by J. A. Jance
“But why’s he after you?”
Joanna shrugged. “I’m with her.”
They headed for the car where a still-frightened Angie sat huddled in the middle of the seat with her bleeding foot wrapped tightly in a thick swathe of towels. Bobo Jenkins was large enough that, with three people crammed together on the bench seat, it was all they could do to close the doors.
“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t bleed on the carpet,” Bobo said with a nod to Angie as he turned the key in the ignition. Angie looked up at him warily and tried to move closer to Joanna.
“Hey,” Bobo said. “That was just a joke, trying to lighten things up. You go right ahead and bleed all you want.”
Joanna recognized the old-time Bobo humor. He had always been the class clown, and evidently nothing had changed. When Joanna laughed, so did Angie. It didn’t change a thing about their situation, but it did relieve the suffocating tension.
“What are we going to do?” Angie asked.
“Once you’re under a doctor’s care, I’m going to go see Walter McFadden,” Joanna told her.
“The sheriff?”
“That’s right.”
“Are you going to tell him about me?”
“I’ve got to, Angie. It’s too dangerous otherwise. There’s no telling what they might do.”
“They?” Bobo asked attentively.
“At least two,” Joanna returned. “The one you met, Tony.”
“Tony Vargas,” Angie supplied.
“And a DEA agent named Adam York.”
“Thanks for telling me,” Bobo muttered. “It’s nice to know who the hell’s on what side.”
Most of the police officers in the City of Bisbee were still congregated around the Copper Queen Hotel, trying to locate two missing female guests who had disappeared in the aftermath of a minor fire. As a consequence, Bobo Jenkins sped through town at sixty or so miles per hour with no one pulling him over or raising an eyebrow. They made the three-mile drive from Old Bisbee to the Warren district in record-breaking time while Joanna quickly brought Bobo Jenkins up to speed on what had been going on.
“When they ask who you are,” Joanna cautioned Angie as they pulled up to the emergency entrance, “give them some kind of phony name, and one that isn’t Tammy Sue Ferris, either. Tell them you’re Andy’s cousin from Tulsa or Enid, Oklahoma, and that you’re in town for the funeral. Got that?”
Angie Kellogg nodded. “Okay,” she said.
Stopping the car directly in front of the entrance, Bobo again picked Angie up and bodily carried her inside. Joanna followed. Once the emergency room nurses had taken charge of Angie and rolled her away on a gurney, Bobo and Joanna were left waiting in the empty lobby.
“Lend me your car, Bobo,” Joanna said quietly.
“So you can go see McFadden?”
Joanna nodded. “I’ll come with you,” Bobo offered.
“No, you stay here and keep an eye on her. If Tony somehow figures out she’s here, I’m still afraid he might try something.”
“In the middle of a hospital?” Bobo asked. “What is he, crazy or something?”
“Andy’s being in a hospital didn’t stop him before,” she replied.
“Jeez!” Bobo exclaimed, then he frowned. “He wouldn’t try to get to you through Jenny, would he?”
Joanna felt as though she’d taken a pounding blow to the midsection. “I never thought of that.”
“Where is she?”
“At home, out at the ranch, with my mother.”
“I’d get her out of there quick if I were you,” Bobo warned. “Have them go someplace else until this all gets straightened out.”
Joanna nodded even as she was turning in a frantic search for a telephone. She found a pay phone near the lobby. Bobo Jenkins supplied the necessary quarter. Joanna breathed a sigh of relief when Eleanor answered the phone.
“Where in the world are you?” Eleanor demanded. “It’s late. I need to get home pretty soon.”
“Is Jenny asleep?”
“Of course she is. Hours ago. And Ken Galloway is here waiting to see you. He came to pick up Andy’s uniform and take it up to the funeral home. I thought you were going to do that this afternoon. It should have been done before this.”
“Mother,” Joanna said, “listen to me. I don’t have time to deal with that right now. I want you to get Jenny up and bring her into town. Take her up to Jeff and Marianne’s. I’ll call on ahead and tell them you’re coming. Bring Sadie, too. It’ll make Jenny feel better if she has the dog with her.”
