Read Online Skeleton Canyon by J. A. Jance - Free Book Online Page B

systematically brutalizing a group of teenaged undocumented aliens (UDAs) who had been caught crossing the Mexican border just north of San Luis. The four officers had herded the UDAs into a van, driven them just inside the Cabeza Prieta National Wildlife Refuge, and left them there—after first beating the crap out of them and taking their water. No doubt all six of them would have died had they not been found by a feisty Good Samaritan—a spelunking retired schoolteacher from Wooster, Ohio. She had given them water, loaded them into her Jeep Wagoneer, and then carted them off to the nearest hospital.
    In the resulting investigation, the cops had lost their jobs, although none of them actually went to prison. An ensuing flurry of civil lawsuits, shades of California’s Rodney King, had put a big hole in Yuma County’s legal contingency fund.
    “So you’re our local lady sheriff, are you?” Alf said with what was no doubt calculated to be an engaging grin. “Glad to meet you.”
    He held out his hand. Joanna shook it without enthusiasm. “I didn’t know you had moved to Bisbee,” she said.
    “I haven’t exactly,” he returned. “Unless the Bisbee City limits come all the way out here. My wife and I live at the hired help’s compound just a ways back up the road here. Mr. O’Brien was good enough to set aside six mobile homes for those of us who work here, except for Mrs. Vorevkin, the housekeeper. She has a room here at the house.”
    Hastings’s pocket radio squawked to life. As the operations manager walked away to answer his summons in private, Joanna turned to Dick.
    “What’s he doing here?” she asked.
    Voland frowned. “As near as I can tell, he’s probably doing the same thing he was doing before—keeping America safe for Americans, only on a private basis, this time, not a public one.”
    “Have we had any complaints?”
    “Not so far,” Voland answered. “My guess is he’s been keeping a pretty low profile.”
    “Did you tell him we don’t tolerate that kind of behavior around here?”
    “The subject didn’t come up,” Voland said.
    “Never mind,” Joanna said. “I’ll tell him myself the next time I see him. In the meantime, what’s going on? Any word about the girl?”
    At six-four, Chief Deputy Voland towered over Joanna by a whole foot. The top of her head barely grazed the bottom of his chin. For months now, the sheriff had been aware of the possibility that her not-quite-divorced second in command might have a crush on her. Always gruff and blustery in public, his private dealings with Joanna had changed. Too much the professional to say anything directly, his feelings were betrayed by ears that reddened when she spoke to him in private as well as by sudden bouts of his being tongue-tied in her presence.
    As a consequence, in her dealings with Dick Voland, Joanna always found herself walking a tightrope. Because he was in charge of the day-to-day functioning of her department, it was essential that she have a good working relationship with the man. On the other hand, she didn’t want to say or do anything that would encourage him or give him the wrong idea.
    “Nothing much so far,” he said. “Ernie just got here a little while ago. He’s inside talking to the parents. You can go on in, if you want to.”
    “How are the O’Briens holding up?” Joanna asked.
    “About how you’d expect,” Voland answered. “The mother is brokenhearted; the father is pissed. If I were Brianna O’Brien’s daddy,” he added, “I would be, too.”
    As soon as Joanna rang the bell, the O’Briens’ front door was opened by a round-faced red-haired woman who spoke with what sounded to Joanna like a thick Russian accent. “I’m Sheriff Brady,” Joanna said, showing the woman her photo ID and badge. “I’d like to see Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien.”
    “Yes,” the woman said. “Of course. This way, please.”
    Inside, away from the blazing heat, the interior of the air-conditioned