older man using soft, placating words while he argued with a visibly angry red-haired woman who seemed ready to tear him apart.
“Look, Joanna, I know this is hard on you. Suicide’s always hell for whoever’s left trying to pick up the pieces.”
Joanna’s voice dropped a full octave.
“You’re not listening to me, Walter.”
Of all the people in the room, only Jenny knew enough to be wary. Experience had taught her that when her mother’s voice fell that low in pitch, something was bound to happen.
“Somebody tried to murder my husband,” Joanna continued. “I want you and the rest of your goddamned department to find out who did it.”
Oblivious to the danger signals, Walter McFadden raised both his hands. “Look, little lady, I don’t know what . . .”
He never finished the sentence. With a lightning grasp, Joanna’s hand lashed out, grabbed his outstretched thumb, and forced it back into his wrist. Searing pain from the nerve shot up his arm. Without knowing quite how it happened, Sheriff Walter McFadden found himself down on one knee in the middle of the room with Joanna Brady standing over him.
“Don’t you ever ‘little lady’ me again, Sheriff McFadden,” she hissed. “And don’t tell me to shut up and mind my own business, either. This is my business. Somebody tried to kill my husband last night. According to the doctor, whoever it was did a pretty damn thorough job of it, too. Liver damage, intestinal damage. Even if Andy lives, he may be paralyzed from the waist down.”
She let go of McFadden’s thumb and stepped back two paces before turning her back on him and walking away. One of the men in the room made as if to come help him get back up, but McFadden motioned him aside. “I’m all right,” he grunted sheepishly. “Let me be.”
With both knees cracking in protest, the sheriff of Cochise County lurched to his feet. No one had ever done that to him before, and the fact that a little slip of a woman had tumbled him like a tippy-toy galled him down to the toes of his snakeskin boots. More curious than angry, he hobbled after Joanna. “How in the hell did you do that?”
She spun around and faced him again. “I’m warning you, Walter, don’t close the book on this case without finding out who did it.”
“Joanna, be reasonable,” he countered, testing his thumb, trying to determine if it was broken. Despite the fact that it hurt like hell, it was probably only sprained.
“Reasonable!” she stormed. “My husband’s in there dying, and you expect me to be reasonable? I can outshoot half the men in your department. My dad and my husband both saw to that. And I can handle myself, too. It’s your job to find out who attacked my husband, but if you don’t solve this thing, I will.”
Just then Jennifer escaped Marianne Maculyea’s clutches. She rushed over to where Joanna and McFadden stood in nose-to-nose confrontation. The child’s face was beaming. “Mom, that was great. It worked just like you said it would.” She turned to Walter Mc-Fadden. “Mommy taught me how to do it, too. Want me to show you?”
Jennifer’s unexpected interruption took the edge off the situation, although it didn’t defuse it completely. In spite of himself, Mc-Fadden smiled down at the child. “No thanks,” he said. “Not right now, but do me a favor, Jennifer. Go get that box off the table for me, would you?”
While she did as he asked, McFadden turned back to Joanna. “If I were in your place, I’d probably be mad as hell, too. I don’t blame you, Joanna, not a bit, but in the end you’re going to have to leave the investigation to the professionals.”
“And take your word for it?”
“Yes,” Walter McFadden said. “That, too.” Jenny walked up to them with the box in hand. “Is it a present?” she asked.
“I think so,” McFadden nodded, “an anniversary present from your dad for your mother.”
Jennifer held out the package, but Joanna made no move to take
“Look, Joanna, I know this is hard on you. Suicide’s always hell for whoever’s left trying to pick up the pieces.”
Joanna’s voice dropped a full octave.
“You’re not listening to me, Walter.”
Of all the people in the room, only Jenny knew enough to be wary. Experience had taught her that when her mother’s voice fell that low in pitch, something was bound to happen.
“Somebody tried to murder my husband,” Joanna continued. “I want you and the rest of your goddamned department to find out who did it.”
Oblivious to the danger signals, Walter McFadden raised both his hands. “Look, little lady, I don’t know what . . .”
He never finished the sentence. With a lightning grasp, Joanna’s hand lashed out, grabbed his outstretched thumb, and forced it back into his wrist. Searing pain from the nerve shot up his arm. Without knowing quite how it happened, Sheriff Walter McFadden found himself down on one knee in the middle of the room with Joanna Brady standing over him.
“Don’t you ever ‘little lady’ me again, Sheriff McFadden,” she hissed. “And don’t tell me to shut up and mind my own business, either. This is my business. Somebody tried to kill my husband last night. According to the doctor, whoever it was did a pretty damn thorough job of it, too. Liver damage, intestinal damage. Even if Andy lives, he may be paralyzed from the waist down.”
She let go of McFadden’s thumb and stepped back two paces before turning her back on him and walking away. One of the men in the room made as if to come help him get back up, but McFadden motioned him aside. “I’m all right,” he grunted sheepishly. “Let me be.”
With both knees cracking in protest, the sheriff of Cochise County lurched to his feet. No one had ever done that to him before, and the fact that a little slip of a woman had tumbled him like a tippy-toy galled him down to the toes of his snakeskin boots. More curious than angry, he hobbled after Joanna. “How in the hell did you do that?”
She spun around and faced him again. “I’m warning you, Walter, don’t close the book on this case without finding out who did it.”
“Joanna, be reasonable,” he countered, testing his thumb, trying to determine if it was broken. Despite the fact that it hurt like hell, it was probably only sprained.
“Reasonable!” she stormed. “My husband’s in there dying, and you expect me to be reasonable? I can outshoot half the men in your department. My dad and my husband both saw to that. And I can handle myself, too. It’s your job to find out who attacked my husband, but if you don’t solve this thing, I will.”
Just then Jennifer escaped Marianne Maculyea’s clutches. She rushed over to where Joanna and McFadden stood in nose-to-nose confrontation. The child’s face was beaming. “Mom, that was great. It worked just like you said it would.” She turned to Walter Mc-Fadden. “Mommy taught me how to do it, too. Want me to show you?”
Jennifer’s unexpected interruption took the edge off the situation, although it didn’t defuse it completely. In spite of himself, Mc-Fadden smiled down at the child. “No thanks,” he said. “Not right now, but do me a favor, Jennifer. Go get that box off the table for me, would you?”
While she did as he asked, McFadden turned back to Joanna. “If I were in your place, I’d probably be mad as hell, too. I don’t blame you, Joanna, not a bit, but in the end you’re going to have to leave the investigation to the professionals.”
“And take your word for it?”
“Yes,” Walter McFadden said. “That, too.” Jenny walked up to them with the box in hand. “Is it a present?” she asked.
“I think so,” McFadden nodded, “an anniversary present from your dad for your mother.”
Jennifer held out the package, but Joanna made no move to take
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