“You want me to wake Jenny up in the middle of the night and drag her into town? Hasn’t she been through enough?” Eleanor demanded. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard of. And I don’t want that filthy dog in my car.”
“Mother,” Joanna said slowly, “this time, we’re doing it my way. I want both Jenny and Sadie out of that house, and I want them out now. If there’s a problem with your car, I’ll clean it up later, but I’m warning you. If you want to have a granddaughter when all this is over, one you can talk to and visit, then you’ll do as I say.”
Eleanor greeted her daughter’s threat with a moment of shocked silence. “I don’t understand any of this at all,” she said at last. “What’s going on, anyway? Where are you going to be?”
“I’ve got to go talk to Walter McFadden right away. After you drop Jenny off, you go on to your own place. When I can, I’ll stop by and let you know what’s going on.”
“I should think so,” Eleanor returned sourly.
Joanna hung up and borrowed another of Bobo Jenkins’ quarters. She dialed Marianne Maculyea’s number and was relieved when Marianne answered after only one ring.
“I’m calling to ask a favor,” Joanna said. “I know it’s late, but my mother and Jenny are on their way to your house right now. Mother’s bringing both Jenny and Sadie. I need you to keep them overnight. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Joanna, something’s wrong. You sound funny. Are you all right?” Marianne asked.
“I will be eventually,” Joanna returned. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go along?” Bobo asked when she put down the phone.
Joanna was filled with momentary misgiving. The world outside the brightly lit hospital corridor seemed dark and dangerous. Adam York and/or Tony might be lurking out there in the forbidding parking lot, waiting for her to set foot outside. And if something happened to her and to Angie both…
Decisively, Joanna reached down and fumbled in the side pocket of her purse. Leaving the purse sitting open on the floor, she located the two items she was searching for—Lefty’s puzzling letter to Andy and the note pad containing the mysterious Cora’s telephone number.
“Keep this for me, Bobo,” she said, handing over Lefty O’Toole’s letter. “If anything happens to me, I want you to turn it over to the authorities. You need to know that Vargas is really after Angie because of a book she stole from him, one Vargas used to keep track of his business dealings. It’s in the safe up at the Copper Queen. If anything happens to her, the cops need to know about that, too.”
“You really do think they’re going to try coming after her, don’t you?”
Joanna nodded grimly. “I sure as hell do.”
She opened the note pad and stared down at the page containing Cora’s telephone number. Finally, she tore it out and handed that to him as well. “You’ve heard about the money I suppose?”
“I’ve heard rumors,” Bobo conceded, “but I’m not sure I believe any of ’em.”
“This telephone number belongs to someone named Cora. She’s most likely the woman who showed up at the bank with Andy the day he deposited the extra money in our account. Again, if anything happens to me, I want you to call this number and find out where that money came from. I don’t care if she and Andy were having an affair or not. At this point, it doesn’t much matter. But I want Jenny to know the truth about where that money came
from and why. If it was from some kind of crooked dealings, so be it. Jenny needs to know that about her father. If not, she deserves to know that, too.”
Bobo handed Joanna the keys to the El Camino while his dark eyes clouded with sympathy. “They’ve put you through hell, Joanna. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “It’s not so bad, Bobo,” she replied. “At least I’ve got friends to help me.”
Her purse had sat open on the floor. When she leaned down to pick it up, the .44 was clearly visible.
Bobo saw the gun without registering the least bit of surprise. “From what I’ve heard about these guys,” he said, “I think I’d keep that thing handy. But if you need it, you’ll be better off with it in a pocket rather than in a purse. In a pinch, it’ll be a hell of a lot easier to get to.”
With a nod, Joanna reached down, picked up the gun, and shoved it deep into the pocket of her fleece-lined jacket.
“And if the doc doesn’t want to keep Angie overnight, I’ll take her home with me,” Bobo continued. “That way you’ll know she’s safe, but you’ll also know where to come looking for her.”
Joanna reached up and gave him a quick, grateful hug. “I’ll be back as soon as I finish up with Walter McFadden,” she said.
