Devil’s Claw

After plummeting for several seconds he disappeared from view, flying beak-down into a stand of tall, winter-dried grass. Joa

From his hidden perch he let out a blood-curdling screech-a cry of triumph, most likely-one that pronounced to all concerned a successful end to his hunt. That sound alone was enough to raise the hackles on the back of Joa

In the spot where Joa

“How’d you learn to do that?” Joa

“Do what?” Lucy asked.

“The bird call,” Joa

“Big Red taught me,” Lucy said. She grimaced and then turned her face toward Joa

Joa

Lucy sighed. “Father Mulligan told me about you. He likes you and says I should talk to you, tell you what happened.”

“It would be nice if you did,” Joa

Two enormous tears leaked out from under the thick lenses of Lucy Ridder’s glasses. They slipped down her cheeks and then dripped, unchecked, onto a worn blue fla

“My mother’s dead,” Lucy said. “For years I hoped she would die in prison so I’d never have to see her again. But now that she really is dead, I wish it hadn’t happened. I wish I’d had a chance to talk to her, to ask her the reason. Why did she have to do it?”

“Why did she do what?” Joa

“Why did she have to kill my father?”

“I don’t know the answer to that,” Joa

Lucy blinked. “About my father?”

“About both of them,” Joa

Lucy Ridder nodded once. “Yes,” she said with a ragged sigh, and then she began to cry.

CHAPTER 23

Several minutes later, when Lucy Ridder finally stopped sobbing and turned to face Joa

“That’s a beautiful necklace you’re wearing,” Joa

Unconsciously, one of Lucy’s hands strayed gracefully to her throat and clasped shut around the necklace. “Grandma Bagwell, my grandmother’s mother, gave it to me before she died,” Lucy said. “It’s a devil’s claw.”

“May I see it?” Joa

Shrugging, Lucy’s hands went to the clasp. Within seconds Joa

“It’s lovely,” Joa

“Indians use devil’s claw to weave in the patterns when they make baskets.”

“I know,” Joa

“Grandma Bagwell, my great-grandmother, used to say that people can make baskets without using devil’s claw, but that’s what they need to make the basket interesting, to make it tell a story. When she gave me the necklace, she told me it was because she thought I was interesting, too.”

“Did you know your mother had a necklace just like this-one that’s almost identical?” Joa

Once again Lucy’s eyes clouded over with tears. “No,” she whispered. “I didn’t know that. Grandma Bagwell must have given her one at the same time. But why? I thought when Grandma Bagwell gave this one to me it meant I was special, but I guess I was wrong.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Joa

“No,” Lucy Ridder said, shaking her head.

Still holding the silver necklace in her hand, Joa

“My job is studying patterns,” Joa

“Like my father and my mother,” Lucy murmured.

Joa

“Not always.”

“But they may be co

“Yes.”

“I think something similar has happened here,” Joa

“My grandmother?” Lucy asked.

“No. The latest victim is Melanie Goodson.”

“My mother’s attorney?” Joa

Lucy shuddered. “She’s dead because I called her,” Lucy wailed, shaking her head and rocking back and forth. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble for her, too. I didn’t mean for her to be killed. I just knew I needed help, and I didn’t know who to ask.”

“Please, Lucy,” Joa