Desert Heat

There had been some grumbling over the cost of this particular operation, but those L damned bean-counters didn’t know anything about working out in the field. It had been necessary to convince them what exactly was at stake if preventive measures weren’t taken. They’d come around then, when Tony had shown them in black and white that one of the most lucrative drug routes in the country-the one through Cochise County-was at risk. After that, they’d seen things his way, and money was no object.

Closing the briefcase, Vargas stuck it up on the top shelf in the coat closet next to the door. Fortunately, Angie was either smart enough to stay out of his business or dumb enough not to know what was going on. Either way, she kept out of his way and didn’t ask questions. She could cook, and she was a hell of a lay, one who seldom told him no. What else did a man want? Or need?

Tony felt his growing erection and marveled that his hard-on materialized at the very touch and smell of all that money. He wondered which for him was actually the bigger turn-on-blood or money. As he sauntered back into the bedroom, he switched on the bedside lamp. Angie Kellogg groaned, rolled over on her side, and covered her eyes with a pillow, trying to shut out the light, but Tony was not to be dissuaded. He pulled back the bedding and climbed onto the bed, turning her over onto her back and peeling back her gown.

“Wake up, Angie baby, and see what daddy has for you. He wants you to take him for a little ride.”

“Please, Tony. Not now. It’s the middle of the night. I’m tired. I want to sleep.”

“Sleep hell! Open up!”

And she did, too, because Angie Kellogg was first and foremost a survivor, and she was far too frightened of Tony Vargas to do any-thing else.

FOUR

Joa

By her fourth visit, just after seven, she was better able to handle the situation. When she emerged that time, Dr. Sanders was waiting for her in the hallway. “Care for a cup of coffee?” he asked.

She glanced at Maria

“Thanks,” Joa

“Have you seen him already this morning?” she asked. Seating himself across from her, Dr. Sanders nodded.

“What do you think? Is he going to make it?”

“He’s hanging in there for the time being,” Dr. Sanders replied noncommittally. “That’s about as good as it gets at the moment.”

He leaned closer to her across the small conference table and seemed to study her face. His searching look made Joa

“How long have you and your husband been married, Mrs. Brady?”

“Call me Joa

“You love him very much, don’t you.”

Joa

Dr. Sanders’ face was somber. His was not the look of someone about to deliver good news, and Joa

“What is it?” she asked. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“How has he seemed to you lately?” “Seemed? What do you mean?”

Sanders shrugged. “Oh, you know. Has he been despondent about anything, angry, or upset, any of those?”

“We’ve been busy,” Joa

“Have you ever read the story about the Little Engine that could? It’s a children’s book.”

“Of course I’ve read it. Hasn’t everybody? It’s one of Je

“You remember in the story how the Little Engine says ‘I think I can?’ “

“Yes.”

“That Little Engine thought he could pull the train over the mountain. He wanted to do it, believed he could do it.”

“Yes, but…”

“You asked me if I thought your husband was going to make it, Joa

“You’re talking about paralysis, aren’t you? You’re telling me that if he’s going to be crippled for the rest of his life, he may not want to live.”

“No,” Dr. Sanders answered slowly. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. This morning I’ve already had two calls from one of the people down there in Bisbee, an investigator. Dick somebody.”

“Dick Voland. He’s the Chief Deputy, Andy’s boss.”

“Voland. That’s right. That’s the name. We talked for some time.”

“What did he say?”

Dr. Sanders rubbed his forehead. “You may find this information disturbing, but I think it’s only fair to warn you, Joa

The room seemed to spin around her. The last sip of coffee rose dangerously in her throat. She fought it back down. “No,” she said. “You mean attempted murder.”

“I said exactly what I mean,” Dr. Sanders insisted. “The physical evidence there on the scene and also what we found here in the hospital-the angle of penetration, the powder burns on your husband’s hands-are consistent with a self-inflicted bullet wound, what we call around here a misplaced heart shot.”

He waited for Joa

“Reporters,” Joa

“ Cochise County may be small potatoes, but nonetheless, your husband is a political candidate. An attempted murder of a politician always causes an uproar. As of right now, it’s still being reported as an attempted homicide. That will change soon enough, but even so, when someone in the public eye attempts suicide, that’s also considered newsworthy. Regardless of which way it goes, until the case is resolved, you’re going to continue to find yourself shoved into the limelight.”

For a long moment Joa

“Yes.”

Anger rose within her, but she remained to-tally clearheaded. “Where’s the weapon then? He didn’t shoot himself with his bare hands. I was there, with him, on the ground, and I didn’t see any sign of a weapon.”

“Voland told me they found it under the truck this morning when they towed it away.”