Missing and Endangered (Joanna Brady #19)(101)
“Sheriff Brady is right, of course,” Burton put in. “Custody orders almost never happen with such speed. In this case I believe character witnesses who phoned in their testimony from Wyoming as well as the in-person interviews conducted by Judge Atkins himself did the trick.”
“What in-person interviews?” Joanna asked.
“Well,” Burton said, “Jackie Puckett didn’t exactly pull any punches in describing the kids’ circumstances once they were left in the sole care of her daughter. Neither did Kendall. She delivered a number of telling details about the challenges of living with Madison Hogan. That little girl is something!”
“The judge spoke with Kendall directly?” Joanna asked.
Burton nodded. “He talked with both kids. All Peter seems to care about is getting his dog back and having Coon with him wherever he goes. Coon was the only item on his wish list—well, that and a Christmas tree.”
Lyn got to his feet. “Our son may be gone, but I wanted you to know that at this point I don’t even mind that we missed having a funeral for Leon. He loved those two kids with all his heart, and getting to have them with us feels like getting a piece of our boy back. So thank you, Sheriff Brady,” he added, coming around the desk to give her a heartfelt hug. “Thank you so much for everything you did—for us, for the kids, and for Coon, too.”
“You’re more than welcome, Mr. Hogan,” she said, “but I was only doing my job.”
Chapter 53
The days leading up to Christmas sped past. In the legal world, things seemed to have accelerated into warp drive. In Flagstaff, Aaron Morgan was allowed to plead guilty to conspiracy to commit murder on the condition that he testify against Gerard Paine. Meanwhile the mastermind himself remained in federal custody as the number of felony charges against him continued to mount.
On the Floyd Barco front, there was total radio silence. If there were plans in the works about bringing in the guy from Agua Prieta and charging him for the brutal murders of Madison Hogan and Randy Williams, no word of it leaked out to either Joanna or Frank Montoya. Whatever the feds were doing on that score was occurring behind a strict cloak of secrecy.
Real-estate dealings, too, seemed to be moving at lightning speed. Since Izzy and Lyndell were paying cash for their new house, the closing was accomplished in a matter of days. Then, after waving her Amex card and spending a day in Tucson with an interior designer, a personal shopper, and a U-Haul truck at her disposal, Isabella Hogan had the place furnished, wall to wall and soup to nuts. Her purchases included furniture, beds, bedding, pots, pans, dishes, glassware, and silverware. For the first time in their young lives, Kendall and Peter had their own rooms, and their rickety old bunk bed went to the junk heap where it belonged.
Joanna stopped by one day to say hello just in time to see movers unloading the truck. Inside, the arranging process was being directed by a woman who was, according to the Hogans’ Realtor, Sierra Vista’s primo professional house stager. In this case she staged the house for someone who would be living in it rather than selling it.
“But what about your things back home in Wyoming?” Joanna asked. “What happens to them?”
“Oh, those,” Izzy said with a dismissive wave. “Most of the stuff up there is as old as the hills. Some of it came from Lyndell’s mother and some from his grandmother. This is the first chance I’ve ever had to get my own brand-new stuff, and I’m taking full advantage. By the way, we’re going to have an afternoon open house on the Saturday before Christmas. A few people have hinted around that given everything that’s happened, it’s too soon for the kids and for us to have any kind of celebration. I say screw ’em. These kids have had enough sadness to last a lifetime. It’s time for them to have some fun.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Joanna said.
“Speaking of kids,” Izzy said, “Kendall tells me you have a little boy about her age.”
Joanna nodded. “His name is Denny. He’s in second grade, too.”
“Well, feel free to bring him along,” Izzy said. “I’ve invited some of the families from the kids’ school, but I don’t know how many will show up.”
“The Saturday before Christmas,” Joanna said, consulting the calendar in her phone. “What time?”
“Two to four or so,” Izzy said.
“We’ll be there,” Joanna said. “My husband, my son, and my two-year-old, Sage. I have an older daughter who’s home from college, but I’m pretty sure she and her roommate will be otherwise engaged.”
With Denny in school for the remainder of the week, Joanna was pleased to learn from Butch that Jenny and Beth were going riding together almost every day, coming home with their cheeks flushed and smiles on their faces. Without the crutch of a cell phone in her hand, Beth was learning to saddle, bridle, and curry horses. She even allowed at dinner one night that once she and Jenny returned to Flagstaff, she hoped to be able to spend some time volunteering with the Lazy 8’s horse-therapy program.
Beth had spent several long sessions with Marianne Maculyea and seemed to have emerged with the understanding that if Marianne could get through life minus a close relationship with her mother, Beth Rankin might well be able to do the same.
At the Hogans’ open house, Joanna had to admit that the stager had done an amazing job. The results were spectacular, including a ten-foot-tall lushly decorated Christmas tree.