October of 1978, Joanna’s own father had been the arresting officer.
Joanna felt a sudden shiver of recognition. It was as though her father had reached out from beyond the grave and tapped her on the shoulder. She hurried to the conference-room door and called after Maggie, who was on her way back to her desk.
“Wait a minute.” She turned back to Jaime. “What’s the wife’s name?”
Jaime picked up the papers and scanned through them. “Lisa Marie Evans.”
“Where are the homicide records from 1978?”
“In storage up in the old courthouse,” Maggie said. “Why?”
“I need one,” Joanna said. “Lisa Marie Evans. Murdered in October of 1978.”
“Do you need it tonight?” Maggie asked. “If you do…”
Joanna glanced at her watch. The hour hand was edging toward eight. She didn’t blame Maggie for not wanting to make a nighttime visit to the creaky old courthouse uptown, but it had to be done.
“We really do need it tonight,” Joanna said.
“All right,” Maggie agreed. “I’ll go get it, but it may take time. Those files aren’t in the best of order.”
When Maggie left the conference room, so did Joanna. The pressure the baby was putting on her bladder was more than she could withstand. When she returned from the rest room, Jaime was finishing a call.
“Thanks,” he said. “Thanks so much.”
“Who was that?” Joanna asked.
“Rich Higgins,” Jaime answered. “The guy Ted Chapman called. Rich is human resources director for Arizona State Prison System Jail Ministries.”
“So we have a next of kin?”
“Her name’s Anna Marie Crystal with a Sierra Vista address. She’s listed in Brad’s employment records as ‘mother-in-law.’ She’s also the beneficiary of his group life insurance. It’s not very much—a ten-thousand-dollar death benefit, but still…”
“Did Brad Evans remarry?” Joanna asked.
“If he did, Ted never mentioned it,” Jaime replied.
“We should probably check this out,” Joanna said. “Twenty-plus years ago Brad Evans went to prison for murdering his wife, but he still lists his dead wife’s mother as his beneficiary? That strikes me as very strange.”
“Do you want me to go talk to her tonight?” Jaime asked. “Since Ted already identified the body, we don’t need her for that, but…”
Joanna looked at the computer printout. Even across the table she could make out her father’s name, Deputy D. H. Lathrop. It was eight o’clock, and Sierra Vista was thirty miles away, but even if it meant getting home at midnight, Joanna wanted to be there when Jaime spoke to Anna Marie Crystal.
She picked up the phone and dialed home. “Hullo,” Jenny said.
“How are you?” Joanna asked.
“Okay, I guess,” Jenny mumbled unconvincingly.
“Is everything all right?”
“I suppose.”
“What did you have for dinner?”
“Noodle soup.”
“As you know, there’s been a homicide, Jenny,” Joanna told her. “We’ve just found an important lead, but it means I need to go to Sierra Vista. Will you be all right?”
“I guess. I’m watching TV, but there’s nothing good on.”
“The doors are locked?”
Jenny sighed. “Yes, Mother.”
Joanna knew that being called “Mother” was never a good sign, but still…
“It’s part of a case your grandfather investigated years ago,” Joanna continued. “I really need to be there.” Want was more like it, but that’s not what she said.
“Go ahead,” Jenny told her. “I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Mother!”
“Good night,” Joanna said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Your car or mine?” Jaime asked as Joanna put down the phone.
“Yours,” Joanna said. “I’m just along for the ride.”
They had crossed the Divide in the Mule Mountains and had turned off Highway 80 toward Sierra Vista when Joanna’s cell phone rang.
“I tried the house,” Butch said. “Jenny told me you were still working.”
“It’s a homicide,” Joanna