Paradise Lost

Jaime Carbajal are on the scene here with me right now. We’re expecting Doc Win field any minute.”

“You’re sure it’s Dora?” Joanna asked. “There’s no possibility it could be someone else?”

“No way,” Frank replied. “Don’t forget, I saw Dora Matthews myself the other night out at Apache Pass. I know what she looks like. There’s no mistake, Joanna. It’s her.”

Joanna sighed. “I forgot you had met her. What happened?”

“Looks like maybe she was hit by a car and then dragged or thrown into the ditch.”

“What about skid marks or footprints? Anything like that?”

“None that we’ve been able to find so far.”

“What about Sally Matthews? Any sign of her yet?” Joanna asked.

“Negative on that. We’re looking, but we still don’t have a line on her.”

“Great,” Joanna said grimly. “When we finally get around to arresting her for running a meth lab out of her mother’s house, we can also let her know that the daughter we took into custody the other night is dead. ‘Sorry about that. It’s just one of those unfor­tunate things.’ “

“Dora Matthews wasn’t in our custody, Joanna,” Frank reminded her. “CPS took over. They’re the ones who picked her up from High Lonesome Ranch, and they’re the ones who put her in foster care.”

“You’re right. Dora Matthews may not have been our problem legally,” Joanna countered. “When all the legal buzzards get around to searching for a place to put blame for a wrongful-death lawsuit, Child Protective Services is probably going to take the hit. But that’s called splitting hairs for liability’s sake, Frank. Morally speak­ing, Dora was our problem. You know that as well as I do.”

Frank’s dead silence on the other end of the phone told Joanna he knew she was right. “Butch and I are just now leaving Univer­sity Medical Center,” she added. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

She sprinted from the front door to the garage. “What’s wrong?” Butch demanded as she threw herself into the car. “Dora Matthews is dead.”

“No.”

“Yes. I just talked to Frank. Someone ran over her with a car. A Four-H litter patrol found her out on Highway 90 by the turnoff to Kartchner Caverns.”

“But I thought she was in a foster home,” Butch said. “How can this be?”

“That’s what I want to know,” Joanna returned grimly.

178

They drove through Tucson with lights flashing and with the siren wailing. They were passing Houghton Road before Hutch spoke again.

“What if they’re related?” he asked.

Turning to look at Butch’s face, Joanna ran over the warning strip of rough pavement that bordered the shoulder of the freeway. Only when she had hauled the car back into its proper lane did she reply. “What if what’s related?” she asked.

“Dora’s death and the murder of the woman Dora and Jenny found in Apache Pass. What if whoever killed Connie Haskell thinks Dora and Jenny know something that could identify hint? What if Dora’s dead because the killer wanted to keep her quiet?”

Without another word, Joanna picked up the phone and dialed High Lonesome Ranch. Eva Lou answered.

Joanna willed her voice to be calm. “Hi, Eva Lou,” she said casually. “Could I speak to Jenny, please?” she asked.

“She’s not here right now,” Eva Lou answered.

Joanna’s heart fell to the pit of her stomach. “Where is she?”