Peralta grunted. “Get to it, Eric.”
“Well, there’s no way to tell you except to come out and say it. The U.S. Attorney has decided to drop the charges against Horace Mann and not seek an indictment.”
“Are you people out of your minds?” This came from me, loud enough that a marshal started walking our way. Pham held out a hand and the man returned to his security perch.
“I know this can be dispiriting and appear unseemly from where you stand…”
“Cut the shit, Eric,” Peralta said.
“This went all the way to the Attorney General. I did what I could. We all did. But the consensus was that it was better to make Mann take early retirement.”
I reminded Pham that he was going to kill us in Payson and that he had confessed to stealing the diamonds.
“The DOJ isn’t sure this would be admissible…”
Peralta jabbed his finger at Pham and cursed. It involved a complaint about being anally raped with no lubricant but he used far more colorful language. He went on, “I used to be the sheriff here and I was working this case under the direction of the FBI. Mapstone is a sworn deputy. Tell me how this is inadmissible?”
“There are national security considerations.”
“Oh, bullshit.”
“Real shit!” Pham did some finger-jabbing, too. “You don’t know how those diamonds came to be taken from evidence control. It was a much more elaborate operation than picking them up and walking out. Computer systems were compromised. Tactics were compromised. Operational procedures…”
I interrupted. “It sounds like a massive ass-covering procedure to me. The Bureau doesn’t want to be embarrassed again. You don’t want to take the stand before a federal judge and explain how the FBI lost fifteen million in diamonds and how one of your senior agents was wrapped up with the Russians.”
Pham stuffed his hands in his pockets. “It’s not my call. Anyway, Mann claims he had arrived to rescue you when the asset followed him, handcuffed him, and was about to kill you when the Russell woman shot him.”
“He’s lying,” Peralta said. “Mapstone and I told you what happened.”
“You told me the asset arrived as your backup after Mapstone had arrested Mann.”
“Say his name!” I shouted it before pulling my voice down. Once again, the Marshals almost intervened. “Say his name, goddamn it. He deserves at least that. He was in the FBI when you were in high school.”
He glowered at me but gave in. “Special Agent Edward Cartwright, Thunder Seeker.”
“Has his family been notified?”
Pham nodded. “He has a daughter in Southern California. She has a two-year-old, a special needs child. Money troubles. Very tragic.”
I looked at Peralta, then back at Pham. “And the daughter is going to get survivor’s benefits, right? And Ed gets a military funeral with full honors.”
“Of course, of course.”
I stared at Pham, wanting to demand that he be as diligent about making that happen as he was in making the scandal of Horace Mann go away. It wouldn’t do any good.
Peralta finally spoke. “So the public will never know what really happened.” He didn’t phrase it as a question.
“You don’t even know everything that happened,” Pham said. He sighed. “Neither do I.”
Peralta absently played with his tie. “So are you letting Amy Russell out, too?”
“Of course not,” Pham said. “She’ll be tried in the murder of the…Agent Cartwright. We’re pretty sure we can make that happen…”
“Pretty sure?” It was impossible to keep the contempt out of my voice.
“The State Department is involved, too. She’s wanted on theft charges in Canada. Based on what you said, the Calgary police might reopen the death of the biker and his family. But we’re confident that we will be able to keep her here if the death penalty is taken off the table.”
“What about Lindsey?”
“This is a federal case. It takes precedence. It involves the killing of an FBI agent and the likely killing of the DEA agent, Pennington. We can put her away for life. If the state tried her, the charge would only be attempted murder.” He shook his head and returned his gaze to me. “Why on earth did she do this?”
“I was hoping you could tell me,” I said. “We didn’t have time for a lengthy conversation out in the woods. Her gun was on me. I shot first.”
“Goddamned lucky,” Peralta muttered.
“I’m a good shot.”
Pham shrugged. “She told us that she wanted the diamonds to finance a secure new life in the United States. Or in a country without an extradition treaty with Canada if her theft was detected. We found a counterfeit U.S. passport-best quality-driver’s license, and credit cards under the name Amy Morris. She keeps talking about wanting options. That’s the word she uses, ‘options.’ The rich have them and the rest of us don’t. Some of her testimony may be of a classified nature, so…”
“I’m not rich and I didn’t kill people stealing diamonds.”
“You may never get a good answer, Doctor Mapstone,” he said. “Our psychologists theorize that she snapped when her family was murdered. Not that we’re going to let her use an insanity defense. Her methods show she was sane enough, knew right from wrong…”
“She wore Chanel Number Five.”
“What?”
“Expansive tastes,” I said. “Maybe she was never Amy Do-Right.”
“Well, when we sort this out…”
Peralta cut him off. “Whatever. I know you tried, Eric. Don’t let her get away. Let’s go, Mapstone.”
I felt his hand cup my elbow and steer us back toward the entrance.
“So are you going to run for sheriff again next election?” This came from a marshal. She was female, young, Anglo, and more than a little starstruck.
“I doubt it,” Peralta said. “Arizona’s got some changing to do before I have a chance.”
It was sad but true.
That afternoon, the rain departed and the remaining clouds made for one of those breathtaking sunsets that seem from another planet. I was on my way back to see Lindsey but had to pull into a parking lot and gape. As I took in the vivid pallet of colors, the White Tanks revealed themselves to the west, a dark tear against the horizon.
And I knew the job wasn’t finished.
Chapter Forty-seven
I called the meeting for three p.m. at my office in the old courthouse. It gave me a chance to prepare the contents of my briefcase and do a little interior decorating.
Even so, Diane and Zephyr Whitehouse arrived ten minutes early. Diane was wearing a black pantsuit with tasteful diamond stud earrings. Zephyr had on jeans torn at the knees, a low-cut pink top, and vivid red lipstick, all probably to irritate her mother.
I invited them to sit down. Even though Zephyr was taller than Diane, the resemblance was clear, especially in the large, lovely eyes and the perfect noses. I thought about the photos I had seen of Lindsey’s mother, Linda, as a young woman. They were almost identical. Robin didn’t look like either of them.
“What’s this about, David?” Diane sounded almost as familiar with me as she had been in the closet, or that was her act.
“David will tell us, Diane.” Zephyr gave a wide smile.
“I need a few minutes,” I said. “One more person will be coming.”
Neither spoke for a long time.
Finally, Zephyr asked about the large black-and-white photo I had hung behind me, next to the portrait of Chris Melton.
“That’s Carl Hayden when he was Maricopa County sheriff,” I said. “He went on to become one of the longest-serving senators in American history. After JFK was assassinated, Hayden was second in line for the presidency. He spent his career fighting to ensure the Central Arizona Project. But he started out as sheriff. In 1910, he formed a posse to run down some train robbers. The ‘Beardless Boy Bandits.’ Usually, he didn’t carry a gun.”