by J. A. Jance
As Holly tried to wiggle through the fence, sharp wire barbs caught on threads of her terry cloth robe. Unable to free it at once and intent only on reaching the dump, Holly slipped out of the robe and went on, leaving the white cloth dangling on the fence behind her like a June bug’s discarded shell.
It was desperately cold that day, but even with nothing on but her nightgown, Holly didn’t notice.
She had eyes only for the massive multicolored dump with the achingly blue sky arching far above it. All her life, that dump had exerted a strange, inexplicable pull on Holly Patterson.
When she reached the bottom, she hesitated, but only for a moment. For all her life, she had wondered what was on top of that dump. Today, to save her life, she was going to find out.
She was halfway up when Amy’s voice found her. “Holly! What are you doing? Come down! Come down right now before you hurt yourself!”
Holly closed her eyes, trying to resist the inescapable pull of that beckoning voice.
“Come… down… right… now!”
Holly wanted desperately not to hear that voice, not to respond, but she did. Without even having to leave the bottom level of the terrace, Amy began to count.
“Ten,” her voice called out in that powerfully soothing cadence. “Nine, eight, seven…
Slowly, the numbers worked their inevitable way down to zero. They burrowed their way deep into Holly’s consciousness like so many writhing worms, devouring both her will and her new found memories.
When Amy’s commanding voice stopped Holly’s ascent, she had been near the lip of the two hundred-foot-high dump, climbing fearlessly Halfway down, she happened to glance at the desert floor one hundred feet below her. She gasped with shock to see how high she was, how far she had climbed. Trembling with fear in every limb, she had all she could do to continue down.
Somehow, for a few moments at least, Holly Patterson had forgotten that she was desperately afraid of heights.
Joanna came back from lunch to a world of pandemonium. The two brothers from Kansas Settlement who had tried to murder one another with baseball bats the night before were once again on a friendly basis. Despite the fact that one of the two was still hospitalized with injuries, they were ready to be ruled by brotherly love. Their mother, who had not attended the birthday fracas, had negotiated a peace treaty and hired a lawyer.
When Joanna picked up her messages, one was from a Wilcox attorney letting her know that his Kansas Settlement clients were prepared to sue the county and the two deputies who had arrested them with false arrest and police brutality. A second message, from the county attorney, related to that same issue.
“What am I supposed to do about this?” Joanna asked.
Kristin shrugged.
“Who usually handles this kind of thing?”
“Mr. Sanders, usually. But he’s on vacation,” Kristin added with only the smallest of smirks.
“Who takes care of those problems when Mr. Sanders isn’t available?”
“Nobody else that I know of. He’s been doing it ever since I got here. He also usually attends the Multi-Jurisdictional meetings, and there’s one of those starting at two. Are you going?”
“There isn’t a note about that MJ meeting on my calendar,” Joanna said, pointing to the noted wall calendar she had posted in order to keep track of where she was supposed to be and when. There was no Magic Marker notation in the afternoon slot.
“I must’ve forgotten,” Kristin said. “Sorry.”
“Like hell you did,” Joanna muttered to herself after the door closed. It was going to take time to either shape Kristin up or get rid of her, but Joanna couldn’t afford to launch into something like that when she was already up to her neck in current-crisis management.
Sitting back in the chair, Joanna closed her eyes for a moment. She felt isolated and alone. It was fine to go have lunch with Angie or Marianne, but within the department she was on her own. It was hard not to envision that she had stumbled into a den of vipers, all of them waiting for her to make the smallest misstep.
She realized that having Martin Sanders leave without even bothering to discuss the situation constituted a real blow to her credibility. She had tried to talk Dick Voland into staying, because, with one supervisor out the door, she realized the need of maintaining experienced officers around her to give the department the appearance of continuity. But she also needed an ally, someone on her side who wasn’t going to be eagerly awaiting or even engineering her first public tumble.
