Missing and Endangered (Joanna Brady #19)(28)

“One set belongs to Officer Larry Dunn of Huachuca City PD. The other belongs to Madison Hogan. Sierra Vista had her prints on file because of those previous domestic-violence arrests.”

“According to what Kendall Hogan told Garth, the bedroom door got shut and locked between the time the doorbell rang and the moment the shots rang out,” Joanna asserted quietly. “That would suggest that Madison might have expected some kind of trouble once the protection order was delivered and she wanted to keep the kids out of it.”

Deb nodded. “That’s my take on it, too.”

“What about the handgun?” Joanna asked. “Any prints on that?”

Deb nodded. “Two sets of prints there, too, only this time they belong to Leon and Madison Hogan, with his prints overlaying hers. But what’s really interesting about the Glock is the guy who owns it.”

“Who?”

“Casey checked the registration and traced it back to a guy named Randall J. Williams.”

“Never heard of him,” Joanna said. “Who’s he?”

“Mr. Williams is a relative newcomer to the area who bills himself as some kind of cowboy artist. He lives in a trailer out near Miracle Valley.”

“What’s his connection to all this?”

“Once you brought up the domestic-violence issue yesterday afternoon, I got my rear in gear. I went straight out to Sierra Vista and started chatting up folks who live in the Hogans’ neighborhood. Everyone figured I was there because of the shooting, and I didn’t exactly disabuse them of that notion. The Hogans’ up-the-street neighbor, Lois Watson, was especially helpful, and let’s just say I’m glad Lois is Madison’s neighbor and not mine.”

“Why?”

“According to Lois, once Leon moved out, Madison started partying almost every night, with people drinking and carousing until all hours. They parked their cars up and down the street, blocking driveways right and left, including Lois’s. She tried talking to Madison about it, but nothing happened. Lois has a security camera, but she also started keeping track of the plate numbers in a little notebook. She was able to give me a complete, day-by-day list.”

“You ran them?”

“I certainly did. A 4Runner that shows up almost every night belongs to none other than our Mr. Williams of Miracle Valley fame.”

“That’s a very interesting connection,” Joanna said.

“I think so, too,” Deb agreed. “And it leads me to believe that maybe he’s Madison’s boyfriend.”

“Which tells us that Madison is probably the one who brought the murder weapon to the crime scene, because it seems unlikely Williams would have willingly handed a weapon over to his girlfriend’s estranged husband.”

“Yup,” Deb replied. “Not unless he had a death wish.”

A long pause followed. From her first view of the crime scene, Joanna had assumed that she was looking at a case of suicide by cop. Now something else occurred to her.

“Maybe Madison came to see Leon intending to take him out. Maybe that’s why, despite the protection order, she brought the kids and went on that overnight with her ex in the first place, but when it came time to do the job, he wrested the weapon from her. She ran out of the house, trying to get away . . .”

“. . . and Armando was collateral damage,” Deb concluded.

Joanna nodded. “At first I thought this was suicide by cop. Now maybe it’s more like homicide by cop. So it seems to me we need to know more about Randall Williams and a hell of a lot more about Madison Hogan.”

“I have one more item of interest about her,” Deb volunteered. “After hearing back from Records at Sierra Vista PD, just for the hell of it, I ran both Leon’s and Madison’s names through our Records department.”

“And?”

“I came up with one hit—with Animal Control.”

Deb’s answer left Joanna totally mystified. “Animal Control?” she echoed.

“Three months ago, which is probably only days after Leon moved to Whetstone, Madison turned up at Animal Control prepared to relinquish ownership of a two-year-old bluetick hound named Coon. When someone is giving up an animal like that, the paperwork asks for a reason. Madison claimed that she and her husband were getting a divorce. She said her husband had left the dog with her, and she couldn’t afford to care for it. Which reminds me, so far I’ve been unable to find any trace of ongoing divorce proceedings between Leon and Madison Hogan.”

“So she lied about that, too,” Joanna concluded. “There’s a difference between being separated and being divorced. What happened to the dog?”

“Jeannine placed it with an old codger down near Double Adobe who has a real soft spot in his heart for rescuing hounds of all kinds. He had two blueticks and three redticks. Now it’s three and three.”

Jeannine Phillips was Joanna’s Animal Control officer. Since taking over that position, she’d transformed what had once been a “mostly kill” shelter into a “mostly adopt” one.

“Okay,” Joanna said. “I’ll give Madison Hogan a few points on that score. She might have had a gun, but at least she didn’t shoot the damned dog. Keep digging into Madison Hogan, though, and see what else you can find.”

“Trust me,” Detective Howell said, rising to her feet. “I’m on it. I’ll keep you posted.”