Missing and Endangered

by J. A. Jance

  She had left her Interceptor several parking lots away, but this was a neighborhood designed for older people, and there were shaded benches scattered here and there. Joanna settled on one of those across the street and two houses down from Paine’s unit and waited to see what would happen. She watched while the residents from neighboring units were roused from their breakfast tables and, in more than one case, from their beds, to be ushered away from the buildings. Only then did the arrest team appear. They approached the unit’s front door with one of them carrying a battering ram while the others held drawn weapons. Robin herself was the one who delivered the obligatory police knock.

  “Open up!” she shouted. “Federal agents!”

  No one waited around for Gerard Paine to answer or open the door. The guy with the battering ram delivered one fierce blow, and the door slammed open. After that there was a period of dead silence before Joanna heard Robin shout, “Gun!” The pause that followed couldn’t have lasted longer than a second or two, but for Joanna, sitting outside and holding her breath, it seemed to go on forever. Finally there was another shout, a welcome one this time: “Get on your knees!” After another momentary silence, Joanna was relieved to be able to breathe again. Another period of dead silence followed, one that went on for a full five minutes. When agents at last led Gerard Paine out of the house, it was hard to imagine the wizened, handcuffed, and hunched-over bald guy tottering along on the sidewalk could be the source of so much evil.

  As they ushered him toward a black Suburban, Joanna couldn’t help thinking about the moment in The Wizard of Oz when Toto finally peels back the emerald-green curtain to reveal the wizard himself running the controls. Everything about Ronald Cameron had been just as fake as the wizard. The wizard was a frail little old guy, and so was Gerard Paine. When faced with the tall step needed to climb into the waiting Suburban, he had to be helped. Once the door closed behind him and the vehicle took off, Robin came looking for Joanna.

  “That was efficient and effective,” Joanna said.

  Robin grinned. “We aim to please,” she replied.

  “I suppose you’re on your way to the interview?” Joanna asked.

  “What interview?” Robin returned. “He already asked for an attorney, so we won’t be chatting him up, but we’ve got him, and better yet we’ve got all his computers. He must have fifty of them at least, each with a different password. It’ll take time for us to access all of them, but we will, and there’s no rush on that either—not with him cooling his heels in jail.”

  She paused for a moment and then asked, “How’s Jenny?”

  “She’s okay,” Joanna said. “Better than okay, actually. You really came through on this for all of us, but for Jenny and Beth especially. You should hear Jenny singing Agent Norris’s praises. The interview she conducted with Beth was evidently something to behold.”

  Robin nodded. “There’s a reason Adele Norris is on the task force. Victims in these kinds of cases are usually right at the breaking point and need to be handled with kid gloves, and that’s something Adele knows how to do. She’s a trained psychiatrist and was running a private practice when the Bureau recruited her.”

  “Believe me, Jenny was suitably impressed.”

  “What about you?” Robin asked. “How are you doing? I saw that your guy got cleared in that OIS.”

  “Yes, he did. Armando’s still in the hospital at the moment and will probably need an extended time to recover. In fact, since I’m here in Tucson, I should probably stop by to see him for a moment before I head home. As for how I’m doing? A double homicide just turned up in Sierra Vista last night. Since it’s related to my officer-involved case, I’m expecting we’ll be doing some of the heavy lifting on that score, too. In addition, I’ve got a pair of little kids—a five-year-old and a seven-year-old—who’ve been orphaned this week. There’s a good chance that their mother was partially involved in the homicide that killed their father. Unfortunately, as of early this morning on the day of their father’s funeral, their mother is dead, too.”

  Robin frowned. “Will the children end up in foster care, then?”

  Joanna nodded. “Chances are,” she answered bleakly.

  “Sorry,” Robin said. “That’s tough on everybody.”

  Someone appeared at the door of Gerard Paine’s unit and waved for Robin to come back inside. “I’ll let you know what we find,” she said as she walked away. “And don’t worry. You won’t have to go through channels and across desks to get the information.”

