“You’re right,” Rarnon added softly a moment later. “I do believe in God, and you do, too.”
Slowly Joanna moved away from the door and returned to the table. Not taking her eyes off Ramon, she sat down across from him. “I am only a sheriff,” she said quietly.
“I’m not with INS or the FBI. I’m not a prosecutor. I can’t make plea bargains, 290
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and I can promise nothing, but if you help us put the animals you work for out of business-if you will tell us what you know and agree to testify if they can be brought to trial-I will do what I can to help you. Do you understand?”
Ramon nodded. “Yes,” he said.
Joanna looked at Frank Montoya. “Talk to the prosecutor’s office,” she said. “Check with Arlee Jones and see who all needs to be here to witness Mr. Sandoval’s statement-in addition to Mr. Sandoval himself and his attorney, that is. Then set it up for tomorrow if at all possible!
“But, Sheriff Brady,” Frank began. “There are all kinds of jurisdictional complications here.”
“You’re good at sorting out complications, Chief Deputy Montoya. You always have been. Does this meet with your approval, Mr. Sandoval?”
“Yes,” Ramon said softly.
“Then you’d better talk with your attorney and clear it with him. If he advises you not to go through with this, or if you change your mind, you’re to notify Mr. Montoya here at once. Do you understand?”
“You have given me your word, and I have given mine,” Ramon Sandoval said. “I will not change my mind.”
As Joanna left the jail to walk back to her office, she was not surprised to notice that the sky had darkened overhead. A stiff, cooling breeze took the edge off the July heat and kicked up puffs of dust devils that danced and jigged across the parking lot. Off in the distance, thunder rumbled. Joanna couldn’t tell if the sudden lift in her spirits came from the possibility of breaking up a major illegal-alien-smuggling syndicate or from the desert dweller’s hard-wired joy at the prospect of coming rain.
Fifteen minutes later Joanna was back at her desk when Ernie 292
Carpenter once again appeared in her doorway. “How the hell did you pull that one off?” he demanded morosely. “Here we busted our butts to get all those UDA interviews, and you never even bothered to mention them.”
“Didn’t have to,” Joanna said. ‘All I had to do was let him know God was on our side.
Once Sandoval understood that, he knuckled right under.”
“Whatever gave you the idea that God was on our side?” Ernie asked.
Sheriff Brady looked at her detective and grinned. “She told me so Herself,” Joanna said.
“Right,” Ernie Carpenter returned, shaking his head. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I!” He was still shaking his head and muttering under his breath as he turned to walk away.
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You’re looking chipper,” Frank Montoya said the next morning as he entered Joanna’s office for the daily briefing, which would include the previous day’s skipped briefing as well.
It helped that Joanna had gotten a decent night’s sleep for a change. She had come home to find Butch and Jenny both excited about the prospect of a publisher’s making him an offer on Serve and Protect. That good news, combined with a nice dinner and a rainstorm pounding down on the roof, had made for a restful night’s sleep. And once again this morning’s nausea hadn’t been quite as rough as that on previous days.
“I’m feeling half-human for a change,” Joanna replied with a smile. “Which reminds me, I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon at two for my first prenatal checkup.
You’ll be here, won’t you?”
“Sure will,” Frank said. “But I’ll be busy. One o’clock is when 294
the Sandoval meeting is scheduled to take place. That’s the soonest I could gather everyone together.”
“Where will you hold it?” Joanna asked.
“The conference room here,” Frank answered. “There are too many people coming for them to all fit in the interview room at the jail.”
“Have you talked to Sandoval’s attorney?”
“Twice,” Frank said. “Her name’s Amy Templeton. I suggested she have Sandoval show up dressed the same way he would if he was going to court rather than in his jail jumpsuit. I also suggested that they ditch the translation pretense. Sandoval’s English is fine, and dealing with a translator may wind up pissing off some of the people he needs to have in his corner. That’s what I told her, but I probably didn’t need to. She says her firm is already working on the details of a deal for Sandoval. She expects to have it pulled together in time for this afternoon’s meeting.”
“What firm?” Joanna asked.
“Gabriel Gomez, down in Douglas.”
