He turned back to Brian. “You’re pretty sure that Jonathan Southard is the guy?”
Brian nodded.
“Any leads on where he went?”
“Since he came here to take out his mother, there’s some concern that his next stop might be Ohio. That’s where his father lives. I spoke to Hank Southard a little while ago. He says there’s some mistake. His son wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Right,” Abernathy said. “That’s what relatives always say.”
Brian had made a stack of copies of Jonathan Southard’s driver’s license photo. Jake Abernathy noticed them for the first time. “What are those?” he asked.
“Copies of Southard’s photo,” Brian said. “I was going to have a deputy take them out to the airport. That way, if he tries to get on a plane, people there will know to keep an eye out for him.”
“Good thinking,” Abernathy said. “Why don’t you do that?”
Why not indeed! Brian thought. He could have refused. He could have told Jake that he should send a deputy instead, but Brian didn’t believe in confrontation for confrontation’s sake. As far as Brian was concerned, a phone call to Homeland Security was probably also in order, just in case Southard was trying to head out of the country, but that was no longer his call to make.
“Sure thing,” he said, tapping the stack of photos. “Glad to be of service. I’ll drop these off on my way home.”
Sonoita, Arizona
Sunday, June 7, 2009, 12:00 p.m.
79? Fahrenheit
It was close to noon when Diana and Brandon left June Holmes’s house. With the summertime sun blazing down on them, Brandon overrode his wife’s veto. He closed the convertible top and turned the AC to high for the ride back to Tucson.
“Did you get what you needed?” Diana asked.
Brandon sighed. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I know what she told me, but I don’t know how much of it to believe. What about you? When you came inside, you looked upset. Are you all right?”
Diana considered his question for some time before she answered it. “No,” she said at last. “I don’t think I’m all right at all.”
Brandon looked at her nervously. “Why?” he asked. “What’s wrong? Are you sick? Do you need to go to the doctor?”
“Because I’m seeing things,” she replied. “I’m seeing people who aren’t there-dead people. I talk to them. They talk to me. They tell me things.”
“What people?”
“Garrison Ladd,” she answered after another long pause. “Andrew Carlisle. My father. All those people from my past that I don’t want to see keep showing up uninvited.”
“How long has this been going on?” Brandon asked.
She noticed that he didn’t try to talk her out of it. He didn’t tell her she was wrong or that she was making things up. Obviously he believed her.
“Several months,” she said. “It started while I was trying to finish the book. It was like they ganged up on me. Is that what happens with Alzheimer’s patients?” she asked. “Is that what happened to your father? Or is this some other kind of dementia? I suppose I should have gone to a doctor, but…”
Her voice trailed away. Even though that was what Brandon had been thinking-what he’d been worried about all along-it took his breath away to have the word spoken aloud like that between them, and he understood all too well why she hadn’t wanted to discuss it with anyone, most especially not with her husband.
“I don’t know,” Brandon said. “I don’t think anybody knows everything about those kinds of issues. They’re complicated and not easily sorted out.”
Diana nodded. “I know how much dealing with your father bothered you, and I don’t want to put you through that kind of thing again. I had been thinking about going out in a blaze of glory-of taking this out for a drive and running it off a cliff somewhere. That’s what my invisible friends all think I should do, but not you. Right?”
“You’re right,” he answered at once. “Not me.” He thought about what she had said then asked, “Is that why you want to sell this?” He patted the Invicta’s steering wheel.
Diana nodded again. “That’s why. I knew you wouldn’t want me to do it. I thought getting rid of the car would get rid of the temptation.”
Brandon Walker took a deep breath. Diana’s mental lapses were exactly what he had feared for days, weeks, and months, but now that they were talking about all this-now that it was out in the open-it didn’t seem so bad. His father and mother had learned to cope. He and Diana would, too.
He reached across the seat and put his hand on Diana’s shoulder. “If that turns out to be what this is, it’s pretty damned grim,” he said. “But I also remember the vow I made-for better or for worse, in sickness and in health. If Alzheimer’s is what worse means, then I’m in for the whole ride and so is the Invicta. Even if I have to hide the keys.”
Diana swallowed hard and nodded. By then nodding silently was all she could do. Her voice was stuck in her throat.
“Even toward the last, when my father barely knew up from down, he loved to go for rides, and that’s what we’re going to do-with the top down whenever possible. You, me, and Damsel-the three of us together. You took care of me when I had bypass surgery, and I’m prepared to do the same for you. Got it?”
“Yes,” she managed.
“We’ll need to talk to the kids,” Brandon went on, taking charge and laying out a plan of action. “We’ll need to let them know what’s been going on and what we’re worried about. Davy can help us deal with the legal ramifications. And now that we’ve got a doctor in the family, maybe Lani can give us some advice on what’s happening these days as far as medications and care are concerned. All right?”
“All right,” Diana agreed.
“In the meantime,” Brandon said, “what are you doing this afternoon?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Why?”
“Then I’d like to invite you and Damned Dog here to take a day trip to Casa Grande. I believe I finally have some answers for Geet Farrell, and I want to give them to him in person.”
Diana turned and looked in the backseat. She was relieved to see that Damsel was there-the dog and no one else.
“They’re gone,” she said. “The people who were here earlier are gone.”
“Good,” Brandon said. “They may come back, but if they do, let me know. You’re not in this alone any longer. They’ll have to deal with me, too.”
The idea of Max Cooper having to deal with Brandon Walker was something Diana had never considered before. For the first time in a long time she smiled and really meant it.
“Thank you,” she said. “Next time I see any of them, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
Tucson, Arizona
Sunday, June 7, 2009, 12:15 p.m.
90? Fahrenheit
Frustrated by being shut out of the investigation but with the photocopied license photo in hand, Brian was just leaving his desk to head home when his phone rang. Megan O’Rourke, Pima County’s chief CSI investigator, was on the line.
“I thought you’d want to know that we did find some brass cartridges,” she said.
“Great,” he said, “but I’ve been moved off the case. You should probably pass that information along to Jake Abernathy.”
“Believe me, God’s gift to women has already let us know that he’s taken charge of the case and also the universe,” Megan said with a laugh. “When I asked him about a related investigation in California, he laughed it off
