just leaving Tucson on their way to Sierra Vista,” Larry Kendrick replied. “Anything you want me to tell them, or would you like me to patch you through?”
Frank glanced questioningly in Joanna’s direction. “Tell them to go on to Sierra Vista as planned,” Joanna said. “See who else can backup for us.”
After doing so, Frank put the mike back into its clip. “It could be days, you know,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
If the carjacker got away with a vehicle today, it could he days before he comes back looking for another one. How much over time are you planning on paying?”
“As much as it takes,” Joanna answered grimly.
It was only four-thirty in the afternoon, but as they drove toward Portal, the sun slid behind the mountains, sending the eastern side of the Chiricahuas into a shadowy, premature version of dusk. Fifteen minutes later Joanna drove up to the guard shack at Pathway to Paradise. With her shoulders aching from suppressed tension, she waited to see if Rob Whipple would emerge front the shack. She was disappointed when a young, buck-toothed man in his early thirties approached the Crown Victoria instead. His nane tag identified him as Andrew Simms and his cheerful, easygoing manner made him far less menacing than Rob Whipple had been.
“May I help you?” he asked, leaning down to peer in the window.
“I’m Sheriff Brady,” Joanna said, presenting her ID. “We’re here to see Caroline Parker.”
“If I could tell her what this is concerning—” Simms began spouting the party line, but Joanna cut him off.
“It concerns urgent police business,” she told him. “I’m not at liberty to disclose anything more.”
She expected an additional argument. Instead, without further objection, Andrew Simms retreated to the guard shack and returned with both the sign-in clipboard and a visitor’s pass for the windshield.
“Just fill this out, if you will,” he said. “Do you know the way, or do you want me to have someone come down to guide you up?”
“We know the way,” Joanna said.
A few minutes later, when the Crown Victoria entered the Pathway to Paradise compound, Caroline Parker was waiting tier them on the front veranda.
“What is it now?” she demanded with a frown. “Ron Haskell’s gone, if that’s who you’re looking for.”
“We want to talk to you about Rob Whipple,” Joanna said.
Caroline’s face grew wary. “What about him?” she asked. “When is he due to work again?” Joanna asked.
Caroline glanced at her watch. “He was supposed to work today, but he traded with Andrew Simms. They’re not permitted to do that without getting prior approval, but since the shift was covered ...”
Joanna felt a hard knot of concern form in her gut. She was right. Rob Whipple had missed work. That meant there was a strong likelihood that he had also fled Joanna’s jurisdiction. “Do you know when he made those arrangements, the ones to cover his shift?” she asked.
Caroline Parker shook her head. “No,” she said. “I have no idea.”
“How long has Rob Whipple worked for you?” Joanna asked.
Caroline shrugged. “A long time. Five or six years. He came as a client to begin with. After he finished his course of treatment, he ended up hiring on to work here. He did grounds maintenance for a year or two. After that he transferred to security. He’s been doing that ever since.”
“What was he treated for?”
Caroline Parker smiled and shook her head. “Come on, Sheriff Brady. Don’t be naive. You know I won’t tell you that.”
