Joanna asked. “Not more pedophile priests, I hope.”
“Bigamy,” Diego Ortega answered.
“Bigamy?” Johnny Cruikshank demanded.
“They spent the better part of two weeks up in northern Arizona, in both Page and Kingman. Ms. Leigh said they made several trips to a place called the Arizona Strip investigating a breakaway Mormon group called The Brethren. From what I understand, The Brethren practice bigamy quite openly.”
What Joanna Brady knew about the Arizona Strip came from Arizona Sheriffs’ Association meetings where Mojave County Sheriff Aubrey Drake had complained at length about trying to enforce the law-any kind of law-in the part of his jurisdiction that lay north of the Colorado River. Relatively inaccessible, it was a haven for people who had a penchant for wide
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open spaces and a lack of law enforcement oversight. It was an open secret that bigamy was practiced among some of the reclusive people living on ranches in and around some of the more remote communities.
“They’re not,” Johnny Cruikshank announced abruptly.
“Not what?” asked Sheriff Trotter, looking at his detective with a puzzled frown.
“The bigamists aren’t real Mormons any more than the 9/11 terrorists are real Muslims.
They’re jerks who’ve decided to use religion to justify any kind of outrageous behavior.”
Not even the dim lighting of Esther’s Diner concealed the two angry red splotches that had suddenly appeared in Johnny Cruikshank’s tanned cheeks. So she’s a Mormon, Joanna realized.
Joanna turned her attention to Diego Ortega. “I’ve heard of The Brethren,” she said.
“Edith Mossman, Carol’s grandmother, mentioned that her son Eddie, Carol’s father, belonged to a group by that name.”
Diego Ortega’s eyes hardened. “Have you talked to him yet?”
“No,” Joanna said. “We’ve been trying to contact him, but as far as I know, he’s still in Mexico.”
“If I were you, I’d do more than just contact him,” Ortega said.
“Why?”
“Because,” he replied, “Carol Leigh told me that Carmen and Pam made contact with a second group, one that calls itself God’s Angels. It’s made up of women who have escaped from bigamy situations. The whole purpose of God’s Angels is to help other women do the same thing-escape. Within two days of making contact with that group, Pam received a threatening e-mail that she forwarded to Candace Leigh at Fandango Productions.”
“Do you have any idea what it said?” Joanna asked.
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Diego reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I can do better than that,” he said. “I can show you. Look.”
He unfolded the paper and placed it on the table. The message was short: “Leave my daughters alone” was all it said. It was signed Edward Mossman.
‘At the time, no one at Fandango took it seriously, not even Carmen and Pam,” he said quietly. “Nobody believed it was a death threat. Unfortunately, now we know it was.”
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An hour later, when Joanna finally emerged from Esther’s, she found herself in the strange half-darkness of a full-fledged dust storm. The humidity had shot up, making the heat that much worse. Off to the south, but far closer now, thunder rumbled in unseen clouds. It was the oncoming storm that had finally brought the joint interview with Diego Ortega to a halt. He was hoping to take off and fly north far enough to escape the brunt of the wind and rain.
“Are you sure you want to head home in this?” Randy Trotter asked as he walked Joanna back to her Ciwie.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Most of the culverts on Highway 80 have been replaced.
And usually there’s not that much runoff from the first summer storm.”
Famous last words. The rain hit just as she turned off I-10 onto Highway 80 at Road Forks. The wind-driven rain had so much dust mixed in with it that the water turned to blinding
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mud on her windshield. For the better part of an hour she crept along at twenty and thirty miles per hour. By the time she finally made it as far as Rodeo, the roadside ditches and dips were beginning to run. The storm let up for a while, then returned with renewed vigor about the time she hit the curves at Silver Creek. One after another, the newly replaced culverts were running with deep reddish-brown, foam-flecked water, spreading from one sandy bank to another. The place where the speeding Suburban had crashed off the road and landed upside down was totally underwater.
Joanna breathed a quick prayer of thanksgiving. If that accident had happened tonight rather than last night, she thought, those people would have drowned. It could have taken months just to find the bodies.
Once she was inside radio range she checked in with Dispatch. “How are things?”
“This is a major storm,” Tica replied. “Two cars washed away in the dips between Double Adobe and Elfrida. Everyone’s safe, but we still have units on the scene, including Chief Deputy Montoya.”
“I’m almost home,” Joanna told her. “Have Frank call me when he finishes up out there.”
It was still raining when she finally reached High Lonesome Ranch. Water more than a foot deep partially covered the road that led to their old house. If she had been going there, she would have had to abandon the car and walk. As it was, she was able to drive to the new house with no difficulty. When she finally pulled into the garage, the door from the laundry room opened and three dogs shot out, followed immediately by Butch.
“I’m really glad to see you,” he said. “I was worried. How was it?”
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“The drive was wet,” she told him as she divested herself of her weapons and locked them away. “But I’m glad I went. We’ve got a positive ID on the two New Mexico victims and a definite connection between them and Carol Mossman. How was your day?”
“I made real progress,” Butch replied. “I was sitting on the couch in the living room when the first clap of thunder rolled overhead. Lady was over under the dining room table, but as soon as she heard the thunder, she came streaking out of there and landed in my lap. She was so petrified, I ended up holding her for the better part of an hour.”
Joanna laughed. “Does that mean you and Lady are friends now?” She laughed.
Butch shook his head. “I think it means any port in a storm. The funny thing is, Lucky slept right through the worst of the thunder. Is it possible he’s deaf?”
“Deaf?”
Butch nodded. “He comes when he’s called, but that may be because he’s mimicking what the other dogs do.”
Joanna thought about it. “I wonder if that’s how he ended up being left behind at Carol Mossman’s house. Maybe when she called the other dogs, he wasn’t with them.”
Butch grinned. “As you said, lucky for him. But how do you go about training a deaf dog?”
“Sign language, maybe?” Joanna asked.
“Remind me to check with Dr. Ross and see what she says,” Butch said thoughtfully.
“Where’s Jen?”
“At Cassie’s, remember? I thought I told you that she’s staying the night. I called to make sure they were out of the pool as soon as the thunder and lightning started.
The big news of the
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day is that one of the girls from school is planning a slumber party that’s supposed to be the social event of the summer. Both Jenny and Cassie are hoping for invitations.”
“What about parental supervision?” Joanna asked.
“How about if we don’t worry about that just yet,” Butch advised. “First let’s see if Jenny’s invited or not.”
“Fair enough.”
“Hungry?” Butch asked.
“Not very. I had a tuna sandwich a while ago. Why? What’s for dinner?”
“Roast-beef hash,” Butch answered.
“In that case, the tuna sandwich was hours ago and I’m starved.”
“By the way,” Butch added, “Dr. Lee called today. Tommy said that his feelings are permanently hurt that he had to read all about your pregnancy in the Bee. He wants to know when you’re going to show up at his office for your first prenatal checkup.”