Desert Heat Read Online Free PDF Page A

remember touching.”
    “I’ll be right back,” McFadden said. He marched away from her and disappeared into the wash. He returned a few minutes later, puffing with exertion.
    “I checked the Bronco,” he said. “There’s still a set of keys in the ignition. Are they yours or Andy’s?”
    “They must be Andy’s,” Joanna replied. “Mine are right here in my pocket.”
    She pulled the heavy key ring from her jacket pocket. It jangled heavily with its collection that included house, work, and car keys as well. Andy had often teased her that her key ring looked like it would have been more at home on a school janitor’s belt rather than in a woman’s purse.
    “You say the doors were locked when you got here?”
    “Yes. Both of them. Who would do this, Walter?”
    “I don’t have any idea, Joanna, but believe me, we’re going to find out.”
    “I want to help,” Joanna whispered fiercely.
    McFadden looked down at her and shook his head. “You already did enough just getting help here as soon as you did. Your job right now is to be there for Andy. Let us handle it, Joanna. Answer the questions when the detectives get around to talking to you, but other than that, leave well enough alone. He’s one of our own. We’ll take care of it.”
    Joanna gazed up at him. “You will, won’t you?”
    “Damned right,” McFadden responded. “You’d better believe it.”
    Just then a small, frail voice came wafting through the cool desert air. “Mommmmy,” Jennifer called from somewhere back down the road in the direction of the house. “Mommmy, where are you?”
    “Dear God in heaven,” Joanna exclaimed.
    “It’s Jenny. What in the world is she doing out here?”
    “Jenny?” Walter McFadden asked. “Your little girl?”
    Joanna nodded. She put down the coffee cup and threw off the blanket that had been wrapped around her legs while McFadden squinted up the darkened roadway. “There she is,” he said, pointing.
    Joanna peered into the darkness and caught sight of a small figure running toward them. “She probably saw the lights and came to see what was happening. We’d better head her off.”
    With Joanna leading the way, they rushed past the parked Eagle where a confined and miserable Sadie whined and bayed, wanting to go along. When they intercepted Jennifer, she was sobbing and out of breath.
    “What happened?” she demanded. “Is it Daddy? Is he all right?”
    Joanna gathered the frantic child into her arms. “Hush,” she said. “Stay here. It’s Daddy. They’re working on him right now. We mustn’t disturb them.”
    Jennifer struggled hard and tried to get free, but Joanna held her fast. “How’d you get here? Is Grandma coming?”
    The child gave up trying to escape and sobbed against her mother’s breast. “No. She sent me to bed so she could watch TV, but I saw the lights and snuck out through the window. I didn’t ask her if I could come. I knew she wouldn’t let me. Is Daddy okay? Is he dead?”
    Joanna shook her head. “I don’t know.” Jennifer turned to Walter McFadden. “Do you?” she asked accusingly.
    “No, ma’am,” McFadden returned in his soft east Texas drawl. “I don’t know either. You stay here with your mama, and I’ll go back down and see what I can find out.”
    Walter McFadden hurried away from them. Jennifer clung more tightly to her mother, and Joanna wrapped the remaining blanket around both of them. Maybe she couldn’t protect her child from anything else, but at least she could ward off the cold.
    “What happened?” Jennifer asked. “What happened to Daddy?”
    Joanna faltered momentarily before she could answer. “I think somebody shot him.”
    ”Who did, a crook?”
    When Andy Brady regaled his fascinated daughter with stories about his work life, the bad guys were always “crooks” or “black hats” and the police officers were always “good guys” or “white hats.”
    “Maybe,” Joanna said. “We won’t know that for a while.