Rattlesnake Crossing

"Not to worry. I know there's still some of my bread left over from last night. And I believe I saw both milk and eggs in the fridge. With bread and milk and eggs, I can make dynamite French toast. What time do you have to be at work?"

"Eight."

He glanced at his watch. "Hey," he said, "as far as I'm concerned, eight is still a very long time from now." "What's that supposed to mean?"

Butch put one arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him. "Guess," he said.

Hand in hand, they rose and, with no further discussion, made their way back into the bedroom. Afterward, with time growing short, Joa

Out in the kitchen, Butch was standing watch over the stove as Joa

Joa

"I notice you have one or two other talents," she said. "I can see why a girl might want to keep you around."

Joa

"By the way," Butch called after her, "it drives me crazy when I cook food for people and they let it get cold. Did I ever tell you that?"

Coming back with the still ringing phone, Joa

"Joa

"Yes, Jeff, it's me. How are you? You sound awful."

"We've had a pretty rough night here," Jeff Daniels told her. "Esther's come down with pneumonia."

"Oh, no!" Joa

"The doctors don't know whether they'll be able to save her," Jeff continued. "Because of the transplant, they've pumped her full of immune suppressants. But now…" His voice trailed off.

Joa

"Not that well. Right now she's down in the room with Esther. She didn't want me to call you, Joa

"Well, I will," Joa

She put down the phone and looked across the kitchen at Butch, who was still flipping French toast on the griddle.

"Esther has pneumonia," she heard herself say. "She might not make it. I've got to go to Tucson."

Butch took the last two pieces of French toast off the griddle and turned off the heat. "I'll go with you," he offered.

"No," Joa

"Yes, I do," he insisted. "I want to. Your car or mine, or do we have to take both?"

Joa

"Let's go in mine," she decided. "That way, if I have to be in touch with the department, I can use either the radio or the phone. And the siren," she added. "If need be."

Butch's eyes met hers across the kitchen, then he nodded. "Right," he agreed. "The siren."

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

As they drove up through Bisbee and over the Divide, Butch sat quietly on the rider's side of the Blazer watching the desert speed by outside the window. "What are their families like?" he asked finally.

"Jeff's and Maria

Butch nodded and Joa

"Safford," Butch mused. "That's not too far away, so they'll probably show up to help out, too."

Joa

“Why not?” Butch asked.

"Because Maria

"Black sheep!" Butch echoed. "The woman's a saint. She doesn't smoke or drink or use bad words. Not to mention the fact that she's a minister. What makes her a black sheep?"

"She's a Methodist."

"So?"

"Evangeline is a devout Catholic. She's been bent out of shape ever since her daughter left the Church. She hasn't spoken to Maria

"I suppose that means she hasn't laid eyes on her grand-children, either," Butch surmised.

"Right," Joa

"That's a shame."

"No," Joa

As she drove, she kept one eye on the speedometer and the other on the clock. As soon as it was eight, she picked up the radio. "Put me through to Dick Voland," she told Dispatch. "He should be there by now."

It took a few minutes to track the chief deputy down. "Where are you, Joa

"I'm in the car and on my way to Tucson," she said. "Jeff Daniels and Maria

"No problem. I can take care of that. Anything in particular you want me to cover?"

Joa

"I want you to have someone pick up the last three or four years' worth of high school yearbooks from both Benson and St. David. Have someone show them to Clyde Philips' next-door neighbor, Sarah Holcomb. She should look through them and see if any of the pictures match up with any of the 'young 'uns,' as she calls them, who used to hang around Clyde Philips' house."

"Okay," Dick Voland said. "I'll have someone get right on it. Jaime or Ernie, most likely."

"Whoever you send, tell them that once Sarah finishes examining the pictures, I want her to go visit her daughter, who lives somewhere up in Tucson. I want her to stay there until we put this case to rest."

"You think she's in danger?" Dick asked.

"Absolutely. If there's even a remote chance that she can identify the killer, she's as much a threat to him as Frankie Ramos was."

"What if she refuses to leave?"

"Then put a guard on her house. Park a deputy on her front porch twenty-four hours a day if you have to. I don't want anything to happen to the woman."

"Mounting a twenty-four-hour guard is going to cost money. Frank Montoya'll shit a brick over that idea."

"Well, then," Joa

"Frank? But he's not even a detective."

"He's a trained police officer, Dick. I'm sure he's fully capable of showing her a montage of photos and getting her reaction. He can do that every bit as well as a detective can. Aren't Ernie and Jaime totally overloaded at the moment?"