Exit Wounds - J. A. Jance [18]
While Joanna had been juggling phone calls, Deputy Raymond had removed a gurney from the back of George Winfield’s van. Now, unfolded, it sat outside the front door of the mobile home waiting to be taken inside and loaded.
“They’ll be bringing the victim out soon and taking her over to the ME’s van,” Joanna told Edith Mossman. “Do you think you could walk that far, or should I have them bring her over here?”
“I may have to use a walker, but I’m not helpless,” Edith said.
“I’m perfectly capable of walking from here to there.”
As Joanna and Edith started their slow progress toward George Winfield’s minivan, Deputy Raymond pushed the gurney into the house. By the time Joanna had guided Edith to the back of the van, Matt Raymond and Debra Howell had rolled the gurney back out through the front door and eased it down the wooden steps. They headed for the van with the medical examiner close on their heels. Once the gurney came to a stop, George Winfield stepped forward and held out his hand to Edith.
“I’m Dr. George Winfield,” he said. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”
“My name’s Edith,” she answered. “Edith Mossman. Carol’s my granddaughter.”
“If you don’t want to do this here…” he began.
“No. There’s no sense in putting it off,” Edith replied. “I need to know for sure, and so do you.”
“Deputy Raymond,” George said, “would you please bring one of the trouble lights out here?”
Nodding, Matt Raymond hurried into the trailer. Back beside the gurney, he held the light aloft while George unzipped the body bag, immediately letting loose the foul stench of rapidly decomposing human flesh.
Joanna knew what to expect. She looked warily at Edith Mossman, worried that the awful odor, combined with seeing her granddaughter’s dead face, might cause the woman to faint again, but she didn’t. Leaning on her walker, Edith studied the face for a moment. Then she nodded.
“It’s her,” she said. “It’s Carol.” With that, she turned to Joanna. “If that’s all you need, Sheriff Brady, I’d like to go home now. There are people I’ll need to call.”
After helping Edith Mossman into the Blazer, Joanna hurried back to the mobile home. Not wanting to have to go through the booties routine, she called Detective Carpenter over to the door and gave him a rundown of the information she had gleaned from talking to Edith.
“Did Deputy Raymond tell you he found several pieces of .45-caliber brass in the backyard?”
“No,” Joanna said. “He didn’t tell me, but I’m glad to hear it.”
“Me, too,” Ernie Carpenter said. “It’s a start, but he and Debbie Howell didn’t have time to do a complete foreign-object search. We’ll have to continue that tomorrow.”
Joanna nodded. “You’ll leave someone here to secure the scene when you go?”
“You can count on it,” Ernie said.
Joanna and Edith Mossman drove into Sierra Vista in virtually unbroken silence. The day’s trauma had exhausted the old woman’s energy, leaving her devoid of speech. Twice Joanna glanced at her passenger, thinking she might be asleep, but Edith was wide awake, staring straight ahead into the beams of oncoming headlights.
By the time they arrived at the Ferndale Retirement Center, Lucky was eager to extricate himself from the confines of Joanna’s shirt. In his eagerness to escape, his tiny sharp claws left long trails of scratches in the skin of Joanna’s chest. After Edith had limped off down the open breezeway to her unit, Joanna took the puppy out, gave him a drink of water, and let him relieve himself once more. She was grateful that he made no effort to run away.
This time, though, when Joanna tried to return him to her shirt, Lucky was in no mood to be locked back up. He had slept long enough. He was ready to be up and exploring—or chewing. Reluctant to let him loose in the Blazer while she drove, Joanna finally emptied the contents out of one of the plastic carrying cases she used to hold equipment. She moved the plastic carton to the front seat and put Lucky inside that. Standing on his hind legs, he was tall enough to peek out over the edge, but not quite tall enough to scramble out.