“Like I said, it was after dark,” Ignacio said. “1 may have dozed off for a minute. All I know is, out of nowhere I heard someone walk up behind me. I tried to stand up, but I had been in the same position for so long that my legs were asleep. When I tried to stand up, they collapsed under me. I fell forward, right on my face. I had managed to make it as far as my hands and knees when the guy kicked me in the gut. He was wearing pointed cowboy boots, and the toe caught me in the solar plexus. It knocked the wind out of me. I fell down again. The next thing I knew, he had me by the hair, pulling it out by the roots.”

Ignacio paused, as if remembering the attack were almost as painful as living through it the first time.

“So?” Joanna urged.

“I must have blacked out for a minute. When I came to, he was talking to me. ‘You’re a big one for a greaser,’ he was saying. ‘But you know what they say about that. The bigger they come, the harder they fall, right?’ I didn’t answer. I tried to turn around so I could get a better look at him, but he shook me so hard, I was afraid he was going to break my neck. ‘Did you hear me?’ he said again. ‘You’re supposed to answer when somebody speaks to you.’

“He shook me again-the kind of shake a coyote might give a rabbit in order to break its neck. That’s when I decided a rib was broken. One at least. According to Dr. Lee, it turns out to be three.”

“Dr. Lee over at the Copper Queen?” Joanna asked. She was taking notes now, writing as fast as she could.

Ignacio nodded. “He was my doctor last fall when I got hurt up here playing football. And that’s where I went after this happened-to the hospital to see Dr. Lee.”

“Go on then,” Joanna said.

“‘What’re you doing here, greaser?’ the guy says. ‘Casing the joint? Trying to figure out how you and your buddies can get inside and steal some of Mr. O’Brien’s stuff?’ I tried to tell him that I didn’t care about the O’Briens^’ stuff, but he didn’t believe me. He must’ve thought I was one of the border bandits.^”

“What happened next?” Joanna urged.

“He let go of my hair. When I fell back down, it hurt so had, I was afraid I might have ruptured a lung. I was still dealing with that when he burned me.”

Joanna caught her breath. “Burned you?”

Ignacio nodded. “I heard him strike a match and then I smelled cigar smoke. The next thing I knew, he burned me-right between my shoulder blades. I could smell that my shirt was on fire. I rolled around on the ground, trying to put it out. All the time, he^’s talking to me. ‘Just pass the word along to all your thieving friends down there across the line,’ he said. ‘Tell ‘ em Mr. O ’Brien has a few surprises for anyone who comes around here trying to steal his stuff.’ By the time I finally got the fire out, the guy was already crossing the road to where the other guy was waiting on the ATV.”

Listening to the story, Joanna felt almost physically ill as she recalled some of the almost forgotten details of the Alf Hastings case over in Yuma County. There wasn’t a decent police officer in the state of Arizona who hadn’t been ashamed of what had happened to the young illegals who had fallen into his clutches. They had been beaten and left to die. Now that Ignacio Ybarra mentioned it, Joanna thought she remembered that the young men had also been tortured and burned.

She stood up. “Would you excuse me for a moment?”

Ignacio nodded. “Sure,” he said.

Joanna stalked out into the outer office. She picked up Kristin’s phone and dialed Frank Montoya’s extension. As a recent law enforcement graduate of the University of Arizona, he was also the most computer literate.

“Does the name Alf Hastings ring a bell?” she asked when he answered.

“Not right off,” Frank responded. “Should it?”

“He was the deputy over in Yuma County who was the ringleader in that police brutality case with the four young UDAs. I want you to run Hastings’s name through the computer database. Bring me a copy of everything you get back.”

“What are you after specifically?” Frank asked.

“I want to hear from some of the other investigating officers,” Joanna told him. “I’m looking for an MO. I want to know exactly what was done to those kids.”

“Any particular reason?”

“Yes,” Joanna said. “Alf Hastings is living in Cochise County right now and working for David O’Brien. Unless I’m mistaken, I have one of Hastings’s most recent victims sitting here in my office. My major concern is that there may be others we don’t even know about.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Frank told her.

Taking Kristin’s phone book from the shelf behind her desk, Joanna located the number for the Copper Queen Hospital. It was morning office hours at the clinic, so Joanna had to pull rank before she was finally put through to Dr. Lee directly.

Dr. Thomas Lee was a Taiwanese immigrant in his mid-thirties who had come to Bisbee straight out of medical school. He had initially planned to stay long enough to pay off his school loans. The loans were all gone now-had been for over a year-but still he stayed on.

“Sheriff Brady,” Dr. Lee said, when he came on the phone. “Can I help you?”

“I have it young man in my office right now,” Joanna told the doctor. “Ignacio Ybarra. Do you know him?”

“Nacio? Yes, of course.”

“I need to ask you a question about him.”

“Sheriff Brady, you know I can’t reveal-”

“Please, Dr. Lee. I need to ask just one or two questions. Did you see him this weekend?”

“Yes.”

“When was that?”

“Saturday,” Dr. Lee said. “Saturday night. He came to the emergency room.”

“You treated him then?”

“Yes.^”

“Is there a possibility that Ignacio’s injuries had been received the night before?”

“You mean on Friday instead of Saturday? Absolutely not!” Dr. Lee exclaimed. “He was bleeding. Dirt was still in the wounds.”

“‘Thank you, Dr. Lee,” Joanna breathed. “That’s all I need to know.”

“But you must tell me,” Dr. Lee objected. “Why are you asking such questions? Has something happened to Nacio? Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You already have,” Joanna told him. “I thought Ignacio was telling me the truth. Now I know for sure.”

Putting down the phone, she went back into her office. Ignacio Ybarra was still sitting in the same place with his head lowered, his shoulders bent. Sorrow exuded from every pore.

Moving with a confidence she hadn’t felt before, Joanna re-hinted to her desk. Ignacio looked up as she came by. Joanna mat down and met his questioning gaze.

“Nacio,” she said kindly, “why didn’t you tell us any of this last night?”

The young man ducked his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess I was too scared. I didn’t think anyone would believe me.”

“So why are you here now?”

“I’ve thought about the pearl for two nights now. I want it back, Sheriff Brady. I gave it to Bree because I loved her, and I want it back for the same reason. It’s all I’m ever going to have to remember her by.” He broke off, burying his grief-contorted face in his hands.

Joanna waited several moments while the young man sat there sobbing. “You must have loved her very much,” she said at last.

Ignacio nodded, but it took several seconds longer before he was under control enough to speak. “Bree and I thought that someday we’d be able to be together. We were going off to school in September. With us in Tucson and with both our families here, how much could they have done to stop us?”

Plenty, Joanna thought, thinking about how much grinding criticism her disapproving mother had heaped on Joanna’s and Andy’s marriage over the years. For good or ill, Ignacio Ybarra was never going to have to face those kinds of issues with David and Katherine O’Brien.

“You lost the pearl during the beating, then?” she asked. “Is that what you’re telling me?”