by J. A. Jance
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Joanna said.
“What Rick said is partially true, although there’s no call for him to be so mean about it,” Lorelie continued. “Leann is a lesbian, but so what? That doesn’t make her some kind of freak. She’s also good hearted and caring. And, no matter what, she’s still my daughter.”
Joanna hadn’t guessed Leann’s secret, but Lorelie’s matter-of-fact treatment made the whole topic seem less shocking, even with Jenny standing right there beside her. And that’s why you’re still Leann’s hero, Joanna thought.
Glancing at her watch, Joanna knew it was time to take Jenny and head back. “Is there someone you could call to come stay with you here at the hospital?” she asked. “I hate for you to be here alone.”
“I suppose I could always call Kim,” Lorelie said.
“Who’s Kim?”
“Kimberly George. Leann’s friend.” Lorelie paused, then added, “Her former friend, that is. Lover, really. The two of them had been together for five years at least. They only split up a month ago. They got in a big fight over Leann’s new job.”
“Why’s that?”
“Kim was afraid something might happen to Leann. That she’d get hurt at work . . .” Lorelie sighed. “Anyway, they broke up, and it’s just like someone getting a divorce. But still, I am going to call her. I know Kim would want to know what’s on, and she’ll be happy to give me a ride home if I need one.”
A nurse bustled into the waiting room. “The doctor you can go in for five minutes, Mrs. Jessup. But only one person at a time, and only immediate family.” She shot a meaningful look in Joanna’s direction. If the nurse was expecting an argument, it didn’t materialize.
“Right. We were just leaving,” Joanna said to the nurse, then turned to Lorelie. “If you can’t get in touch with Kim, or if you need anything else, please call me. I’m staying at the Hohokam in Peoria. I’ll be there all weekend.”
“Thank you,” Lorelie Jessup said. “And thank you for coming. I appreciate it far more than you’ll ever know.”
“What’s an abomination?” Jenny asked, once they were back in the corridor.
“Something that’s evil or obscene,” Joanna answered.
“Is your friend evil?”
“I don’t think so.”
“And neither does her mother.”
“Evidently not,” Joanna agreed.
“But her brother does.”
“It certainly sounds that way.”
Jenny and Joanna walked along in silence for several seconds. “I always used to want a little brother,” Jenny said. “But now that I’ve met that Rick guy, I think I’m glad I don’t have one.”
Joanna shook her head. “Maybe a brother of yours wouldn’t have turned into someone like Rick Jessup.”
Back at the hotel, Joanna was relieved to find a voice-mail message from Eva Lou Brady waiting on the phone in their room. “We’re back,” Eva Lou’s cheerful voice announced. “Call us.”
While Jenny headed for the bathroom to change into her swimming suit, Joanna called the Brady’s room. “Where were you?” she asked.
“I saw an announcement in the paper this morning saying that the Salvation Army needed volunteers to come help serve their holiday meal. You and Jenny were gone, and I couldn’t see Jim Bob and me just sitting around all day with him doing nothing hut watching football. We decided to go to help out for a little while. Now I’m going to take a little nap and let Jimmy watch one football game before dinner. What are you and Jenny up to?”
Briefly, Joanna brought Eva Lou up to date on what had happened to them. “I’d better get off the phone. Jenny has her suit on, finally. She’s champing at the bit to get in the pool. I’m going to go down and watch her, but I’m taking along that packet of mail you brought me. I’ll use the time to work on my correspondence.”
Once Jenny was happily paddling back and forth in the pool, Joanna emptied the contents of a large manila envelope onto a nearby patio table. The item pled on top of the pile was a second envelope, much smaller than the first. That one, with a Sheriff’s Department return address, was hand-addressed to Joanna. Inside she found a handwritten memo from Frank Montoya detailing the problem with the cook. Nothing to do about that one, she thought as she tossed it aside. As Frank had said, that one was handled.
