Reed reached into another inside pocket and pulled out a document. “Before you paint yourself into a corner, Sheriff Brady, you may want to take a look at this. It’s a properly drafted subpoena, signed by a Federal judge, requiring you to produce the diskette and hand it over to me at once.”
He passed the subpoena across the table. Joanna examined it and handed it back. As far as she could tell, it seemed to be in order. “Are you the one that offered Sandra Ridder a ticket into the witness-protection program?” she asked.
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“And wasn’t there supposed to be a cash bonus if Sandra Ridder turned the diskette over to you?”
“Really, Sheriff Brady. Our negotiations with Ms. Ridder were and are entirely confidential. They have nothing at all to do with the situation here.”
“That’s not true, Mr. Reed,” Joanna said. “Sandra Ridder is dead, but her daughter-her only heir, Lucy Ridder-is very much alive. If a cash bonus was due Sandra Ridder for turning this mysterious diskette over to you, then the money should be due her daughter as well.”
“Sheriff Brady,” he said, looking somewhat agitated that Joanna was unwilling to capitulate. “Sandra’s daughter isn’t handing it over to me. You are. And I didn’t come here to play ”Let’s Make a Deal.“ This is a serious matter, and I’m not leaving your office without taking that disk with me.”
Instinct told Joanna something was amiss, but she couldn’t tell what. “Very well,” she said. “Wait here, and I’ll go get it. Since it’s down in the evidence room, that may take some time. Please make yourself comfortable.”
Outside her private office, Joanna pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed 4-1-1.
“U.S. West,” a disembodied voice said. “How can I help you?”
“I want to be connected to the office of the Attorney General of the United States in Washington, D.C. My name is Sheriff Joanna Brady. Please tell whoever answers that this is extremely urgent-a matter of life and death.”
While Joanna waited impatiently for the connection to be made, she poked her head into Frank Montoya’s office and waved frantically for him to follow her. Then she hurried down the long hallway and out toward the public lobby, with her chief deputy padding along behind. She stopped at a locked supply-room door and opened it with her key.
“What’s up?” Frank demanded, following her into the supply room. “What’s going on?”
“There’s a man in my office who says his name is Jerry Reed. He claims he’s a special investigator for the U.S. Attorney General. He comes to us armed with a subpoena and demanding that we hand over Sandra Ridder’s diskette.”
With that, Joanna passed Frank the phone. “I’ve placed a call to the Attorney General’s office in D.C. You talk to whoever answers, and don’t put down the phone until you find out whether or not Special Agent Jerry Reed is legitimate.”
“What are you going to do in the meantime?”
“Give him the disk.” Joanna reached up to a top shelf and pulled down a single computer disk-a blue one-from a box of blanks.
Frank’s eyes widened. “You’re going to give him a phony?”
Joanna nodded. “Why not? What’s he going to do, pop it into my computer to check it out before he ever leaves my office? If it turns out Reed is for real, we’ll tell him I made a mistake, and that our evidence clerk gave me the wrong disk. If he isn’t-”
“Hello,” Frank was saying into the phone. “No, this isn’t Sheriff Brady. I’m her chief deputy, Frank Montoya. We have a serious incident unfolding here that may involve one of your investigators. I probably need to speak to someone in Operations.”
Leaving Frank to sort through the layers of Federal officialdom, Joanna started back toward her office. Outside the door, Kristin flagged Joanna down and handed over the receiver from Kristin’s desk phone. “I know you’re in a hurry, but I think you’re going to want to take this.”
“Hello.”
“Sheriff Brady,” Larry Kendrick said. “Deputy Pakin just arrived at the Yates’ place out in the Dragoons. He says Deputy Galloway’s patrol car is there, but he’s not. Neither is Catherine Yates, although her vehicle is there as well. He says her house looks as though it’s been ransacked, and there are signs of a struggle.”
Like a zoom photo lens shifting into focus, Joanna suddenly felt as though she knew what was going on. “Listen, Larry,” she said urgently. “Call down to Motor Pool. Tell Danny Garner someone’s going to be leaving the department in the next few minutes. I have no idea what kind of a vehicle he’s driving, but before he goes, I want at least one and preferably two sets of spike strips laid down across the entrance to the Justice Complex. If I’m wrong about this and we’ve got the wrong guy, we’ll owe the Feds a new set of tires. If I’m right, we may save several lives.”
“How do we know the guy you want is the only one who’ll run over the strips?”
“We don’t,” Joanna replied. “Depending on how long he takes to leave, we may be buying a whole bunch of people new sets of tires. Just do it.”
Glancing down at the diskette in her hand, Joanna realized something was missing. Returning to her office with a naked computer disk and trying to pass that off as the real one wasn’t going to cut it. She hurried across to the conference-room door, poked her head into the room, and motioned Ernie Carpenter away from the interview.
“What the hell do you want?” the detective demanded irritably once he was outside and had shut the door. “Sheriff Brady, you know better than to interrupt-”
“Shut up and give me an evidence bag,” Joanna said. “And a label, too. Date it yesterday, and sign Frank’s name to it.”
“Me sign Frank’s name? Are you crazy?”
“Hurry, Ernie. There’s not much time. A man’s going to be leaving my office any minute. I want you and Jaime Carbajal out in the parking lot in a car and ready to follow him. Whatever you do, don’t drive out the front entrance. Danny Garner is laying down two sets of tire spikes. When the guy gets out of his vehicle, nab him.”
“On what charges?”
“How about impersonating an officer, for openers?”
“Wait a minute. Are you saying Jaime and I are supposed to quit right in the middle of the interview and go chase after this other guy?” Ernie asked. “Who the hell is he?”
“It’s possible he may be a Federal agent,” Joanna said. “But I don’t think so. Now please, Ernie, just do as I say.”
Exasperated and shaking his head in disapproval, Ernie Carpenter handed over the doctored evidence bag and then headed back into the conference room for Jaime. Joanna dropped the disk into the bag and then hurried back to her office. Inside, after closing the door behind her, she found Jerry Reed standing next to the window studying the birds milling around the outdoor feeder that had been a gift from Angie Kellogg.
“It took you long enough,” Reed said testily.
“Sorry about that. We’re breaking in a new evidence clerk,” Joanna said with what she hoped was a convincing sigh. She handed him the evidence bag with the disk clearly visible. “Our old guy retired,” she continued. “He could find stuff with his eyes shut. This new one is taking her own sweet time to get acclimated.”
Reed seemed greatly relieved once the bag was in his hand. “I’d better be going then,” he said, sidling toward the door.
Wanting a few more minutes for her assets to get in position, Joanna stalled for time. “As I told you earlier, the disk you’re holding is part of one of our homicide investigations. I’m sure you know that procedures are everything these days. I’d appreciate it if you’d sign and date this receipt which shows you’re taking charge of the disk. I also need to know where and how to contact you if and when our case comes to trial.”