Dead Wrong

“Beats me,” Joa

When she got off the phone with Jaime, Joa

“How’s he doing?” Joa

“Okay,” Rose answered. “But he’s lying down right now. Want me to get him?”

“No,” Joa

Rose Carpenter laughed. “I’ll tell him, all right,” she said.

With Margaret still not speaking to anyone, she and Don retreated to their motor home early. The rest of the house, emotionally drained from dealing with their disruptive guests, went to bed shortly thereafter. Butch was still watching the Nine O’Clock News on Fox when Joa

She lay there for a long time thinking about Bradley Evans and about Leslie and Rory Markham. After murdering his wife, Bradley had gone off to prison where he had paid his debt to society and become what seemed to be an exemplary citizen- right up until a week earlier, when he had suddenly gone off the rails and started taking stealth photographs of a woman who claimed to know nothing about him. Joa

What is it? she wondered. What am I missing?

After an hour’s worth of restless tossing and turning, Joa

Grunting with the awkward position and effort, Joa

Picked up a drunk yesterday morning up on top of the Divide. Blood all over him and everywhere in his truck. His pregnant wife’s missing and most likely dead. The guy must have killed her, but he doesn’t remember a thing. Why do people drink?

That passage was what she had been looking for, and reading something that was related to the case she was working on seemed justified-it didn’t feel like prying. Originally that was all she had intended to do, but of course she didn’t stop reading after that one entry. She kept right on. Not only had D. H. Lathrop faithfully entered notations about his life as a Cochise County deputy sheriff, he had also set down his views of what was going on at home.

Ellie just can’t get used to the fact that I make a lot less money working for the sheriff’s department than I did working underground for P.D. She likes nice stuff, and she got used to being able to go to the P.D. Store and getting whatever she wanted by just signing for it. I keep telling her we can’t live this way. We won’t be able to keep our heads above water. I’m trying to see if they’ll let me put in some overtime.

A few pages later she came across the entry for December 17,1978.

The Christmas Pageant was tonight. J. sang “Silent Night” and “Away in a Manger” with the Junior Choir. She was wearing a beautiful green velvet dress. When I asked Ellie where it came from, she just shrugged. I asked her how much it cost. She said it only cost $40.00!!! Only!!! For a dress J. probably won’t wear more than once or twice. E. and I had a big fight about it, but J. looked so pretty in that dress, I probably should have kept my big mouth shut. We’ll pay for it somehow.

Joa

On the way home she had added, “Now you mustn’t tell your father about this. It’ll be a surprise.”

It had been a surprise, all right, and not a particularly welcome one. But it was one of the few times in Joa

Joa

Drove Bradley Evans up to the state prison in Florence today and dropped him off. Got eighteen to twenty-five for pleading guilty to killing his wife. I was the one who arrested him the morning after it happened. The problem is, I think the legal system’s got this whole thing dead wrong. Even though he said he did it, I don’t think Bradley Evans killed anybody, and I can’t say why. Call it gut instinct. The judge believed him, and the county attorney believed him. I don’t. Somebody missed something, and I don’t know what it is. As Mama used to say: “Stand alone. Eventually the crowd may fall.” So I’ll just keep on thinking what I’m thinking and wait to see what happens.

Joa

From what anyone had been able to learn, as long as Bradley Evans had stayed put in Douglas, everything had been fine. But once he ventured as far afield as Sierra Vista-once he started stalking Leslie Markham and snapping her picture-things had changed. Before he finished shooting that one camera’s worth of film, Bradley Evans was dead.

After talking to Rory Markham that afternoon, Joa

Joa

She managed to get back into bed without disturbing Butch. After that it took time for her to find a comfortable position and time to turn off her brain, which had suddenly slipped into overdrive.

She was in the bathroom the next morning putting on her makeup when Butch came into the room, bringing her a cup of apricot tea and gri

“You’re not going to believe it,” he said.

“Believe what?” Joa

“They left.”