Wife of Moon by Margaret Coel

murdered?” Gianelli leaned over the desk.
    â€œHold on.” Vicky shot a glance at T.J. “You don’t have to say anything.” Turning back to the agent, she said, “I want to see the coroner’s report.”
    Gianelli shook his head. “Sorry, Vicky. I respect your request, but we’re going to have to play by my rules. This is a criminal investigation.”
    T.J. threw out both hands, as he were fending off a blow.
    â€œYou think I don’t want the fed . . . ” he nodded toward the man on the other side of the desk, “to find the bastards who killed my wife? I got a whole hell of a lot I want to say.” He scooted forward until he was perched on the edge of the seat. “They were coming after me. I wasn’t home, so they shot Denise as a warning. I’m gonna be next.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?”
    â€œPhone calls in the middle of the night. Some hang ups; some just saying I’d better get off the rez. Letters with no names, saying they’re gonna sic the dogs on me and burn down my house if I don’t stop holding up the drilling out at the coal beds. One of those bastards finally came looking for me last night and found Denise.”
    T.J. dropped his face into his hands. A low noise, like a growl, erupted from his throat. His shoulders were shaking. “I’m the one supposed to be dead.” The words were muffled against his fingers. “Denise was supposed to be in Casper for a couple of days. She wasn’t supposed to be home. She must’ve changed the mind and decided not to go.” He let a moment pass before he ran his jacket sleeve over his eyes, shifted back in the seat, and leaned his head against the wall.
    â€œLet’s go over this again,” Gianelli said. “You said last night that you stayed at the office until about eight-thirty, then drove home. Is that right?”
    Vicky got to her feet. “Nothing’s changed, Ted. I think we’re done here. T.J. needs to get some rest.”
    â€œYou think I shot my wife, don’t you?” T.J. was still reclining in the chair, and his voice came from some place deep in his chest.
    â€œNobody’s ruled out yet,” Gianelli said.
    â€œLet’s go, T.J.” Vicky tried to wave the man out of the chair. She hadn’t had the chance to talk to him, not as a lawyer to a client. They walked in here thinking Denise had taken her own life. Now theywere dealing with homicide and T.J. was a suspect. And he was innocent. She couldn’t imagine T.J. Painted Horse shooting anyone. She had to caution him, warn him against saying anything that might incriminate him or cause Gianelli to limit the investigation to him.
    â€œI’m not afraid.” T.J. was looking past her toward the agent. “You want me to take a lie detector test? Name the time. Ask me anything you want. Go ahead and ask me.”
    â€œDid you murder your wife?” Gianelli asked.
    T.J. didn’t move for a moment, then he bolted to his feet. His breath came in quick, loud jabs.
    â€œDon’t say anything,” Vicky said.
    â€œI loved Denise,” T.J. said.
    Vicky stepped in front of the man. “As your lawyer, I’m telling you this meeting is over. We’re leaving now.” Vicky took hold of the man’s arm and steered him into the hallway.
    â€œYour client wants to cooperate,” Gianelli said from behind them. “Why won’t you let him?”
    â€œIf you have evidence that my client had anything to do with his wife’s death, then get a warrant,” Vicky said, throwing a glance back at the large, dark figure standing behind the desk, backlit by the light shining through the window.

10
    FATHER JOHN CROSSED the mission grounds and took the concrete steps in front of the church two at a time, his breath hanging like tiny gray clouds in the frigid morning air. A pink light was working into the eastern sky,