If Joanna hadn’t been a mother herself, she might not have considered that question, but it was one she wished she’d had a chance to ask Sandra Ridder in person. And she hadn’t been able to ask that question of Sandra’s attorney, Melanie Goodson, either. There was still one person she might ask-Sandra’s mother, Catherine Yates. After mulling the idea for a few moments, Joanna dismissed that one as well. It seemed unlikely to her that Sandra’s mother would have any more of an idea about the whys and wherefores of her daughter’s behavior than Eleanor Lathrop Winfield did about Joanna’s.

The next article was a short one that recounted the plea-bargain hearing. In it Sandra admitted that some of the injuries she suffered that night had been self-inflicted. That, although she claimed her husband had beaten her on other unreported occasions, on the night in question he had not. She had shot him as he sat in his chair in front of the television news and then had staged the ransacking of the house and her own injuries in order to be able to establish a claim of self-defense.

In making his decision, the judge said that based on Sandra Ridder’s account of self-inflicted injuries, he agreed with the prosecutor in disallowing any claim of self-defense. However, in view of Tom Ridder’s known violent tendencies, the judge did find some mitigating circumstances. As a consequence, his judgment of voluntary manslaughter was one full step down from the prosecutor’s previously arranged plea bargain of second-degree murder.

Studying that article, Joanna realized that one of the standard newspeak phrases was missing from the references to Melanie Goodson. Nowhere in that article or in any of the others was there any mention that Melanie Goodson was Sandra Ridder’s “court-appointed” attorney. That meant that Melanie Goodson had taken on Sandra Ridder’s case on a fee basis.

Joanna jotted down another note to herself. “Who paid Melanie Goodson’s fee? Sandra’s mother???”

The whole while Joanna had been working, Sadie and Tigger had been sprawled comfortably in the cave beneath the table. Now, acting in unison, the two dogs scrambled to their feet. Shoulder to shoulder, they dashed from the dining room into the living room, where they stood side by side, barking frantically at the front door.

As Joanna followed the dogs to the door, she remembered Butch’s concern about the unidentified car that had been lurking at the entrance to High Lonesome Ranch. She looked out in time to see a pair of headlights pull up and stop at the gate. Whoever it is doesn’t know us very well, Joanna thought. If they did, they’d be coming to the back door instead of the front.

“Who is it, Mom?” Jenny called from the kitchen.

Peering out between the window blinds, Joanna couldn’t tell. The vehicle hadn’t come far enough into the yard to trigger the motion-activated yard light located on the side of the garage. Feeling vulnerable and besieged, Joanna wished for the comforting presence of either one of her Glocks, but those were both under lock and key in her bedroom.

“Joey?” Butch asked. “Do you want me to go out and check?”

Before Joanna could answer, the car door swung open. In the dim illumination of the dome light, she caught a glimpse of Kristin Marsten’s cloud of blond hair as she climbed out of her Geo.

Almost sick with relief, Joanna turned back to Butch and Jenny. “It’s Kristin,” she said. “From work. If you’ll take these two barking dogs into the kitchen, I’ll let her in.”

As Jenny and Butch collected the dogs, Joanna opened the door in time to see Kristin stumbling forward. She fumbled with the gate latch. Once inside the gate, she staggered up the walkway and onto the porch looking for all the world as though she was drunk.

“Kristin!” Joanna exclaimed, stepping onto the porch. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

Without a word, Kristin propelled herself across the porch. Sobbing, she fell against Joanna with such force that they both crashed into the wall.

“Kristin,” Joanna insisted. “Tell me. What’s happened?”

“My parents threw me out,” Kristin wailed. “My father told me to get out, that he didn’t want a daughter like me living in his house. He said that I had fifteen minutes to gather up what I needed and then he wanted me to clear out.”

Joanna was horrified. “What did your mother say?” she asked.

“Nothing. She sat there the whole time and listened to Dad yell at me, and she never said a word. Not a single word. I didn’t know where to go, Sheriff Brady. I couldn’t go see Terry, not like this. He already feels bad enough. So I came here. What am I going to do? What’s going to happen to me? Where am I going to stay?”

Joanna patted the younger woman’s heaving shoulder. “Come on inside,” she said. “It’s cold out here. You’re shivering. I’ll fix you something warm to drink, and we’ll try to decide what to do.”

“Joanna,” Butch said from just inside the door. “What’s wrong? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Kristin had taken a step toward the door. Now, hearing another voice, she broke away from Joanna’s hand and darted back across the porch. “I’m so embarrassed. I didn’t know you had company. I don’t want anyone else to know about this. I’ll just leave,” she insisted. “I’ll go somewhere else.”

Joanna reached out and captured one of Kristin’s flailing hands. “No, you won’t,” Joanna said. “It’s only Butch. You’ve met him, and I promise you he won’t bite. Be sensible, Kristin. Come on in now, please.”

“But I don’t want him to know,” Kristin pleaded. “I don’t want anyone to know. But now everybody will. Who knows what they’ll think. And say.” Once again she burst into incoherent sobs.

“Please, Kristin. It doesn’t matter what anyone says or thinks,” Joanna said calmly. “This is your business and Terry’s and nobody else’s. That includes your parents. Come on. Let’s get you inside and warmed up so we can talk things over and decide what to do. You said your father gave you fifteen minutes to pack. Do you have luggage along?”

Still sobbing, Kristin nodded. “It’s in the car.”

“Butch,” Joanna called. “Kristin’s going to spend the night. Would you mind bringing her luggage in from the car? Put it in Jenny’s room.”

“Oh, not Jenny’s room. I couldn’t do that,” Kristin hiccuped as Butch walked past her on his way to the Geo. “Couldn’t I sleep on a couch or something? I don’t want to put anyone out…”

“Nonsense,” Joanna said, bodily pulling her over the threshold and into the living room. “It’s all right. Jenny won’t mind.” As Joanna guided Kristin toward the couch, she called to her daughter. “Jenny, where are you?”

“Right here.”

“Go to your room and gather up whatever you’ll need for tonight, and for tomorrow morning as well. Kristin’s going to need to use your room tonight. You can sleep here on the couch. And as soon as Butch finishes bringing in the luggage, I’d like both of you to go to the kitchen and make some cocoa. I think Kristin needs some privacy.”

Joanna was grateful when Jenny did as she was told without so much as rolling her eyes or asking a single question. Once Jenny and Butch had retreated to the kitchen and closed the door, Joanna turned back to Kristin, who had managed to stop weeping by then and was noisily blowing her nose.

“I never thought they’d throw me out,” she choked miserably. “I always thought my parents loved me.”

“They do love you,” Joanna said. “They’re just hurt is all.”

“It’s not like I’m a seventeen-year-old kid,” Kristin continued. “I’m an adult. Even if I live at home. I have a job. Ever since I graduated from high school, my dad’s made me pay room and board. You should have heard some of the awful things he said to me, some of the terrible names he called me.” Kristin stopped and shook her head as another deluge of tears threatened to fall.