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“I don’t want to get in the way of family discipline, Mrs. Styles,” Joa
Reluctantly, Andrew Styles’ mother opened the door. “Come on in,” she said. “I don’t suppose your talking to him will make that much difference.”
She pointed the way across a narrow living room. “I!is room’s down that hall, first door on the left.”
Joa
Everything about the room screamed little boy. The walls were plastered with posters of cars and athletes. A squadron of model airplanes dangled from the ceiling on strings. In front of the window sat a low bookshelf that was covered with model cars. Andrew himself lay on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and listening to music. Even though he was wearing earphones, Joa
“Andrew?” Joa
“Whaddya want?” he asked.
“First, I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Sheriff Joa
“I got in trouble for it,” Andrew Styles said. “I wasn’t supposed to be riding my bike. I didn’t think Mom would find out, but when that reporter came to talk to me, I knew she would, so I decided I’d better tell the truth.”
“That’s always the best idea,” Joa
“What about those people up the street? Are they really bad guys?”
“Yes. Really bad.”
“What did they do?”
“We don’t know for sure.”
“Did they kill somebody?”
“We think so, although they’re not considered guilty until after a judge and jury say they are. What I can tell you for sure is that they’re not the kind of people who tell the truth. They’re not like you, Andrew. If they had been out riding their bikes when they weren’t supposed to, they wouldn’t have admitted it, especially not if it was going to get them into trouble.”
Andrew rolled over onto his side, planted one bony elbow in his pillow, and cushioned his chin in the palm of his hand. “Are you really the sheriff?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“How come?”
“Because the people elected me. I ran for office and I won.”
“I wouldn’t mind being sheriff,” he said. “But I don’t think I’d like it if people tied me up with duct tape.”
Joa
“Would you come speak to my social studies class sometimes?” Andrew asked. “The DARE officer is at school all the time, but I think it would be cool to have the real sheriff come talk to us.”
Joa
She started toward the door. “One other thing,” Andrew said.
“What’s that?”
“Are you going to get in trouble for shooting a hole in those tires?”
“I could, but I doubt it,” Joa
“Who decides whether or not they get in trouble?”
“I do.”
“How come?”
Joa
As she walked back out to the crime scene, she hoped her explanation of the bullet hole in the Blazer’s right front tire would make as much sense to Da
Out on the street, Chief Deputy Montoya was waiting for her. “What took you so long?” he asked.
“I had to see someone, Frank-the little boy who saved my neck. And I need some badges.”
“What kind of badges?”
“Some I can keep in my purse and hand out as necessary.”
“Fake ones, you mean. For little kids?”
“And grown ones.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Frank said, jotting down a note. “Anything else?”
“Remind me to look into a new gun. The Colt misfired twice this afternoon. Both times when a crook was using it instead of me, but twice is two times too many.”
She paused and looked around. “Now, where are we?”
“Deputy Pakin is just finishing changing your flat. The Blazer’s drivable, even though part of the windshield’s blown, or we can have it towed.”
“Tape the windshield,” Joa
“Meantime, we have Dena Hogan all loaded up in my Civvy and ready to go. I mirandized her, but she’s waiving her right to an attorney. She claims to be representing herself. She wants to see the prosecutor about a plea bargain, and she wants to do it right away. Now. Tonight.”
“Of course she does,” Joa
“You know what they say,” Frank said with a smile. “No honor among thieves.”
“Or killers,” Joa
“She had two tickets to Mexico City in her purse-one for her and one for Ross Jenkins. But I’m sure Mexico City wasn’t their final destination.”
“What was?”
“Rio. Brazil doesn’t have capital punishment. Authorities there won’t extradite someone if it looks like they’re going to come back to the States and face a possible death penalty.”
“Fortunately, neither one of them made it that far. What kind of a deal do you think old Arlee will strike?” Joa
Arlee Campbell Jones, Cochise County’s aging prosecutor, had his own peculiar way of doing things-one that didn’t seem to stand in the way of his wi
“Dena Hogan ‘s pretty enough,” Frank Montoya observed. “And she’s got nice legs. Nice legs always seem to count for something when it comes time for Arlee to wheel and deal.”
“Tough luck for Ross Jenkins,” Joa
Just then, a car-this one a silver-gray Camry-wheeled around a blocking patrol car and surged up the street. Despite three different officers signaling for the vehicle to stop, the driver refused to slow down until he was directly behind Joa
“What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded. “What’s going on here?”
“I’m Sheriff Joa
“Rex Hogan,” he said. “What are all these people doing here? Why’s the street blocked off? And what’s the meaning of all these cars parked in my driveway?”
Looking at the man, Joa