CHAPTER FOURTEEN
With Daniel Berridge in the front seat and Ernie Carpenter in the back, Joanna drove the Blazer back to the crime scene. She could see as they drove up that they were just in time. Fran Daly and her two helpers were within bare minutes of loading the body into a waiting Pima County van.
Daniel and Ernie stepped out of the Blazer. Joanna was about to follow when her phone rang. "Go on, you guys," she said, wrestling the phone out of her purse. "I'll take this call and then catch up in a minute. Hello?"
"Mom?" Jenny's voice was bright and chipper. "How are you? Are you at home or are you still at work?"
The sudden shift between crime scene and domestic scene-between being a cop and being a mother-did its usual mind-bending trick.
"I'm still at work," Joanna told her.
"But you sound funny. Strange. Like you're in a well." The cheeriness drained out of Jenny's voice and was replaced by a certain wariness. "Maybe your phone is weak or something. Maybe the battery is tired."
"I'm out in the middle of nowhere," Joanna said. "East of Benson. The signal is probably weak. I tried to call you earlier this afternoon, but no one was home."
"That's what I wanted to tell you about. This afternoon."
Up ahead of the Blazer, a small procession moved toward the waiting van. The two technicians from the Pima County ME's office carried a loaded stretcher. Behind them walked Fran Daly. Not surprisingly, she was sucking on the smoldering stub of a cigarette.
When Ernie and Daniel Berridge met up with them, the little procession came to a sudden halt. Fran Daly stepped forward and nudged the lead technician out of the way. After a brief conference with Detective Carpenter, she unzipped the top of the body bag, then stood aside to give Daniel Berridge an unobstructed view.
"Mom," Jenny said insistently, "are you listening to me or not?"
"I'm sorry, Jenny. There's lots going on right now. What were you saying again? I must have missed some of it."
"We were out picking rocks in the field today, and Melvin let me drive the tractor. My very own self. Can you believe it? He let Rodney and Brian do it, too. I didn't think he was going to let me because… well, you know. Because I'm a girl. That's what Rodney said, anyway. But Grandpa talked to him-to Melvin, not Rodney-and the next thing I knew, there I was driving the tractor. It was great. Aren't you proud of me?"
"Yes, I am. Of course I am."
Over Jenny's excited prattle, Joanna watched the drama unfold in front of her. She saw Daniel Berridge glance briefly into the body bag; then she saw the way he shuddered and drew back. As the color drained from his face he nodded and his lips moved. "It's her." Even though Joanna couldn't hear him, she knew exactly what he had said. Then he turned and blundered blindly away from the others. Several feet away he settled heavily onto a boulder, and once again buried his face in his hands.
Watching someone else encounter the soul-killing death of a loved one always carried Joanna directly back to that awful time in her own life, to that sandy wasteland of a wash where she had found Andy's mangled and bleeding body.
In that respect, Jenny's phone call couldn't have come at a better time. It had kept Joanna inside the truck with the windshield and a few feet of desert creating a sort of emotional buffer between her own aching heart and Daniel Berridge's mind-numbing pain. Without the luxury of that distance, Joanna knew only too well that she would have been sucked down into Daniel Berridge's crushing whirlpool of grief right along with him.
"… that's okay, isn't it?"
Again Joanna had no idea what was being said on the other end of the cell-phone connection. "Is what okay?" she asked stupidly.
"Mother!" Jenny complained. "Are you listening to me or not?"
"I'm trying to, sweetie," Joanna apologized. "As I said, there's lots of other stuff going on. What were you saying?"
"The Grandma and Grandpa want to take me into town tomorrow to buy school clothes. I told the Gs you wouldn't mind. Please say yes, Mom. They really do want to."
Joanna sighed. "If they want to spoil you, that's okay with me."
"Mom, are you all right?" Jenny demanded. "Your voice sounds so funny, and it's not just the phone, either."
For a second, it seemed as if their roles were suddenly reversed-as though Jenny was the mother and Joanna the daughter. "Esther's in the hospital," Joanna said. "She had her heart transplant this morning. That was one of the things I was going to tell you when I called. But you were out, and I didn't want to leave a message."
Jenny took a deep breath. "Is she going to be okay?"
"As far as we know. I talked to Marianne this afternoon. Esther's out of surgery and in intensive care."
"I'll bet Jeff and Marianne are really scared. Shouldn't we send them flowers or something?"
"What a good idea," Joanna replied. "I'm planning to go see them later on today. I'll be sure to take them some flowers. I know they'll appreciate it."
By now the body bag had been zipped back up and the stretcher loaded into the van. Daniel Berridge straightened up and stood for a moment as if uncertain of what his next move should be. Joanna was relieved when Ernie Carpenter took the man by the arm and led him back toward the Blazer.
"Jenny," she said, "I'm going to have to go."
"Will you call me tonight and let me know how Esther's doing?"
"Yes, of course I will."
"And Mom?"
"What?"
"What about poor little Ruthie? What will happen to her if Esther dies or something? What if she never comes back from the hospital? Daddy didn't. They took him away and he never came back. The same thing could happen to Esther."
With death there is no "or something," Joanna thought. "Don't worry, Esther will be fine," she said with as much conviction as she could manage. "But even if something awful did happen, Ruthie would still have Jeff and Marianne to love her."
"That's different," Jenny said. "That's not like having a real sister."
"No," Joanna agreed, "I don't suppose it is. I've got to go now, Jenny. I love you."
"I love you, too."
Ernie Carpenter was pulling open the back door to the Blazer. "We've got a positive, Sheriff Brady," he told her unnecessarily. "From the looks of things, the evidence techs and the detectives are going to be here for the next several hours. Probably right up until dark or until it rains again, whichever comes first. So if you wouldn't mind taking Mr. Berridge back to Rattlesnake Crossing, I'd really appreciate it.
Glancing to the east, she saw columns of fat thunder-heads rising over the Chiricahuas. Quickly she folded her phone and returned it to her purse. "No problem," she said, motioning to the still ashen-faced Daniel Berridge. "I'll be glad to take you back."
The return trip to Rattlesnake Crossing was conducted in absolute silence. While a stricken Daniel Berridge stared stonily out the window, Joanna tried desperately to think of something to say that wouldn't sound either stupid or patronizing. Only when he opened the door to climb out did she finally find words.
"I'm very sorry about all this, Mr. Berridge. I lost my husband, too, so I know what you're going through. It's a bitch!"
He had started to slam the door shut. But when he opened it once more and stared back across the seat at Joanna, she was touched to see that trails of tears were still clearly marked on his pallid face.
"You warned me," he said, "but I didn't know how had it would be to see her like that. I had no idea."
"We should have foreseen that. If I'd been thinking, we could have wailed and just used dental records. It might have taken a little longer, but not much, and it would have spared you-"
"No," he interrupted. "I wanted to see her. I wanted to see her the way she is now. That way I won't be able to kid myself into thinking that she's coming back."
Joanna saw the terrible emptiness in Daniel Berridge's eyes. She knew part of the pain had nothing whatever to do with how Trina Berridge looked now-had nothing to do with the indignities that had been inflicted on her body during and after her death. Her husband's hurt came from what had gone before, from the quarrel that had sent Trina Berridge into the desert in the first place. Hoping to ease the man's pain, Joanna found herself admitting to this stranger something she had mentioned to no one else, not even to Marianne. It was something so hurtful that she barely acknowledged it herself.