From the hospital it was a straight shot down Cole Avenue to Walter McFadden’s place. It was after eleven and no lights were showing when she pulled up outside the gate at the side of his yard. As she fumbled for the parking brake in the unfamiliar vehicle, a car with its lights on bright pulled up directly behind her and stopped. Temporarily blinded by bright lights followed by total darkness, she blinked once. In that brief instant of time, someone was beside the car door wrenching it open.
“Get out,” a man ordered.
Joanna recognized Tony Vargas at once. She hadn’t ever seen him in person, but his picture from the Horseshoe Casino was still in her pocket.
“Hello, Mr. Vargas,” she said coolly, stepping out of the car to face him, refusing to look at the gun he was holding in his hand.
“You know who I am, then?”
Joanna was conscious of only one thought. She was standing next to Andy’s killer. He was armed, but so was she. Thanks to Clayton Rhodes and Bobo Jenkins she had a loaded .44 in her pocket. That was something Tony Vargas probably wouldn’t expect. Fighting off panic, she forced herself to hold his eyes with hers. She wanted his eyes on her face not her hands.
“When I get through with you, everyone else will too,” she responded, deliberately taunting him.
A chillingly insincere smile flickered across Tony Vargas’ broad features. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that if I were you. Where’s Angie? Where’s my book?”
“Someplace safe. Someplace where you won’t be able to find them.”
Vargas turned his head slightly but without taking his eyes off her. “Hey, Ken, turn on the dome light in there, would you?” he asked.
Joanna glanced at the other car for the first time and was dismayed when she recognized it to be a Cochise County Sheriff’s Department patrol car. The interior lights came on in the car and revealed Ken Galloway sitting in the driver’s seat. Then something moved in the back seat. In a heart-stopping second, Joanna realized that Jenny was there, locked behind the metal mesh, waving at her through the window. Jenny and her mother both.
She turned back to Vargas in sudden fury. “What are they doing here?” she demanded.
He smiled again. “Don’t get excited. You sell insurance, don’t you, Mrs. Brady? And that’s what they are. My insurance policy. You’re going to drive this car to wherever you’ve hidden Angie. When I have her and my book, you’re going to drive us to Ken’s airplane down at the airport. Once we’re safely out of here, then you get your mother and the little girl back, understand?”
Walter McFadden’s back porch light snapped on. The door opened and Tigger came out first, followed by the sheriff himself, barefoot and wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He came limping down his back steps. “Who’s out here?” he demanded. “What’s going on?”
The interior light of the patrol car snapped off and Ken Galloway stepped out of the car. “No biggie,” he said calmly, walking over to the gate. “We’re just doing a little damage control.”
“Damage control!” Joanna exclaimed, wondering if there was a chance the sheriff might have a weapon concealed somewhere on his body. “Walter, this is the man who killed Andy. They’ve got my mother and Jenny locked in the back of Ken’s patrol car.”
“Is that true, Ken?” McFadden asked. “About Jenny and Eleanor Lathrop?”
Ken shook his head. “It’s like Tony was telling Joanna here. We’re only using them for insurance. It’s gonna get real rough around here, Walter. We’ve got a plane to catch, and there’s enough room in it for three people—you, me, and Tony. We won’t hurt Joanna or her mother or Jenny, either. But by the time they get loose, we’ll be over the border and long gone.”
Tigger came up behind Walter, tail wagging, and dropped the Frisbee at his master’s feet. Seeing him, McFadden shook his head. “Go lie down,” the sheriff ordered. The dog, disappointed, retreated to the back porch while Walter McFadden turned back to Ken Galloway.
“It’s over then, isn’t it, Ken, for all of us. But I’m not leaving. I’ve wanted it to be over for a helluva long time. I just didn’t have guts enough to do anything about it.”
With no further warning, McFadden flung open the metal gate, catching Ken Galloway by surprise and full in the midsection. The top brace of the gate slammed into his ribs, sending him reeling backwards toward the patrol car. When Vargas turned to help Galloway, Joanna saw her chance.
