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Joa
Joa
Having seen the fence, Joa
In the deepening twilight, Joa
A harried-looking Jaime Carbajal hustled down the walk. “Hello, Sheriff Brady,” he said. “What’s up?”
“I wanted to check on how things are going.”
“Okay, I guess,” he replied. “We’re working the problem. Looks like a straight-out burglary-no TV, no radios, no jewelry. We’re finding lots of prints, and we’re collecting them all. Between this house and the other one, that’s a lot of ground to cover. It’s going to take time.”
The detective paused and glanced questioningly toward Junior, who clutched his arms and gazed skyward, saying nothing. “Who’s this?” Jaime asked.
“I’ve run into a little complication,” Joa
“That’s no problem. They’re about to close up for the night anyway. Besides, you’re driving one of the Civvys today, aren’t you?”
Joa
“What all are you finding?” Joa
He nodded toward Alice Rogers’ glowing house. “It’s just like the daughter said. This place has been ransacked. No way to tell exactly how much is missing, since we don’t have any idea whit was in the house to begin with. Well have to get relatives to help us with an inventory. The mobile home over in Gleeson looks like somebody did a fast job of packing rather than tearing the place apart. If you’re asking for my best guess, I’d say whoever left there did so in one hell of a hurry.”
“As in on the run?”
Carbajal nodded. “Maybe.”
Joa
“Do we have any idea what kind of vehicle he’d be driving?” Joa
“We do have that. A vintage Jeep, a post-World War II Willys model. It belongs to Alice Rogers.”
“Why is everybody so intent on stealing Alice Rogers’ cars? And how did you find that out, Department of Transportation?”
“No,” Jaime said. “I talked to Nadine Harvey, Farley Adams’ neighbor. She runs that junkyard in Gleeson right at the turnoff to the mine. As near as I can tell, she spends most of her life standing out in her yard sweeping chinaberries out of the dirt and watching everything that goes on.”
“Did she have any idea when Farley took off?”
“She knew exactly. Said it was yesterday afternoon. She claims Adams came hauling ass down the road about an hour or so after Frank Montoya left.”
“Yesterday afternoon,” Joa
“Not yet. I’ve had my hands full, but I will. What do you think, an APB?” he added.
“No. I think that would be premature. Besides, a Jeep that old isn’t going to be hard to find. He may have headed for the border, where he can still buy leaded gas. For now, let’s post the Jeep as a stolen vehicle and wait for somebody to spot it for us. That way, by the time we locate Farley Adams, we may know more about what we’re up against.”
Next to Joa
Glad that he was speaking to her at last, Joa
“You’ve got your hands full, Sheriff Brady,” Jaime said. “Don’t worry. You take care of him. I can handle this.”
“But I’ll want you at tomorrow morning’s briefing,” Joa
“Yes, ma’am,” Jaime said. “I’ll be there.”
By now, Junior had edged away from Joa
“Go,” he said again, more urgently this time. “Junior go. Junior go now!”
“All right,” Joa
He tried to shake loose of her hand. Remembering what had happened to Sister Ambrose, Joa
She had started the car, backed up, and completed a U-turn when the sharp and unmistakable odor of urine flooded her nostrils. Her heart sank with the sudden realization of what Junior had really meant when he said he wanted to go. She knew instantly that Junior’s particular brand of “go” was going to play havoc with the Civvy’s cloth-covered interior.
Embarrassed for Junior and angry with herself for not understanding his urgent plea, Joa
What are the guys in Motor Pool going to think when I bring this one in? she wondered.
On the seat beside her, Junior buried his face in his hands and sobbed. “Sorry,” he wailed over and over again. “Junior sorry.”
“It’s all right,” Joa