truck and the ground underneath and surrounding it were still hot from the explosion and fire, and the firefighters didn’t want to see the dog get hurt from walking into the red-hot sand.

A firefighter walked up to the women and gave Alexis a blanket to wrap around her shoulders. After removing her uniform shirt to use to slow Chance’s bleeding, she was wearing only a t-shirt, bra, her Kevlar vest, her uniform pants and her hiking boots.

What happened? Sarah nearly choked on her own tears.

From what little information we have so far, Alexis began, apparently Chance encountered some Mexican drug smugglers in the middle of the night. He had successfully chased them off, and the Border Patrol came out and confiscated the marijuana and the pickup the drugs were being transported in. It appears another group from the drug cartel came back this morning looking for their lost shipment and literally ran into Chance with their own vehicle. That vehicle is now gone, and we’ve found one dead body over there, a Mexican male who was shot in the head. Alexis pointed a few hundred yards down the valley. We’re assuming there were at least two assailants in what appears to be one other vehicle. It also appears—and this is just speculation on my part so far—that there was a gun battle between Chance and the group of drug cartel members that ended with one dead Mexican and Chance’s truck overturned in the dry wash, with Chance suffering multiple gunshot wounds.

Is Chance alive? Sarah faced Alexis with fear and hope in her eyes.

He was still alive when the paramedics took him in the ambulance. He was unconscious and bleeding pretty badly from gunshot wounds to his left hand, arm, and shoulder. I couldn’t find any other major wounds or injuries, but his whole left side was shot up pretty bad. The good news is, he was breathing on his own. They’re taking him to Tucson to the University of Arizona Medical Center.

Oh God… Sarah sank to her knees in the sand.

You know Chance is as tough as they come. He’s gonna pull through and be okay. Chance is a fighter and a survivor. Alexis knelt by Sarah, her arm around her shoulders. He’s too damn stubborn and mean to die. You know that.

Sarah took Alexis’s hand and stood up, trembling. I hope so.

We’ve already called out the evidence tech to work up the scene for any additional evidence and information we can gather, so we can figure out exactly what the hell happened here. The ET should be here any minute now. Deputy Graves will stay on the scene, and I’ll drive you up to Tucson to UMC. We’ll have to drop off Shakespeare at home first, and then we’ll get up there pronto.

Sarah noticed Deputy Graves for the first time, leaning on his car near the scene.

Hearing Alexis use the word pronto reminded Sarah of how often Chance used that word. She thought of Chance to give him strength and began praying to God to let her peaceful warrior survive another of many attacks he had endured in his lifetime of being a lawman and a U.S. Marine.

Semper Fidelis, Sarah said over and over again to herself in between her prayers to God, Mary, and Jesus on the long ride with Alexis to Tucson and the medical center. The Marine Corps slogan was inscribed on the inside of Sarah’s wedding ring, which she twisted on her ring finger all the way to the hospital. Semper Fi, Chance. Semper Fi, she repeated like a Buddhist mantra.

The fast and furious Dodge Charger made it in record time up I-19 to Tucson and the UMC, even catching up to the ambulance transporting Chance. Both vehicles arrived at the hospital emergency room entrance simultaneously.

Sheriff Chance Colt was rushed into emergency surgery to either live or die, while Sarah and Alexis were ushered to the surgery waiting room, which was unusually quiet for a Saturday afternoon in Tucson. Chance was in surgery for a little over two hours before the surgeon finally came out to talk with Sarah. She and Alexis had cried and prayed and held each other’s hands throughout the whole painfully long wait.

The surgeon, who introduced himself to the two women as Dr. Simonson, reassured Sarah that Chance had made it through the surgery. Several slugs had been removed and damage to his left hand, arm, and shoulder had been repaired. The patient was now resting comfortably in post-op—in serious but stable condition.

