Downfall (12 page)

“After all,” Andy had said, just before they did the deed, “what does it matter? We're already pregnant.”

Joanna was pulled out of her momentary reverie by Agent Watkins's voice. “It's not very big up here, is it,” she remarked.

Joanna looked around. She had to agree that the slightly rounded top of the mountain, divided in half by that distinctive dip, was surprisingly small—not more than fifteen yards long and no more than ten across. Here and there, scattered across that tiny bit of landscape, were small clumps of what Joanna now knew to be hedgehog cactus.

“Those are the Fendler's hedgehogs,” she explained. “The ones Desirée Wilburton was out here researching.”

“Which means those are the hedgehogs that got her killed,” Robin responded. “If you ask me, they don't look like much, and I doubt any of them were worth dying for.”

“HEY, SHERIFF BRADY,” DAVE CALLED. “WHERE ARE YOU?”

Joanna and Robin sidled over to the edge and peered down to where the two men and the dog were still visible, only now their positions were reversed, with the women at the top of the peak and the two men and dog well below.

“Up here,” Joanna called back, waving. “Did you find anything?”

“This is the spot for sure,” Dave replied, his voice flowing up to them with almost no distortion, as if carried and amplified by the breeze blowing against the rock face from the west.

“Anything besides the shoe?”

“Affirmative.”

“Okay, then,” Joanna told him. “We'll meet you back at the cars.”

Joanna's phone rang, letting out its unmistakable rooster crow.

“What the hell is that?” Robin demanded.

“Sorry,” Joanna said, tugging the phone out of her pocket. “Hello.”

“We've got the car,” Casey Ledford said, “and maybe part of the crime scene.”

“What do you mean?” Joanna asked.

“Let's just say there's lots of biological evidence in that backseat. I think it functioned as Susan's private no-tell motel, and not just once, either. It's on its way to the impound lot as we speak. Once it's here, we'll need to swab it for DNA and dust it for prints.”

“Good,” Joanna said. “We're up on Geronimo. Dave seems to have found some additional pieces of evidence, including Susan Nelson's missing shoe. We won't know what else is there until we meet up with him down at the bottom.”

“You said ‘we'?” Casey inquired

“I'm here with Agent Watkins. Dave is working with Terry and Spike.”

“So I'm assuming it's okay to clock in some additional overtime on this?” Casey asked.

“Yes,” Joanna said. “For right now we'll all need to do whatever needs to be done. See you back at the office.”

“How did you end up with a rooster ring tone?” Robin asked when Joanna ended the call.

“I like it,” Joanna said. “Nobody else has one like it.”

“I wonder why,” Robin grumbled.

They made their way back down the mountain. It was too hot to wait in the car, so they sheltered under the scrub oak until Dave, Terry, and the dog reappeared half an hour later.

“What did you find?” Joanna asked, after introducing Agent Watkins to the others.

One at a time and brimming with pride, Dave began pulling evidence bags out of the many pockets of his safari-style vest. “One shoe,” he said. “Size eight and a half; found just below what we now believe to be the drop-off point.”

Dave withdrew another bag and handed it to Joanna. “This one contains one tiny piece of blue fuzz.”

“Blue fuzz?”

“There's a partial path from the cliff back over to the main route up and down the mountain,” Dave explained. “I found the fuzz caught on a creosote branch on the way back down. I'm thinking the guy was in a hell of a hurry and didn't notice his clothing had gotten hung up on something.”

“You think it's from the hoodie?” Joanna asked.

“That's certainly a possibility,” Dave said with a nod. “I believe the SVSSE school colors are blue and white.”

He pulled out another bag. “Here's my current favorite.”

Joanna peered at the bag. It took a moment before she finally caught sight of a single strand of brown hair, approximately eight inches in length, trapped between the two layers of clear plastic.

“I believe Desirée Wilburton was described as having shoulder-length light brown hair,” Dave said.

Joanna nodded. “I believe so, too. Good work—good work, all of you,” she added, reaching down to rub Spike's pointed black ears. “Casey tells me Susan's Honda is on its way to the impound lot. Let's go back to the department, reconvene in the conference room for a few moments, and sort out where we are.”

They were back in the Yukon and bouncing toward town when Robin broached a painful subject. “I'm guessing you'll be having to take time off for funerals later this week?”

Since this was a joint investigation, Joanna considered it to be a fair question. “Funeral, not funerals,” she answered. “One only. Friday morning at eleven. I'll probably take all day Friday off, but I expect to work the rest of the time.”

“Were you and your mother close?”

“Not really,” Joanna said. “It's a very long story.”

“And none of my business,” Robin said.

