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for High Lonesome Ranch that Eleanor had coded into their phone. Jim Bob Brady answered on the third ring. “Hey, Jim Bob, it’s George.”
    “I figured that out by looking at the caller ID.”
    “Hope I didn’t wake you.”
    “Naw,” Jim Bob said. “Eva Lou’s in the bedroom getting ready for bed. I’m sitting here watching Jay Leno. Why? What’s going on?”
    In as few words as possible, George Winfield outlined the problem. “Whoa!” Jim Bob exclaimed once he’d heard the whole story. “Joanna’s going to pitch a fit.”
    “I don’t doubt that,” George agreed.
    “Does she know yet?”
    “Frank will be calling her in a few minutes, but he’s waiting to make sure you’ll go out to Apache Pass and bring Jenny and the other girl home. Otherwise, he’s afraid Joanna will light out of Page and drive all night to get here.”
    “Give me Frank’s number,” Jim Bob said. “As soon as I give him a call, Eva Lou and I will head right out to go get them.”
    “You don’t think Eva Lou will mind?”
    “Good grief, no! When it comes to handling ornery kids, there’s nobody better than Eva Lou.”
    “I’m sure that’s true,” George Winfield agreed. Much as he loved his own wife, he had no doubt that in this kind of crisis Eleanor Lathrop Winfield would be far less help than Jenny’s other grandmother. “See you there,” he added.
    “Will do,” Jim Bob said. “Drive carefully.”
    George put down the phone. Barely breathing, he crept back into the bedroom and retrieved his clothing, wallet, and keys. Despite his caution, the clatter of lifting his keys from the glass-topped dresser was enough to waken his wife.
    “George?” Eleanor asked. “Is that you?”
    “Yes,” he returned. “I’ve been called out on a case. Go back to sleep.”
    “Will you be long?”
    “You know how it goes,” he said. Leaning down, he kissed her lightly on the top of her forehead. “If I’m not home by breakfast, save me a place.”
    “Will do,” she said sleepily. Then she rolled over, sighed, and immediately resumed snoring.
    George stood there feeling that he had somehow dodged a bullet. Only for the time being, of course. Once Eleanor found out about Jenny and the body and the cigarettes and once Eleanor figured out that George had known about the situation without immediately telling her, then there would be hell to pay, but George was used to that. He and his first wife had hardly ever quarreled. In this new life and in his second marriage, he was learning to enjoy his almost daily sparring matches with the perpetually volatile Eleanor. George got a kick out of the daily skirmishes and even more enjoyment out of making tip again afterward.
    Makes life more interesting, George thought to himself as he once again let himself out of the bedroom and silently pulled the door shut behind him. It helps keep us young--or at least not as old as we would be otherwise.
     
    Joanna Brady was asleep and dreaming that she was driving her Blazer across a bone-dry wash bed. Halfway through the wash, the engine stalled. Time and again, Joanna twisted the key in the ignition, but the engine refused to turn over. Hearing a rumbling sound coining from outside, Joanna looked up in time to see a wall of flash-flood-swollen water bearing down on her. She was reaching for the door handle when the phone rang. She grabbed up the receiver of the hotel phone, but still the persistent racket continued. On the second try she located her cell phone.
    “Hello?” she said, without even bothering to check the caller-ID readout as she did so.
    Beside her, Butch rolled over and groaned. “What now?” he muttered.
    “Morning, Boss,” Frank Montoya said. “Sorry to wake you.”
    “What time is it?” Joanna asked.
    “Almost midnight.”
    “What’s up?”
    “A homicide,” Frank replied. “Out in Apache Pass. Jenny and one of her friends, Dora Matthews, discovered the body.”
    Joanna sat straight up in bed. “Jenny?” she