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Marliss. But she made it sound real enough that I had to know for sure. So I
came out here to see for myself. I parked out on High Lonesome Road and
waited. And sure as shit, the first person to show up is Butch Dixon in that
little Outback of his. Jenny was in the car with him, and somebody else I
didn t recognize. Probably that cretin you dragged home from Saint David.
Dick, Joanna said warningly. I told you
I don t care what you told me, he said. I saw it with my own eyes. First he
drove up and then, hours later, who should show up? You, Sheriff Brady you and
nobody else. Come home to shack up. If you didn t care any more than hat about
yourself, it seems to me that you d at least care about Jenny.
That s about enough, Joanna said. I think you d better go now.
No, it isn t enough. Not nearly. Here. He reached in his shirt pocket and
fumbled out a wrinkled, much-folded piece f paper.
What s this? Joanna asked.
My letter of resignation. I quit. As of now.
Dick Voland had tried to quit once before right after Joann-a s election. Back
then she had talked him into staying because she needed his help, his
expertise. Even now, she still could use his experience, but not without
respect. Lacking that, sere was no way they could continue to work together.
She unfolded the letter and glanced at the contents.
All right, Joanna said when she finished reading. Con-sidering what s
happened, that s probably for the best. I ll expect you to turn in your
vehicle and your departmental weapons before the close of business today.
Don t think this is the last you re going to hear from me, Voland warned as
he turned his key in the ignition. The Bronco s engine roared to life.
No, Joanna said. I don t suppose it is. As soon as the heater fan caught
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hold, another cloud of rancid air blasted into Joanna s face. Are you sure
you should be driving ? she added. It s possible you re still drunk.
I m not drunk, he insisted. Besides, who s going to stop me? You? I don t
think so.
Voland rammed the Bronco into reverse and then stepped on the gas. Joanna had
to sidestep out of the way in order to keep from being creamed by the outside
mirror. He drove off, leaving Joanna in a cloud of dust.
Fleeing into the house, it was all she could do to press her door key into the
lock. She dropped the letter on the dryer and then ran weeping through the
house. She threw herself across the bed and buried her face in the covers.
Joanna hadn t cried that way for months. A wild fit of racking sobs came from
deep inside her and shook her whole body. Her tears didn t have their source
in any one thing. It was everything: Dick Voland quitting. Eleanor bossing her
around. Butch ask-ing her if being sheriff was what she really wanted. Lewis
Flores blowing his brains out right in front of her. And that was not all.
There was also the fact that Joanna had lost her nerve and hadn t actually
told Jenny what was really going on with Butch. Now, thanks to Marliss
Shackleford, everyone else in town already knew about it or soon would.
Eventually the combination of tears and exhaustion caught up with her. Joanna
fell asleep. The next thing she knew, she and Butch were standing together at
the altar of Canyon United Methodist Church. Butch, wearing a tuxedo, was
grin-ning from ear to ear. Junior, standing beside him, was evi-dently best
man, although the badge he wore in place of a boutonniere looked a little out
of place on his tux.
Looking down, Joanna discovered that she, too, was dressed for the occasion.
She was wearing her wedding dress the same dress she had worn years earlier
when she and Andy were married. Beside her, as maid of honor, stood Angie
Kellogg, the ex-hooker Joanna and Marianne Maculyea had rescued from the
clutches of a sadistic drug-enforcer. Liv-ing in Bisbee, Angie had achieved a
certain kind of respectabil-ity, but in Joanna s dream she had regressed.
Standing in front of the church, the lushly voluptuous Angie looked anything
but prim. One hip was cocked at a suggestive angle. She looked like a hustler
standing on a street corner and waiting for her next trick to show up and make
her an offer.
In front of them a smilingly oblivious Marianne Maculyea looked past the
bridal party toward the rest of the congrega-tion. If anyone here present
knows of any reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony,
Marianne in-toned, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.
Behind them, at the far end of the aisle, the church door slammed open. Joanna
turned and looked back, but in her dream Canyon Methodist s beautifully
varnished mahogany doors had vanished. In their stead, separating the
sanctuary from the entryway vestibule, was a shabby swinging door straight out
of the Blue Moon Saloon and Lounge in Brewery Gulch, where Angie Kellogg now
worked as relief bartender. And in front of the door, posing with his feet
apart like some latter-day gun-slinging John Wayne, stood Dick Voland.
I object, Voland said. I saw her first and that makes her mine. If anybody
here disagrees with that, I ll be happy to meet him outside and settle this
man to man.
That was all it took. Butch Dixon turned and strode down the aisle, leaving
Joanna standing alone. Come back, she called after him. This is stupid.
Don t do this. But he just kept on walking. He didn t even look back.
Joanna awakened with a start. One hand, trapped under her cheek, felt as
though it were made of wood. As soon as she moved her weight off it,
circulation began returning, sending a painful tingling all the way from her
fingertips up to her elbow.
Turning over, Joanna glanced at the clock. It said one-thirty. That meant she
had been out of it for over four hours. Her clothing was wrinkled. There was a
wet spot on the bedspread where she had drooled in her sleep. She was thinking
about getting up and maybe making herself something to eat when the phone
rang.
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Mrs. Brady? a voice asked.
That was strange. Joanna wasn t used to being called Mrs. Brady any more. Most
people addressed her as Sheriff. Yes, she said. Who s this?
Enid Sutton, was the reply. I m the principal at Lowell School.
Enid Sutton was new to Bisbee, but Joanna remembered meeting her once at a
school open house. She hadn t been particularly impressed one way or the
other.
I m afraid you re going to have to come pick up your daughter, Mrs. Sutton
continued.
What s wrong? Is Jenny sick? Hurt?
She s not hurt, but I am putting her on a three-day suspension.
Suspension! Joanna gasped. What on earth for? [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]