And then, because Robin hadn't asked, Joanna told her anyway. Because talking about Eleanor with a complete stranger was easier than talking about her with someone who happened to know where all the bodies were buried. Even so, Joanna didn't tell all of it—there wasn't time—but she hit the high spots.

“In my family, my mother's fine,” Robin said when Joanna finished. “It's my father who's the pain in the butt. He's FBI, too. It's sort of the family business. My brother chose to join the Secret Service, which sent my father into a tizzy. And my signing up to follow in Dad's footsteps was the last thing he wanted. Sounds like your mother and my dad would have been birds of a feather.”

“But what about your brother?” Joanna asked. “Is all forgiven now? Is he still the fair-haired boy?”

“Absolutely,” Robin said. “Ray's a good guy, and we get along fine when the folks aren't around, but Dad never lets me forget for one minute that I come in a very distant second.”

“What are you doing for dinner tonight?” Joanna asked.

“Dinner? I'll eat at the hotel, I suppose. Why?”

“Because my brother and his wife flew in from Manassas today. My husband, Butch, invited them to dinner. I've had a hell of a day, and I'm not up to having some big family conflab tonight. There's enough on my plate right now, and before I deal with
whatever I need to deal with as far as Bob and Marcie are concerned, I also need a good night's sleep.”

“Is Butch a good cook?” Robin asked.

“He's a great cook,” Joanna answered.

“And you're inviting me to dinner so I can function as a human shield?”

“Yes,” Joanna admitted. “I suppose that's about the size of it.”

“Let's see,” Robin said. “Go to a hotel and eat by myself in a strange dining room or go somewhere else and have a home-cooked meal for a change while I help someone I like deal with an older brother who may or may not be too full of himself? Which sounds like a better deal to you?”

Joanna smiled as she swung into the parking lot. “I'll call Butch and tell him to set another place.”

BACK AT HER OFFICE, JOANNA HAD KRISTIN SET UP AN IMPROMPTU
video conference call during which everyone, including Ian Waters and Frank Montoya, could be brought up-to-date and, coincidentally, introduced to Agent Watkins.

For the second time that day, they assembled in the conference room. Jaime Carbajal and Ernie Carpenter had spent most of the day canvassing people from the Warren neighborhood nearest the ranch road, in case someone in that area had seen something. Not surprisingly, the detectives had come up empty.

With the help of Robin's boss, the FBI's agent in charge in Tucson, Frank Montoya had succeeded in obtaining a warrant that allowed investigators to access both victims' telephone records. Deb Howell had spent most of the day poring over call records from both phones and over text exchanges as well.

“Anything?” Joanna asked.

“Nada,” Deb answered. “I can't find any point of contact between the two victims. Desirée doesn't seem to have many friends, or a current boyfriend, either, for that matter. Most of her texting is back and forth to her mother. Susan, on the other hand, did a lot of texting to her fellow teachers. She did some texting to the kids who are on her debate team, but nothing out of the ordinary or out of line. Times for coaching sessions; carpooling and busing arrangements for getting back and forth to tournaments; that sort of thing.”

“No lovey-dovey stuff?” Joanna asked.

“Nope.”

“But she's pregnant with a kid whose father most likely isn't her husband. That means she's carrying on an affair with someone, and that means there's got to be some point of contact somewhere.”

“Unless she was doing it by code, it's not in her texting history, which is what I focused on today. Tomorrow I'll use the reverse directory to track down her most frequently called numbers. That's most likely where we'll find the boyfriend.”

“You're probably right,” Joanna agreed, “but you won't be able to get back to the phone issue until after we finish up doing the school interviews. In the meantime, I need you to let Desirée's mother know that Dr. Baldwin is prepared to release the body tomorrow morning. Since you're the one who spoke to her earlier, would you please handle that as soon as possible? At this point, calling her would probably be okay. It wouldn't require another in-person visit.”

“I'll be glad to do a face to face,” Deb offered. “Tonight happens to be Maury's and my anniversary. Ben has a sleepover, and I was planning to drive up to Tucson after work, have dinner
with Maury, spend the night, and be in Sierra Vista tomorrow morning in time for the interviews. This way, I can mix a little business with pleasure. I'll stop by and give Roberta Wilburton the news probably before dinner rather than after.”

Deb Howell had met Maury Robbins years earlier during a homicide investigation at an ATV park near Bowie in the northeast corner of the county. Maury was a 911 dispatcher for Pima County as well as an ATV enthusiast. The two of them had fallen in love and eventually married. Now Maury commuted back and forth between Tucson and Bisbee, spending four nights a week in Bisbee at the newly renovated home he and Deb had purchased at the far end of Brewery Gulch. The other three nights a week he spent at a home he still maintained in Tucson.