Your husband is still unconscious from the trauma of his wounds and the anesthesia used in surgery, but he’s one tough cookie and came through the operation admirably, the doctor stated. When he wakes up, he’ll be transferred from post-op to a private room, and you’ll be able to visit him there. The nurse will come and get you when he’s in his room. That may be a while, so in the meantime, if you ladies are hungry, you can get something to eat in the cafeteria.

After Dr. Simonson left, another two hours crept by. Sarah wasn’t hungry, just anxious, and Alexis refused to leave her. They talked about Chance, his bravery, his previous close calls, and the horrific thing that had happened overnight on Sarah and Chance’s own ranch. Alexis filed her report on the laptop she had brought inside with her. Sarah sent text messages to her friends telling them the news. Finally, when Sarah was certain she couldn’t wait any longer, a pretty nurse with shoulder-length auburn hair and sea-green eyes came to the waiting room. The two women jumped to their feet to meet the nurse in mid-stride.

Which one of you is Mrs. Colt? the nurse said.

I am, Sarah said. This is Detective Alexis Montoya. She works with my husband.

The nurse smiled politely and said, Sheriff Colt is awake and able to see you both now. I should warn you, though—he’s still a little groggy from the anesthesia and the pain meds the doctor prescribed. My name is Shannon, and I’ll take you to him.

Sarah and Alexis followed Nurse Shannon to Room 423. The nurse opened the door and motioned for the two ladies to come in, while she pushed down the door stop with her foot to keep it from closing again.

Sarah and Alexis entered the room and went to Chance’s bedside. Sarah grasped his hand and was thrilled to see his eyes open halfway. He gave her a slight smile.

Hi honey, he whispered in a hoarse but strong voice. Don’t worry, I’m not dead yet. He gave her an even bigger smile that appeared to be a side-effect of his pain meds. A morphine pump at his bedside was connected by I.V. to a taped-up spot in the crook of his elbow. He caught sight of his detective and winked at her. Come on in and join the pity party.

Sarah and Alexis pulled visitor’s chairs up close to Chance’s heavily bandaged left hand, arm, and upper body.

How are my two favorite ladies in the whole world? he asked with another big smile and slight turn of his head.

Sarah couldn’t help the tears that trickled down her cheeks, and she noticed Alexis was dabbing at her eyes as she smiled back at Chance.

How are you feeling? Sarah stroked his hair, wishing she could wrap her arms around her husband.

Never better, he answered. I can’t say I feel like a million bucks, but I feel at least as good as a Benjamin Franklin or two.

Just one or two hundred dollars? asked Alexis, with a happy smile through her tears.

Yeah, I feel right around two hundred bucks at the moment, Chance answered hoarsely with his trademark smile. But if the doc will increase my pain meds, I think I could come up to a grand or two pretty fast. He shifted a bit and stifled a groan. Speaking of bucks, like my grandfather always used to say, ‘Do you know the difference between deer nuts and beer nuts? Deer nuts are under a buck.’ Chance chuckled in his drug-induced state.

So what the hell happened out there, Chance? Alexis asked.

I’m no doctor, Alexis, but I’m pretty certain about just two things—I was playin’ chicken with some Mexican drug cartel dudes, and I got shot a few times. So I must’ve lost the game of chicken, huh? Damn, I never lose at that game.

Oh, honey. Go easy right now. Sarah patted him on his head, which felt strange, but it was the only part of him she could reach that wasn’t heavily bandaged.

By the looks of things near your campsite, I’d say it was more or less a draw, Alexis said. We found the body of a dead Mexican.

Makes me feel better to hear you call it a draw. I guess it wasn’t a total loss. Chance’s laugh sounded good to Sarah.

That makes it a Mexican standoff in my book, Sheriff.

Thanks, Alexis. Guess I’m kind of out of it right now, so how about we save the interrogation for tomorrow. I’d rather lie here and take in the sight of you two pretty ladies while I count my blessings. And my wounds.

Sounds good to me. Alexis gave a deep sigh and leaned back in her chair.

It sounds like a fine plan to me too, Sarah said. Can we get you anything?

"Yeah, how about some more pain meds? The holes those