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strings to find out whether or not that s what happened. It turns out we re right. Becker went into the program and stayed for the better part of a year. Then he let himself right back out again a little over a year ago. Which is about the time Farley Adams showed up in Tombstone. That means he s pulled two disappearing acts instead of just one. If you take what happened Sunday into consideration, Frank said, it sounds more like three. Let s go back to the Witness Protection Program. Don t they pull prints once someone goes undercover? Usually. At least, they re supposed to. I m guessing, though, that some wise-ass up in North Las Vegas one of the dirty cops pals figured things the same way we did that the Feds were hiding him. Whoever it was had enough pull to put Becker s prints back into circulation on the off-chance that one day Becker s prints would show back up in the system. And now they have, Joanna mused. When Alice Rogers turned up missing, he must have realized that we d come to him looking for answers. He also knew that if we did even the most limited of background checks, it would lead to more and more questions. And straight back to North Las Vegas, where someone is still harboring a grudge and looking to kill him. Which brings us right back to the mysterious Detective Garfield. Exactly. So here we have someone who was once suspected of conspiracy to commit Page 88 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html murder. That might make him prime-suspect material in this case, but the problem is, he didn t take off until after you and Susan Jenkins came to see him. Which means that until you both showed up, he probably didn t have an idea that anything was wrong. Which would mean that he isn t our killer after all. May not be our killer, Joanna corrected. But even if he himself didn t kill Alice Rogers, he may know something that would help lead us to whoever did. And we have to find him before someone else gets to him first. Or else we have to find Detective Garfield. Did the call to Casey come in through the regular switchboard? As far as I know. Well, then, Frank said. How about if I work with the phone company and try to find out where that call came from? Can you make inquiries like that after hours? Watch me, Frank replied. The radio was quiet for a moment as Joanna considered her next move. Do that if you can, she said at last. In the meantime, we ve got another problem. I gathered that much from what Tica said. What s going on? Joanna reeled off everything she knew as well as what she suspected concerning the disappearance of Lewis Flores. What s the next step then? Frank asked when she finished. If you ve got deputies at both Childers house and at Brain-ard s, what else is there to do? I m on my way out to Sierra Vista right now, Joanna told him. I want to talk to the deputies in person and find out what, if anything, they ve discovered. If it goes bad, though, I m going to need you on the double. Okay, Frank said. I ll stand by. Call if you need me. Going back to Tica, Joanna asked for detailed directions to the two houses in question. Karen Brainard lived near Hua-chuca City. Childers house, in Sierra Vista Estates, was far closer, so Joanna headed there first. She was about to turn off the highway when she was hit by a sudden stroke of inspira-tion. All of Lewis Flores difficulties seemed to stem from the controversy swirling around Oak Vista Estates. Maybe that s where the answers lay as well. Switching off her turn signal, Joanna continued on down Highway 92. At the entrance to Oak Vista, she found that a makeshift barbed-wire gate had been pulled across the road and stretched between the two upright posts of the cattle guard. There was a padlock hanging on a chain around one end of the gate, but when Joanna checked, she found it wasn t fastened. If the lock was supposed to keep monkey wrenchers out, it wasn t going to do much good left open. Joanna opened the gate, drove across the cattle guard, then doused the Blazer s lights and turned off the engine. Tica, she said into the radio. I m out at Oak Vista Estates right now. I m stopped just inside the entrance, and I think I d better have some backup. I ll get someone right there. What s happening? I m not sure. The gate has a chain and a padlock, but it wasn t fastened shut. I m afraid someone may be here ahead of me. The monkey wrenchers? Tice asked. Maybe, but l don t know. That s why I want backup. I ll send the deputies who are already at Mark Childers house. They should be able to get to you in under ten minutes. Have them come ASAP, Joanna said. But no lights or sirens. I don t want to advertise our arrival. Got it, Tica said. Joanna stepped out of her car. A raw autumn wind was blowing down off the Huachucas. Shivering against the cold, Joanna returned to the Blazer and pulled on her sheepskin jacket the one with the bullet hole still in the pocket. Finger-ing that hole and remembering how the weapon she had car-ried there had once saved her life, Joanna pulled the Glock out of her small-of-the-back holster. She was just putting it in her pocket when she heard first one shot, then another and another. The shots were followed by Page 89 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html something else a woman s terrified scream that floated down to Joanna carried on the icy wind. The sound of it raised the hairs on the back of her neck and sent her scrambling into the Blazer. Waiting for backup to arrive was no longer an option. The deputies summoned from Mark Childers house were still min-utes away. The terror and desperation in the woman s scream left no margin for delay. Shots have been fired, Joanna declared into her radio microphone. I m going in, Tica. Tell my backup to use the hell out of their sirens. I want Flores to know we re coming. I want all of them to know we re coming. With the gas pedal shoved to the floor and with her own siren screaming, Joanna tore up the freshly bladed road that wound uphill to the construction shack. And that s where Jo-anna s headlights zeroed in on a silver Taurus station wagon. Lewis Flores sat on the hood, leaning back against the wind-shield. One weapon lay across his lap. From a distance, Joanna couldn t make out if he was holding the shotgun or the rifle, but it didn t really matter. Either one of them was suffi-ciently lethal. She parked, cut the lights, and opened the window, but she didn t step out of the Blazer. If it came to a shoot-out, she wanted the benefit of whatever cover the engine block might provide. Lewis, she called as she drew the heavy-duty Colt 2000 out of her shoulder [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |