“How badly is he hurt?”
“The foot took a lot of damage. Your bullet nailed him right in the ankle. I don’t think he’s going to be walking on it anytime soon. Good shot, by the way.”
Joanna gave Frank a wan smile. “Thanks,” she said. “It was the best I could do under the circumstances.”
When they reached the Yukon, Deputy Thomas, with the sweat stains drying on his collar, stood to one side, keeping a wary eye on Antonio Zavala.
“Good job, Rick,” Joanna said, stopping long enough to shake his hand. “And great driving.”
Thomas nodded modestly, acknowledging her compliment.
“Did Frank tell you that we’ll both have to be interviewed by DPS? It’ll be a third-party deadly force investigation.”
“What choice did you have?” Thomas objected. “What were we supposed to do, let him grab the kid and run off with her?”
“Welcome to the world of post-incident second-guessing, Deputy Thomas,” she told him. “Just tell the investigators what happened. It’ll be fine.”
Having done her best to reassure her young deputy, Joanna went over to the Yukon and pulled open the back door. Antonio Zavala had been quiet for several minutes, but as soon as he saw her, he resumed his tirade.
“I want a lawyer!” he demanded. “You shot me with no warning, and it hurts like hell. That’s police brutality.”
“What kind of warning did you give the people you shot?” she asked.
Zavala quieted again. He answered her question with nothing but a hard-edged stare.
“How badly do you suppose they hurt before they died?”
Again Zavala didn’t answer her question. Instead, he asked one of his own. “Why am I just sitting here? Aren’t you supposed to be taking me to a hospital or something? Are you just going to leave me here to bleed to death?”
“Believe me,” Joanna said, “I wouldn’t be that lucky. I’ve called for an ambulance, and it’ll get here when it gets here. But what’s the matter, Tony? You can’t stand a little pain or the sight of blood? When it comes to beating up women and committing murder and terrorizing little kids, you’re a regular tough guy. But a little pain turns you into a crybaby? A cool macho dude like you should be ashamed of yourself. Now tell me, why’d you do it?”
“Why’d I do what?” he retorted belligerently. “I don’t have to tell you nothing. I know my rights. I already asked for a lawyer.”
“And you’ll have a lawyer, but in the meantime, let me tell you something,” Joanna said. “You beat up my officer Jeannine Phillips because you thought you could get away with it. And you murdered Lupe because she decided she could do better than hang around with a loser like you. Poor Lupe. Clarence and Billy O’Dwyer weren’t much, but they must have looked like giants compared to a punk like you. And so you murdered all three of them in cold blood-Lupe and Billy and Clarence, too.”
“You can’t prove that.”
“Oh, we’ll prove it all right,” Joanna returned. “I just have one problem with you, Mr. Zavala. I only shot you in the foot. I wish to hell I’d hit you someplace vital, because dirtbags like you aren’t worth the time or money it’s going to take to sew you back up or put you away for the rest of your useless life!”
With that, she turned away from the Yukon and slammed the door shut behind her. Frank Montoya caught up with her as she walked away. “With DPS due here any minute,” he cautioned, “you might want to downplay those kinds of inflammatory comments.”
“What?” Joanna demanded. “Calling a dirtbag a dirtbag?”
“No. Saying you wish you’d killed him. Zavala’s already screaming police brutality and asking for a lawyer. Claims you shot him with no warning.”
Joanna was outraged. “So what? He’s a triple murderer who was trying to drag a screaming kid out of a car so he could use her as a hostage. I’m supposed to handle him with kid gloves and observe all the politically correct niceties? Give me a break.”
“Still…” Frank began.
Just then Debbie Howell arrived with the children’s tearful mother in tow. After gathering Hannah and Abel into a grateful hug and kissing them, Chantal Little turned to Joanna.
“Are you the one who rescued them?” she asked.
Joanna nodded. “I’m Sheriff Brady. Deputy Thomas here and I were the ones on the scene, but believe me, little Hannah was doing her very best to save herself.”
Chantal put down the children. She enveloped first Deputy Thomas and then Joanna in impassioned hugs. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she said tearfully.
“You already did,” Joanna told her. “Believe me, the look on your face is thanks enough.”
The next several hours flew past in a blur of activity. By the time the ambulance arrived to transport Antonio Zavala, it had to make its way through a throng of media cams which had appeared out of nowhere and now lined both sides of Mescal Road. Joanna dealt with the EMTs, who overrode Joanna’s Copper Queen Hospital call, telling her that, due to the nature of Zavala’s injuries, they had no choice but to transport him to University Medical Center. Since Jeannine Phillips was in that same facility, Joanna immediately started making arrangements to post a twenty-four-hour guard on Antonio Zavala’s room there.
While Frank handled multiplying media concerns, Debbie Howell and Jaime Carbajal took statements from both Chantal Little and her children. Eventually the two detectives left-Jaime to return to the crime scene at Roostercomb Ranch and Debbie to go to Tucson to make a next-of-kin notification to Lupe Melendez’s family.
Through all this two DPS investigators were also on the scene. Detectives Dave Newton and Roger Unger needed to take their own statements from Chantal and the children. They also took possession of the semiautomatic rifle Joanna had used during the incident and then painstakingly searched and photographed both the Dodge Caravan and Deputy Thomas’s Yukon.
By then it was mid-afternoon and quickly turning chilly. “The kids are tired and hungry,” Chantal complained to Joanna. “Are those two detectives ever going to let us go? I talked to my parents in Tucson over an hour ago. My mom offered to come get us, but I told her the van isn’t wrecked or anything. Couldn’t I just take it and go?”
Joanna was tired and hungry, too. She sympathized, but she shook her head. “Your minivan may not be wrecked, Mrs. Little, but it’ll need to be processed for evidence. Your parents live in Tucson?”
Chantal nodded. “My dad’s scheduled for triple bypass surgery on Monday.”
“Let me see what I can do,” Joanna told her.
She went looking for the two DPS investigators and found them off to the side of the road, comparing notes. Newton, the older and clearly senior of the two, seemed annoyed by the interruption.
“Look, Sheriff Brady, these things can’t be rushed. We’re working as fast as we can.”
“But does it all have to be done here?” Joanna asked. “Everybody’s cold and hungry, especially those two little kids.”
“I suppose we could finish up at the office in Tucson,” Newton replied grudgingly. “But we’ll need to tow both these vehicles.”
“Why?” Joanna demanded.
“For evidence.”
“What evidence? The Dodge? Yes, that makes sense. That’s the vehicle Zavala drove, but he was never anywhere near my deputy’s Yukon. There’s no need to impound that.”
“Sheriff Brady…” Newton began.
“Here’s the deal,” Joanna interrupted. “You’re unreasonably detaining a mother and two children who have already been through hell today. They have family members in Tucson who are anxiously awaiting them. It happens that there are still plenty of reporters around who will be glad to pass on the information that you kept these people here for no good reason. I suggest you release the Yukon so Deputy Thomas here can drive Mrs. Little and her children into town. After that we can all meet up at your office so you can interview Deputy Thomas and me. How does that sound?”