Missing and Endangered (Joanna Brady #19)(23)

“Were they interviewed before they went back to her?” Joanna asked.

“I thought they should have been,” Arlee replied, “but Newton said otherwise. Those state-run three-letter folks stick together. When DPS says jump, CPS says how far.”

Joanna thought about that for a moment. “Even so,” she said finally, “something about all this just doesn’t feel right.”

“Not to me either,” Arlee agreed, “but I think I should get off the phone. I’m sure I’ve bothered you long enough. I had to rant and rave about Newton to someone, and you were the only one I could think of.”

“Feel free,” Joanna said. “Anytime.”

He ended the call. Reluctant to carry on her conversation with Arlee in a crowded elevator, Joanna had stayed in the downstairs corridor while they talked. Off the phone with him, she stayed where she was and dialed Casey Ledford’s number.

“Dave Newton is a complete asshole,” Casey said when she answered.

Joanna laughed in spite of herself. “It doesn’t sound like he’s busy winning friends and influencing people today,” she said. “I was just on the phone with Arlee Jones. He was singing the same song, different verse.”

“How’s Armando?” Casey wanted to know.

“Out of surgery,” Joanna replied. “His wife is with him. I’m about to go upstairs to check on his condition, but let me ask you a question. How are you doing?”

“We’ve gathered what we can from the crime scene, and that includes the table knife you asked for, the one from the hallway just outside the kids’ bedroom.”

“And the fight started inside the house, in the living room?”

“That’s how it looks. We’re packing up right now so we can go back to the lab and start processing.”

“Okay,” Joanna said. “Let me know what you find.”

“Off the record, right?” Casey asked.

“Yes,” Joanna said. “Definitely off the record.”

Her next call was to Detective Deb Howell.

“How’s Armando?” the detective wanted to know. Joanna gave her the same answer she’d given to Casey.

“I guess you got pushed off the case the same way we did,” Deb grumbled. “What’s there to investigate? It sounds to me as though the guy had a gun in his hand and was shooting to kill. Why wouldn’t Armando use deadly force?”

“I agree,” Joanna said. “But that’s not why I’m calling.”

“Why, then?” Deb asked. “What do you need?”

“I’d like you to look into Madison Hogan.”

“The dead guy’s wife? Why? What’s this all about?”

“Leon and Madison Hogan had a contentious marriage,” Joanna replied. “According to Frank there were several incidents of domestic violence at their residence prior to Leon’s moving out. In each case the husband was the one with visible injuries and Madison was the one who was taken into custody.”

“My understanding is we’re not to have anything to do with Armando’s case.”

“This has nothing to do with the shooting itself. This is about the Hogans’ two kids, Kendall and Peter.”

“What about them?”

“When officers arrived on the scene, the kids were locked in a bedroom. The little girl told Deputy Raymond that just before a fight broke out in the living room, someone shut the door and locked them inside by shoving a table knife through a hasp on the outside of the door.”

“Who locks kids inside bedrooms?” Deb demanded.

“Good question,” Joanna returned. “And why? The whole thing seems off to me somehow. Armando was there to deliver a protection order that Madison Hogan swore out yesterday, yet she evidently took the kids to Leon’s place to spend the night. She told Arlee Jones that she went there in hopes of getting money from Leon to buy Christmas presents for the kids, but I wonder if that’s true. It was a school night. What were the kids doing at their father’s mobile home in Whetstone this morning when they should have been at school in Sierra Vista?”

“I don’t understand,” Deb said. “What are you saying?”

“I’m just wondering if Madison Hogan had some other underlying reason for going to Whetstone, something that has nothing to do with Christmas presents. But that’s Dave Newton’s problem, not ours. For right now I’m worried about the kids.”

“What about them?”

“Maybe I’m nuts, but what if Leon Hogan wasn’t the only victim of domestic violence living in that household? Maybe he’s not the one who locked the kids in that bedroom. What if their mother did?”

A brief but telling silence followed. “Considering what we all know about Jeremy Stock, I don’t think you’re nuts,” Deb replied. “And believe me, Sheriff Brady, I’m all over it. Do you have any idea which school the two kids attend?”

“Not a clue,” Joanna answered, “but check with Frank Montoya. He knows where the family lives, so he’ll know which school.”





Chapter 7





It was dark outside and well past dinnertime, but Kendall could tell that no dinner would be forthcoming. Fortunately, that nice Mrs. Kidder, Daddy’s neighbor, had made toast and scrambled eggs for them for breakfast, and Mrs. Ambrose, that lady from Child Something or Other, had bought them a burger from McDonald’s before she brought them back home. She said their mother had been ill and had been in the emergency room, but now that she was home, they could go home, too. And then she had sat there in the living room with them while their mother told them that Daddy was gone.