murderer while across the street carefree fans munched popcorn, sipped sodas, and cheered their respective teams. How could both things be happening in such close proximity at the same time? One was so normal and everyday, while the other was so …
Joanna glanced at the clock on the dash. The digital readout said 9:10. Ernie had called from the far side of Tombstone. Joanna had left the house immediately after the call, pausing only long enough to retrieve her weapons and her vest. Even so, Ernie and Denny should be close at hand by now. How many hours ago was it since Joanna had stopped by this house the first time? Then, she had been coming to warn Stella Adams that her father, Ed Mossman, might be dangerous-that he might pose a danger to his surviving children.
In the space of a few hours’ time, that whole situation had changed. Now Stella was the one who seemed to pose the danger and it was her son, Nathan, who would need protection-maybe not from his mother but from the awful truth of his own squalid heritage. Who would break that ugly news to him? Probably Denny Adams-the only father Nathan had ever known.
The radio crackled to life. “Sheriff Brady?”
Joanna picked up the mike and thumbed it. “I’m here, Tica,” she said. “What is it?”
“City of Bisbee has reported finding Ed Mossman’s Taurus.”
“Where?”
“Up at the far end of Tombstone Canyon, where the old road goes up over the Divide.”
‘Any sign of Mossman?” Joanna asked.
“I’m afraid so,” Tica replied. “The officer reported what looked like blood dripping from the trunk. They popped it and found the body of a white male, fifty to sixty years of age, shot in
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the chest at close range. Mossman’s driver’s license was in the guy’s wallet, so we’re assuming that’s who it is. Bisbee PD is wondering if we have anyone who could do a positive ID.”
Stella strikes again, Joanna thought. She started to say, “I suppose I could, but-“
But Tica continued. “They also found two trash bags filled with what appears to be women’s bloodstained clothing.”
“Most likely Pam Davis and Carmen Ortega’s,” Joanna breathed.
“That’s what City of Bisbee is assuming.”
“All right, then,” Joanna said. “I’m waiting for Ernie Carpenter, but as soon as-“
She broke off in mid sentence as a yellow Dodge Ram pickup with a matching yellow camper shell drove slowly past the place where Joanna was parked. The driver peered out at Joanna through a half-open window. If it hadn’t been for the ballpark lights across the street, Joanna never would have been able to make out enough details to recognize Stella Adams’s face.
When Joanna’s eyes met Stella’s, an electric charge of recognition passed between the two women. With a squeal of tires that left a layer of rubber on the pavement, the Dodge sped off, heading south out of town, past what had once been the bus barn and on up the hill. Joanna dropped the mike, turned on the engine, and pulled a U-turn that sent the rear end of the Crown Victoria skidding back and forth across the street.
Only when the in-grille lights were flashing and her siren blaring did Joanna retrieve the mike.
“I’ve spotted suspect Stella Adams,” Joanna reported into the phone. “She’s headed south toward Bisbee Junction in a yellow Dodge Ram pickup with a camper shell. I’m in pursuit, but I’m going to need backup from whoever can get here.”
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Tica said, “Just a minute.”
Driving and unconsciously holding her breath, Joanna felt as though far more than a minute had passed before Tica’s voice returned.
“City of Bisbee has two cars en route. Ernie Carpenter is just coming around the Traffic Circle. Do you have the suspect in view?” Tica asked.
“No, she went up and over the hill while I was turning around. I’m just topping the hill now. No, I still can’t see her. When I saw her last she must have been going close to …”
As the road jogged slightly to the right, Joanna drove into a cloud of dust. When she came out the far side, a pair of glowing headlights slanted up into the air through the dust off to the right of the road.
“Hang on, Tica. I think she rolled it. The pickup is off the road.”
‘Any sign of the driver?”
Joanna peered through the dust. It was clearing enough that she could make out the truck sitting upside down on a berm, its wheels still spinning furiously. Joanna manhandled the Civvie’s spotlight into position and aimed it at the wreckage. The front driver’s door had disappeared completely. The draped remains of a deflated air bag and a seat belt spilled out through the opening and dangled, still swaying, in midair. But there was no sign of life inside the battered cab. Stella had either been thrown free or clambered out once the truck came to rest.
Joanna swung the circle of light back and forth across the ground. She searched with such total concentration that it took her a moment to tune back in to Tica Romero’s voice.
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“Sheriff Brady!” Tica demanded urgently. ‘Are you there? Please respond.”
“I’m here, Tica. I’m okay.”
‘Any sign of the driver?”