The only problem was, she couldn’t think of anywhere to turn for help. Voland would work with her, but only grudgingly, and only so long as he perceived her to be holding up under pressure. At the first sign of weakness, he’d be all over her like flies on crap. The same held true for Ernie Carpenter.
For right now, her only choice was to trudge along as best she could. Until she could forge some in-house alliances, it was important to cover all the necessary bases, wear all the hats.
She picked up the intercom and buzzed Kristin.
“Call the MJ folks and let them know I’ve changed my mind. I’ll be sitting in on their Multi-Jurisdictional meeting after all.”
Without complaint, Linda Kimball had spent all morning doing what she regarded as her wifely duty. That was her job. She made one phone call after another, working her way through the con founding layers of bureaucracy, finding out when the two bodies were likely to be released for burial, making arrangements with Norm Higgins for a private service for Thornton Kimball, and politely dodging Norm’s questions about services for Uncle Harold.
Norm Higgins had hinted that it would be a lot simpler for all concerned and a lot less expensive to have one joint service for both men, but Linda had nixed that harebrained idea. The funeral for Thornton Kimball would be absolutely private for family members only. Anyone who tried to turn her husband’s grief into some kind of spectacle would have Linda herself to deal with. As for questions about Uncle Harold’s service, she told Norm, in no uncertain terms, that she was sure Ivy would be in touch to take care of those matters just as soon as she possibly could. If Norm Higgins knew about Ivy’s inappropriate wedding arrangements, he had the good sense not to broach that touchy subject with Linda Kimball. When the phone rang between calls, Linda was taken aback to find Holly Patterson on the line In fact, once she realized who it was, Linda’s first instinct was to hang up. After all, hadn’t Holly Patterson already caused enough trouble for everyone concerned? But Linda’s overall courtesy and good nature won out. Instead of hanging up, she listened.
When the call was over, she stood with her hand on the receiver for only a moment or two while she made up her mind. A sincere request for help was something Linda Kimball was almost physically incapable of ignoring.
Without giving herself a chance to change her mind or back out, she combed her hair, put on lipstick and a jacket, and headed for Cosa Viejo.
She presented herself at the front door at precisely half-past two and smiled pleasantly at the uniformed Mexican woman who opened the door.
“Why, Isabel Gonzales. I haven’t seen you since your mother passed away in the hospital three years ago. I had no idea you worked here.”
Isabel nodded. “For almost a year now. Jaime and me both. It’s a good job.”
“I’m looking for Holly Patterson. Is she here?
Another woman appeared over Isabel Gonzales shoulder. “Who is it, Isabel?”
“Mrs. Kimball,” Isabel answered. “To see Miss Patterson.”
“I’m Holly’s therapist, Amy Baxter,” the other woman said, moving fully into Linda’s view and easing Isabel aside. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“I came to see Holly.”
“I’m afraid Holly isn’t up to seeing anyone just now. She hasn’t been feeling well, with what happened to her father and all. I’ve prescribed total bed rest.”
“But she called me,” Linda Kimball protested. She called earlier this afternoon and asked me
to stop by.”
A look of seeming dismay flickered briefly across Amy Baxter’s countenance and then disappeared, replaced by a determined shake of her head. “That can’t be,” Amy said.
But it is,” Linda returned civilly. “I came as soon as I could.”
“I’m afraid you don’t understand, Mrs. Kimball. The woman is seriously ill. It simply isn’t possible for her to see you or anybody else.”
Linda Kimball was an experienced mother whose finely honed instincts warned her whenever one or both of her children was even tempted to tell a lie. Although the reason for it eluded her, she felt the blind panic Linda’s unexpected appearance at the door of Cosa Viejo had engendered in the other woman’s supposedly composed expression.
What’s going on? Linda wondered.
“I’ll be dead by then.” That’s what Holly Patterson had said on the phone not threateningly, as if dying were something within her own power.
