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days earlier had shown her in life-and-death, up-close-and-personal terms exactly how much she didn’t know about the world of law enforcement.
    Joanna’s connections to law enforcement were peripheral rather than professional. Years earlier her father, D. H. “Big Hank” Lathrop, had served as sheriff of Cochise County. And Andy, her husband, had been a deputy sheriff as well as a candidate for the office of sheriff when he was gunned down by a drug lord’s hired hit man. Joanna’s work resume as office manager of an insurance agency contained no items of legal background or law enforcement training. Some of those educational gaps could be made up by reading and studying on her own, but an organized course of study taught by professional instructors would provide a more thorough and efficient way of getting the job done.
    As the word job surfaced in Joanna’s head, so did a whole other line of concern—work. If a five-and-a-half-week absence could wreak havoc in her personal life, what would it do to her two-week-old administration at the Cochise County Sheriff’s Department? While she was gone, her two chief deputies Frank Montoya for administration and Dick Voland for operations—would be running the show. That arrangement—the possibly volatile combination of two former antagonists—would either function as a form of checks and balances or else it would blow up in Joanna’s face. Sitting there in church, not listening to the sermon, Joanna could worry about what might happen, but she couldn’t predict which way things would go.
    Almost without warning, the people in surrounding pews rose to their feet and opened their hymnals as the organist pounded through the first few bars of “Faith of Our Fathers.” As Joanna fumbled hurriedly to find the proper page of the final hymn, she realized Reverend Maculyea’s sermon was over. Joanna hadn’t listened to a word of it. No doubt Marianne had figured that out as well. When she and her husband, Jeff Daniels, followed the choir down the center aisle to the door of the church, the pastor caught Joanna’s eye as they passed by. Marianne smiled and winked. Weakly, Joanna smiled back.
    She had planned to skip coffee hour after church, but Jenny headed her off at the front door. “Can’t we stay for just a few minutes?” she begged.
    Joanna shook her head. “I have so much to do....”
    “But, Mom,” Jenny countered. “It’s Birthday Sunday. When I was coming upstairs from Sunday school, I saw Mrs. Sawyer carrying two cakes into the kitchen. Both of ‘em are pecan praline—my favorite. Please? Just for a little while?”
    “Well, I suppose,” Joanna relented. “But remember, only one piece. Grandma Brady’s cooking dinner at home. It’s supposed to be ready to eat by two o’clock. If you spoil your appetite, it’ll hurt her feelings.”
    Waiting barely long enough for her mother to finish speaking, Jenny slipped her hand out of Joanna’s grasp and skipped off happily toward the social hall. As Jenny thundered down the stairway, Joanna bit back the urge to call after her, “Don’t run.” The first caution, the one about Jenny not spoiling her appetite, sounded as though it had come directly from the lips of Joanna’s own mother, Eleanor Lathrop. And as Joanna stood in line, awaiting her turn to greet and be greeted by Jeff and Marianne, she told herself to cut it out.
    As the line moved forward, Joanna found herself standing directly behind Marliss Shackleford. “I was surprised to find someone had chosen of ‘Faith Our Fathers’ as the recessional,” Marliss announced when she reached Marianne’s husband. “Isn’t that a little, you know, passe?” she asked with a slight shudder. “It’s sexist to say the least.”
    Jeff Daniels cocked his head to one side, regarding the woman with a puzzled frown. “Really,” he said, pumping Marliss Shackleford’s outstretched hand. “But it doesn’t seem to me that ‘Faith of Our Parents’ has