Cold Wind

“Uh-oh,” she said. “I’ve got another call coming in.” Joe could hear the click. “It’s my mother.” There was panic in her tone, which was out of character.

“I better take it,” she said. “What should I tell her, Joe?”

“Tell her that as soon as I can get down off this tower, I’ll be there.”

“As if that will hold her off,” she said. “You know how she is.”

“Do I ever,” Joe said.

He’d scarcely closed his phone when it lit up again. Marybeth.

“Joe,” she said. She was frantic. “She said someone she trusted at the county building just called her in secret to tell her Sheriff McLanahan is sending someone to the ranch now. Not to break the news, but to arrest her! For murder, Joe! They think she had something to do with this.”

Joe was grateful he was secured to the nacelle by the cable, because he suddenly felt lighter than air.

“That’s kind of crazy,” he said, turning away from Newman who was eyeing him closely. He was afraid he might be grinning.

“You don’t sound very . . . upset,” Marybeth said icily.

“I am,” he pleaded. “Really. It’s just . . . McLanahan is nuts. There’s no way a sixty-year-old woman shot the guy, drove him to the wind farm, climbed a two-hundred-fifty-foot tower, hoisted a body to the top, and tied it to a blade. Of course, if any woman was mean enough do such a thing . . .”

“Joe.”

“I’m kidding.”

“This is not the time,” she said, and he realized she was crying.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I feel horrible. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. Joe, despite what she is and what she’s done, she’s my mother. And she’s your daughters’ grandmother. Do you want them to think their grandmother is a murderer, for God’s sake?”

“No.”

“I’ve got to go,” she said, and he could imagine her wiping at her tears angrily so no one could see her crying. Open displays of emotion in front of co-workers wasn’t her style. “Call me when you know something.”

“I will,” Joe said, closing the phone.

“Sounds like you stepped in it,” Newman said.

Before Joe could respond, Deputy Mike Reed’s helmeted head poked through the hatch. He was red-faced and breathing hard. Joe extended his hand and helped Reed up into the nacelle. When Reed could catch his breath, he reached out and put both of his hands on Joe’s shoulders, looked into his eyes, and said, “The sheriff wants your hide, Joe.”

Joe shrugged. “Won’t be the first time.”

Joe had known and worked with Deputy Reed for a number of years. He liked him. Reed was low-key and dedicated, and had managed to stay out of McLanahan’s web of intrigue and influence. He had surprised practically everyone by filing papers to run against the sheriff in the upcoming election. And McLanahan had surprised everyone by not immediately cutting Reed loose from the department.

“I’m surprised he sent you,” Joe said.

Reed chuckled. “He didn’t want to, but he ran out of guys, and he’s too fat anymore to even think about climbing that ladder.”

“Where are his homeboys?” Joe asked. McLanahan had recruited three young deputies who spent most of their time in the weight room or appreciating McLanahan’s original cowboy poetry recitations. Joe had met most of them and saw they aspired to follow in the sheriff’s footsteps, and therefore they were to be treated with caution.

The deputy looked hard at Joe. “I think you know.”

Reed’s radio crackled to life. Because of the proximity to the trucks below, McLanahan’s voice was strong and clear. “Deputy Reed, have you reached the top?”

“Almost, sir,” Reed said, and winked at Joe and Newman.

“Get a move on,” McLanahan ordered.

Reed took a deep breath.

“I’m surprised you’re still around,” Joe said. “But I’m glad you are.”

“He keeps his friends close and his enemies closer,” Reed said. “He wants to be able to keep an eye on me. So,” he said, looking over Joe’s shoulder at the body spinning by, “it’s true then. Earl Alden. This is gonna be a big deal.”

Joe nodded. He filled Reed in on what little he knew, from the missing person’s report to the riderless horse to the climb up the tower with Newman. He pointed out the hoist and the possible smear of blood. The whole time, Reed simply shook his head in disbelief. Then he called down on his radio and repeated the whole thing to the sheriff.

“We’ll need the evidence tech,” Reed said. “There might be some traces, and we might have some blood.”

McLanahan said, “You want me to send Cindy up there? She weighs what, three hundred? How we going to get her up there?”

“I don’t know,” Reed said.