She wasn’t crying out with the plaintive voice of someone contemplating suicide and hoping for a last-minute rescue.
No, she spoke with the fatalistic, matter-of-fact despair of someone caught in the middle of a railroad trestle with an oncoming train speeding toward her.
This was Bisbee, a small and supposedly safe community, a town where general wisdom assumed that murders weren’t supposed to happen.
But murders do happen here, Linda thought grimly, more often than she liked to believe possible.
Astute enough to realize that forcing her way into the house would do nothing to help the situation, Linda backed off at once. She donned her best hospital-volunteer mask-the one she used to comfort the grieving relatives and friends she often found huddled outside sickrooms in the polished corridors of Copper Queen Hospital.
“Just let Holly know I stopped by to see her, would you?” Linda said with a sincerely concerned smile. “I’ll be glad to drop by later on this evening if she’s feeling up to it by then.”
“I’ll do that,” Amy Baxter said.
With her knees knocking under her, Linda Kimball marched back to the car. She was frightened Without knowing quite what it was, she realized she had uncovered something important. Whom should she tell about all this? she wondered. She had to tell someone.
As soon as she was outside the swinging electronic gates of Cosa Viejo, instead of going home, she turned right and headed straight for the Sheriff’s office out on Highway 80.
THE MJ meeting was dull as watching grass grow.
Max Foster, a vice detective from the Pima County Sheriff’s Department, was the ranking officer for the Cochise County Multi-Jurisdictional Unit. Foster might have been a fine detective, but he was an incredibly poor public speaker. The meeting droned on and on. Even though the information was vitally important, Joanna wasn’t the only one fighting to stay awake. She was relieved when Kristin poked her head in the door and crooked a finger at her.
Probably the Kansas Settlement boys acting up again, Joanna thought, as she gathered her note pad and followed Kristin out the door.
“What is it?” she asked, as soon as they were in the corridor.
“Linda Kimball to see you,” Kristin said.
“Again.”
Linda was waiting and pacing the confines of the reception area. “I’m doing it again.” She smiled apologetically. “You’re probably getting pretty tired of me by now.”
“Come on in,” Joanna said, gesturing Linda into her corner office. “What seems to be the problem?”
Linda barely waited for the door to finish closing behind them.
“I’ve just come from Cosa Viejo,” she said, “and I have a funny feeling something isn’t right over there. Something’s the matter with my husband’s cousin Holly.”
Joanna suppressed a smile. “Considering what all’s gone on this past week,” she replied, “the idea that something’s the matter with Holly Patterson is hardly news.”
But by the time an anxious Linda Kimball finished recounting her story, even Joanna had to agree that what was happening at Cosa Viejo sounded disturbing.
“Someone should look into this, all right,” Joanna agreed. “If for no other reason but to ask a few questions.”
“Maybe it’s nothing,” Linda said. “Burton always says I’m forever jumping to conclusions, but the whole thing gave me a very bad feeling, an edgy feeling. What my mother used to call the willies.”
“Don’t worry,” Joanna said. “I’ll have someone check it out.”
When Linda left her office, Joanna went looking for both Richard Voland and Ernie Carpenter. Voland was in Wilcox talking to the two deputies involved in the Kansas Settlement problem. Carpenter had gone to Sierra Vista to make arrangements for shipping evidence off to the state crime lab for processing.
So much for delegating tasks to her second-and third-in-command, Joanna thought. She briefly considered sending one of the deputies by to check on Holly Patterson, but she thought better of it. A deputy would need to have some idea what to look for, what questions to ask. Unfortunately, Joanna had no idea what directions to give to any one else. In the end, she decided, like the Little Red Hen, to do it herself.
Picking up the intercom, Joanna buzzed Kristin.
“I’ll be out for a while,” she said. “If you hear from either Dick Voland or Ernie Carpenter, tell them I went to Cosa Viejo to see Holly Patterson.
