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“What about Lindsey?”
“This is a federal case. It takes precedence. It involves the killing of an FBI agent and the likely killing of the DEA agent, Pennington. We can put her away for life. If the state tried her, the charge would only be attempted murder.” He shook his head and returned his gaze to me. “Why on earth did she do this?”
“I was hoping you could tell me,” I said. “We didn’t have time for a lengthy conversation out in the woods. Her gun was on me. I shot first.”
“Goddamned lucky,” Peralta muttered.
“I’m a good shot.”
Pham shrugged. “She told us that she wanted the diamonds to finance a secure new life in the United States. Or in a country without an extradition treaty with Canada if her theft was detected. We found a counterfeit U.S. passport—best quality—driver’s license, and credit cards under the name Amy Morris. She keeps talking about wanting options. That’s the word she uses, ‘options.’ The rich have them and the rest of us don’t. Some of her testimony may be of a classified nature, so…”
“I’m not rich and I didn’t kill people stealing diamonds.”
“You may never get a good answer, Doctor Mapstone,” he said. “Our psychologists theorize that she snapped when her family was murdered. Not that we’re going to let her use an insanity defense. Her methods show she was sane enough, knew right from wrong…”
“She wore Chanel Number Five.”
“What?”
“Expansive tastes,” I said. “Maybe she was never Amy Do-Right.”
“Well, when we sort this out…”
Peralta cut him off. “Whatever. I know you tried, Eric. Don’t let her get away. Let’s go, Mapstone.”
I felt his hand cup my elbow and steer us back toward the entrance.
“So are you going to run for sheriff again next election?” This came from a marshal. She was female, young, Anglo, and more than a little starstruck.
“I doubt it,” Peralta said. “Arizona’s got some changing to do before I have a chance.”
It was sad but true.
That afternoon, the rain departed and the remaining clouds made for one of those breathtaking sunsets that seem from another planet. I was on my way back to see Lindsey but had to pull into a parking lot and gape. As I took in the vivid pallet of colors, the White Tanks revealed themselves to the west, a dark tear against the horizon.
And I knew the job wasn’t finished.
Chapter Forty-seven
I called the meeting for three p.m. at my office in the old courthouse. It gave me a chance to prepare the contents of my briefcase and do a little interior decorating.
Even so, Diane and Zephyr Whitehouse arrived ten minutes early. Diane was wearing a black pantsuit with tasteful diamond stud earrings. Zephyr had on jeans torn at the knees, a low-cut pink top, and vivid red lipstick, all probably to irritate her mother.
I invited them to sit down. Even though Zephyr was taller than Diane, the resemblance was clear, especially in the large, lovely eyes and the perfect noses. I thought about the photos I had seen of Lindsey’s mother, Linda, as a young woman. They were almost identical. Robin didn’t look like either of them.
“What’s this about, David?” Diane sounded almost as familiar with me as she had been in the closet, or that was her act.
“David will tell us, Diane.” Zephyr gave a wide smile.
“I need a few minutes,” I said. “One more person will be coming.”
Neither spoke for a long time.
Finally, Zephyr asked about the large black-and-white photo I had hung behind me, next to the portrait of Chris Melton.
“That’s Carl Hayden when he was Maricopa County sheriff,” I said. “He went on to become one of the longest-serving senators in American history. After JFK was assassinated, Hayden was second in line for the presidency. He spent his career fighting to ensure the Central Arizona Project. But he started out as sheriff. In 1910, he formed a posse to run down some train robbers. The ‘Beardless Boy Bandits.’ Usually, he didn’t carry a gun.”
Diane stifled a look of boredom. Zephyr winked at me. I didn’t care if they were interested. I was interested. This photo had hung in my office for years when I worked for Peralta. Now, with Hayden in Stetson, straight serious mouth, and expressive dark eyes looking down, I felt reassured.
