Jaime Carbajal came walking toward Joanna. Between them they carried a collection of several plaster casts.
“What’s this about a Lexus?” Frank Montoya asked as he loaded the casts into boxes in Jaime’s van.
“One was seen near here late last night. Up by the Cochise Stronghold sign. And I believe we now may have a line on our victim,” Joanna answered. “My guess is her name is Sandra Ridder.”
Montoya frowned. “Ridder,” he repeated. “Any relation to Lucinda Ridder, the runaway?”
Joanna nodded. “Sandra is Lucinda’s mother. She was released from prison up in Perryville sometime yesterday afternoon. And it turns out she’s so well-rehabilitated after spending almost eight years in the slammer that she took the first opportunity that presented itself to steal her attorney’s Lexus overnight.”
“When did this all come up and why didn’t I know about it before now?” Frank Montoya demanded.
“Larry Kendrick told me about the bulletin on the stolen Lexus as I was on my way here. I meant to mention it to you as soon as I arrived, but with everything else that was going on, it slipped my mind. It wasn’t until Lance here mentioned a Lexus that I remembered. Exactly how far is it from here to Lucinda’s grandmother’s house?”
“It’s off on Middlemarch Road. Two miles, give or take.”
“Maybe we’d better drop by and see her,” Joanna said.
“Catherine Yates told me her daughter was due home either today or tomorrow,” Frank replied irritably. “But she didn’t say from where—certainly not from prison. All Catherine said was that she wanted Lucy home when her mother got there. Any idea what the mother was in for?”
“Manslaughter. I don’t know any of the details. Just that she got sent up for ten years and served eight.”
“All of which puts Lucy’s disappearance in a whole new light.”
Joanna nodded grimly. “Doesn’t it just,” she said. She turned back to Deputy Pakin. “Lance,” she said, “I’m going to go with Chief Deputy Montoya in his car. You stay here and assist Detective Carbajal. When it’s too dark to see, I’d like you to stay here and keep the crime scene secure until we can get a crew of techs back out here in the morning.”
“Will do,” Deputy Pakin agreed. “What about emergency calls?”
“Call into Dispatch and let them know you’re on assignment. If the need arises, they’ll have to bring in officers from other sectors to cover problems in yours. And when you go off shift, have the Night Watch Commander send someone else out here to take your place.”
“Sure thing.”
Leaving her Blazer parked on the shoulder of the roadway, Joanna followed Frank to his waiting Crown Victoria. Without a word, Frank got in, slammed the car door shut, started the engine, and then rammed the gearshift into drive for a tire-spinning, gravel-spattering U-turn. From the set of Frank’s jaw, Joanna knew her chief deputy was ripped. For the next several minutes they maintained a strained silence, punctuated here and there by radio chatter.
“What’s wrong, Frank?” Joanna asked at last.
He turned and glowered at her. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. I feel like you left me out of the loop back there. Like there were things going on that I should have known about and nobody told me.”
“Come on,” she pleaded. “Don’t make a big deal out of this. It was nothing but an oversight on my part. It certainly wasn’t deliberate. We were all busy, Frank, and it slipped my mind. Besides, until Lance brought up the subject of the Lexus, there was no possible way for anyone to see a connection between the two cases.”
“I suppose not,” Frank grumbled, but Joanna could tell he was still provoked, and that made her uneasy. Not only was Frank Montoya her chief deputy, he had long been Joanna’s greatest ally in the department. She could ill afford to offend him.
“Tell me about Catherine Yates,” she said, trying to change the subject.
“What’s this about a Lexus?” Frank Montoya asked as he loaded the casts into boxes in Jaime’s van.
“One was seen near here late last night. Up by the Cochise Stronghold sign. And I believe we now may have a line on our victim,” Joanna answered. “My guess is her name is Sandra Ridder.”
Montoya frowned. “Ridder,” he repeated. “Any relation to Lucinda Ridder, the runaway?”
Joanna nodded. “Sandra is Lucinda’s mother. She was released from prison up in Perryville sometime yesterday afternoon. And it turns out she’s so well-rehabilitated after spending almost eight years in the slammer that she took the first opportunity that presented itself to steal her attorney’s Lexus overnight.”
“When did this all come up and why didn’t I know about it before now?” Frank Montoya demanded.
“Larry Kendrick told me about the bulletin on the stolen Lexus as I was on my way here. I meant to mention it to you as soon as I arrived, but with everything else that was going on, it slipped my mind. It wasn’t until Lance here mentioned a Lexus that I remembered. Exactly how far is it from here to Lucinda’s grandmother’s house?”
“It’s off on Middlemarch Road. Two miles, give or take.”
“Maybe we’d better drop by and see her,” Joanna said.
“Catherine Yates told me her daughter was due home either today or tomorrow,” Frank replied irritably. “But she didn’t say from where—certainly not from prison. All Catherine said was that she wanted Lucy home when her mother got there. Any idea what the mother was in for?”
“Manslaughter. I don’t know any of the details. Just that she got sent up for ten years and served eight.”
“All of which puts Lucy’s disappearance in a whole new light.”
Joanna nodded grimly. “Doesn’t it just,” she said. She turned back to Deputy Pakin. “Lance,” she said, “I’m going to go with Chief Deputy Montoya in his car. You stay here and assist Detective Carbajal. When it’s too dark to see, I’d like you to stay here and keep the crime scene secure until we can get a crew of techs back out here in the morning.”
“Will do,” Deputy Pakin agreed. “What about emergency calls?”
“Call into Dispatch and let them know you’re on assignment. If the need arises, they’ll have to bring in officers from other sectors to cover problems in yours. And when you go off shift, have the Night Watch Commander send someone else out here to take your place.”
“Sure thing.”
Leaving her Blazer parked on the shoulder of the roadway, Joanna followed Frank to his waiting Crown Victoria. Without a word, Frank got in, slammed the car door shut, started the engine, and then rammed the gearshift into drive for a tire-spinning, gravel-spattering U-turn. From the set of Frank’s jaw, Joanna knew her chief deputy was ripped. For the next several minutes they maintained a strained silence, punctuated here and there by radio chatter.
“What’s wrong, Frank?” Joanna asked at last.
He turned and glowered at her. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. I feel like you left me out of the loop back there. Like there were things going on that I should have known about and nobody told me.”
“Come on,” she pleaded. “Don’t make a big deal out of this. It was nothing but an oversight on my part. It certainly wasn’t deliberate. We were all busy, Frank, and it slipped my mind. Besides, until Lance brought up the subject of the Lexus, there was no possible way for anyone to see a connection between the two cases.”
“I suppose not,” Frank grumbled, but Joanna could tell he was still provoked, and that made her uneasy. Not only was Frank Montoya her chief deputy, he had long been Joanna’s greatest ally in the department. She could ill afford to offend him.
“Tell me about Catherine Yates,” she said, trying to change the subject.
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