With nothing much else to do, Joanna stood on the sidelines while her people worked. It was only half an hour later when the first of the Tucson-based television news vans, its top bristling with antennas, arrived on the scene. Most of the time Frank handled the media types. Since he was conferring with the crime scene investigators, Joanna stepped forward to head off a swift-footed female news reporter who was followed by a cameraman.
“Sorry,” Joanna said. “No unauthorized personnel beyond this point.”
The woman stopped and then held up her ID. Isabel Duarte was with KGUN-9 News, but Joanna recognized her on sight without having to check her identification. She was young- barely out of college-and the newest member on the news team, but Joanna had seen her before out on the campaign trail as well as on the air.
“Sheriff Brady?” Isabel asked. “We heard that one of your deputies is missing. Is that true?”
The lens of the video cam was already focused on Joanna with its red light showing. “Not a deputy,” she corrected. “One of my ACOs.”
Isabel looked puzzled. “ACO?”
“Animal control officer,” Joanna explained. “Her vehicle was found abandoned here a little over an hour ago, and yes, she is missing. Chief Deputy Montoya, my media relations officer, won’t be making any further statements until later. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
Joanna started back toward her team of investigators, but Isabel didn’t take the hint. Instead, she followed right on Joanna’s heels. “Did you say a female officer? How old is she? Anglo? Hispanic?”
Shaking her head and trying to keep her temper in check, Joanna turned back to the pushy reporter. She was gratified to see that the cameraman had stayed behind.
“Look, Ms. Duarte,” Joanna said. “I appreciate that you have a job to do, but so do we. As I just told you, my department won’t have any further comment until later in the day. We’re all very busy right now.”
“Please, Sheriff Brady,” Isabel insisted. “Tell me how old she is.”
“How old? Early thirties.”
“Anglo?”
“Yes, but I’m not releasing the name, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“I just came from University Medical Center,” Isabel Duarte replied. “About three o’clock this morning, an unconscious Anglo female-badly beaten-was dropped off at the entrance to the Trauma Unit. Two men in a pickup truck went running into the hospital, screaming for help. Neither of them spoke any English. The clerk I talked to said she was sure they were illegals. They claimed that they didn’t know the woman; that they had found her lying naked along the side of the road and brought her to the hospital because they were afraid she was going to die. They had transported her, wrapped in blankets, in a camper shell on the back of a pickup. A third man was in the camper with her. When the attendants took the woman inside, the three guys in the pickup took off.”
Was it possible that the unidentified woman was actually Jeannine Phillips? “Early thirties?” Joanna asked. “Anglo?”
Isabel nodded. “Stocky build. She was in surgery when I left. The hospital was giving out information in hopes of identifying her.”
“Do you have the phone number?” Joanna asked.
In answer, Isabel simply opened her cell phone, punched it a couple of times, and then handed it over. Moments later, Joanna was speaking to UMC’s information officer. “This is Cochise County Sheriff Joanna Brady. One of my female officers has gone missing, and I’m wondering if the woman who was dropped off there earlier…”
In the course of the next minute and a half, with Isabel Duarte looking on, Joanna was passed from one staff member to another. Finally she found herself speaking to Dr. Grant Waller.
“I’m given to understand you may be acquainted with our unidentified patient?” he asked.
“That’s right,” Joanna said. “One of my ACOs disappeared after the close of her shift last night. I was wondering if…”
“The woman who was brought here early this morning has come through surgery,” Dr. Waller replied. “She’s currently in grave but stable condition.”
“Is she going to be all right?” Joanna asked.
The doctor’s tone shifted and became more distant. “Due to privacy constraints,” he said, “I’m unable to tell you any more about the severity of the patient’s injuries, but I will say that if she had arrived at our emergency room even twenty minutes later than she did, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Joanna had been holding her breath. Now she let it out.
“It would be helpful, however,” Dr. Waller continued, “if we knew who she is. The emergency surgery had to go forward when it did, signed authorization or no, in order to save her life. But in order to treat her other injuries… Would it be possible for you to stop by to see if you can identify her?”
Joanna was already striding in the direction of her team of investigators, with Isabel Duarte hurrying along behind her. “I’m on the far side of Benson right now,” she said. “With any luck, I can be at the hospital in a little more than half an hour.”
“Good,” Dr. Waller said. “Just check in at the desk in the lobby. I’ll send someone right down to bring you to ICU.”
Joanna closed the phone and handed it back to Isabel. For the first time in her life, she felt like hugging a member of the media. “Thank you,” she said. “Give me your card. I’ll see that you get an exclusive on this.”
“You won’t have to worry about finding us,” Isabel Duarte declared. “Larry and I will be right on your heels.”
Chapter 9
Joanna paused long enough to pull Frank away from the group of investigators gathered around the abandoned truck. “I’m on my way to Tucson,” she said. “How come?” “A badly injured unidentified female was dropped off at UMC earlier this morning.”
“Jeannine?” Frank asked.
“Maybe,” Joanna said. “I’m going to go check it out, but let’s not say anything to the others until we know for sure. I don’t want to get people’s hopes up. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Good luck,” Frank said. “It sounds like we need it.” Driving through Benson westbound on I-10, Joanna called Kristin. “I’d like you to check Jeannine Phillips’s employment records,” Joanna said. “I need to know her next of kin.”
“This sounds bad,” Kristin said. “Is it?”
“We don’t know,” Joanna replied. “At least not yet. Regardless, though, I’m going to need to notify someone about what’s happened.”
“I’ll get right back to you,” Kristin said. When she called back a few minutes later, she sounded dismayed. “The next-of-kin section is blank,” she said.
“What about the beneficiary of her group life insurance policy?” Joanna asked.
“All that’s listed here is the Humane Society of Southern Arizona,” Kristin returned. “What does this mean?”
“I don’t know,” Joanna said, “but thanks for the help.”
The troubling lack of next of kin made Jeannine’s situation eerily similar to that of Bradley Evans, who had lived such an isolated life that he had been forced to choose his former mother-in-law as his beneficiary.
Mulling this new revelation as she drove, Joanna suddenly remembered something Jeannine had mentioned to her in passing months earlier-something that had hinted at a troubled family life when she was growing up.
Forty minutes after leaving Texas Canyon, Joanna pulled into the parking garage at University Medical Center and walked across the chill but sunny breezeway to the front entrance. The hospital may have been given over to the healing arts, but it happened to be the place where Andy Brady’s life had come to an end. It was also where Marianne and Jeff’s beloved Esther had died in the aftermath of a heart transplant. Years of constant construction and reconstruction had completely changed the lobby from what Joanna remembered from previous visits, but the physical changes did nothing to dispel the sense of impending doom that flooded over her the moment she stepped through the glass sliding doors.