An hour later, she had plowed through the whole collection. There wasn’t anything particularly exciting. A whole lot about being sheriff wasn’t more interesting than tracking a life insurance application or reading the proposed agenda for the next Board of Supervisors meeting, which was dutifully enclosed. It dawned on Joanna that she had signed up to do the nuts-and-bolts part of the job—the administrative part—as well as the more exciting ones. When she finished reading through the mail and jotting off answers to whatever required a reply, she felt better.
She wasn’t neglecting her duty by leaving home to learn what she needed to know to do the job better. Things at the department were going along just fine without her. She had delegated responsibilities in a way that was getting things done without allowing her absence to undermine her new position.
At ten to three she dredged a protesting Jenny out of the pool. “We need to be back in the room to answer the phone in case Grandma Lathrop calls. Do you want to shower first or should I?”
“You go first,” Jenny said.
Joanna was showered, had her makeup on, and was half through drying her hair when Jenny pushed open the bathroom door to say Joanna had a phone call.
“Who is it?” Joanna asked.
Jenny shrugged. “I dunno,” she said. “Some guy.”
“Hello,” Joanna answered.
“Sheriff Brady?”
The voice sounded vaguely familiar. “Yes,” she said warily.
“My name’s Bob Brundage. I’m down here in the lobby. I was wondering if you’d care to join me for a drink.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. . . . What did you say your name is?”
“Brundage,” he replied.
“I’m not in the habit of meeting strangers for drinks. Besides, I’m expecting company…”
“We have a mutual acquaintance,” Bob Brundage insisted. “I’m sure she’d be very disappointed if we didn’t take advantage of this little window of opportunity to get together.”
“This isn’t about Amway, is it?” Joanna asked.
Bob Brundage laughed so heartily at that question that Joanna found herself laughing as well. “I promise you,” he gasped at last. “This has absolutely nothing to do with Amway or with life insurance or with making a donation to your college alumni building fund, either.”
The clock on the bedside table said 3:30. There was a whole hour between then and the time Adam York was supposed to show up for dinner. If Eleanr called, Jenny would be right there in the room to answer the phone.
“All right,” Joanna agreed finally. “I’ll come down for a few minutes, although I can’t stay long because we’re due in the dining room for dinner at five. How will I know who you are?”
“I’ll recognize you,” he said. “I’ve seen your picture.”
“Who was that?” Jenny asked, as Joanna put down the phone.
“A man. His name is Bob Brundage. He wants me to meet him downstairs in the lobby to have a drink.”
“Are you going to go?”
“Yes, but if Grandma Lathrop calls while I’m gone, tell her that I’m away from the phone and that I’ll call her back just as soon as I can.”
Joanna returned to the bathroom. As she finished drying her hair, she began reconsidering her decision. The call had been vaguely unsettling, especially the part about Bob Brundage knowing so much about her while she knew nothing at all about him. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Joanna shivered, remembering the bathroom of her dormitory room on campus, the one with the two-way mirrors. Carol Strong’s assumption was that Dave Thompson was most likely the only person who had availed himself of those two-way mirrors
to spy on the female inhabitants of the dormitory’s lower-floor rooms.
But standing in the brightly lit bathroom of her room at the Hohokam, Joanna wondered about that. Dave Thompson might have shared the wealth with someone else—maybe even with several people. Some of the other instructors, perhaps, or maybe even some of Joanna’s fellow students. As the thought of a whole group of peeping toms crossed her mind, Joanna’s cheeks burned with indignation.
Who was to say Dave Thompson would limit invitees to people involved with the APOA? For all Joanna knew, he might have dragged people in of the street and charged admission. In fact, what if Bob Brundage turned out to be as much of a p as Dave Thompson was? Brundage claimed he had seen Joanna’s picture, but that might not true. What if he had actually seen her stark-naked in the presumed privacy of her own bathroom? That would explain his knowing her without her knowing him. And what if he was dangerous as well? There was no reason to assume that Dave Thompson had acted alone in the attack on Leann Jessup. If Bob Brundage turned out to be Dave Thorn partner in crime .. .
