Missing and Endangered (Joanna Brady #19)(32)

Alarmed, she was about to head for the gun safe when Lady let out a joyous bark and went galloping toward the approaching vehicle. Lucky, deaf since birth, had never quite mastered the art of barking, but he went racing toward the car as well just as Joanna heard the garage door on the far side of the house rolling open.

When Butch had designed their new home, she had looked at the original drawings and shaken her head. “Most people have a two-car garage. This looks like a four-bedroom, two-garage house.”

“It is,” he had said, “and don’t worry. Once Jenny starts to drive, we’ll need it.”

He’d been right about that. Both Joanna’s work vehicle, the Interceptor, and her Buick Enclave occupied her garage, while Butch’s latest Subaru stayed in his. With Jenny off at school, the second parking spot in his garage was currently open.

Closing the door, Joanna went back inside. She met up with Butch just as he and the two cavorting dogs entered through the family room. Once he dropped his bags, she gave him a heartfelt hug. “What are you doing here? I thought you were staying in Tucson tonight and tomorrow.”

“The Green Valley event started at six and was over before eight. Since it was still early, I canceled my hotel room and came home. I can drive back and forth to Tucson for tomorrow’s Oro Valley event. People who live in Tucson and work at Fort Huachuca make that kind of commute every day of the week.”

“Have you eaten?”

“No, but after being on the road and eating restaurant food, what I want more than anything is a peanut butter and honey sandwich. The only way to get one of those in a fine dining establishment is to order off the kiddie menu.”

“Do you want me to fix it?” Joanna asked.

“No, I will,” he told her with a grin. “You never slather on nearly enough peanut butter.”

While he headed for the kitchen, Joanna went back to the dining-room table. She didn’t have that many cards to go—only fifty or so—and it seemed silly to stop when she was that close to the end. Shortly after she returned to her task, Butch entered the room, bringing along both his sandwich and a glass of milk. He sat down next to her. Once the sandwich was gone, Butch began stuffing signed cards into envelopes and sealing them shut.

As they worked, she brought him up to date on everything she’d learned in the course of the afternoon.

“The murder weapon is registered to one of the wife’s pals?” Butch asked when she told him about the Glock.

“Maybe,” Joanna hedged. “We think Williams might be Madison’s boyfriend, but we don’t know that for sure.”

“And you think Madison brought it to the crime scene?”

“That’s how it seems.” Joanna nodded. “She might have fired that first shot—the one Armando heard coming from inside the house as he was on his way to his vehicle.”

“You’re saying you think it’s possible she started the whole thing?”

“Maybe,” Joanna said, “but at this point there’s no way to prove it, and there probably won’t be.”

“No GSR?” Butch asked.

Suddenly a light went off in Joanna’s head. “I wonder what happened to the robe?”

“What robe?”

“While Madison was sitting in the back of that Huachuca City patrol car, someone—one of the neighbors—brought a robe for her to wear. I wonder what happened to it—if it went to the hospital with Madison or if the EMTs returned it to the neighbor?”

“Why would you need to find the robe?”

“She might not have been wearing it at the time of the shooting, but if she fired that first shot, she would have had GSR on her hands, and there could be cast-off traces of it inside the sleeves.” Joanna glanced at her watch. It said 11:23. “Too late to call Ernie,” she said.

“Call Ernie?” a puzzled Butch asked. “Why would you need Ernie to go chasing after Madison’s GSR? Wouldn’t that be up to Detective Soccer Ball?”

“My primary concern right now is the Hogan kids,” Joanna said. “We know their mother has had multiple domestic-violence arrests if not convictions. If she was brandishing and firing a weapon at her former husband’s home, what does that say about her qualifications for being Mother of the Year? Not only that, as soon as Madison was let loose from the ER, Child Protective Services sent the kids right back home to their mom.”

Butch reached across the table, took one of Joanna’s hands in his, and gave his wife a searching look. “I see where you’re going with all this, Joey,” he said. “For some reason you’ve decided that Madison Hogan is an unsuitable mother. How come?”

“She locked her kids in the bedroom, for one thing,” Joanna said defensively.

“And?”

“She swore out that protection order against her husband and then dragged her kids out to his house to spend the night.”

“Maybe she changed her mind,” Butch offered. “People going through divorces do all kinds of stupid things—including changing their minds about protection orders.”

“So you think I’m wrong?” Joanna asked.

Butch chose his words carefully. “I think there’s a possibility that you might be jumping to conclusions,” he said.

Joanna thought about that for a moment. “Maybe I am,” she said. “I almost hope you’re right, because suitable or not, she’s the mother they’re stuck with.”