  “Thank you,” Joanna told her. “Thanks way more than you know.”

  The takedown had gone so smoothly and was over so fast that Joanna still had most of the morning ahead of her. She stopped by Banner Medical. Amy was back teaching school today, so Armando was there alone. Joanna spoke with him briefly, bringing him up to date on the status of the investigation, including the fact that Madison Hogan and her boyfriend were now likely deceased. Bare minutes into their conversation, however, a nurse showed up to take Armando to physical therapy, and that was the end of that. Joanna went downstairs, got into her car, and set her sights on Sierra Vista. That’s where the action was at the moment, and that’s where she needed to be.

  Chapter 47

  They could have eaten breakfast at the hotel, but Peter wanted to go back to IHOP, and Grandma Puckett let him have his way. Not that Kendall minded. She loved IHOP, too, but she didn’t like chocolate-chip pancakes nearly as much as her brother did.

  During the morning she’d noticed Grandma Puckett making several phone calls, or at least trying to make them. She dialed, but each time no one answered, and she ended each of the calls without speaking to anyone. Finally she looked something up and dialed a different number. This time someone must have answered.

  “I’d like to speak to Sheriff Brady,” Grandma said. “She’s not? Then what about that lady detective? I believe Sheriff Brady said her name was Debbie something. Yes, Detective Howell. That’s it, but she’s not in either? All right, then, never mind. No, no message. I’ll call back later.”

  Grandma frowned as she ended the call.

  “What’s wrong?” Kendall asked.

  Grandma sighed. “I can’t reach your mother,” she said. “I spoke to her for a few minutes last night after dinner, but I can’t reach her this morning. She’s not answering the phone.”

  “Her battery’s probably dead,” Kendall said. “Sometimes she forgets to plug it in.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Grandma said at last. “She’s always been such a scatterbrain.” She turned to Peter. “Are you done?” she asked.

  “Almost,” he said. “Two more bites.”

  Kendall was afraid that if he ate any more, he was going to burst—or else have a stomachache—but she said nothing.

  “All right, then,” Grandma Puckett said, sounding a bit angry—and a little like Mommy. “Hurry and finish up. I’m not sure what time we’re supposed to be at the funeral home. Your mom was supposed to let me know this morning. So we’d best go back to the room, change clothes, and get ready.”

  At the hotel, the moment they walked into the lobby, Kendall spotted someone she recognized. The tall blond police officer, the woman who’d come to take Mommy away the day before, was sitting on a sofa facing the entrance. As soon as she saw them, she rose and hurried to meet them.

  “Mrs. Puckett?”

  “Yes,” Grandma said.

  “I’m Detective Howell. Could I have a moment of your time?” Then, after glancing toward Kendall and Peter, she added, “In private, please.”

  Grandma looked slightly flustered, but then she opened her purse and pulled out a fistful of quarters. “Do you remember where the vending machines are?” she asked.

  “I do!” Peter crowed. “They’re down at the end of the hallway by the ice machine.”

  “Why don’t you go get yourselves a treat while Detective Howell and I talk for a moment?”

  Peter went skipping off without a care in
the world. Kendall followed him, but she didn’t like it—not one bit. When grown-ups had to speak “in private” like that, it almost always meant something bad for kids. She didn’t know how bad, though, not right then. When Kendall and Peter returned from the vending machines a few minutes later with a bag of Doritos and a Snickers candy bar in hand, they found a pale and shaken Grandma sitting alone on the sofa. As soon as Kendall saw the expression on Grandma Puckett’s face, she knew that something awful had happened.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  Grandma turned and looked at her—stared at her, really—but at the same time it felt weird, like she didn’t know who Kendall was and didn’t even recognize her face.

  “It’s about your mother,” Grandma Puckett answered at last. “Two people were found dead this morning.” She paused again as tears filled her eyes. “They believe one of them is your mother.”

  Chapter 48

  As soon as Joanna hit the open road, she dialed Frank Montoya’s number. “What’s the news?” she asked.

