Rattlesnake Crossing

whom were still standing by at a distance to see what would be required of them. Something Fran Daly had said had raised a red flag in Joanna's brain-the idea that the killer might kill again. What if he already had? What if there were more than two slaughtered victims hidden here in the wilds of the Triple C? Maybe the ledge beneath the cliffs-maybe the cliffs themselves-held other cairns and other mutilated bodies.

She called Mike Wilson over to her Blazer. 'How are your guys doing?' she asked. 'Are they ready to call it a day, or are they willing to work some more?'

'They're a gung-ho bunch, Sheriff Brady,' Wilson replied. 'You tell me what you want them to do, and they'll do it.'

'I want somebody to go up and search those cliffs from end to end,' she said. 'Both the tops of the cliffs and the ledges that run underneath them. I'm worried we may have other victims up there, ones we haven't even found yet.'

'We'll get right on it,' Wilson said.

'There's something else. I want this whole area combed for evidence of any kind-tracks, blood, fibers, whatever. Dr. Daly can tell you where the victim was hit. That area should be cordoned off and held in reserve for the evidence techs. I'm hoping that's where we'll find the bullet that killed her. But there were other shots as well, with bullets that went astray. With any kind of luck we'll find them. I can order out deputies and have them here doing the search within a matter of an hour or so, but if your guys wouldn't mind…'

'No problem at all,' Wilson assured her. 'I'll split the team into two groups. Half of them will go up the mountain. I'll get the others working down here on the flat.'

As Wilson went off to issue orders and dispatch his people, Joanna turned to Detectives Carpenter and Carbajal. Ernie's face was screwed into a disapproving frown. 'What the hell's the deal?' he asked. 'Why send Search and Rescue to do something detectives and evidence technicians should handle? Those clowns may be fine at finding lost hikers, but they're not going to know real evidence from a hole in the ground unless it jumps up and hits them in the face. Send those guys home and wait for people who actually know what they're doing. We're going to have plenty of help from real detectives. I just heard Pima County is sending us a pair of investigators. So is Maricopa.'

'I'm afraid we're going to have more than plenty of help,' Joanna said grimly. 'Which is why we need to do what searching we're going to do now, before the place is overrun with a bunch of outsiders.'

'What do you mean, more than plenty of help?' Ernie asked.

'Has either one of you ever heard of a race-car driver named Danny Berridge?'

Detective Carbajal shrugged his shoulders. 'Not me,' he said.

'Danny Berridge.' Ernie Carpenter repeated the name as a frown burrowed across his forehead. 'That sounds familiar somehow. Wait-wasn't he that Indy 500 driver who dropped out of sight several years back, sometime in the late eighties or so? I seem to remember that he was involved in some kind of on-track accident and then… Wait… are you telling us Danny Berridge is Katrina Berridge's husband?'

'One and the same,' Joanna replied.

'How did you find that out?'

'I just lucked into it.'

'But is it confirmed?'

'Yes. Frank Montoya already checked it out. So that means we not only have a serial murderer on our hands, we also have a case that's going to arouse a good deal of national interest. With the other cases and other counties involved, it would be bad enough to just have the Tucson and Phoenix media breathing down our necks. This one will probably draw reporters from all over.'

'Great,' Ernie grumbled. After a moment he brightened. 'Get thinking about it, this thing could have an upside.'

'What's that?' Joanna asked.

'My mother-in-law loves the National Enquirer,' he re-plied. 'Phylis is always asking me when one of my cases is going to appear in her paper. If the Indy driver turns out to be our killer, maybe this is it.'

'Don't even think such a thing,' Joanna told him.

While Ernie and Jaime set off to join the S and R team in the ground search, Joanna stared up the road, wondering how long it would take for Dick Voland and Frank Montoya to arrive on the scene. It was early afternoon in the middle of August. As the desert heat bore down on her, she rummaged in the back of the Blazer for a bottle of water. She had finally succeeded in locating what was evidently her last one when the phone in her purse rang.

Joanna's cell phone had come complete with an option that allowed her to adjust and personalize the ringer. In order to differentiate her phone from others, she had chosen the ringer option that sounded for all the world like the early-morning crow of an enthusiastic rooster.

'Hello,' she said, after finally pawing the instrument (nit of the depths of her purse.

'They're done,' Marianne Maculyea said. 'Esther's out of surgery and in the transplant intensive care unit.'

Joanna breathed a relieved sigh. 'Thank God,' she said. 'How are you and Jeff doing?'

'We're both pretty ragged,' Marianne admitted. 'Jeff's at a phone down the hall calling his folks. I decided to call you.'

Joanna heard the unspoken subtext in that simple statement. Jeff Daniels could call his parents and tell them the news. Marianne couldn't. Marianne's parents had never recovered from their daughter's public defection from the Catholic Church and becoming a Methodist minister. Over the years, Marianne had given Joanna helpful hints about resolving the mother/daughter rifts between Joanna and Eleanor Lathrop. That didn't mean, however, that she had ever been able to heal the long-standing feud with her own mother.

'Thanks for letting me know,' Joanna said, not commenting on the unspoken part of the message. 'Angie called early this morning to let me know what was happening. I decided that it was better for me to wait for you to call me rather than the other way around. Are you staying in Tucson?'

'For tonight anyway,' Marianne replied. 'We've booked a room at the Plaza at Speedway and Campbell. Once Jeff gets off the phone, he'll probably head over there to catch a nap. He'll come back later and spell me. I don't know about tomorrow. One or the other of us will go home to be with Ruth, or maybe Angie or somebody can bring her up here for a little while during the day.'

There was a pause. 'You don't necessarily sound all that hot yourself, Joanna. What's going on with you?'

Jeff and Marianne were enmeshed in the all-consuming cocoon of their own little crisis, and justifiably so. Joanna could see no reason to trouble Marianne Maculyea with any of the grim details of what was happening right then on the Triple C.

'I'm overseeing a search right now,' Joanna answered carefully. 'And then I have some interviews, but I thought I'd try dropping by the hospital later on this afternoon if that's all right with you.'

'Please,' Marianne said. 'That would be great. I'd really like to see you. So would Jeff.'

Something in Marianne's tone bothered Joanna-something she couldn't quite put her finger on. 'Esther is all right, isn't she?' she asked.

'Yes,' Marianne replied, her voice cracking. 'At least I think so.'

'What's wrong, then?'

'That's just it. I don't know. Maybe I'm just tired. We were here all night long. Neither one of us has had any sleep…'

'No, Mari,' Joanna countered. 'It's more than that.' A long silence filled the phone. 'What is it?' she urged. 'Tell me.'

Marianne took a deep breath. 'You remember that night Andy was here in the hospital?' she said at last.

Joanna remembered every bit of it. Too well. 'Yes,' she said.

'Remember when you told me you were trying to pray, but you couldn't remember the words?'

That moment was still crystal clear in Joanna's heart and memory, as if it had happened mere minutes ago. She squeezed her eyes shut against a sudden film of tears that threatened to blind her.

“You told me that it didn't matter,' Joanna said. 'You told me that trying to remember the words was good enough because God knew what I meant. And then you offered to pray for me.'