JOANNA WENT HOME. SHE HAD RACED OFF IN SUCH A HURRY THAT she hadn’t done the necessary chores. She made quick work of them now, hoping that the animals would forgive her for throwing them off schedule. By the time everyone was fed, Dwayne and Li’l Pat, bundled up against the cold, were out in the driveway playing fetch with all four dogs—their two and Joanna’s two. It did Joanna’s heart good to realize that although Stormin’ Norman and Big Red were work dogs, they were also given the opportunity to play.
After showering, Joanna went to the kitchen for coffee and found Carol whipping out a batch of French toast. “A girl’s gotta eat, you know,” she said.
Truth be told, Joanna was famished. After that, she settled in to field phone calls, hoping to hear about what was going on. She wasn’t actually at work, but she could just as well have been.
Tom Hadlock called first, his voice thick with disappointment. The arrest team had come up empty. The killers were in the wind, and they were waiting for Dave and Casey to show up to direct the collection of evidence. Joanna tried to assure Tom that whatever had happened wasn’t his fault—that he’d done his best—but she could tell he didn’t believe that for a minute.
Marianne called next. “I just talked to Lou Ann Richards. She said that she and Lyle could get better connections from St. Louis and New Orleans into Phoenix than they could into Tucson. They’ll fly into Sky Harbor, arriving late tonight. They’ll rent a car, stay there overnight, and then drive down tomorrow morning.”
“That’s good news.”
“As soon as Latisha knew when her mom was getting here, she wanted to know if I could help her do something about her hair. I got her a comb, but when she tried to use it, the hair started falling out in big chunks. Eileen Hopkins from ER told us that losing hair is yet another symptom of severe malnourishment. Up to now the hair has been so matted that it couldn’t fall out. Eileen suggested I call Eddie from the barbershop out in Don Luis. He’s the hospital’s go-to guy when someone needs what they call the ‘Big C Hairdo.’ ”
“Which is?”
“A shave and a scarf. As rail thin as Latisha is, people will take one look at her and decide she’s a cancer patient, but it’s also the right thing to do. I believe that a drastic change of appearance will do her a world of good. When she sees herself in a mirror, she’ll see someone entirely different from the person the Boss left behind.”
“The Boss,” Joanna repeated. “Does that mean she’s been talking to you?”
“When Latisha’s not sleeping, she talks nonstop,” Marianne said. “She was so lonely after Amelia died that she’s almost as starved for conversation as she is for food. And she asked me if I knew of a priest who would come see her.”
“She’s a Catholic, then?”
“She told me she’s not—not yet anyway—but that her parents are, her mother and her stepfather. So I got a hold of Father Rowan from St. Dominick’s. He said he’ll stop by later on this afternoon to see her. How are things out in the Peloncillos?”
“The arrest team came up empty. The Ardmores had already fled the crime scene by the time they got there. They’re all just hanging out right now, waiting to help process the crime scene once Dave and Casey turn up to supervise.”
“Maybe I should take a run out there after I leave the hospital,” Marianne said. “From what Latisha told me, it’s likely to be tough going for everyone.”
When the phone call ended, Joanna remained on the living-room sofa for a few minutes, just sitting and thinking. By rights she needed to let Latisha know what had happened, but she wanted to wait around awhile longer to see if maybe Sheriff Trotter had better news.
Joanna was alone. The house was quiet. Sage was asleep. Dennis was at school but was scheduled to go on a play date after school let out. The Paxtons had taken their dogs and gone somewhere. Carol was on her way to town to get the mail. Lucky and Lady, worn out from playing, were flopped down side by side on the living-room floor. Feeling suddenly beyond weary, Joanna allowed herself to kick off her shoes, lie down on the sofa, and put her head on a pillow. In a matter of minutes, she was fast asleep.
In the dream she was coming home from somewhere—work, maybe? Instead of driving into the garage as she usually did, she parked out by the gate and then walked up to the front door. She had opened the screen and was reaching for the knob when the door opened in front of her. A man, seemingly a stranger, stood just inside the door, holding Sage in one hand and a butcher knife in the other.
“Why, hello,” he said to her, waving the blade of the knife in her direction. “Welcome home, Sheriff Brady. So what’s it going to be today, you or this baby?”
She awoke with a start, gasping for breath and with her heart hammering in her chest. The danger had been so palpably real that for a second or two she had a difficult time grasping that it had actually been a dream. And then she realized, that the stranger hadn’t been a stranger at all. She’d seen that face before, twice—on both Arthur Ardmore’s driver’s license and his brother’s.
Joanna wasn’t even actively working the case—make that officially working the case—but it was still affecting her. If the horrors going on out in the Peloncillos were bad enough to haunt her from a distance, what would they do to her people—the ones who actually had to come face-to-face with such evil?
Tom called at a little past noon to tell her that the examination of the scene had turned up the likelihood that Arthur Ardmore was deceased. He also told her about locating what appeared to be three shallow graves out behind Arthur’s house.
“How are you doing, Tom?” she asked.
He hesitated for a moment before answering. “It’s been rough,” he admitted, “on everybody.”
Once off the phone with him, Joanna called the Paxtons to give them the news and to ask if it might be possible for them to stick around for a day or two longer. But the call she was waiting for, the one from New Mexico, didn’t come in until slightly after 2:00 P.M.
“James Ardmore is dead,” Randy Trotter announced. “He had a wreck on the I-10 between Las Cruces and El Paso. He was airlifted from the scene and died on the way to the hospital in Las Cruces.”
