Dead to Rights

She took a deep breath to steady herself. “It’s Sheriff Brady and Detective Carpenter,” she called through the open door. “We’re here to talk with Dr. Wade.”

“You’re a little late.”

The voice was familiar, but Joa

“Sheriff Brady,” Larry Kendrick said. “Aren’t you on tour way to see Dr. Wade down in Douglas?”

“That’s right,” Ernie responded. “We’ve got a probem-”

But Kendrick rushed on. “We’ve got more info on that explosion. The cabin belongs to the same guy-Reginald Wade. A Mazda Miata registered in his name was found outside. So was Terry Buckwalter’s T-Bird.”

Earlier, in order to hear the radio over the road noise, Ernie had turned up the volume. Now, in the silence of the clinic yard, the transmission was so loud that not only did Joa

“See there, Sheriff Brady?” Larry Matkin said. “You should have returned my call right away. If you had, maybe you could have prevented some of this. I wouldn’t have found out she was playing me for a sucker. Maybe they’d all still be alive.”

“Who would be alive?”

“Terry and Reggie, for starters,” Matkin answered. “And me, too.”

Ducking behind the dashboard so as not to be visible while he did it, Ernie lowered the volume on the radio and then spoke urgently into the mike, giving their location, calling for backup. Meantime, Joa

“But you are alive, Larry,” she argued.

“Just barely,” he said. “And not for long.”

“Are you hurt, then?” Joa

“Hurt? You’re damned right, I’m hurt. She really did it to me. Pulled the wool right over my eyes. ‘Nobody will ever have to know,’ she said. ‘Once we have the money, they’ll never be able to prove a thing.’ I trusted her, for God’s sake. I believed every word she said.”

With one ear, Joa

“Who are we talking about?” Joa

“Who else?”

“And what are we talking about proving?”

“I did it for her,” he said. “I faked all those assay reports. There’s ore there, but not as much as I said. The Don Luis site would be better, but she said as long as she and the doc had their money, they’d make sure I’d get a cut and no one would be the wiser.”

“What doe?” Joa

“Fu

“You’re saying Terry and Reggie Wade killed Bucky?”

“If you want, I can have Terry tell you herself. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

By then Joa

“Tell ‘em,” Larry Matkin said, shoving the gag aside so he could talk. “Go on. Tell Sheriff Brady what you told me.”

“Oh, my God!” Terry Buckwalter pleaded. “You’ve got to help me. He’s already killed poor Reggie. He’s crazy. He’s got dynamite all over the place. Here on the porch, in the house. Dynamite and blasting caps, both. He’s going to blow us all to kingdom come.”

“Enough!” Larry ordered. “Tell them the rest of it. About Bucky.” Weeping and shaking her head, Terry dropped to her knees.

“Please,” she said. “Please.”

Somehow, Joa

“I can’t,” he said. “It’s too late.”

“No, it’s not,” Joa

On the seat beside her, Ernie Carpenter let out a groan. “Shit!” he said.

“What is it?” Joa

Ernie was staring into the rearview mirror. “A car just turned in the driveway.”

Behind them, a late-model Chrysler New Yorker had pulled up in front of the clinic. An older silver-haired woman, wearing a bright pink pantsuit, got out of the dark blue four-door sedan. As soon as she opened the door, a small gray dog came tumbling out after her. Ignoring her orders to the contrary, the dog went racing over to the sidewalk, where he lifted his leg and peed on a low-lying manzanita bush.

“Buster,” the woman wailed, chasing after him. “You come back here right now.”

The dog, enjoying the game, paused just out of reach. He waited until the woman was almost on top of him, then he darted off again-ru

There was no time for discussion, only time to react. “I’ll get her,” Ernie said, peeling out of the rider’s side in a roll. He landed on the ground, crouching and ru

That took no more than a few seconds. When Joa

It wasn’t a question of heroics. The Blazer was still idling. Slinging the gearshift into reverse, Joa

Scrambling out onto the ground, Joa

It was flattened. Thin wisps of smoke coiled up from the wreckage. She turned around in time to see Ernie hand off the squirming dog to his mistress as though it were some kind of living football, then he started toward the house at a dead run.

Joa

“Come on,” he said grimly. “Matkin is dead, but Terry’s under here. She may still be alive.”

He was right. Once they pried the debris off Terry, she still alive. Barely. It would have been best not to move her, but the tinder-dry wood inside the house was quickly catching fire. When they finally got her loose, they each took her by an arm and pulled her free.

Far enough from the house to be out of danger, they laid her down. While Ernie ran to get blankets, Joa

Terry’s lips moved, but with the sirens coming down Leslie Canyon Road and with the increasing roar of the fire in the background, Joa