THE DEVIL PROWLS THE ARIZONA DESERT: HIS NAME IS “MAN”

A piercing ill wind blows hot out of the silent Arizona desert. A Native American woman is dead–an ex-con once jailed for the murder of her husband–and her teenage daughter has vanished into the long shadows of the night-still canyons.

A dedicated law officer, Sheriff Joanna Brady of Cochise County has suffered stoically through loss and pain–yet she has never wavered in her commitment to duty and the pursuit of justice. Now, as she stands on the brink of a new life and new happiness, death is summoning her once more, calling her down a twisted trail of hatred, greed and devastating consequence to the black heart of the Dragoon Mountains. There is no respite yet for Joanna Brady–only a terrifying excursion into a world of passion and violence, where long-buried secrets are the best reasons of all to kill . . .or to die.

My elderly and increasingly frail parents still lived in Bisbee, Arizona when I wrote this. When the need for a Helipad at the local hospital became critical, they, as members of the local Kiwanis Club, began trying to raise money to build one. Hearing of the Helipad Project, I offered to help by doing a local appearance and book-signing. It was soon clear, however, that book-signings and bake sales weren’t going to cut it when it came to raising the required $104,000 inside a two-year deadline.

Remembering how one person had made a $10,000 donation to the YWCA for Breach of Duty, I offered to do the same thing for the Helipad Project in the next Joanna Brady book. My mother was quick to point out, however, that the economic situation in Bisbee was far different from that of Seattle, so I offered to allow people to be included in the book if they made a $1000 donation to the project. Twelve people signed up, and they’re all in this book, under their own names and doing things that are in keeping with their real lives.

As for the Helipad? Phelps Dodge Corporation came through and offered to complete the project for $70,000 less than had been bid originally. And so, if you’re ever in Bisbee, Arizona, and have need of an emergency air-evacuation, you can thank Joanna Brady for being part of the process.

As soon as I saw the cover of the hardback book, I loved it. The blue is the very same blue that’s in the sky as you exit Bisbee’s Mule Mountain Tunnel going north to Tucson. On closer examination, however, I noticed that the bird pictured was an eagle. I called my editor at once. “I love the cover,” I said. “But why is the bird on the cover an eagle when the bird in the book is a red-tailed hawk.”

“Judy,” she said, “when we made the cover, we had no idea there was a bird in the book.”

JAJ