Выбрать главу

“Mr. Mattias?” Joanna asked. “It’s Sheriff Brady. I know I’m not strong enough to get you out of there by myself. I’ve got to go get help.”

“No,” he pleaded. “Don’t go. Stay here with me. It’s too late for help.”

“But…”

“No,” he wheezed. “Someone has to hear this so people know what happened. I was digging them up. It’s the best I could do. At least now they’ll have a decent burial. I’m so sorry.”

Joanna looked at the small dirt-covered box. It looked much too small to be a coffin, but that’s what it was. “Aileen’s baby?” she asked quietly.

“She made me help her,” he managed. “She said if I didn’t, she’d tell her husband about us.”

“Ruth, you mean?”

Joaquin tried to raise himself up out of the dirt, but the effort was too much. He fell back into the musty earth, coughing and gasping.

“Ruth,” he managed. “Ruth and Rory She wanted to get rid of Aileen’s baby. I didn’t know about him until it happened and he was helping her. By then it was too late. Tell Dolores… Tell Dolores…”

“Tell Dolores what?” Joanna implored. “Stay with me, Joaquin. Stay with me.”

She heard the sound of a surging engine as a vehicle made its way up the rough dirt track. She turned to see a departmental Yukon materialize on the far side of the clearing. Seconds later, Deputy Matt Raymond pounded up to Joanna, with Ernie hurrying after him.

“Sheriff Brady, what do you…?”

She pointed at the injured man’s prone body. “See if you can lift him out of there,” she said. “Ernie, call for an ambulance.”

Agilely Deputy Raymond dropped into the hole, placing his feet on either side of the injured man, but just then Joaquin Mattias exhaled a single ragged breath.

“It’s too late for an ambulance, Sheriff Brady,” Deputy Raymond said. “I’m pretty sure he’s gone.”

“Leave him then,” Ernie urged. “We’ll come back later. The guy on the horse made it through the gate before I ever got there. He was riding hell-bent-for-leather and didn’t even see Dolores sitting in the car.”

“Rory Markham?” Joanna asked.

“Probably,” Ernie returned. “I diverted the other units,” he added. “I sent them to the house rather than having them come here.”

“All right,” Joanna agreed. “Let’s go.”

Leaving Joaquin’s body where it was, the three officers raced back across the clearing. Joanna and Deputy Raymond climbed into the front of the Yukon while Ernie clambered into the back.

Halfway to the gate, they met Dolores Mattias lurching up the path on foot. When Deputy Raymond stopped the Yukon, Joanna was the first one out.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Mattias,” she said, taking the distraught woman by the arm. “You can’t go there.”

Dolores shook off Joanna’s hand. “My husband,” she said. “Where’s my husband?”

By then, Ernie, too, was at the woman’s side. “Like Sheriff Brady said, Mrs. Mattias, you can’t go there. It’s a crime scene.”

“A crime scene?” she repeated. “What kind of crime scene?”

“I hate to tell you this,” Joanna said softly. “It’s a homicide scene. Your husband is dead, Mrs. Mattias. You must come with us. We need to catch the man who did this.”

“Joaquin is dead?” Dolores Mattias said uncomprehendingly.

“Please come with us,” Joanna begged. “It may be too late to help your husband, but it’s not too late to keep his killer from getting away.”

Wordlessly, as her body convulsed into heaving sobs, Dolores Mattias allowed herself to be helped into the Yukon and buckled into her seat.

Tica Romero’s voice, distorted by static, hissed through the radio. “We have two units within sight of the ranch house now. They report there’s a horse tethered to a post on the front porch. Please advise how many people, besides the suspect, are likely to be inside and what you want our guys to do.”

“In addition to the suspect three people are most likely inside,” Joanna answered. “Aileen Houlihan, who’s bedridden; a nurse; and the suspect’s wife, Leslie Markham. Tell our officers to wait,” she added. “We’re coming there as fast as we can.”

At the gate, Ernie Carpenter bailed from the Yukon in order to drive Joanna’s Crown Victoria back down to the scene of the action. In the backseat, Dolores’s sobs had quieted.

“Why?” she asked finally. “Why would Mr. Markham shoot my husband?”

“It’s a very long story Mrs. Mattias,” Joanna said gently. “But I believe it’s because your husband knew too much.”

Chapter 21

Once they arrived within sight of the ranch house, for what seemed an interminable length of time no one came or went. The house remained dead still. The only visible movement was the occasional switch of the tethered horse’s tail. As Joanna’s deputies took up defensive positions, she called in to Dispatch.

“Tica,” she said. “See if you can find a listed phone number for Aileen Houlihan.”

“I have an A. Houlihan,” Tica replied. “On Triple H Ranch Road.”

“That’s the one,” Joanna replied. “Give me the number.” When Joanna dialed it, Leslie Markham answered the phone. She sounded unhurried and completely calm.

“This is Sheriff Brady,” Joanna said. “Is your husband there with you?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Who else is there?”

“Just the three of us-Rory, my mother, and me. Fortunately, I sent the daytime nurse home. The nighttime one hasn’t come on duty yet.”

“Are you all right?” Joanna asked.

“I’m fine,” Leslie returned with amazing coolness. “Rory has a gun, though, and he’s threatening to use it. I told him to go ahead. As far as I’m concerned, dying of a bullet wound is infinitely preferable to dying of HD.”

But you aren’t going to die of Huntington‘s, Joanna wanted to shout.

“Put him on the phone,” she said.

“He won’t touch it,” Leslie said half a minute or so later. “He doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“But I want to talk to him. Does your phone have a speaker option? If so, turn it on.”

“It’s on,” Leslie said. “He can hear you now.”

“Put down your weapon and come out of the house, Rory,” Joanna said. “It’s over. An ambulance is on its way to pick up Mr. Mattias and take him to the hospital, but he told us everything. We know all about you and Ruth and about Lisa Evans and Aileen’s dead baby. He even told us about Bradley Evans.”

That was all a calculated lie. Joaquin Mattias was dead. He hadn’t come close to telling them everything. But D. H. Lathrop had taught his daughter the fine art of bluffing at the same time he was teaching her how to play poker. Joanna Brady was definitely her father’s daughter in that regard.

At first the only thing coming through the phone was silence. Finally Leslie Markham spoke. “What baby?” she asked.

Joanna didn’t allow herself to be diverted into that conversation any more than she could allow herself to look at Dolores.

The discussion of Aileen Houlihan’s murdered baby would have to wait until Leslie’s life was no longer in danger.

“Let your wife go,” Joanna said without responding to Leslie’s question. “If you harm her in any way, Arizona state law will never allow you to inherit, Mr. Markham. You’re already looking at three separate homicide charges. Don’t make it worse.”

Another period of tense silence followed. Again, Leslie was the one who spoke.

“I’m going then,” she announced. “I’m going to walk out.”

“You can’t,” Rory said. “Don’t do it.”

“Why not? Because you’re going to shoot me? Don’t make me laugh. You can’t hurt me any worse than you already have.”

A moment later the screen door opened. As Joanna and the assembled deputies held their collective breaths, Leslie Markham walked to the edge of the porch, where she leaped off, past the startled horse, and then sprinted away from the house. She didn’t stop until she reached Deputy Raymond’s Yukon parked at the far end of the driveway. As she neared the vehicle, Raymond reached around and opened the door behind him, allowing her to dive inside.