“Thank you,” Joanna said. “Under the circumstances, mixing business with pleasure is fine with me. And happy anniversary, by the way. Speaking of those SVSSE interviews, however, what about them? Are they all set up, Detective Waters?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Ian replied. “I don't know what kind of a kick in the butt you gave Mr. McVey, but after your phone call, he sent out notices letting all interested parties know that we'll be conducting interviews with students, faculty, and staff all day tomorrow. I expect that will amount to speaking to close to three hundred people, give or take. I suggested that we focus first on the kids most directly involved with Ms. Nelson, starting with members of the debate team. I asked Mr. McVey to plan on having ten or so kids come through at half-hour intervals and for him to ask faculty and staff to drop by when convenient—during planning periods, breaks, or whatever. Most of the interviews will be conducted on a fairly straightforward manner. Interviewees who don't know anything will be in and out in no time. For
the ones who merit further scrutiny, we can schedule second interviews.”

“Three hundred people sounds like a lot,” Joanna said. “How long is this going to take?”

“School starts at eight thirty and gets out at three thirty. With five or six of us—including Chief Montoya—working the problem, I'm hoping we can get them all done in one day, but plan on packing a lunch. None of us will be getting time off for good behavior.”

“Nobody needs to pack a lunch,” Frank Montoya interjected. “My department will spring for coffee and doughnuts in the morning and sandwiches at lunchtime.”

“Thanks, Frank,” Joanna said. “One other thing, Detective Waters. How are you planning to handle parental involvement?”

“The notice Mr. McVey sent out specified that parents who don't object to their children being interviewed without their being present are advised to send signed permission slips to that effect,” Ian told her. “Parents who wish to be present are being told when, during the day, their child is scheduled to be interviewed. No sense in someone having to take a whole day off work when we really need them for half an hour or so at most.”

“Sounds like you've done a great job of organizing a complex set of problems,” Joanna told him. “Thanks.”

She called on Dave Hollicker next. “Why don't you give everyone an idea of what you and the K9 unit found at the crime scene today?”

He did so, telling them about the three pieces of solid evidence—the shoe and the hair as well as the blue fuzz. “Of the three,” he concluded, “the most important is likely to be the fuzz. Casey was able to enhance those SVSSE security images
enough for us to see that, at the time of the abduction, the perpetrator appeared to be wearing gloves, but with any kind of luck, he may not have been wearing gloves while handling the hoodie. And even if he was, there may be some cast-off DNA still present on the fuzz.”

“If the fuzz came from the outside of the hoodie, the chances of finding DNA aren't all that good, are they?” Joanna asked.

“No, they're not,” Dave agreed, “but even if it's a remote possibility, the fuzz and the hair, too, need to go to the crime lab in Tucson immediately. I can run both of them up there if you like.”

“No need,” Detective Howell offered. “I'll be glad to do that, too. Our place in Tucson is over on the far west side, only a mile or so from the crime lab. Dropping off the evidence will barely take me out of my way.”

“Thanks, Deb,” Joanna told her. “And if you're planning on doing all that before your anniversary dinner, you'd best grab those evidence bags from Dave and hit the road.”

Joanna waited while Deb and Dave huddled long enough for him to hand over the evidence before resuming the meeting.

“Okay,” Joanna said finally. “We're mostly finished here. I'd like to reinterview Drexel Nelson first thing tomorrow morning, before the school interviews start. I told Dr. Baldwin that I'd let him know that Susan's remains are ready to be released. Now that we've learned Susan Nelson was carrying a child that most likely wasn't his, a second chat with him is definitely in order, and I'll need someone along for the ride on that one—preferably someone who was there for the first interview.”

“Since Deb will be coming from Tucson tomorrow morning, I'm guessing I'm your man,” Ian Waters said. “When and where?”

“Thanks, Ian. What say we meet at the Nelson place in Sierra
Vista at seven thirty or so? That should give us enough time to finish with him before the school interviews start at eight thirty. And since we have Agent Watkins at our disposal, I'll have her come along, too.”

“Sounds good,” Detective Waters said.

Joanna looked out at the tired faces in the room and on the screen. Her people were pretty much done for, and so was she.

“Okay, folks,” she said. “Enough is enough. Let's call it quits for today. Tomorrow is going to be a bear. You, too, Dave and Casey. Let's all head for the barn. As for everybody else? See you in Sierra Vista in the A.M.”

People gathered up their things and filed out of the room. Agent Watkins lingered. “Do I need to change before dinner?” she asked.

“This is Arizona,” Joanna told her. “Western attire is always appropriate.”

“What are you going to wear?”

“I'd be wearing jeans too, if I had any that still fit.”

“When are you due?”

“December?”

“With an election in November?”

“Yup.”

“You don't believe in having a lot on your plate, do you,” Robin observed.

“That's exactly how I like it,” Joanna told her. “Wouldn't have it any other way.”