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Ginny, Lynn and Elizabeth. Was it possible one of them had murdered Evelyn? She didn’t think any of them were capable of cold-blooded murder, but one of them might have discovered that Evelyn had robbed her and stolen her identity. Suppose she went to the house on Tano Road to confront the thief? Evelyn attacked, the woman picked up the blunt object—there was sure to be one in a kitchen—to defend herself. Claire hadn’t spoken to Elizabeth yet. Ginny and Lynn hadn’t admitted to connecting Evelyn with the theft before Amaral called, but it was possible one of them was lying.
    Other than some hard summer rains and an occasional lightning strike, there wasn’t much weather in this part of the country. Tornadoes, snowstorms or floods were all possible but very rare. Usually the sky was so clear that Claire had an unobstructed view of the mountains and the plains, but today the wind raised dust devils in the distance. Even if she couldn’t see the effect of the wind, she could feel it in the rebellious behavior of her truck.
    She entered Arizona feeling a sadness that this state was no longer home. She loved New Mexico, but there was a time when she had loved Arizona as much or more. She had spent twenty-eight years in Arizona with Evan Burch. She knew his every mood, and she knew that he would feel abandoned by his mother’s death. Evan was an only child, and no one would ever love him the way his mother had. He would be reaching out for comfort. Well, that was Melissa’s job now. All Claire had to do was show up and try to be civil.
    She had entered farming country again. The wind lifted dust devils from newly plowed fields and marched them toward I-10 like an advancing army. Wind was the one natural disaster capable of turning I-10 treacherous. Claire had been so preoccupied with her thoughts about family and friends that she had forgotten about the danger of driving through this part of the country in the spring when the fields were freshly plowed and the winds were high. An army of dust swept across the highway and enveloped her truck. She clutched the steering wheel, stepped on the brake, turned on her headlights and her emergency lights, but it was too little, too late.
    She could see nothing but brown dust. She knew there was a semi behind her and a compact car in front of her, but they had disappeared from view. Sound gave her no guidance; all she could hear was the howl of the wind. The cloud was so thick she might not see vehicles until the instant before she crashed into them, even if their headlights and brake lights were on. It was tempting to pull over, but that would make her a sitting target. If she kept moving, however slowly, she would eventually get through this. Claire knew that this kind of windstorm could cause pileups involving dozens of cars. She turned off the tape deck to give her full attention to the road, but she couldn’t turn off the tape that played in her mind. How close was the semi behind her? Should she pull over? Should she stop? She began to feel that the dust had entered her brain, and that if she didn’t lose her life in this dust storm, she would surely lose her mind.
    She came up suddenly on the flashing lights of the car ahead of her and pressed down hard on her brakes, hoping the semi wasn’t still on her tail. The car’s lights became a beacon that guided her through the storm. She stayed a respectful distance, not too close to stop in time, not far enough away to lose sight of the lights. The car was her guide, but if it drove off the road into a ditch she would too. Sometimes dust gusted between the cars and she lost sight of it, but then the lights blinked on again.
    Slowly the dust began to lift. She was able to ascertain the color of the car—yellow. There was a last gust of wind and they had driven through the storm. The driver stepped on the gas and sped ahead. Claire looked in her rearview mirror and saw the semi