Joanna recognized Clarence O’Dwyer at once from the jagged scar that ran down one side of his face, a remnant of a barroom brawl in which younger brother Billy had attacked his older sibling with the business end of a broken Budweiser bottle. Both brothers had been hauled into the county jail. The sutures to stitch Clarence’s face back together-all fifteen of them-had been done at sheriff’s department expense. She also noted the wooden butt of a rifle sticking out of a scabbard next to the man’s knee.
I wonder if this vest would stop a 30-06 slug at close range? she thought as she stepped forward to answer his question.
“Good afternoon, Mr. O’Dwyer,” she said. “We’re here investigating the attempted homicide of one of my officers around midnight last night. She was here investigating a complaint about a possible dogfighting ring. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“Screw you!” Clarence said.
Somebody already did that, she felt like saying, but this was no time for tasteless jokes. “Do you know anything about it?” Joanna persisted.
“I don’t know nothin‘,” Clarence growled. “Now get off my land!”
“We’re well outside the fence line, which means we’re all in the public right-of-way,” she said. “It also means that we won’t be leaving until we’re good and ready or until we’re done, whichever comes first.”
In reply, Clarence flashed her a one-finger salute. Then he ground his gearshift into reverse and tore off back down the hill.
“Same to you, buddy,” Joanna whispered under her breath. “Have a nice day.”
Chapter 11
Joanna was still at the crime scene when Dr. Waller reached her. “Sheriff Brady,” he began. “I can’t imagine what you were thinking. You put me and the hospital in a terrible position!”
“Me?” Joanna asked innocently, but of course she knew exactly what was coming.
“When a woman claiming to be Jeannine Phillips’s mother showed up late this morning and when she asked that we process a rape kit, I assumed she was legitimate-that you or one of your officers had actually made a next-of-kin notification. Imagine my surprise this afternoon, during rounds, when there was a near brawl in the ICU waiting room between two women, both of whom said Ms. Phillips was her daughter. The one had come all the way from Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. She only found out her daughter was hospitalized because a friend from Tucson called to check on her after seeing Ms. Phillips’s name on the local news.”
“How do you suppose such a thing happened?” Joanna returned. As she said the words, though, she was thinking about how the raised voices of two very angry women would have sounded in the hushed gloom of the ICU waiting room. And had the battle escalated to more than voices, Joanna suspected Millicent Ross would have been quite capable of physically defending herself.
“Right,” Dr. Waller said sarcastically. “I’m sure you can’t. And since the rape kit was illegally obtained, I’m not at all sure the results will stand up in court.”
Joanna felt a sudden chill. “So she was raped then?”
“Your name isn’t on the approved notification list.” Dr. Waller’s reply was crisp. “Privacy rules preclude me from giving you any information concerning her condition. Once I realized that we were dealing with an impostor, I would have thrown the woman out altogether, but it happened that Jeannine had regained consciousness enough by then to make her wishes known. So the fake mother is now on the official visitors and notification list. As for the real mother? She bitched me out three ways to Sunday. I finally had to have security escort her out of the building.”
Dr. Waller was pissed, and he was calling to do his own bitching-out. If he expected Joanna to repent her actions, his words failed to have their intended effect. Jeannine Phillips had been raped by her assailants. Knowing that left Joanna sick at heart, but at least Millicent Ross was now cleared to be there with Jeannine rather than the parents who had betrayed her time and again. In the face of Jeannine’s otherwise dire circumstances, at least that one small thing had gone right, but Joanna could hardly blame Dr. Waller for his entirely righteous anger.
“I’m sorry for all the confusion,” Joanna said. It was all the apology she could muster.
“No, you’re not,” Waller returned and slammed the phone down in her ear. Joanna didn’t blame him for needing to have the last word. She deserved it.
Frank had been standing there hanging on every word of the conversation. “She was raped?” he asked when Joanna flipped her cell phone shut.
Joanna nodded grimly.
“If they did a rape kit, we’ll have DNA evidence,” Frank said.
Joanna didn’t respond to that. She didn’t want to acknowledge that evidence from the rape kit might not be admissible, but it would still give them information they could use in the investigation to verify possible evidence they might collect in some other fashion.
“But is she going to make it?” Frank continued.
“No word on that,” Joanna returned. “At least not from the doctor.”
In the course of the next hour or so, she tried to reach Millicent Ross several times but never got through. Joanna finally left the crime scene and dragged her weary butt into the house at 10 p.m. Everyone else seemed to be in bed. Two pieces of somewhat bedraggled pepperoni pizza had been left out for her on the kitchen counter. She downed them gratefully. If indigestion visited her again tonight, so be it.
In the bedroom, Butch was asleep with the light on and with a book plastered to his nose. Once she was undressed, she removed the book, put it on the nightstand, and doused the light. When she got into bed, Butch stirred.
“You’re home,” he said. “Are things okay?”
“Not really,” she said. “We still don’t know if Jeannine’s going to make it, and it turns out she was raped.”
“I’m sorry,” Butch mumbled sleepily. “What about you? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said, although she didn’t feel fine. “All I need is a decent night’s sleep.”
But a good night’s sleep wasn’t in the cards. She had to get up three different times overnight, and each time she came back to bed she lay awake for an hour or so agonizing over what was going on at work. When she finally awoke the next morning, she could tell it was late by the way the sun was shining into the bedroom. When she looked at the clock, she was astonished to see it was already after eight.
After showering and dressing, she went looking for Butch and found him in the kitchen at his computer. “Why did you let me oversleep?” she demanded.
“Because you obviously needed it,” he returned. “You were snoring up a storm when I got out of bed. I called Frank and told him you’d be late. He said not to rush, so sit down and have your tea. I can have your breakfast ready in five.”
Glad for the temporary respite, Joanna did as she was told. “Where are your parents?” she asked.
“I asked Jenny for some help, and she sweet-talked them into taking her to school,” Butch answered. “That way I have a few minutes to work, and you can make it through the morning without any of my mother’s dogcatcher comments.”
Joanna tasted her apricot-flavored tea. It was heavenly. Butch pushed his computer aside and then went over to the stove. “What would you like?”
The question made Joanna smile. “You still sound like a short-order cook,” she said.
“I am a short-order cook,” he returned. “Eggs, bacon, toast?”
“Sounds wonderful,” Joanna said, and took another sip of tea. “So your mother was still off on her dogcatcher tangent this morning?”
“In spades,” Butch said. “Especially after Jim Bob called.”
“What did he have to say?”
“He wanted me to tell you that he and Eva Lou would be back at the pound today and for as long as you need them. He also said you shouldn’t worry, that Eva Lou and the python are getting along just fine.” Butch paused long enough to crack a pair of eggs into a skillet. “Which causes me to ask,” he added, “what python? I don’t remember anyone mentioning that Animal Control had picked up a stray python. I thought they mostly did dogs and cats.”