what they could for Leann while the driver and one of his buddies took off the Toyota. I have to give them credit for guts if not for brains. They followed the pickup and got close enough to get a partial license before they lost him somewhere out in Sun City. The kids came back to the scene and turned the number over to the officers on the scene. They called me.”
“Was she conscious?” Joanna asked. “Could she talk.”
“No.”
“If she was naked, how did you know it was Leann?” Joanna asked quietly.
“Bee stings,”
“Bee stings?”
“She’s allergic to them, so allergic that she wears an I.D. bracelet that warns medics that in case of a bee sting they should administer epinephrine to prevent her from going into anaphylactic shock. There were two phone numbers on it. One was evidently the apartment where Leann used to live. That one’s been disconnected. The other one belongs to Lorelie Jessup, Leann’s mother. The ambulance transported Leann to Arrowhead Community Hospital. From there, she was airlifted to St. Joseph’s. I picked Mrs. Jessup up at home and brought her to the hospital. She’s the one who gave us the positive I.D. and told us Leann was attending the APOA.”
“And how did you come up with the Dave Thompson connection?”
“We found the truck. About three o’clock, one of our patrol cars found a white Toyota pickup parked in front of a flooring warehouse a few blocks north of where we found Leann and within walking distance of the APOA. I think he abandoned it there and walked back to his place.”
“Where is he now?”
Carol Strong shook her head. “That’s anybody’s guess. He’s not in his apartment. We got a search warrant and went through that, and we’ve also put out an APB. No luck so far.”
“What can I do to help?”
“When was the last time you saw Leann Jessup?”
“Lunchtime. We went up to the Roundhouse and had a hamburger. That’s when I picked up that stuff from Butch Dixon.”
“What was she wearing?”
“A sweatshirt. An ASU Sun Devil sweatshirt. Yellow and black. Jeans. Tennis shoes. Nikes, I think, and white socks.”
There was a pause while Carol Strong scribbled a note in a notebook. “Panties?” she asked.
“Panties. How would I know if she was wearing panties?”
“Did you ever see her undressed?”
“Once, in the women’s locker room after PT on Tuesday afternoon, when we were both changing.”
“Was she wearing panties then?”
“Yes, but...”
“That was the other holdback,” Carol Strong said gravely. “We found the clothing Serena Grijalva was wearing when she left the bar that night—everything but a pair of panties. I talked to Cecelia, her daughter. She told me that her mother always wore panties.”
