Dead Wrong

“What does removal of the fingers tell us?” Joa

“My guess would be that the victim’s prints must be in the system somewhere,” Jaime offered. “The killer is betting that if we don’t have fingerprints, we won’t be able to identify him.”

Joa

“Doesn’t narrow the field much,” Frank said. “Lots of ex-cons have issues with drugs and alcohol. The big problem with Alcoholics Anonymous is just that-they’re anonymous. We’re not going to get any help from them in making our ID.”

“But that’s exactly what we have to do-figure out who he is,” Joa

“Yes, ma’am,” Jaime Carbajal replied. “Already done. I’ve got MP info from Arizona, New Mexico, California, and Nevada. So far there’s nothing that’s even close.”

“What are the chances,” Joa

“Don’t expect me to work overtime on this one,” Ernie grumbled sourly.

Joa

“What do you mean, Detective Carpenter?” she asked. “Do you have a problem with this case?”

“Damn right I’ve got a problem with it!” Ernie growled. “We’ve got no crime scene. No suspects. So with nothing to go on, why the hell should we be out busting our balls to find out who knocked off some drunken ex-con?”

“I believe it’s called equal protection,” Joa

Recrossing his arms, Ernie shut his mouth and subsided into his chair. Joa

“Not right off. In addition to the missing-persons reports we should also keep an eye out for reports on any abandoned vehicles. The victim sure as hell didn’t drive himself out to Border Road. If he left his car somewhere or if someone else abandoned it for him, chances are it’s parked somewhere it doesn’t belong. Eventually someone will get tired of seeing it, pick up a phone, and report it.”

“It’s a thought,” Joa

Jaime shrugged. “Best I could do,” he said.

Joa

“Nothing so far,” he said.

“Well, then,” Joa

Once the door had closed behind the detectives, Joa

“He did seem out of sorts,” Frank conceded. “I know he’s taken a couple of sick days in the last couple of weeks, but I don’t know anything more about it than that. I’ll see if I can find out what gives.”

Joa

“I’m almost as tired of being shorthanded as I am of being pregnant,” Joa

Her chief deputy laughed. “You’ve got me there,” he said. “I wouldn’t have a clue what being pregnant feels like, but I know all about being constantly shorthanded. It’s hell.”

When the briefing was over, Joa

“Got a minute?” he asked.

Ted Chapman was a very nice guy, and Joa

Not only that, with Butch out of town, Joa

“Come on in,” Joa

“It’s about one of my guys,” Ted said.

Knowing that a problem with one of Ted’s “guys” could run the gamut from something as serious as an inmate’s mother being on her deathbed to something as simple as a jail-yard feud over possession of the basketball, Joa

“Oh, nobody here,” Ted said quickly. “Not one of the inmates. I’m sure it’s not anyone you know. Brad’s actually an associate of mine.”

“Brad?” Joa

Ted nodded. “Brad Evans,” he said. “Got sent up twenty-five to life in the late seventies for murdering his wife. I first met him when he got shipped down to Douglas to work on the dorms for the new Arizona State Prison Complex they were building down there. Over the years, he got saved and got himself squared away. Took complete responsibility for what happened to his wife. Never gave anybody any trouble. While he was still locked up, he started working toward his jail ministry certification. Once he got out, he asked to work in the Papago Unit down there. Considering his former problems with booze, we thought it would be a good fit. Or at least I thought it would be a good fit. Now I’m not so sure.”

Since Douglas was only thirty miles away from her office, Joa

Four-plus years of being in charge of a jail had taught Joa