  “I sent my guys by to check on the Hogan place,” he said. “A vehicle registered to Randall J. Williams, a Jeep Cherokee, was parked in the driveway of the residence, but no one was home. A search of the place showed evidence of a knock-down, drag-out fight—broken bottles, broken furniture, and blood—lots of that, enough to assume that someone got hurt real bad.”

  “Do you think Madison Hogan and Randy Williams are the two victims?”

  “Yes,” Frank replied, “pending a positive ID.”

  “And you believe they were kidnapped from her place and then taken to the Nite Owl, where they were finished off?”

  “That’s a pretty good bet, but we’ll need to examine the physical evidence to know for sure. My CSIs are working the fire scene, so Casey Ledford is working the house.”

  “Any witnesses?” Joanna asked.

  “No actual eyewitnesses so far,” Frank answered. “In the course of the melee, a kitchen clock got knocked off a wall and broken. It stopped at 2:46, so that’s the time frame we’re guessing—just prior to three a.m. We’ve had people out canvassing the neighborhood.

  “The lady next door, a Mrs. Walkup, told us that she’s deaf as a post. Once she takes out her hearing aids at night, she doesn’t hear a thing, but another neighbor, Lois Watson from up the street, has a security camera. We took a look at her overnight footage. It shows a vehicle with no headlights—an SUV of some kind—driving past her house in the direction of the Hogan place at two fifteen a.m. It departs the same way—again with no headlights—at three-oh-five, so the time frame fits. Naturally there’s no license plate visible, and the resolution is crap, so you can’t see any details other than the fact that the vehicle is an SUV.”

  “No make or model.”

  “Right,” Frank said, “but we’re on the lookout for security footage from other nearby locations that may tell us more.”

  “Has Madison’s mother been notified?”

  “Deb Howell handled that,” Frank said. “She inquired about dental records. Mrs. Puckett said she knows that Madison had her wisdom teeth pulled a year or so ago. She’s pretty sure it was a dentist here in town, but she doesn’t know which one. We have people out looking. If and when we find the unknown dentist and her records, we’ll get that information to Kendra immediately.

  “Even without a positive ID, however, Mrs. Puckett said she would call Leon Hogan’s parents and suggest that they either postpone the funeral or cancel it altogether, which seems like a good idea as far as I’m concerned. My heart aches for those kids, though—to lose one parent is bad enough, but both of them almost simultaneously?”

  “Where are they?” Joanna asked. “The kids and Mrs. Puckett, I mean.”

  “At their hotel, as far as I know.”

  “I’m on my way back from Tucson right now. I’ll drop by the Windemere and see them, unless you think there’s a reason for me to come by the crime scene.”

  “No need,” he said. “It’s nothing but dirt and grit and ashes at this point. If you don’t have to be there, don’t go. But I didn’t realize you were in Tucson. What were you doing there?”

  “It’s a long story,” Joanna said. “I had a front-row seat at an FBI takedown. Maybe we can talk about it at Ernie’s party.”

  “His what?” Frank asked, sounding surprised.

  “Ernie’s retirement party.”

  “He’s retiring?”

  “Yes, as of the first of the year,” Joanna answered. “There’s a party scheduled for the day after Christmas at the Rob Roy, and you’re invited.”

  “What time?”

  “I forget—five thirty, maybe? I’ll need to check with them. Come to think of it, I need to invite Dick Voland, too. I’ll have Kristin send out official invites, but pencil it in.”

  “I will,” Frank said, “but be advised. I’m penciling in a recap on that FBI takedown at the same time.”

  Now that Joanna had determined she was going to the hotel to meet up with Jackie Puckett and the kids, she spent the remainder of the drive trying to put together what she would say to the children. No doubt by now someone else would have broken the terrible news to them, and she tried to see things through Kendall’s and Peter’s points of view. Yes, Madison Hogan had been a poor excuse for a mother, but she’d been their mother—the only one they’d ever known. Joanna’s challenging situation with her own mother had been dicey at times, but once Eleanor Lathrop Winfield was gone for good . . . ? The grief Joanna felt afterward had been stunning.

