After parking in the lot, the two women started toward the dorm. “How about going for a jog later?” Leann asked.
“No way,” Joanna answered. “Look at me. I can barely hobble along as it is. This afternoon’s session of PT almost killed me.”
“You know what they say,” Leann said. “No pain, no gain.”
It wasn’t a particularly witty or clever comment. In fact, when Brad Mason had said the exact same thing earlier that afternoon as Joanna came crawling in from running her laps, she had been tempted to punch the PT instructor’s lights out. Now, though, for some reason, it struck her funny bone.
She started to laugh. A moment later, so did Leann. They were both still convulsed with giggles and trying to stifle the racket as they struggled to unlock their respective doors.
Joanna managed to open hers first. “Good night,” she called, as she stepped inside.
“Night,” Leann said.
Closing the door behind her, Joanna leaned against it for a moment. It had been a long, long time since she had laughed like that—until tears ran down her cheeks, until her jaws ached, and her sides hurt. It felt good. She was still basking in the glow of it when her phone began to ring.
Sure the call had something to do with Jenny, she jumped to answer it only to hear Adam York voice on the line.
“Joanna,” he said. “I’ve been trying to track you down all day. Didn’t you get my message?”
“I did, but I haven’t had a chance to call. Where are you?”
“The Ritz-Carlton. On Camelback.”
“Here in Phoenix?”
“Yes, in Phoenix. There may be streets named Camelback other places, but I don’t know of any.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I came in from the East Coast this afternoon for a meeting that’s scheduled for both tomorrow and Friday. I thought I’d check in and see how things are going for you before you head on down to Bisbee for Thanksgiving.”
“I’m not going,” Joanna said. “My in-laws are bringing Jenny up here for the weekend.” She paused for a moment. “It just seemed like a better idea for us to be here for Thanksgiving rather than at home. What about you?”
“I considered driving back to Tucson, but it would just be for one day. And I’ve been gone much that the food in my refrigerator has probably mutated into a new life-form. My best bet is to hang out here where, if I get hungry, I can always call for room service.”
“Room service for Thanksgiving dinner? Sounds pretty grim,” Joanna said. “If you don’t get a better offer, you could always join us. We’re all stay at a new place out here in Peoria, the Hohokam. Tomorrow I have to up our dinner reservation by one anyway. I could just as well add two.”
“I wouldn’t want to barge in . . .” Adam York objected.
“Look,” Joanna interrupted, “don’t think you’d be barging in on some intimate, quiet family affair. It’s not like that. One of my classmates from here school, Leann Jessup, will be joining us. And Eva Lou’s--my mother-in-law’s—watchword is that there’s always room for one more.”
“I’ll think about it,” Adam said. “Is tomorrow morning too late to let you know?”
“No. Tomorrow will be fine. I plan on checking in to the hotel after class tomorrow afternoon. In fact, you could leave me a message there, one way or the other.”
“In the meantime,” Adam said, “how about you? How’s your training going?”
“All right,” Joanna said. “It’s hard work, but I guess you knew that. And some of the instrucTors strike me as real jerks.”
Ai lam York laughed. “You know what they say. ‘Them as can, do. Them as can’t—’ “
“I know, I know,” Joanna interjected. “But still, I expected something better.”
“Joanna,” Adam York said, no longer laughing, “I know most of the APOA guys, either personally or by reputation. They know the territory. They’ve been out there on the front lines. They’ve been there done that, and got the T-shirt. But for one reason on or another, the world is better off with them out of doing active police work. They’ve got the training. They know the stuff backwards and forwards, but they should no longer be out interacting with the public on a regular basis.”
“Someone told me the process is called remoting.”
“You bet,” Adam answered. “I’ve used it myself on occasion, but that doesn’t mean green young cops can’t learn from them. Each one of those old crocodile cops has a lifetime’s worth of invaluable experience at his disposal. With the crisis in crime that’s occurring in this country, those guys are a national resource we can’t afford to waste.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Joanna replied. “You’re not stuck in the classes.”
“But I’ve had agents sit through some of the sessions. It sounds to me as though someone’s giving you a hard time. Let me take a wild guess. Dave Thompson.”
Joanna said nothing. Her silence spoke volumes.
“So it is Thompson. Look, Joanna, I won’t try to tell you Dave Thompson’s a great guy, because he isn’t. But I will say this—if you’re up here at school expecting to pick up an education that will stand you in good stead out in the real world, you’ll learn a whole lot more from someone who’s less than perfect than you will from Mary Poppins.”
“Thank you,” Joanna said, trying not to sound as sarcastic as she felt. “I’ll try to remember that.”
“Good,” Adam York said. “Thompson does the lecture-type stuff. What about the rest of it?”
“The lab work is great, but I had my first session of PT this afternoon, and I can barely walk.”
“Take a hot shower before you go to bed. Doctor’s orders.”
“I can do better than that,” Joanna answered. “I think I’ll hop in the hot tub.”
“They have a hot tub there on campus? That’s a big step up from when the facility used to be downtown. That place was nothing short of grim.”
“It’s not just a hot tub on campus,” Joanna returned. “I happen to have a hot tub right here in my room. It even works.”
“Amazing,” Adam York said. “I may be staying at the Ritz, but I sure don’t have a hot tub in my room.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Joanna said with a laugh. “Some people seem to have all the luck.”
While classes were in session, Dave Thompson tried to limit his drinking to the confines of his own apartment, but that Tuesday night he sought solace in the comforting din of his favorite neighborhood watering hole, the Roundhouse Bar and Grill.
Holidays were always tough, but Thanksgiving was especially so since that was when the problem with Irene and Frances had come to a head. Even more than Christmas, that was when he missed his kids the most, when he wished that somehow things could have turned out differently. Unfortunately, when it came to living happily ever after, Dave Thompson had ended up on the short end of the stick.
In his mind’s eye, he still saw the kids as they had been six years earlier when Irene took them and left town. At least he supposed they had left town. All Dave got to do was send his child support check to the Maricopa County court system on the first of every month. He didn’t know where it went from there. He wasn’t allowed to know. Irene’s lawyer had seen to that. She had been a regular ring-tailed bitch. So was the judge, for that matter. By the time that bunch of hard-nose women had finished with him, Dave had nothing left—not even visitation rights.
And maybe that was just as well. Truth be known, Dave didn’t want to know what kind of squalor Little Davy and Reenie were living in or what they were learning from Irene and that goddamned “friend” of hers. In fact, it was probably far better that he didn’t.
For months after that last big blowup—the one that had landed Dave in jail overnight—he had rummaged eagerly through his mail each day, hoping to receive a card or letter. Something to let him know whether or not his kids cared if he was dead or alive. But none ever came. Not one. All these years later, he had pretty much given up hope one ever would. In fact, he doubted he would ever see his children again, especially not if Irene had anything to do with it.