There was only one answer to all those questions and it came straight out of The Girl Scout Handbook: be prepared.
Joanna emerged from the bathroom wearing only her underwear and found Jenny totally engrossed in watching Beauty and the Beast. Taking advantage of the video diversion, Joanna dressed quickly and carefully, concealing from Jenny the Kevlar vest she put on under her best white blouse and the shoulder-holstered Colt 2000 she strapped on under her new boiled-wool blazer.
Downstairs, the lobby outside the elevator was crowded with a combination of hotel guests and holiday diners. Efforts to market the Hohokam’s Thanksgiving dinner had evidently been wildly successful. Formal seatings in the Gila Dining Room started as early as one o’clock in the afternoon.
Coming through the lobby, Joanna had planned on stopping by the dining room to let someone know Brady party with reservations at five would be reduced from eight diners to seven. After glancing at the crowded dining room door and at the harried hostess trying to seat parties, Joanna decided against it.
Instead, threading her way through the crush of people, she headed for the lobby cocktail bar. On the way, she walked past the gas-log fireplace where she had sat for such a long time the previous evening. Was that only yesterday? she wondered. It seemed much longer ago than that.
“Joanna,” a man’s voice called. “Over here.”
Without the subtle distortions of the telephone, Bob Brundage’s voice stopped her cold. The timbre was so familiar, she hardly dared turn her head to look. At the far end of the massive fireplace, a man in a military uniform rose from one of a pair of wing chairs and gestured for her to join him. Unable to move, Joanna stood as if frozen in middle of the room.
D. H. “Big Hank” Lathrop himself could have been standing there. Her father was standing there. And yet he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. Big Hank been dead for years. Besides, this man was younger than Joanna’s father had been when he died. But the resemblance was eerie. It was as though the ghost of her father had stepped out of one of those old black-and-white photos and turned into a living, breathing human being.
When Joanna didn’t move forward, the man did, coming toward her with his hand outstretched and with a broad smile on his tanned face.
“Bob Brundage,” he said, introducing himself. He took Joanna by the elbow and guided her back toward the two empty chairs. “Colonel Brundage, actually. I told you it wasn’t Amway.”
“Who are you?” she asked, finally finding her voice.
“I’m the surprise,” he said. “Eleanor had her heart set on introducing us at dinner, but it seemed to me that might be too much of a shock for you. Judging by your reaction, I believe I’m right about that. What would you like to drink?”
Joanna watched him in utter fascination. When Bob Brundage’s mouth moved, it was Joanna’s father’s mouth. He had the same narrow lips that turned up at the corners, the same odd space between his two front teeth.
“I don’t care,” she answered. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
Bob Brundage signaled the cocktail waitress. “Two Glenfiddich on the rocks,” he said. “So your folks never told you about me, did they?”
“No. I knew there were a series of miscarriages before they ever had me, but ...”
Bob Brundage laughed again. The laughter, too, was hauntingly familiar. “I’ve been called a lot of things in my time, but never a miscarriage,” he said. “Your mother—my birth mother, as we say in the world of adoptees—was only fifteen when she got pregnant with me.
“According to Eleanor—you don’t mind if I call her that, do you?”
Joanna shook her head.
“According to Eleanor,” Bob continued, “Hank had just come back from the Korean War and got stationed at Fort Huachuca when they first reopened it. They met on a picnic on the San Pedro River. Eleanor wandered away from the church picnic and met up with a group of soldiers. She told me it was love at first sight. Of course, those were pre-birth control days. Her folks shipped her out of town when she turned up pregnant, forced her to give me up for adoption. But she told me that she and Hank secretly stayed in touch by letter the whole time she was gone, and that they took up again soon as she came back to town. By then he was out of the army and working in the mines. After Eleanor graduated from high school, her folks finally consented to their getting married.
“It’s a very romantic story, don’t you think?”
The waitress brought the drinks. Romantic? Joanna thought, No, the story didn’t sound the least bit romantic to her. It sounded absolutely hypocritical. Do as I say, not as I do. Do as I say, not as I’ve done.
