tumbling downward into a fit of hysterics and unstoppable tears. Right that minute, none of those were acceptable options.
As Joanna and Butch emerged from the house, Frank Montoya and Ernie Carpenter met them on the back porch. Concern was written large on both men’s anxious faces. “Are you all right?” Frank asked.
“I’m okay,” Joanna assured him with far more certainty than she felt. “Where’s Dick?”
“Dick Voland?” Frank returned. “He left a few minutes ago. He said he was going to track Reba Singleton down and try to talk to her.”
“You let him walk away just like that?” Joanna demanded. “Did anyone happen to tell him that my Colt Two Thousand is missing from the locked desk in my bedroom? What if an unsuspecting Dick Voland walks right up to Reba Singleton and she blows him to kingdom come?”
“We tried to stop him,” Frank said. “But he wouldn’t listen.”
“Was he wearing a vest?”
Ernie Carpenter shook his head. “I don’t think so. If I remember right, he never much approved of wearing the damned things.”
Joanna glared at the detective. “Sounds like somebody else I know,” she said. “But let’s all remember, Dick Voland is a civilian now. If he’s injured or killed as a result of his involvement in what ought to be a police action, you can bet there’s going to be hell to pay. Our department will be caught in a hail of lawsuits that will take the wind out of our budget for years to come. Let’s go.”
“Go where?” Ernie asked.
“To where this all started,” Joanna replied in exasperation. “And where I’m guessing Reba Singleton means for it to end-to Rhodes Ranch.”
Ernie and Frank immediately turned on their heels and headed for their respective vehicles. “Hey, you two. Don’t leave without me,” Joanna yelled after them. “I’ll catch up in a minute.”
“So will I,” Butch added at once. “I’m coming, too.”
“No, you’re not,” Joanna returned. “You don’t have a weapon, you don’t have a vest, and you don’t have a badge. That means you’re staying here.”
“Like hell-!”
Just then a pair of headlights came careening into the yard. Dodging around the clutch of parked vehicles, it skidded to a stop next to the gate and scattered a team of crime-scene techs who were gathered there assembling their materials.
“Joanna Brady, what on earth is going on?” Eleanor Lathrop demanded. She slammed the car door shut behind her and came tottering up the uneven walkway in a pair of high heels. “We were all just getting ready to leave for our dinner reservation when Eva Lou called and told us something dreadful had happened out here-something about the dogs being poisoned and I don’t know what all else.”
“Sorry, Mom,” Joanna said hurriedly. “I have to go. Ernie Carpenter and Frank Montoya are waiting for me.” Neatly sidestepping her mother’s trajectory, Joanna dashed for the gate, leaving Butch Dixon trapped behind her.
“But what’s going on?” Eleanor Lathrop Winfield insisted.
“Don’t worry,” Joanna called back over her shoulder. “I’m sure Butch will explain everything.”
CHAPTER 25
Not wanting to drive either of the Crown Victorias over such rough terrain, Frank commandeered Deputy Howell’s Bronco for the short trip to Rhodes Ranch. They were crossing the wash when Joanna’s cell phone rang.
“She’s here,” Dick Voland said, as soon as Joanna answered. “She’s here at her father’s place.”
“I figured as much,” Joanna said. “We’re on our way. What’s happening?”
“She’s swinging.”
“She’s what?”
“Swinging. There’s an old rope swing in one of the cottonwoods between the house and the barn. She’s swinging on that.”
“Be careful, Dick,” Joanna warned. “She’s armed. My Colt Two Thousand is missing from the house. I’m guessing she has it somewhere on her person. Have you spoken to her?”
“She doesn’t even know I’m here,” Dick replied. “I turned off my lights driving up the road and hiked in the last few hundred yards. I suggest you do the same.”
“Where are you?”
“Out of sight on the far side of the house.”
“Aren’t you afraid she’ll hear you talking on the phone?”
“Not right now,” Dick replied. “She’s singing at the top of her lungs. If she stops, all bets are off.”
“What’s happening?” Frank asked. “What’s going on?”
Keeping the earpiece glued to her ear, Joanna explained to Frank what she had learned. “Ask him if he’s got a plan,” Frank said when she finished.
“Don’t bother,” Dick said. “I heard that. My only plan right this minute is to wait for reinforcements.”
“What’s she singing?” Joanna asked.
“What do you mean?”
“What song?”
“What the hell does that have to do with the price of tea in China?”
“It might give us some idea of what Reba Singleton’s mental state is right now,” Joanna said. “Listen for a minute and see if you can tell.”
“Sounds like ”When You Wish Upon a Star,“ something like that,” Dick Voland said. “Isn’t that from one of those Walt Disney movies,
“So?”
“I don’t know. What’s she doing now?”
“Still swinging, pumping like mad.”
Joanna picked up the radio and called Dispatch. “Tica, tell Ernie to pull over. We’ll all get out and walk from here. And one more thing. Where’s Detective Carbajal?”
“Over by Pearce with Catherine Yates. You told him he should go there after attending Sandra Ridder’s funeral. At last report, he was still there.”
“Good,” Joanna said. “Glad to hear it.”
Seconds later, Ernie’s Econoline van pulled over to the side of the road. Frank followed suit. While leaving High Lonesome Ranch, Joanna had stopped by her Crown Victoria long enough to pull on a pair of sneakers. Now, as she and Ernie and Frank started up the rocky track to Clayton Rhodes’ place in Mexican Canyon, Joanna was grateful she had done so. She was also thankful that there was enough moonlight so that, once their eyes adjusted to the lack of headlights, the three officers were able to see well enough to walk safely.
Moving along, Joanna couldn’t help but be amazed. In the few minutes since leaving her damaged house and during the ride in Deputy Howell’s Bronco, she had moved beyond the scope of her own personal crisis and slipped back into her role as sheriff. It seemed she couldn’t be both victim and police officer at the same time, and that was just as well.
“Dick is asking how you want to handle this,” Frank asked. While Joanna had been on the radio with Dispatch, Frank Montoya had maintained the cell-phone link with Dick Voland.
“Can he see if she’s holding the weapon?” Joanna asked.
“Negative on that,” Frank answered a little later. “He can’t see it, but she’s wearing a heavy jacket of some kind. It could be concealed in a pocket.”
“I want to try to talk her down,” Joanna said.
“Talk!” Frank exploded. “She’s got your Colt, Joanna, and you want to talk?” Through the phone, she could hear Dick Voland’s angry objections as well.
