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?”
“Out riding Kiddo,” Eva Lou replied. “She was still really upset about Dora this morning. When she asked if she could go riding, I thought it would do her a world of good. Why? Is something the matter?”
“How long has she been gone?”
“I’m not sure. An hour or so, I suppose.”
“Do you have any idea where she was going?”
“Just up in the hills. Both dogs went with her. I understand she sometimes rides down toward Double Adobe to see . . . What’s that girl’s name again?”
“Cassie,” Joanna supplied. “Cassie Parks.”
“That’s right. Cassie. But as far as I know, Cassie’s still away on the camp-out. Joanna, are you all right? You sound funny.”
“Something’s happened to Dora Matthews,” Joanna said carefully.
“Not her again,” Eva Lou said. “What’s wrong now?”
“She’s dead.”
“Dead! My goodness! How can that be? What happened?”
“She evidently ran away from the foster home sometime overnight,” Joanna said. “She was hit by a car out on Highway 90, over near the turnoff to Kartchner Caverns.”
“Jim Bob’s outside messing with the pump,” Eva Lou said. “I’ll go tell him. We’ll take your Eagle and go out looking for Jenny right away to let her know what’s happened.”
“Go ahead,” Joanna said. “Butch and I will be there as soon as we can.
She ended that call and then dialed Frank Montoya again. “I’m not coming,” she said. “I’m going home instead. What if whoever killed Connie Haskell also killed Dora Matthews? What if they’re coming after Jenny next?”
There was a pause. “I can see why you’d be worried about that,” Frank replied at last. “If I were in your position, I’d be worried, too. But remember, this could be just a hit-and-run. It wouldn’t be the first time a hitchhiker got run over in the dark.”
“If Jenny were your child, would you settle for believing Dora’s death was nothing but a coincidence?” Joanna demanded.
“No,” Frank agreed. “I don’t suppose I would. You go on home and check on her. We’ll handle things here and keep you posted about what’s going on at the scene.”
“Thanks, Frank,” she said. “I really appreciate it.”
Joanna put down the phone. She drove for another five miles without saying a word. Once again it was Butch who broke the silence.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” he said.
Joanna gripped the steering wheel. “I am, too,” she said. “And what happened to Dora Matthews isn’t your fault.”
“I know it isn’t my fault,” Joanna said, “but just wait till I have a chance to talk to Eleanor.”
At two-fifteen they pulled into the yard at High Lonesome Ranch. Joanna’s Eagle was nowhere to be seen, which meant limn Bob and Eva Lou were probably still out searching. As Joanna and Butch stepped out of the car, Jenny came strolling out of the barn, with Sadie and Tigger following at her heels.
Joanna went running toward her and pulled Jenny into a smothering hug. “Mom!” Jenny said indignantly, pulling back. “Let go. I’m all dusty and sweaty. You’ll dirty your clothes.” Then, catching sight of her mother’s face, Jenny’s whole demeanor changed. “Mom, what’s the matter? Is something wrong?”
“Dora’s dead,” Joanna blurted out.
“Dead,” Jenny repeated as all color drained from her trice. “She’s dead? How come? Why?”
“She must have run away from the foster home,” Joanna said. “Someone hit her with a car. When Grandma Brady said you were out riding Kiddo, I was so afraid . . . That’s where the Gs are now—out looking for you.”
“But, Mom, I was just out riding, why should you ...” Jenny drew back. “Wait a minute. You think the guy who killed Dora might come looking for me next, don’t you!”
Joanna and Jenny were mother and daughter. It wasn’t surprising that the thoughts of one should be so readily shared by the other, although, in that moment, Joanna wished it weren’t true. Saying nothing, she merely nodded.
“Why?” Jenny asked.
“Because of what happened in Apache Pass,” Butch said, stepping into the fray. “Your mother and I are afraid that whoever killed Connie Haskell may have targeted you and Dora.”
“But why?” Jenny repeated. “Dora and me didn’t see who did it or anything. All we did was find the body.”
For once Joanna resisted the temptation to correct her daughter’s grammar. “You know that,” she said quietly. “And so do we. The problem is, the killer may believe you saw something even though you didn’t.”
Just then Joanna’s Eagle came wheeling into the yard, with Jim Bob Brady at the wheel. The car had barely come to a stop before Eva Lou was out of it. With her apron billowing around her, Eva Lou raced toward Jenny.
“There you are, Jenny,” she said. “I’m so glad to see you! When we couldn’t find you, I was afraid—”
“She’s fine, Eva Lou,” Joanna interjected. “Jenny’s just fine.”
That’s what she said, but with Dora Matthews dead, Joanna wasn’t sure she believed her own reassuring words. Neither did anybody else.
CHAPTER TEN
It was a grim family gathering that convened around the dining room table at High Lonesome Ranch. Joanna began by briefly summarizing what Frank Montoya had told her about Dora Matthews’s death.
“Supposing what happened to Dora and what went on in the Apache Pass case are connected,” Jim Bob began. “How would the killer go about learning the first thing about Jenny and Dora?”
In response, Butch retrieved a copy of Sunday morning’s Arizona Reporter from the car and handed it to Jim Bob Brady. Once he finished reading, Jim Bob sighed and shook his head. “‘That still doesn’t say for sure that the cases are connected.”
“That’s right,” Joanna agreed. “But we can’t afford to take any chances. As of now, Jenny, consider yourself grounded. You don’t go anywhere at all unless one of us is with you. No more riding off on Kiddo by yourself. Understand?”
A subdued Jenny nodded and voiced no objection.
“What about us?” Eva Lou asked. “1 )o you want us to stay on?”
Joanna glanced at Butch, who gave his head an almost imperceptible shake. “No,” Joanna said. “That’s not necessary. We’ve disrupted your lives enough as it is. You go on home. We’ll be fine.”
“All right,” Jim Bob said, “just so long as you all know you can count on us if you need to.”