Missing and Endangered (Joanna Brady #19)(87)

She was about to turn and run to the kitchen to get something to clean up the spilled beer, but then she realized it must have been empty. The mess consisted of nothing more than a few drops. That was good news. Even better news? Grandma Puckett was coming to take care of them.

As the car with Mommy and the other two visitors disappeared from sight, the woman in the uniform stepped across the threshold. She had short red hair and bright green eyes. There was a gold star pinned to her brown shirt. As she came inside, she held out her hand.

“My name is Sheriff Joanna Brady,” she said. “What’s yours?”

“Kendall,” the little girl replied gravely, returning the handshake.

“And your brother?”

“His name is Peter.”

“Where’s he?”

“In our bedroom. He fell asleep a little while ago. I can wake him up if you want me to.”

“That’s not necessary,” Sheriff Brady said. “If it’s all right with you, we can just sit and talk until your grandmother gets here.”

Sheriff Brady had a nice voice—a lot like Mrs. Baird’s. Kendall Hogan liked her already.





Chapter 43





During her years in law enforcement, there were several moments that remained seared into Joanna’s memory. One of them was the gunfight off I-10 north of Benson, during which she’d taken cover and fired her weapon beneath the undercarriage of her minivan in order to rescue a little girl being held hostage by a fleeing gunman. Another was the middle-of-the-night journey she’d made, accompanied by Father Rowan, to inform a pregnant Sunny Sloan that her deputy husband was dead. But neither of those was as heartbreaking as walking into Madison Hogan’s filthy house and meeting Kendall for the first time.

Joanna had remained in the background on a porch surrounded by a weed-choked front yard while Deb Howell and Garth Raymond had handled Madison Hogan—an argumentative train wreck of a woman. Only after the three of them left had she followed the little girl into the home.

“You can sit in here if you want,” Kendall said shyly, ushering Joanna into the junk-strewn living room and sweeping a collection of toys and debris off a threadbare couch in order to clear a space for Joanna to sit.

“How old are you?” she asked.

“I’m seven.”

As the child spoke, Joanna looked into her deep blue eyes. They were eyes that were older than her age—eyes that had seen too much and known too much.

“I have a son who’s seven,” Joanna said. “His name is Denny, and he’s lost a bunch of teeth. How many teeth have you lost so far?”

Kendall held up three fingers. A little boy appeared in the doorway across the room. “Who’s that?” he asked, rubbing his eyes and pointing at Joanna.

“Her name’s Sheriff Brady,” Kendall answered. “Mommy had to go someplace. Sheriff Brady’s going to watch us until Grandma Puckett gets here.”

The little boy’s face brightened. “Grandma’s coming?” he said. “Is she going to take us to dinner?”

“I don’t know,” Kendall told the boy. Then, turning to Joanna, she added, “This is my little brother, Peter. He’s five.”

The kids didn’t appear to be undernourished, but Joanna remembered that Kendall’s teacher had told Detective Howell that the little girl had been spotted scavenging food from cafeteria trash cans.

“Do you like your Grandma Puckett?” Joanna asked.

Both children nodded enthusiastically. “She bought me chocolate-chip pancakes,” Peter said.

“And a new dress for me,” Kendall added. “She’s nice.”

“Where does she live?” Joanna asked. “Somewhere nearby?”

Kendall shook her head. “Somewhere far away,” she answered, “in a place where only old people live. That’s why we can’t go stay with her. They don’t let children live there.”

“But you’d like to stay with her?”

Kendall dropped her eyes and said nothing. Finally she nodded reluctantly, but her apparent reticence didn’t keep Peter from piping up on his own.

“Now that Daddy’s gone, Mommy forgets to feed us sometimes.”

Out of the mouths of babes! For a moment Joanna was too affected to say anything more.

“I’m sorry your daddy’s gone,” she said at last. “That’s why my detectives and I came here today. We need to ask your mom about what happened.”

Kendall’s head came up. “They had a fight,” she said at once.

“Who had a fight?”

“Mommy and Daddy,” Kendall said, “that morning. I heard them, but when I tried to go see what was happening, the bedroom door was locked. I couldn’t get out.”

The hair on the back of Joanna’s neck stood on end. “Where were you?” she asked.

“At Daddy’s place.”

“And when was that?” Joanna asked. “When did the fight happen?”

“That morning, just after the doorbell rang. I heard talking and then someone left. After the door closed Mommy started yelling at Daddy. Then there was a gunshot, and Mommy started screaming. There were a whole bunch more gunshots after that. When I climbed up on the dresser and looked out the window, I saw Daddy lying on the porch by the front door. I could tell he was dead.”