Bob Brundage’s torrent of words washed over her, but she couldn’t quite come to grips with them. Her parents—her mother and her father—had another child, a baby born out of wedlock? Was that possible? For almost thirty years, Joanna had thought of herself as an only child. Now it turns out she wasn’t.
“Those were the days of closed adoptions,” Bob Brundage continued. “My adoptive parents were wonderful people, but they’re both gone now. My father died of a stroke ten years ago, and my mother passed away just this last spring. And once I knew it wouldn’t hurt them—once they could no longer feel betrayed by my actions—I decided to start looking into my roots.
“I’ve actually known Eleanor’s and your names and where you live for several months now. Congratulations on your election, by the way. I saw a blurb about that in USA Today. I always check the Arizona listings, just for the hell of it, and one day, there you were. Then, when I found out a month ago that I would be coming to Fort Huachuca to do an inspection this month, it just seemed like the right thing to do. You’re not upset, are you?’
“Upset?” Joanna echoed, plastering an insincere smile on her face. “Why on earth would I be upset?”
But she was upset. Bob kept on talking, but Joanna stopped listening to him. Her ears and heart were tuned to the past, where she was rehashing Eleanor’s hysterical outbursts and the ugly things she had said once she had discovered Joanna was with Jenny. How could Joanna do such a stupid thing? Eleanor had raged. How could she do that to her own mother? How could she?
For over ten years, Joanna Brady had tolerated her mother’s barbed comments, her constant sniping. Eleanor had run down Andy Brady and their shotgun wedding at every opportunity. She had claimed Andy was never good enough for Joanna, that he had ruined her life, stolen her potential. And all the while ...
After all those years of criticism—both stated and implied—a decade’s worth of suppressed anger rose to the surface of Joanna Brady’s heart.
“Why exactly did you come here?” Joanna asked.
“I already told you,” Bob Brundage answered. “I wanted to find my roots. I wanted to find out if my interest in the army was genetically linked.”
After that small quip, he stopped for a moment and examined Joanna’s face. “You are upset,” he said. “I was afrai
d of that, but Eleanor said she you’d be fine.”
“How long have you known”—Joanna couldn’t bring herself to say the word Mother right then—”Eleanor?” she added lamely.
“I called her for the first time three and a half weeks ago. I didn’t know what her reaction would be—”
“And she doesn’t know mine,” Joanna interrupted. “In fact, she probably understands you better than she does me.”
Bob held up a calming hand. “I’m sorry. I can see this all very disturbing to you. I certainly didn’t want that to happen. If you’d like, I’ll just go back to D.C. and disappear.... “
Joanna shook her head emphatically. “Oh, no you don’t. Don’t you dare do that. She’d hold me responsible for it the rest of my life. If you leave now, she’ll never forgive me. It would mean she’d been cheated out of her son twice. I don’t want that responsibility. Not on your life.”
Up to that point, Joanna had taken only a single sip of her Scotch. Now she downed the rest of the drink in one long unladylike swallow, letting the icy liquor slide down her throat.
She took a deep breath. “I guess I sound like a real spoilsport, don’t I. A brat. I’m angry with Eleanor.... “
“Why are you angry with her? It wasn’t her fault.... “
“Why am I angry? Because I’ve been betrayed, that’s why. Eleanor Mathews Lathrop always set herself up on a pedestal as some kind of Madam Perfect. And according to her, I never once measured up. When all the while ...”
Joanna paused. “That’s not fair of me, of course, to just blame my mother. She wasn’t the only one who lied to me. After all, it takes two to tango,” she added bitterly. “Obviously, Big Hank Lathrop was in on it from the beginning, too. The whole time I was growing up, I damn near broke my neck a dozen times trying to be the son my father claimed he’d never had. Well, guess what? It turns out he did have that son after all, one he somehow neglected to tell me anything about. In fact, now that I think about it, I probably have you to thank for him turning me into a hopeless tomboy and the fact that I’m sheriff right now....”