Joanna nodded.
“That was my mother’s fault, too,” Lucy declared. “She and my dad were in a bar together. Like I said, that was before my father quit drinking. He told me he got mad because Mother was flirting with some other guy. Dad hit him and knocked him out. He didn’t find out until later that the guy was a superior officer. They made Dad leave the army over that, but he said he didn’t mind. He said by then the army was driving him crazy anyway.”
“Is that when he stopped drinking?”
“Yes,” Lucy said. “I liked him a lot better after he did. From then on Dad was different somehow. Nicer. Happier—until that morning at the bakery, the morning when he came to tell me about Mother. He cried the whole time he was telling me. Not really crying like a baby does, but there were tears in his eyes. He had to keep brushing them away. I pretended like I didn’t see them, but I did.”
“Your mother admitted that some of her injuries that day were self-inflicted,” Joanna said quietly. “What if she isn’t the one who shot him? What if someone else did? And what if someone else beat her up?”
Lucy seemed stunned by the very suggestion. “Is that possible?” she asked. “If Mother didn’t do it, why did she say she did? Why would she go to prison for something she didn’t do?”
“I don’t know,” Joanna replied. “Maybe she was scared. Maybe going to prison wasn’t as scary as what might have happened to her if she hadn’t. And it looks like it worked. As long as everyone had your mother pegged for being a killer, no one but you and your father ever suspected her of being a spy. Which is why we have to find out who killed your mother. Remember those devil’s-claw patterns woven into baskets? What if the person who killed your mother is the same person who killed your father and he’s gotten away with it all these years?”
“What more can I tell you?”
“After they drove away that night, what did you do?”
“I was scared,” Lucy said. “I knew I had what he wanted. I was afraid he might shoot me, too, or maybe even Grandma Yates, so I didn’t want to go home. That’s when I decided to run away for good. When I left Cochise Stronghold, I was going to ride my bike to Tucson. I forgot about the freeway and that I couldn’t ride my bike on it. On the way, I kept trying to figure out who I could ask for help. I finally made up a list—my ballet teacher, Mrs. Quick; my mother’s lawyer, Ms. Goodson; and Sister Celeste, my teacher from Santa Theresa’s. By the time Big Red and I made it as far as the rest area in Texas Canyon, I was too tired to ride any farther. And it seemed safe. There was a vending machine there with candy bars and drinks and a phone. That’s where I made phone calls to the people on my list.”
“You had money?”
“Enough. Mrs. Quick’s son told me she was dead, so that didn’t work. I called Ms. Goodson, but when her answering machine came on I didn’t know what to say so I left my name but I didn’t leave a message. There was no way for her to call me back. Finally, I reached Sister Celeste. We talked, but someone came up to use the phone. I told her I’d call her back later, but I never had a chance to call again until Sunday morning.
“I was asleep in my bedroll when Big Red woke me up and told me someone was coming. I don’t know for sure it was him, but I ran away and left everything behind. I didn’t dare go back for it.”
“I don’t know if it was your mother’s killer,” Joanna said, “but whoever it was who found your camp, he broke up your bike and tore up everything else you left there.”
Lucy’s eyes were wide. “That means Big Red saved my life,” she said.
“I believe so,” Joanna returned. “So what happened then?”
“I hid for a while. Then, later, I started walking. I walked until I came to a ranch. I told the lady I had gotten lost while I was out hiking with my family. She let me use the phone. I called Sister Celeste, and she came to get me. She brought a hood for Big Red, otherwise he never would have gotten in her car. And we’ve been here ever since while she and Father Mulligan tried to decide what to do.”
“What about your gun?” Joanna asked, remembering for the first time the .22 Catherine Yates claimed Lucy had taken along with the bedroll and extra clothing.
Lucy shrugged. “Sister Celeste told me to give it to Father Mulligan, and I did,” she said. “But it was no big deal. It wasn’t loaded, and I forgot to bring along any ammunition.”
A relieved Joanna was gearing up for her next question when her cell phone rang. She was tempted to ignore it. “Aren’t you going to answer that?” Lucy asked, shaming Joanna into it.
“Hello.”
“Joanna!” Butch Dixon breathed. “Thank God I caught you. Where are you?”