Free Left for Dead by J. A. Jance Page A

neither Jose nor Donnatelle might have graduated from the academy. Almost three years later, they were both working in law enforcement, while Ali wasn’t. What was that old saying? Something about those who can, do, while those who can’t, teach.
    “What happened?” Ali asked.
    “He was on patrol a few miles outside Nogales. He was making a supposedly routine stop when he was shot at close range. When they found him, he was transported to a trauma unit. The last I heard, he was alive, but that’s about all. It’s bad.”
    “Will he make it?” Ali asked.
    “I just talked to his wife, Teresa. The jury’s still out,” Donnatelle answered grimly. “He was airlifted to Physicians Medical Center in Tucson, where he’s undergone surgery. According to Teresa, the hospital lists his condition as guarded.”
    “Doesn’t sound good,” Ali agreed.
    “It gets worse. Teresa is eight and a half months pregnant. She’s stuck at the hospital with her two preschoolers from a previous marriage.”
    Clearly, Donnatelle had stayed in closer contact with Jose and his family than Ali had. She had heard that he was married, but the last bit—about three kids being involved in this looming tragedy—hit Ali hard.
    She understood more than most exactly how tough it was to raise even one baby without a father. She’d had to do that herself when Dean, her first husband, had lost his battle with glioblastoma weeks before Christopher was born. If Jose Reyes died as a result of his wounds, he would leave behind a widow with three orphaned children.
    “Do you have any contact information for them?” Ali asked.
    “Sure do,” Donnatelle said. “Like I said, Jose’s wife’s name is Teresa—with a T-E rather than a T-H. About a year ago they bought a place in Patagonia.”
    Donnatelle reeled off both a post office box as well as phone numbers and an e-mail address. Ali jotted down the information.
    “I’m just now going off shift,” Donnatelle went on. “Tomorrow is my day off. It sounds like Teresa is completely overwhelmed and could use some help. My mom’s coming over to look after my kids. As soon as she gets here, I’m on my way to Tucson.”
    “I can’t come down today,” Ali said. “I’ve got company coming for dinner. But I could show up tomorrow and stay for a day or so. You’ll keep me posted?”
    “Sure will,” Donnatelle said.
    “And speaking of your kids,” Ali said, “how are they?”
    “Fine,” Donnatelle answered. “All three of them made the honor roll.”
    “Good for them,” Ali said. “And good for you!”
    That was the main reason Donnatelle had been determined to make it through the academy. She had wanted to set a good example for her kids, and she was obviously doing so.
    They hung up after that. Ali stood with her cell phone in hand and her dialing finger poised to dial Teresa Reyes’s cell phone number. Ultimately, she didn’t call. For one thing, Teresa Reyes didn’t know Ali from Adam, and in the midst of this crisis, she didn’t need to be juggling phone calls from people she didn’t know. Helping out in person would be different. Even now, years after her first husband’s death, Ali could remember the people, some of them distant acquaintances or friends of friends, who had simply shown up unannounced at the hospital or at the apartment to help Ali with her dying husband and later with her newborn son.
    Ali knew right then that she’d be on her way to Tucson first thing on Sunday morning. Maybe she didn’t owe it to the Reyes family, but she did to the people who had helped her when she needed it. They had paid it forward, and now she would pay them back.
    “What’s up?” B. asked. He was still hard at work on the elliptical machine.
    “Jose Reyes, one of the guys from the academy, got shot Saturday night.”
    “That deputy down in Santa Cruz County?”
    Ali nodded.
    “It was on the news a little while ago,” B. said. “I thought the name sounded familiar, but I