“I’ll do that,” Amy Baxter said.
With her knees knocking under her, Linda Kimball marched back to the car. She was frightened Without knowing quite what it was, she realized she had uncovered something important. Whom should she tell about all this? she wondered. She had to tell someone.
As soon as she was outside the swinging electronic gates of Cosa Viejo, instead of going home, she turned right and headed straight for the Sheriff’s office out on Highway 80.
THE MJ meeting was dull as watching grass grow.
Max Foster, a vice detective from the Pima County Sheriff’s Department, was the ranking officer for the Cochise County Multi-Jurisdictional Unit. Foster might have been a fine detective, but he was an incredibly poor public speaker. The meeting droned on and on. Even though the information was vitally important, Joanna wasn’t the only one fighting to stay awake. She was relieved when Kristin poked her head in the door and crooked a finger at her.
Probably the Kansas Settlement boys acting up again, Joanna thought, as she gathered her note pad and followed Kristin out the door.
“What is it?” she asked, as soon as they were in the corridor.
“Linda Kimball to see you,” Kristin said.
“Again.”
Linda was waiting and pacing the confines of the reception area. “I’m doing it again.” She smiled apologetically. “You’re probably getting pretty tired of me by now.”
“Come on in,” Joanna said, gesturing Linda into her corner office. “What seems to be the problem?”
Linda barely waited for the door to finish closing behind them.
“I’ve just come from Cosa Viejo,” she said, “and I have a funny feeling something isn’t right over there. Something’s the matter with my husband’s cousin Holly.”
Joanna suppressed a smile. “Considering what all’s gone on this past week,” she replied, “the idea that something’s the matter with Holly Patterson is hardly news.”
But by the time an anxious Linda Kimball finished recounting her story, even Joanna had to agree that what was happening at Cosa Viejo sounded disturbing.
“Someone should look into this, all right,” Joanna agreed. “If for no other reason but to ask a few questions.”
“Maybe it’s nothing,” Linda said. “Burton always says I’m forever jumping to conclusions, but the whole thing gave me a very bad feeling, an edgy feeling. What my mother used to call the willies.”
“Don’t worry,” Joanna said. “I’ll have someone check it out.”
When Linda left her office, Joanna went looking for both Richard Voland and Ernie Carpenter. Voland was in Wilcox talking to the two deputies involved in the Kansas Settlement problem. Carpenter had gone to Sierra Vista to make arrangements for shipping evidence off to the state crime lab for processing.
So much for delegating tasks to her second-and third-in-command, Joanna thought. She briefly considered sending one of the deputies by to check on Holly Patterson, but she thought better of it. A deputy would need to have some idea what to look for, what questions to ask. Unfortunately, Joanna had no idea what directions to give to any one else. In the end, she decided, like the Little Red Hen, to do it herself.
Picking up the intercom, Joanna buzzed Kristin.
“I’ll be out for a while,” she said. “If you hear from either Dick Voland or Ernie Carpenter, tell them I went to Cosa Viejo to see Holly Patterson.
Leave a message for both of them to get in touch with me as soon as they get back to town.”
It pleased her to be able to go in and out of her office by way of her own private entrance. Climbing into the county-owned Blazer, she felt as though she was beginning to have a handle on the scope of the job, both the pitfalls and the responsibilities.
There was plenty of hard work ahead and lots to learn, but she was a quick study. In her third full day on the job, Joanna Brady was actually beginning to feel like a sheriff.
She turned into the gates at Cosa Viejo, buzzed for admittance, and then parked outside. This time she went directly to the front entryway and rang the bell. Amy Baxter herself came to the door. “Why, Sheriff Brady,” she said, “I don’t believe we were expecting you.”
“Actually, I came to see Holly Patterson,” Joanna responded.
“Holly is resting right now,” Amy said, smiling and cordial, but firm. “She really isn’t in any condition to entertain visitors.”
“I’d still like to see her. I understand she seems to think herself in some kind of danger.”
“Holly in danger? Here? That’s absurd! She’s up in her room, safe as can be.”
“Let me see her then, just to set my mind at ease.”
Amy sighed and looked exasperated. “Well, I don’t suppose it can hurt anything, but I’m afraid Rex will insist on being in attendance. Wait here.”
“That’s fine,” Joanna said.
Moments later, she was led up to the second floor and back to Holly Patterson’s room, where a man who introduced himself as Rex Rogers was waiting in the hallway. He led her inside.
Once more the heavy curtains were pulled almost shut, and once again the room was shrouded in drapery gloom. Dressed in a sweat suit and bedroom slippers, Holly sat rocking back and forth in her old-fashioned rocking chair. Her hands rested limp and open in her lap. Her face was lax and expressionless.
“Holly,” Rex Rogers said, gently shaking her shoulder. “There’s someone here to see you.”
As if she were waking from a drug-induced stupor, Holly Patterson’s eyes fluttered open.
“What?” she asked vaguely.
“Someone to see you,” Rogers repeated. “The sheriff. I believe she wants to ask you some questions.”
“How are you?” Joanna asked. “I heard you were under the weather.”
“I’m fine,” Holly answered unconvincingly.
“What happened to your hands?”
Holly looked down at the hands that lay in her lap. Joanna had noticed the heel of the palm on both hands was badly skinned, as though she had taken a bad fall and had used her hands to cushion herself. The damage was new enough that the abrasions were still leaking fluid, but Holly looked down at the injuries with surprised dismay.
“I don’t know,” she said tentatively. “They hurt but I don’t know what happened to them.”
“She fell down,” Rex supplied brusquely. “Holly’s always falling down like that. She’s easily distracted.”
“Where did she fall?”
“Outside,” Rex answered again. “Off one of the terraces.”
“Isn’t she capable of answering questions on her own?” Joanna asked. “Where did you fall, Holly? : How did it happen?”
Rex Rogers grimaced with annoyance while Holly Patterson looked at Joanna with strangely vacant eyes. “I don’t know,” she said, without ever stopping rocking. “I don’t remember.”
“But it happened just a little while ago,” Joanna insisted. “Look. Your hands are still bleeding.”
“I don’t know,” Holly repeated hopelessly. “I just don’t know.”
Joanna turned back to Rex Rogers. “What kinds of medication is this woman on?” she asked.
“How should I know?” Rex Rogers answered sharply. “I’m her lawyer, not her doctor.”
“What seems to be the problem?” Amy Baxter asked from the doorway of the room.
“Holly has hurt herself,” Joanna answered. “Recently enough that the palm of her hands are still seeping serum, but she can’t remember how it happened. Is she on medication of some kind, or has she maybe suffered an injury, a concussion perhaps?”
“I tried to tell you downstairs that she wasn’t in any condition to receive visitors. You were the one who insisted on seeing her.” The phone rang out in the hall, interrupting her statement.
“I believe she should be examined by a physician,” Joanna said.