J Jance - Queen of the Night

“I’m sorry about not letting you know in advance,” Lani continued, speaking to her father and motioning Dan to come join them. “This is Daniel Pardee, Dad. Dan. He’s an officer with the Shadow Wolves unit of the Border Patrol. He’s a friend of mine and of Angie’s. Dan, this is my father, Brandon Walker.”

Dan held out his hand. Brandon took it, mumbling a halfhearted “Glad to meet you” as he did so, but he wasn’t really paying attention to the handshake. He was staring after his wife.

As she sat there, kicking her feet for all she was worth, there was an expression on her face that Brandon Walker hadn’t seen in years. The smile he had once loved so much, the one that had gone dormant years ago, was back again. The ghosts were gone. Diana was vibrantly alive.

Between spasms of kicking, Diana beamed down at the little girl. “Hi,” she said cheerfully. “My name’s Diana. What’s yours?”

“Angelina Enos,” Angie said. “My mother calls me Angie.”

“Good,” Diana Ladd Walker said. “That’s what I’ll call you, too.”

Brandon looked at his wife’s shadowless face and then at his daughter’s.

“Well,” he said finally, shaking his head. “I guess I know when I’m licked. Come on, young man,” he added, turning back to Dan. “How about if you and Lani and I go inside and rustle up some grub. You may not be starved, but I know I am.”

Brandon led the way into the house. As he stepped inside, he handed Dan a beach towel from the stack of clean towels piled in a laundry basket parked just inside the patio door. He had no idea about who this half-naked young man was or what his relationship was to Angie or to Lani, but he was there. Lani evidently thought he was okay, so Brandon decided he could just as well follow suit.

“I’m glad you’re here, Lani,” he added, speaking to his daughter and glancing back outside at Diana, still sitting on the edge of the pool and splashing away. “Something’s up with your mother. We need to talk.”

Tucson, Arizona

Sunday, June 7, 2009, 4:33 p.m.

94º Fahrenheit

As far as first impressions go, Dan Pardee and Bozo were on the same page when it came to Brandon Walker. Dan could see that the man had a point-that he wouldn’t be wild about having uninvited strangers making themselves at home on his property, but he could have been a little less confrontational about it.

Before stepping inside, Dan turned back to Bozo and gave him the silent hand signal that released the dog from his earlier command. Without hesitating, Bozo made for the water, dived in, and swam from one end of the lap pool to the other. Bozo was entirely understandable. People? Not so much. Shaking his head and not sure what had just happened, Dan followed Dr. Walker and her father into the house.

Lani (she had told him to call her that, but Dan still thought of her as Dr. Walker) helped herself to sodas from the fridge, keeping one for herself and passing another on to Dan while her father set about taking a selection of foodstuffs out of the pantry and refrigerator and setting them on the counter.

“Enchiladas?” he asked.

Lani nodded. “That sounds wonderful,” she said.

“Now tell me about all this,” he said.

So Lani did. While she and her father bustled around the kitchen, she explained about the four people who had been murdered near Komelik. She told Brandon about how Dan had discovered the crime scene and how he had rescued the child from there-finding Angie, bringing her to the hospital, and then staying with her while they waited for Angie’s relatives to come collect her, relatives who had no intention of doing so.

There was a lot about this conversation that didn’t make much sense to Dan Pardee. Lani had told Dan and Angie earlier about being bitten by ants as a child, but he couldn’t understand how that had made her unacceptable to her birth family. And he found it hard to believe that Delphina Enos could have been Lani’s cousin without Lani’s having any idea about her existence. It was also interesting to see that Brandon Walker was far more understanding about having Angie Enos air-dropped into his family than he was about coming home and finding unauthorized strangers in his swimming pool. That was as contradictory as it was interesting.

Dan also enjoyed watching what he later thought of as the enchilada dance. Lani and her father worked and talked together-chopping, dicing, grating, and stirring-without having to ask any questions and without ever stepping in each other’s way. The batch of enchiladas had just gone into the oven and they had taken seats with Dan at the kitchen table when Brandon Walker glanced in Dan’s direction and then abruptly changed the subject.

“I need to tell you about your mother,” he said to Lani. “I know I should have talked to you and Davy about this before, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. She’s been seeing people, Lani, and carrying on conversations with people who aren’t there.”

“Like Andrew Carlisle?” Lani asked.

Once again, Dan was listening to a conversation-a private but clearly important conversation, but one with big pieces missing. Who the hell was Andrew Carlisle?

“How do you know about that?” Brandon asked. “Did she tell you?”

Lani shook her head. “Gabe Ortiz did.”

Once again Dan was left out of the loop. Who’s Gabe? he wondered, while Brandon shook his head in apparent dismay.

“How did Gabe know?” Brandon asked.

Lani shrugged. “He’s a spooky little kid,” she replied. “He sometimes knows things people don’t expect him to know. But who all are we talking about here besides Andrew Carlisle?”

“Mitch Johnson, her father, her first husband,” Brandon said. “All the bad guys who made Diana’s life a living hell. She didn’t mention any of this to me or to anyone else because she’s scared to death that she’s drifting into some kind of dementia-or maybe even Alzheimer’s.”

To Dan’s surprise, Lani greeted that dire news with what appeared to be a relieved smile. “It’s not Alzheimer’s.” She made the declaration with absolute confidence.

“It’s not?” her father asked.

“Mom’s hallucinating,” Lani said. “For some people hallucinations come along in a much happier context-pink ponies, purple whales, whatever. Mom has lived through some pretty dark times, so it’s not surprising that her hallucinations are darker, too.”

“If it’s not Alzheimer’s or dementia, what’s causing it?” Brandon asked.

“My first guess would be her medications. What is she taking?”

“I’m not sure. I know she’s had trouble sleeping at times. She takes some over-the-counter meds and vitamin supplements. Why?”

“We need to gather up everything she takes, prescription and nonprescription, and get those bottles to a pharmacy. I’m guessing this is some kind of drug interaction.”

“That’s all it is?” Brandon asked.

“It could be all it is,” Lani corrected. “We need to be sure, but if I were a betting woman, I’d be willing to put money on it.”

The relief on Brandon Walker’s face was apparent. “I’ll do that,” he said. “I’ll gather up all the bottles and take them to the pharmacy first thing tomorrow morning.”

The timer went off, announcing it was time to take the enchiladas out of the oven. Brandon had stood up and was reaching for an oven mitt when the phone rang. A moment or two after he answered, he nodded gravely.

“Thanks for calling, Kath. I’m so sorry to hear this. We’ll be right there.”

He took the baking tray of enchiladas out of the oven and set them on the counter, then turned to his daughter. “We’ve gotta go,” he said.

“Why?” Lani asked. “What’s wrong?”