Leave a message for both of them to get in touch with me as soon as they get back to town.”
It pleased her to be able to go in and out of her office by way of her own private entrance. Climbing into the county-owned Blazer, she felt as though she was beginning to have a handle on the scope of the job, both the pitfalls and the responsibilities.
There was plenty of hard work ahead and lots to learn, but she was a quick study. In her third full day on the job, Joanna Brady was actually beginning to feel like a sheriff.
She turned into the gates at Cosa Viejo, buzzed for admittance, and then parked outside. This time she went directly to the front entryway and rang the bell. Amy Baxter herself came to the door. “Why, Sheriff Brady,” she said, “I don’t believe we were expecting you.”
“Actually, I came to see Holly Patterson,” Joanna responded.
“Holly is resting right now,” Amy said, smiling and cordial, but firm. “She really isn’t in any condition to entertain visitors.”
“I’d still like to see her. I understand she seems to think herself in some kind of danger.”
“Holly in danger? Here? That’s absurd! She’s up in her room, safe as can be.”
“Let me see her then, just to set my mind at ease.”
Amy sighed and looked exasperated. “Well, I don’t suppose it can hurt anything, but I’m afraid Rex will insist on being in attendance. Wait here.”
“That’s fine,” Joanna said.
Moments later, she was led up to the second floor and back to Holly Patterson’s room, where a man who introduced himself as Rex Rogers was waiting in the hallway. He led her inside.
Once more the heavy curtains were pulled almost shut, and once again the room was shrouded in drapery gloom. Dressed in a sweat suit and bedroom slippers, Holly sat rocking back and forth in her old-fashioned rocking chair. Her hands rested limp and open in her lap. Her face was lax and expressionless.
“Holly,” Rex Rogers said, gently shaking her shoulder. “There’s someone here to see you.”
As if she were waking from a drug-induced stupor, Holly Patterson’s eyes fluttered open.
“What?” she asked vaguely.
“Someone to see you,” Rogers repeated. “The sheriff. I believe she wants to ask you some questions.”
“How are you?” Joanna asked. “I heard you were under the weather.”
“I’m fine,” Holly answered unconvincingly.
“What happened to your hands?”
Holly looked down at the hands that lay in her lap. Joanna had noticed the heel of the palm on both hands was badly skinned, as though she had ta
ken a bad fall and had used her hands to cushion herself. The damage was new enough that the abrasions were still leaking fluid, but Holly looked down at the injuries with surprised dismay.
“I don’t know,” she said tentatively. “They hurt but I don’t know what happened to them.”
“She fell down,” Rex supplied brusquely. “Holly’s always falling down like that. She’s easily distracted.”
“Where did she fall?”
“Outside,” Rex answered again. “Off one of the terraces.”
“Isn’t she capable of answering questions on her own?” Joanna asked. “Where did you fall, Holly? : How did it happen?”
Rex Rogers grimaced with annoyance while Holly Patterson looked at Joanna with strangely vacant eyes. “I don’t know,” she said, without ever stopping rocking. “I don’t remember.”
“But it happened just a little while ago,” Joanna insisted. “Look. Your hands are still bleeding.”
“I don’t know,” Holly repeated hopelessly. “I just don’t know.”
Joanna turned back to Rex Rogers. “What kinds of medication is this woman on?” she asked.
“How should I know?” Rex Rogers answered sharply. “I’m her lawyer, not her doctor.”
“What seems to be the problem?” Amy Baxter asked from the doorway of the room.
“Holly has hurt herself,” Joanna answered. “Recently enough that the palm of her hands are still seeping serum, but she can’t remember how it happened. Is she on medication of some kind, or has she maybe suffered an injury, a concussion perhaps?”
“I tried to tell you downstairs that she wasn’t in any condition to receive visitors. You were the one who insisted on seeing her.” The phone rang out in the hall, interrupting her statement.
“I believe she should be examined by a physician,” Joanna said.