  Once in the Windemere’s parking lot, Joanna stopped for a moment and drew a deep breath before heading for the hotel entrance. Inside, she swept the room with her eyes before approaching the front desk. Halfway there she caught sight of Peter Hogan, marching across the lobby toward the northwest corner of the building with an enormous dog, none other than Coon himself, walking sedately on a leash beside him.

  She was both surprised and gratified to see Coon there. Beyond the boy and dog, in the far corner of the room, Joanna spotted the other members of the family—Izzy and Lyndell Hogan, Jackie Puckett, and Kendall. The little girl, decked out in a funeral-appropriate dark blue dress, was cuddled on a sofa next to Grandma Puckett.

  The boy and dog walked over to the seating area. When Peter ordered Coon to lie down, the dog did so immediately, flopping onto the cool granite tile. Peter joined him, resting his head on the dog’s rib cage. That was when Lyn caught sight of Joanna. He rose and came forward to meet her with Kendall on his heels.

  “You heard?” he asked.

  Joanna nodded. “I’m so very sorry about your mother,” she said, addressing Kendall directly.

  “She’s dead,” Kendall replied quietly, “just like Daddy. Grandma Puckett says she’s in heaven.”

  “But she’ll be back,” Peter piped up confidently from his place on the floor. “Coon was dead, too, but now he’s back.”

  And that was the second time one of the two Hogan kids broke Joanna Brady’s heart.

  She remained in the hotel lobby for the better part of an hour, a tough hour but also an inspirational one. She said very little about the double homicide. For one thing, it was an active investigation. For another, with the kids right there, any discussion of the gruesome way in which Madison Hogan and Randy Williams had perished was out of the question. There was only the merest mention of funeral arrangements. The service for Leon Hogan had indeed been postponed for the time being. As far as final arrangements for Madison? Those were too far down the road to even consider.

  So rather than spending time on those tough topics, Joanna had the honor of being privy to an inspiring collaboration among three loving grandparents—one a blood relation and the other two not—trying to chart a path forward for two orphaned children, one that would keep them from being caught up in the state-run foster-care program.

  Living with Jackie Puckett in her retirement community was out of the question, but months earlier one of Lyndell and Izzy’s ne
ar neighbors had made a tentative offer to purchase their ranch. At the time they turned the proposal down cold, but as far as Lyn knew, it was still on the table. He allowed as how maybe it was time for them to sell out and retire to warmer climes.

  “Compared to winter in Wyoming, Christmas in December in Arizona feels more like summer to us,” he said. “And if we could buy or rent the right place, maybe the kids could stay on at the same school.” He paused and looked at Kendall. “Would you like that?” he asked. “Would you like living with Izzy and me and going to the same school?”

  She nodded with no hesitation. “I like my teacher,” she said. “Her name is Mrs. Baird. She brought us macaroni and cheese.”

  “If we live with you, can we have a Christmas tree?” Peter asked from the floor. It might not have looked as though he was listening, but clearly he was. “Mrs. Walkup has her tree up already, and I want ours up, too.”

  “I don’t know about a Christmas tree,” Izzy put in. “We’ll have to see what we can do.”

  “But of course,” Lyn said, looking at Joanna, “this is all dependent on whether or not the state will grant us custody. What do you think they’ll do on that score?”

  For an answer Joanna opened her phone, located a name in her contacts list, and then texted it to Lyndell’s phone.

  “I just sent you contact information for a guy named Burton Kimball,” she said. “I know you have Jorge in your corner, but Burton is local, and he’s been our family attorney for years. This might require formal adoption proceedings rather than simple custody arrangements, but if anybody can make that happen, he’s the guy.”

  “I thought custody only happened when people got divorced,” Kendall said quietly.

  The comment took Joanna’s breath away. Kendall, too, may might have appeared to be simply observing from the sidelines, but in the course of her seven years this girl and her little brother had seen far too much.

  “It means the court decides who’s supposed to take care of minor children like you and Peter,” Joanna explained.