Rattlesnake Crossing

Hands in his pockets, Tim Maculyea stood to one side and watched them go. "It's rough," he said, shaking his head and swiping at tears from under his thick glasses. "It's awful damned rough." He turned to Joa

"No, she didn't," Joa

"I doubt it," Tim said sadly. "I'll see what I can do, but I'm not making any promises."

At two-thirty, Joa

He looked at her and smiled. "Glad to be of help," he said, and then he was gone.

Once alone, Joa

Not wanting to broadcast everything that had gone on over the police band, she used her cell phone to check in with the office. She wasn't surprised to hear that everyone was out. In fact, considering that week's impossible case-load, Joa

"I can have one of them call you as soon as they show up," Kristin Marsten offered.

"No," Joa

"It was there, all right," Kristin answered. "There was a piece of paper inside with Clyde Philips' name on it, and nothing else. It's a rap sheet with nothing on it."

"Nothing? Not even a minor vehicle mishap?"

"Nothing at all. I figured you'd know what it means."

"I'm afraid I do," Joa

When her cell phone rang barely a minute later, Joa

"Monty Brainard must have called you," she said. "He told me he was going to."

"Yes," Breen replied. "With some wild-assed idea about your department wanting to borrow some weapons. Fifty-calibers, I believe."

"Well, I-"

"I told him I'd get back to you, Sheriff Brady. I can see from the news reports that you and your people have your hands full right now, but you have to understand the agency's position. If you want to call us in officially, that's one thing. I can have people there in jig time. But the other is out of the question. Bisbee and Phoenix may be from the same state, but we're not exactly neighbors. And borrowing a fifty-caliber weapon isn't the same thing as borrowing a lawn mower or a cup of sugar. You do understand what I'm saying, don't you, Ms. Brady?"

Yes, Mr. Breen. I certainly do, you overbearing asshole, Joa

"So," Breen continued quickly, before she had a chance to finish her response, "as I said, if you'd like to call us in, I'll be glad to send in a team, along with someone to take charge of the entire operation and perso

Like hell you will! "Thanks, but no, thanks," Joa

Joa

Executing a U-turn, she drove back and pulled up beside his vehicle. "Meet me at the Quarter Horse," she told him. "I need to talk to you."

"Sure thing," he said.

Ten minutes later, Joa

Joa

A veil of wariness closed down over Deputy Sandoval's eyes. "What's this all about?"

"Frankie Ramos."

Joa

"What about him?" Eddy asked finally.

"I understand you and Ruben are old buddies."

Sandoval bristled then. "I don't know what Ruben told you," he began, rising off the bench, "but I-"

"Sit, Eddy," Joa

Reluctantly, he settled back down. "Frankie's dead," he said. "So what do you want? My resignation, is that it?"

"I may want your resignation eventually. But right this minute, what I want is information."

"What kind of information?"

"Did you ever break up any parties at Clyde Philips' house over in Pomerene?" she asked.

Eddy Sandoval's eyes flickered and then slid sideways toward one of the many horse pictures painted on the wall. "A few, I guess," he admitted.

"How many would you say? Two? Five?"

"I don't know. I don't remember exactly."

"And how many of those show up in the official log?"

Sandoval dropped his eyes and stared down at the table-top. His finger traced a chip in the edge of the Formica. "Probably none," he said.

"Why not?"

"Who knows? Maybe I forgot. But I don't have to answer any of this," he added sullenly. "I've got a right to an attorney."

"You do have to answer, Eddy," Joa

Eddy hung his head. "Yeah," he said at last. "There was one other guy there, a buddy of Frankie's, I guess. Last name of Merritt."

"What about this Merritt kid?" Joa

Eddy continued to stare at the table and said nothing. "That's answer enough, I suppose," Joa

"Good for what?"

"I don't know, some ammo now and then. A gun, I suppose. Nothing big. Just little stuff."

"And you somehow never wrote up any of those citations."

"Yeah," he said. "I suppose that's it."

"What about Ruben Ramos?" Joa

Eddy straightened up. "Ruben's a good friend of mine," he said. "We've been buddies a long time. I never charged him nothin'."

"What about the other boy? What was his name again, Merritt?"

Eddy shrugged. "He's over twenty-one, so all he was looking at was an open-container. I went out to see his folks but ended up talking to his stepmother. I could see right away that wasn't going anywhere, so I gave it up."

"Who's his stepmother?"

"Sonja Hosfield," Eddy Sandoval said. "Out at the Triple C. As far as she's concerned, that boy could be drowning, and she wouldn't lift a finger to drag him out. I just let it go."