Still rattled by her recent nightmare encounter with the man, the relief Joanna felt was overwhelming. “Thank God,” she said. “How did it happen?”
“Not sure,” Sheriff Trotter said. “My pilot and I were following him at the time, and suddenly he just lost it. Maybe he fell asleep.”
There was something off in his voice, something that maybe wasn’t quite right, but Joanna didn’t pay that much attention. She was too busy being grateful. If James Ardmore was dead, Latisha would never have to face him across a courtroom to testify about what he’d done to her and to her friends. Joanna knew full well that nothing a judge and jury could dish out to him would be sufficient punishment for his crimes, but for now the fact that he was dead would have to be enough.
“Because my department was actively pursuing him at the time,” Trotter continued, “my counterparts in Doña Ana County let me have a look at his personal effects. The weird thing is, he was carrying two very different sets of IDs and credit cards—one for James Ardmore and the other, including a current passport, for Arthur Ardmore. Any ideas about that?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Joanna said. “My people out in Calhoun are fairly certain that Arthur Ardmore is deceased. They found evidence to suggest he’s been missing since May two years ago.”
“That’s interesting,” Randy Trotter said. “We ran a credit report, and according to credit-card records the man’s alive and well and living it up all over the country.”
“It’s more likely his remains are locked in a drawer uptown in our M.E.’s office,” Joanna told him. “We believe the skull with the bullet hole in the back of the head belongs to him—or to one of them. Since they look so much alike, are you sure you’ve got the ID straight?”
“One hundred percent,” Trotter said. “I had one of my deputies obtain a warrant and search James Ardmore’s mobile over in Road Forks. We lifted some prints, sent them over to Las Cruces, and they check out. Our dead guy is definitely James Edward Ardmore. We’re looking for other relatives, but so far none have turned up.”
“I need to go let Latisha know. I’ve been waiting to hear from you before telling her the other news.”
“What other news?”
“My people found three more bodies buried in shallow graves behind Arthur Ardmore’s house in Calhoun.”
“Three more?” Trotter echoed. “You’re saying seven so far?”
“It would have been eight if Latisha hadn’t gotten away.”
“Go tell her, then, by all means,” Sheriff Trotter urged. “It won’t make things right by any means, but it might make her feel better.”
Joanna packed up Sage to go deliver the news to Latisha. Father Rowan was in the room with Latisha when they arrived, so Joanna waited in the hallway until he was leaving.
The priest greeted her with a friendly smile. “I see that your bundle of joy has arrived. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Joanna said. It was refreshing for a change to hear a comment that had nothing to do with maternity leave.
When Latisha caught sight of Joanna, her face lit up. The IV bag still hung next to her bed, but already the liquids being pumped into her system had made her look less gaunt.
“I’m glad you came back,” she said. “Thank you for staying with me earlier. And thank you for sending that nice Marianne.”
“She is nice,” Joanna told her. “We’ve been friends since seventh grade.”
“And that’s your baby?”
Joanna nodded. “Her name is Sage. We came to give you some news. I just got word from Randy Trotter, the sheriff over in Hidalgo County. He wanted me to let you know that the man you knew as the Boss, a guy by the name of James Ardmore, is now deceased. He had crossed state lines and was fleeing prosecution when he wrecked his truck. He died while being transported to the hospital.”
Latisha’s eyes widened. “He’s dead, really?”
“Really.”
“You mean I’ll never have to see him again, and I won’t have to testify against him in court?”
“It’s over,” Joanna answered, although she knew that wasn’t true. Latisha Marcum would be suffering the aftereffects of James Ardmore’s crimes for the rest of her life.
The young woman’s tears came once again, as they had so often that day. This time they ended a little sooner than before. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I just can’t seem to stop crying.”
“Under the circumstances I think you have every right. Later this afternoon my department will be holding a briefing about all this, and there’s something you need to know before it becomes public knowledge. When my people were out at Calhoun today doing crime-scene investigation, they located at least three more sets of remains.”
“Other girls like us?” Latisha asked.
“We’re not sure, but I suspect that may be the case. The bodies are currently being transported to the M.E.’s office.”
“Sadie always said there were probably others,” Latisha murmured. “I should pray for them, but how can I? I don’t even know their names.”
“Do you believe in God?” Joanna asked.
Latisha thought about that before she answered. “I didn’t used to,” she said finally, “but now I do.”
“You don’t need to know their names to pray for them,” Joanna told her. “He already knows.”
A nurse came into the room. “Sorry to interrupt, Sheriff Brady. Latisha is due down in the OR to have her toes worked on.”
“It’s okay,” Joanna said. “Sage and I have said what we came to say.”
“Can you be here tomorrow when my parents come?” Latisha asked.
“Do you want me here?”
“Yes.”
“All right, then,” Joanna said. “You can count on it.”
“And will you wear your uniform?”
That seemed like an odd request, but Joanna saw no reason to refuse. “I will if you’d like me to,” she said. “But why?”
“Lyle, my stepfather, always used to try to tell me that cops were my friends. I want to let him know he was right.”
“Fair enough,” Joanna said. “A uniform it is.”
On her way out, Joanna poked her head into Garth’s room. He was asleep in his bed, and his grandmother, seated in a visitor’s chair next to him, was sleeping, too. Joanna and Sage left without saying a word.
She had planned to pick Denny up from his play date just before dinner. When she showed up early, he wasn’t happy.
“Do I have to go?” he grumbled. “Can’t I stay just a little longer?”
“Nope,” she told him, “Daddy’s coming home from his book tour today, and I believe some welcome-home balloons might be in order.”