"He claims he was looking for your daughter," Joanna said, "She wasn't where he expected to find her. He was worried about her."

"And I suppose you believe that?" David O'Brien asked.

"Until we hear Mr. Hastings's version of what went on, I don't know what to believe," Joanna told him.

"In any case, you won't be able to talk to Alf today. He's out of town. Today's his day off. He asked for tomorrow off as well. He said he had some pressing business out of town. He left the ranch early this morning. I don't expect him back before tomorrow night."

"You don't know where he was going?"

O'Brien shook his head. "I have no idea. What my employees do on their own time is none of my business."

"Would his wife know?"

"Maggie? Maybe."

"Where would we find her?" Joanna asked.

"If she's home, she's most likely down in the workers' compound. First trailer on the right-hand side of the road."

"We'll go see her, then," Joanna said.

"Suit yourself," O'Brien said with a wave of his hand. Dismissed, Ernie turned and left the room while Joanna hovered in the doorway. Thinking both his visitors had left the room, David O'Brien hunched back over his desk and buried his face in his hands. His shoulders heaved. A strangled sob escaped his lips. Joanna didn't like the man, but she couldn't help being moved by such abject despair.

"Mr. ( )'Brien?"

Al the sound of Joanna's voice, he started but didn't lower him hands or look in her direction. "What?"

"Please accept my condolences about your daughter. I know how much it must hurt ..."

"'Thank you," he mumbled almost inaudibly.

Warned by some guiding instinct, Joanna glided away from the door and moved back into the room. She didn't stop until she was standing directly in front of the desk. In a pool of golden lamplight she saw a single piece of paper-and a pen, a Mount Blanc fountain pen. Years of working over the counter In the Davis Insurance Agency had made Joanna Brady adept at reading words that were written upside-down. What she saw scrawled across the top of the single piece of paper chilled her. "To whom it may concern."

"I thought you told me the other day that O'Briens aren't quitters," she said quietly.

O'Brien dropped. his hands and glared up at her, his vivid Glue eyes probing hers. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that suicide isn't the answer. It never is."

Hurriedly, David O'Brien covered the revealing paper with his hands. "What would you know about it?" he asked.

"When my husband died, I felt the same way. As though I couldn't possibly go on."

"No, you didn't, Sheriff Brady," David O'Brien interrupted. "You couldn't have felt exactly the same way. You lost a husband. That's different from losing a child, I've done that before. Twice. I've had three children, and I've outlived all three."

"There must be a reason."

"Oh, there's a reason, all right," he conceded bitterly. "I tried to outwit God, and this is what it got me. As far as I can see, I've got nothing left to live for."

"What about your wife?"

"What about her?" He shrugged. "Katherine's had one foot out the door all these years. With Brianna gone, there's no reason for her to stay. And there's no reason for me to hang around, either. I built all this for my daughter," he added. "If I can't give it to her, what's the point?"

"There may be another answer," Joanna told him. "One you've missed so far. The problem is, suicide is a permanent solution. If you're dead, you'll never have a chance to find out what that answer might be. Talk to a counselor, Mr. O'Brien. Or to Father Morris from St. Dominick's. You need some help."

"What I need is for you to get out and leave me alone," David O'Brien said wearily. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Ernie met Joanna at the door. "What happened?" he asked. "I got all the way to the door before I figured out you weren't right behind me. What's going on?"

"Where's Mrs. O'Brien?"

"I'm pretty sure she's home now. The Lexus was just driving into the yard when I started back to find you."

"Good," Joanna said grimly. "We'd better have a word with Katherine before we go see Maggie Hastings."

"Why?" Ernie asked. "Is there a problem?"

"There will be if someone doesn't do something to prevent it," Joanna replied. "Unless I'm mistaken, David Mitten is right on the brink of blowing his brains out."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm going to tell his wife."

As it turned out, they met up with Katherine O'Brien in the entryway. She had just come in the door and was depositing his keys and purse on a gilded entryway table. She was dressed in a sedate navy blue shirtwaist dress. There was makeup on her face. Her graying hair was swept up into an elegant French twist. The cumulative result made Katherine O'Brien far different from the casually attired, makeup-free woman Joanna had met on two previous occasions. The one hung that remained constant, however, was Katherine O'Brien's ironclad emotional control.

"What's going on, Sheriff Brady?" Katherine asked. "I saw two sheriff's cars out in the drive. Has something happened? Did you catch Bree's killer?"

"No," Joanna said hastily. "Nothing like that. We're here on another matter-to see your husband about Alf Hastings. But Mrs. O'Brien, I must warn you, I think your husband is taking vow daughter's death very badly."

"Of course he's taking it badly," she returned. "It isn't the kind of thing you take well."

"I believe your husband is suicidal," Joanna added. "You need to talk to him about this. Or find him some help, someone to talk to-a priest or a counselor. Unless you want to be planning two funerals instead of one."

Katherine O'Brien seemed to draw back. Her eyes narrowed, her lists clenched. "God helps those who help themselves," she said.

The woman's brusque response was so different from what Joanna expected-so different from the concerned and hovering helpmate Katherine had appeared to be previously-that Joanna was momentarily taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"Just that. I mean David's a grown-up. If he wants to find someone to talk to about this, he'll have to find help for himself. It's not up to me."

"But isn't-"

"Look," Katherine interrupted, her eyes blazing with anger, "I spent eighteen years of my life walking a tightrope and running interference between those two. While Brianna was here, nothing she did ever quite measured up. No matter what, she wasn't good enough to suit him. If he's going to go off the deep end now that she's gone, it's up to him. He'll have to come to terms with his own guilt for a change. I'm finally out of the middle, and I have every intention of staying that way."

Looking at Katherine, Joanna couldn't help remembering David O'Brien's words. Katherine's had one foot out the door for years. Was that what was going on here, then? Was this one of those cases where an incompatible couple had stayed married for the sake of a child? And, now that the child was gone, did that mean the marriage was over? Unfortunately, in trying to help David O'Brien, it seemed Joanna had only succeeded in pouring oil on the flames.

She decided to take one last crack at smoothing things over. "We all have to learn to live with the consequences of our actions," she said.

Katherine nodded. "I figured that out a long time ago," she said. "David never has. Now, if you'll excuse me." She turned toward the kitchen. "Olga," she called, "I'm going to go lie down for a little while. Please don't let me sleep past three. I have a four o'clock appointment with Father Morris."