Paradise Lost

Yolanda Ortiz Canedo was one of two female jailers employed by the Cochise County jail. Only a month earlier, the young mother with two children in elementary school had been diag­nosed with cervical cancer. She had undergone surgery at University Medical Center in Tucson and was now involved in chemo­therapy.

“How is she?”

“Not well,” Eva Lou said. “Her mother says Yolanda’s back in the hospital. She’s having a bad reaction to the chemo. Olga didn’t come right out and say so, but I think she was hoping you might try to stop by the hospital.”

University Hospital was where Andy had been taken after being shot. It was also where he had died. It was one of the places Joanna Brady would cheerfully never have set foot in again. “I’ll try,” she said. “Maybe Butch and I can stop by there on our way back down tonight.”

“After the wedding? You’re planning to come back home tonight?”

“The wedding is late in the afternoon. I was thinking if we left at seven, maybe ...”

“Joanna,” Eva Lou said kindly. “You didn’t ask my advice, but I’m giving it too you all the same. Tomorrow’s Memorial Day, a holiday. You’ve made arrangements for the department to be cov­ered, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And we’re here to take care of Jenny and the ranch, right?”

“Right.”

“Then give yourself and that new husband of yours a break. Spend the time with him.”

Jim Bob returned to the kitchen just then. He looked from his wife’s face to Joanna’s. “What’s up?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Just girl talk,” Eva Lou said with a smile as she handed him a cup of coffee. “Now sit down and eat before it gets cold.”

An hour later, Joanna was standing at the front desk of the Copper Queen Hotel. “I’m sorry.” The morning desk clerk was responding to Joanna’s request that he ring room 19. “Ms. MacFerson has asked that she not be disturbed.”

“But I’m here to take her back to Phoenix,” Joanna objected.

“There must be some mistake then,” he replied, riffling through the file of registration cards. “Ms. MacFerson has extended her stay for two and possibly three days.”

“Really,” Joanna said. “I believe I’ll go check on that. Since I’m the one who’s responsible for bringing her to town, I’m also the one who’s responsible for getting her back home.” With that, Joanna strode across the lobby and started up the carpeted stairway.

“Please, Sheriff Brady,” the clerk pleaded. “You shouldn’t ...”

By the time he completed his sentence, Joanna was out of earshot. At the door to room 19, Joanna took one look at the DO NOT DISTURB sign hanging from the doorknob and then knocked anyway. “Housekeeping,” she called.

“Housekeeping!” Maggie MacFerson croaked. “At this ungodly hour? What the hell kind of place is this, anyway?”

Remembering the bandages that had turned both of Maggie’s hands into useless fists, Joanna guessed correctly that she wouldn’t have locked the door.

“Oh, it’s you,” Maggie said, when Joanna let herself into the room. Maggie was still in bed, groaning and cradling her bandaged hands. “I told them I wasn’t to be disturbed. I finally managed to get some sleep, but now my hands hurt like hell.”

“Sorry to disturb you, but I thought I was taking you back to Phoenix this morning,” Joanna said.

“I changed my mind. I’m a reporter, remember?” Maggie replied. “There’s a story here, and the Reporter’s sending a team to cover it. I’m part of that team. I’m an investigative reporter, Sheriff Brady, which means I’m used to asking tough questions and getting answers. Which reminds me. I happen to have one of those ques­tions for you.”

“Like what?” Joanna asked.