Dead to Rights

“One more thing, Sheriff Brady,” the priest said. “Hal isn’t actually charged with anything at the moment, is he?”

“Not yet,” Joa

“That being the case, is it really necessary to have a police officer following him around everywhere he goes? Hal is finding that very disturbing.”

Joa

“But why?”

“Because he’s a flight risk,” Voland put in, answering Father McCrady’s question in Joa

Father McCrady peered around Joa

“Hal Morgan’s word may be good enough for you,” Dick Voland said. “But it doesn’t mean much to anyone else. We’re working on physical evidence.”

“What physical evidence?” Father McCrady asked.

“Obviously we can’t reveal that,” Joa

Hurrying back into her office, Joa

Any other night, Je

“Yes,” Joa

Minutes later, Joa

“Sorry about that Random Acts of Kindness comment,” he said. “I don’t know what gets into me sometimes. And thanks for backing me up on the Morgan surveillance, too. I’ve just got a feeling about this Morgan guy. I can’t explain it.

“You’ve been checking him out?”

Voland nodded. “I have. That’s what worries me. Nobody has a bad word to say about him. Nicest guy you’ll ever meet. Trust him with my life. Honest as the day is long.”

Joa

“Maybe the people who are telling you those nice things about him are right. Maybe he didn’t do it.”

“And maybe he did,” Voland insisted glumly.

Joa

“I know Ernie was out talking to the Rob Roy guy this afternoon,” Voland said. “So he may have found out about the golf stuff, but the pregnancy bit is something else. How’d you find that out if Ernie didn’t?”

There was a certain grudging respect in Dick Voland’s voice, something Joa

Several miles passed before Dick Voland spoke again. “The last time I remember seeing Terry and Bucky together was at a football game last fall. They seemed just fine-as normal as apple pie. There was no way to tell all this other stuff was going on, but that’s the way life works. You think people are fine, and then one day they blow up in your face.” He paused. “It makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” he added.

“Yes,” Joa

In the course of the next four hours, Joa

Just dealing with the prisoners proved to be a logistical nightmare. Most of the time, Border Patrol policy dictates that undocumented aliens simply be returned to Mexico. This time, however, with authorities wanting to file vehicular homicide charges against the driver, it had been deemed necessary to hold all the U.D.A.s in what, for now, was being billed as “protective custody.”

The smuggler/driver-who had been wearing a seat belt and wasn’t injured in the wreck-had left the scene on foot. After three hours of searching, a canine unit finally found him hiding under a mesquite tree in a wash.

It was almost ten by the time Joa

Shortly after eleven Tom Hadlock, the jail commander, stopped by Joa

“I’ve got the coyote in an isolation cell,” Hadlock told her. “I was afraid some of his victims might try to do him in.”

“I wouldn’t be too surprised if they did,” Joa

At the time of his arrest, the smuggler had been carrying no driver’s license and had given what everyone had assumed to be a phony name.

“You bet,” Tom replied proudly. “When we ran his prints through that new Automated Fingerprint Identification System, they rang bells from here to Texas. The guy’s real name is Jesus Rojas Gonzales. He has three outstanding warrants on non-related drug-ru

“About how you’d think,” Joa

The jail commander gri

After Hadlock left her office, Joa

Three offices and the conference room opened off the reception area-hers, Dick Voland’s, and Frank Montoya’s Frank’s office was empty, as was Joa