Throughout the confrontation, she had been edging her hand nearer the pocket containing the gun. Now her fingers closed around the grip of the .44. Carefully she thumbed back the hammer. At that close range, there was no need to aim the weapon or even bring it fully out of her pocket.
When she pulled the trigger, the roar of gunfire was deafening. The force of the recoil sent her spinning back against the roof of the El Camino. Tony Vargas groaned in surprise, doubled over, and crumpled to the ground.
Tony’s gun fell from his hand, but it was still within reach. As soon as Joanna regained her balance, she kicked it under the car, as far as she could away from his grasping fingers. In the meantime, Ken Galloway had pulled his own gun from its holster and was holding it on Walter McFadden. Trying to watch both McFadden and Joanna, his head swiveled back and forth between them.
“Go ahead and shoot,” Walter McFadden dared Galloway. “That way I’ll have the monkey off my back once and for all.” As he spoke, the sheriff was easing himself through the now-open gate, steadily closing the distance between himself and his renegade deputy.
“Stop right there, Walter,” Galloway warned. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Actually,” Walter drawled, “I do believe I much prefer shooting.”
All the while the sheriff was moving inevitably forward as Galloway backed away. That’s when Joanna realized what McFadden was doing. By pushing Galloway farther into the street, away from the patrol car, he was effectively easing Jenny and Eleanor out of the line of fire. Joanna moved with the two men, taking her part of the triangle along. Meantime lights were coming on all over the neighborhood.
“That way I won’t have to stand around any longer, turning a blind eye to your slimy blackmail deals and murder for hire schemes,” McFadden continued. “I’m looking forward to that, to not having scumbags like you in my life, Ken. Besides, if you do a good enough job, if your aim is good enough, there won’t be enough of me left over to ship off to prison. I never did much like Florence, you know. It’s too damned hot up there.”
With that, Walter McFadden lunged forward, throwing himself toward Ken Galloway’s gun. In the blazing hail of gunfire that followed, both men went down, first Ken Galloway and then Sheriff Walter McFadden.
Joanna heard sirens then. As close as they were, they must have been audible for som
e time before she noticed them. Still holding the gun, she hurried to where Ken Galloway lay moaning on the ground. She picked up his .357 and handed it over to the first neighbor who appeared on the scene.
“Watch him,” Joanna ordered. “Don’t let him move.”
She rushed to Walter McFadden and knelt beside him. He was pressing his hand to his chest, a hand’s breadth beneath his breastbone. Despite the pressure, blood still oozed up through his fingers.
“Good shooting, Joanna. But then your daddy always said you were a crack shot.”
“Quiet,” she said. “Listen to the siren. The ambulance is on its way.”
“Morphine was the hook—that’s what finally got me,” he whispered. “When the pain got too bad, when Carol was crying for it in the middle of the night, I would’ve done anything to get it for her. One buy was all it took. As soon as I stepped out of line, the bastards had me.”
“Shhhhh,” she said, but he ignored her, although his voice was weaker now. She had to strain to hear him over the noise of arriving emergency vehicles.
“They blackmailed me, Joanna.” He took a breath before he could go on. “I didn’t know what all went on or who all was involved. My job was to walk around howdying people and being blind, deaf, and dumb to what was going on in my own department.” He paused again. “Was Andy in on it?”
Tears were coursing down Joanna’s cheeks. She bit her lip and ducked her head. “I don’t know, Walter.”
“I hope not,” Walter McFadden muttered weakly. “For your sake and Jenny’s, I sure as hell hope not.”
And he was gone.
Twenty-One
JOANNA STOOD up. By then the place was crowded with Emergency Medical Technicians and City of Bisbee police officers to say nothing of dismayed neighbors who were struggling to come to grips with exactly what had happened.
Both Tony Vargas and Walter McFadden were beyond help, so all the lifesaving activity centered around Ken Galloway. Joanna walked past the flurry of activity to the patrol car. There, without anyone paying attention, she pressed the door lock and opened the door, freeing both Jenny and her mother. Once they were out of the vehicle, Eleanor and Jenny clung to Joanna as though fearing she might somehow disappear.