“Irma must have shown up late last night, after we were asleep. When we woke up this morning, there was a strange car—a big blue Dodge pickup—parked next to her RV. I went over to check, because I was afraid whoever was there was someone who wasn’t supposed to be. I knocked, and Irma herself came to the door. After what you told us about her son, I was really relieved to see her. She told us that the pickup belongs to her son, but that didn’t exactly set my mind at ease, especially since Irma’s been hut s.”
“Hurt?” Joanna asked. “How so?”
“She’s got a gash on her hand. It’s bad enough that it probably should have had stitches. I told her it looked infected to me and suggested she see a doctor. She said she’s been putting Neosporin on it, and she’s sure it’ll be just fine. She told me she’d had an accident in her Nissan and that was how she hurt her hand. Any way, she said the car was totaled and that Rob, her son, had lent her his pickup. She also said that she’s decided to sell the RV. She’s found an RV dealer—in Tucson, I think—who’s willing to pay her for it in cash rather than selling it on consignment. With that kind of hurried sale, she’s probably being taken to the cleaners over it, but it’s not my place to say. Anyway, she asked Tommy and me to help hitch up the pickup to the back of the RV and off she went.”
“How long ago?” Joanna asked.
“Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. Just long enough for Tommy and me to get into a pissing match over it. Like I said, she came sneaking back into the park late last night, after we had gone to bed. We didn’t even know she was here until this morning. Since neither Tommy nor I actually set foot inside Irma’s RV, I’m thinking it’s possible that her son may be in there—that she drove it out of the park herself so we wouldn’t see her son and know that she was hiding him.”
“Irma Sorenson’s son isn’t in her RV,” Joanna said. “He’s dead.”
“Dead!” Brent exclaimed. “How did that happen?”
“The incident is currently under investigation. Now, Mr. Hardy, thank you so much for calling, but if you’ll excuse me, I have some other matters to attend to. If Irma Sorenson should happen to return, please call us immediately. Dial 911 and have the operator locate me.”
“You sound as though you think she’s dangerous,” Brent Hardy said hesitantly.
“I suspect she is,” Joanna returned. “Possibly to herself more than anyone else, but I don’t think you and Mr. Lowrey should take any more chances.”
“We won’t.”
“I’ll go get a car,” Frank said as Joanna ended the call.
Joanna nodded and dialed Dispatch. “Larry,” she said. “The subject of our APB, Irma Sorenson, is believed to be heading west on I-10. She left Bowie about twenty minutes to half an hour ago, driving a bronze-and-black Marathon motor home and towing a blue ‘97 Dodge Ram pickup. I want her pulled over and stopped in as deserted a place as possible. Not in town, and not, for God’s sake, at one of the rest areas. Maybe it would be a good idea to put down some spike strips on that long grade coming up the San Pedro River in Benson. It’s a long way out of town, so there shouldn’t be lots of people around. She’ll already have lost speed by then, and it’s less likely she’ll lose control when the tires go.”
“Got it,” Larry Kendrick said.
“This woman is armed and dangerous,” Joanna continued. “As soon as she’s spotted, I want you to set up roadblocks and stop all westbound traffic immediately behind her. Eastbound freeway traffic coming into Cochise County should be stopped at J-6 Road. Frank and I are on our way. Once you alert all units, get back to us. We’ll try to deploy manpower in a way that blocks off as many freeway exits and entrances as possible. The fewer innocent people we have caught up in this action, the better.”
By the time Joanna put down the phone and grabbed her purse, Frank Montoya was parked beside her private entrance with his Crown Victoria’s engine fired up and running.
“Did you tell Kristin we’re leaving?” Frank asked as he wheeled away from the door and through the parking lot.
“I didn’t have time.” As soon as she was settled in with her seat belt fastened, Frank handed her an atlas. After opening it to the proper page, Joanna unclipped the radio. “Okay, Larry. Where do we stand?”
“I’ve notified DPS and let them know what’s happening. They’re sending units as well. Currently I’ve got a long-haul trucker named Molly who says the subject just passed her at Exit
