Leann Sweeney - Pushing Up Bluebonnets

Indeed, JoLynn seemed too stunned to speak, but Cooper had obviously gotten Kate's message, because he said, "I didn't mean to upset you. But we found his fingerprints. . . . Well, we know he had his hands on your car."

Then fear overwhelmed her shock. "Where is he? Did you tell him I was in the hospital? Did—"

"Shhh," Kate said, taking JoLynn's hand. "He can't get to you. You're completely safe."

But JoLynn's eyes were darting everywhere. "You don't know him. He found me once and he'll find me again."

This time Cooper's tone was gentle when he said, "He's dead, JoLynn. He can never hurt you again. But we need your help finding out who killed him."

"Dead?" She looked at Kate. "Is that true?"

Kate nodded.

"We know all about his illegal business," Cooper said. "A man like that had to have some serious enemies. Can you give us any names?"

JoLynn lifted her free hand to her forehead, a hand still swollen and scraped raw along the pinkie side. "Enemies? I thought I was his enemy."

Cooper looked disappointed, but egad, the kid probably still had major brain fog after her near-death experience.

Maybe we should test her more-recent memory. I said, "We know Kent was on the Richter property recently, since he managed to mess with your car. You never had a hint he was lurking around? No hang-up calls, no sense you were being watched or followed?"

"Hang-up calls? No . . . oh my God." Her hand went to her lips. "I remember now. He called me that night. That's why I left the house. That's why I was in the car. Oh my God."

Kate squeezed her hand. "You remember. That's good. And now you need to remember he can never do that again."

Cooper looked down at JoLynn. "I've already got permission from Mr. Richter to get the ranch phone records. Now that we know Dugan called you and you left in a panic, he could have called other times. Maybe he even asked for Elizabeth."

And if so, I thought, that would bring the family into play, perhaps provide a connection between someone at the Richter ranch—someone other than JoLynn—and Kent Dugan.

Cooper was about to say something else, but Super Nurse Maxine Norman busted into the room like a rhinoceros, pulling Henry along by the hand. "Mr. Richter told me how many people were in here. You may have his consent to torture this poor young woman with your questions, but you don't have mine. Henry, get them all out."

Henry stood behind her and rolled his eyes.

"No problem. We're leaving," I said.

"They can stay, Maxine. Really, it's okay," JoLynn said.

But JoLynn was obviously exhausted and in pain.

Kate stood. "I agree with—" She squinted at the name tag pinned to Norman's olive-colored scrub top. "I agree with Nurse Norman. We can come back another time."

Norman said, "I know these other two clowns, but who are you?"

She smiled sweetly. "Dr. Kate Rose, a clinical psychologist consulting on this case at Mr. Richter's request. Can we call you about when might be a good time to visit JoLynn again?"

Kate's manner, which included her willingness to consult with Norman first, had an amazing effect.

Norman actually cracked a smile. "Our baby doll is doing much better. Just let my patient get more pain medicine in her system and a little rest and she'll be fine. Y'all can come back tomorrow."

Kate, you're a damn genius, I thought as we filed out of the room.

Back at my house after the hospital visit, Cooper and Kate huddled together and worked on some kind of todo list concerning the case—which probably included pressuring the phone company to release the requested information on the landline at Magnolia Ranch. I knew this because Cooper grumbled all the way to my place about how slow they'd been to cooperate.

I hadn't heard from DeShay about getting in touch with Officer Shauna Anthony and was about to search for her on Switchboard.com when Jeff called. He said he e-mailed me the completed police sketch, since he and Doris wouldn't be by the house until later tonight. Doris had her Saturday chores to do—things like laundry and cleaning her room. Jeff always spent time alone with Doris on his weekends off, and not out of guilt, like when he'd first brought her to live with him. He loved her, wanted to care for her. And that made me think of Elliott Richter. Same story, different version.

I hung up and hurried to my computer. I opened the e-mail attachment and printed out a few copies of the police-artist sketch, once again amazed at the picture. Unfortunately, this man's face was seared into my brain now and something else was going on in my head. This face bothered me and not only because of what he'd done. What was it?

I heard the ding indicating another e-mail message was coming through—a brief one from DeShay. "Going into autopsy, here's what you need."

It was Officer Anthony's phone number and address. I phoned her right away and told her who I was and what I needed. She preferred we meet in person to discuss an old case. She told me, "People want to e-mail and yak on their cell phones all day long, but I never liked that when I was working. Face-to-face is my way. Besides, I can speak to you much more coherently that way. I have some concentration problems. You'll understand when you get here."

She gave me directions and I left my office. In the living room, Kate and Cooper were deep in conversation.

I cleared my throat and they both looked my way. "Officer Anthony wants to meet in person. Cooper, you want to come along?"

"Not a good time, Abby. I finally found someone who could make things happen at the phone company. She promised to e-mail the Richter phone records to your computer. Take good notes, though."

Did the man not notice in the last week that I'm not the one walking around with a notebook in my pocket? But maybe he wasn't noticing anything but Kate right now, and waiting on those phone records was a great excuse to hang around her. No problem there. Not at all. I was happy to leave them alone.

After the events of this past week, I sure didn't want to be tailed. Staying away from the freeways made rearview paranoia far less stressful—far fewer cars to deal with. The drive to Anthony's retirement community—a gated neighborhood west of the 610 Loop, with welltended lawns and small brick homes—took a good thirty minutes longer than it might have.

I navigated the treelined road that wound around a golf course and passed the community pool. Since it was close to six p.m., and the hottest part of the day was over, the chaise lounges and umbrella tables were filled with men and women who'd probably saved their pen nies to live here among the pines. No one looked under sixty.

That's why I was surprised when Shauna Anthony answered the door, supported by a cane. This woman couldn't be older than late forties, early fifties.

"Abby Rose," I said. "Thank you so much for seeing me right away."

The woman's skin told me she was black and yet her beautiful dark eyes indicated she might have Asian blood, too. And then I noticed a golden retriever sitting like a statue behind her.

"Aren't you a pretty young thing?" Shauna said. "I would have come to you, but I don't drive much anymore. Come in and meet Oliver."

But Oliver's concern was for his mistress, not meeting a stranger. Shauna hobbled around to face the other direction and the dog was close by her side as she slowly made her way through the tile foyer to a living room beyond. I passed a riding scooter, much nicer than what I was used to seeing in the supermarkets. I remembered Penny mentioning health issues. Looked like they were pretty big ones.

Two brocade wing chairs flanked a low, round oak table. A tray with a pitcher of iced tea and two glasses sat there along with a floral china dish of shortbread cookies. Slices of lemon gleamed in the sweating pitcher, and a bowl of sugar and spoons completed this welcome.