J. Jance - Desert Heat

“No. Nothing.”

“You got in the truck?” McFadden asked. Joanna nodded. “Did you touch anything?”

“The doors, I guess. And the radio. That’s all I remember touching.”

“I’ll be right back,” McFadden said. He marched away from her and disappeared into the wash. He returned a few minutes later, puffing with exertion.

“I checked the Bronco,” he said. “There’s still a set of keys in the ignition. Are they yours or Andy’s?”

“They must be Andy’s,” Joanna replied. “Mine are right here in my pocket.”

She pulled the heavy key ring from her jacket pocket. It jangled heavily with its collection that included house, work, and car keys as well. Andy had often teased her that her key ring looked like it would have been more at home on a school janitor’s belt rather than in a woman’s purse.

“You say the doors were locked when you got here?”

“Yes. Both of them. Who would do this, Walter?”

“I don’t have any idea, Joanna, but believe me, we’re going to find out.”

“I want to help,” Joanna whispered fiercely.

McFadden looked down at her and shook his head. “You already did enough just getting help here as soon as you did. Your job right now is to be there for Andy. Let us handle it, Joanna. Answer the questions when the detectives get around to talking to you, but other than that, leave well enough alone. He’s one of our own. We’ll take care of it.”

Joanna gazed up at him. “You will, won’t you?”

“Damned right,” McFadden responded. “You’d better believe it.”

Just then a small, frail voice came wafting through the cool desert air. “Mommmmy,” Jennifer called from somewhere back down the road in the direction of the house. “Mommmy, where are you?”

“Dear God in heaven,” Joanna exclaimed.

“It’s Jenny. What in the world is she doing out here?”

“Jenny?” Walter McFadden asked. “Your little girl?”

Joanna nodded. She put down the coffee cup and threw off the blanket that had been wrapped around her legs while McFadden squinted up the darkened roadway. “There she is,” he said, pointing.

Joanna peered into the darkness and caught sight of a small figure running toward them. “She probably saw the lights and came to see what was happening. We’d better head her off.”

With Joanna leading the way, they rushed past the parked Eagle where a confined and miserable Sadie whined and bayed, wanting to go along. When they intercepted Jennifer, she was sobbing and out of breath.

“What happened?” she demanded. “Is it Daddy? Is he all right?”

Joanna gathered the frantic child into her arms. “Hush,” she said. “Stay here. It’s Daddy. They’re working on him right now. We mustn’t disturb them.”

Jennifer struggled hard and tried to get free, but Joanna held her fast. “How’d you get here? Is Grandma coming?”

The child gave up trying to escape and sobbed against her mother’s breast. “No. She sent me to bed so she could watch TV, but I saw the lights and snuck out through the window. I didn’t ask her if I could come. I knew she wouldn’t let me. Is Daddy okay? Is he dead?”

Joanna shook her head. “I don’t know.” Jennifer turned to Walter McFadden. “Do you?” she asked accusingly.

“No, ma’am,” McFadden returned in his soft east Texas drawl. “I don’t know either. You stay here with your mama, and I’ll go back down and see what I can find out.”

Walter McFadden hurried away from them. Jennifer clung more tightly to her mother, and Joanna wrapped the remaining blanket around both of them. Maybe she couldn’t protect her child from anything else, but at least she could ward off the cold.

“What happened?” Jennifer asked. “What happened to Daddy?”

Joanna faltered momentarily before she could answer. “I think somebody shot him.” “Who did, a crook?”

When Andy Brady regaled his fascinated daughter with stories about his work life, the bad guys were always “crooks” or “black hats” and the police officers were always “good guys” or “white hats.”

“Maybe,” Joanna said. “We won’t know that for a while. There’ll be an investigation.”

“But why would someone shoot my Daddy?” Jennifer asked. “Were they mad at him?”

Joanna groped for an answer. “I guess,” she said. “I don’t know why else they’d do such a terrible thing.”

Walter McFadden returned from his intelligence-gathering mission. Joanna turned to him questioningly, but he bent down so his lean, weather-beaten face was on the same level as Jennifer’s.

“Is that your dog over yonder in your Mama’s car?”

Jennifer wiped the tears off her face. “Yes, sir. Her name is Sadie.”

“See that truck over there, the one there by the sign?” Jennifer nodded. “The man driving it is one of my deputies,” McFadden continued, speaking directly to the little girl as though no one else existed. “Do you think you could help your Mama by going with him and taking that Sadie dog of yours back to the house?”

Jennifer stiffened and scrunched closer to her mother. “Why? Where’s my Mom going?”

“They’re about to load your daddy into the ambulance,” Walter McFadden said softly. “They’ll be taking him into the hospital in Bisbee for evaluation. From there he may go by helicopter to Tucson.”

“I want to go, too.”

Walter McFadden shook his head firmly. “No,” he said. “Tonight your Mama’s going to have enough to worry about without having to look after you as well. Did I hear you say your grandmother’s back there at the house?”

“Yes. Grandma Lathrop.”

“Good,” McFadden said. “You stay with your grandmother tonight. Believe me, hospitals are no place for little kids in the middle of the night. In the morning, I’ll come get you myself and take you there.”

Jennifer started to object, and so did Joanna, but she knew Walter McFadden’s assessment was correct. It was going to be a long night of waiting and worrying. She’d be better off alone.

“That’s right, Jennifer,” she said. “You go on back to the house.”

“But I want to help,” Jenny insisted. “I want to be with you.”

“You heard Sheriff McFadden. Taking Sadie back home will be a big help. She can’t stay here in the car all night.”

Meantime the emergency medical technicians had carried Andrew Brady’s stretcher down the wash to a place where the bank wasn’t quite as steep. The ambulance moved down the road and met them where they emerged from the brush.

Once again Jennifer tried to pull away. “I want to go see my Daddy,” she insisted, but Joanna didn’t let go.

“No, Jenny. You can’t.”

Within a matter of seconds the stretcher was loaded into the ambulance and the vehicle pulled away with its siren gearing up to full-pitched howl.

Walter McFadden took Jennifer’s hand and led her toward the pickup. “You know Deputy Galloway, don’t you Jennifer? He’s a good friend of your daddy’s.”

Jenny nodded. “Good,” McFadden continued. “He’s the one who’ll take you and Sadie home. Will that dog of yours bite?”

“No. She’s not mean.”

“Well, let’s go get her then.”

Together the three of them hurried back to the Eagle where Joanna released the imprisoned dog. Sadie was ecstatic to see Jennifer, but she was alsowary of going anywhere near Ken Galloway’s pickup. Only when Jenny finally climbed into the bed of the strange vehicle and called to the dog did Sadie allow herself to be coaxed into it as well. Jennifer grabbed the dog around the neck and held her close.

“I’ll ride here in back with her,” the child announced. “That way she won’t be scared.”