Missing and Endangered (Joanna Brady #19)(2)

Sitting there at her desk, she met Ernie’s gaze and held it. He was the first one who blinked.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said finally. “I hear you loud and clear.” He had stood up to leave just then but paused at the door and added, “By the way, I’ll be using up some of my vacation time and taking tomorrow and the next day off. Rose and I are going to Phoenix to pick up an RV, and we’ll be spending the night.”

“Good-o,” Joanna said with a wave. “Travel safe.”

When the door closed behind him, Joanna was left alone with the term “RV” echoing in her heart. When her mother and stepfather—Eleanor and George Winfield—had hit retirement age, they, too, had dived into the RV life, expecting to spend many “golden years” cruising the USofA. Unfortunately, that plan had been cut short. A hail of bullets fired by a troubled teenager from a highway overpass had forever ended George and Eleanor’s travels together. Joanna dreaded the idea that Rosie and Ernie’s traveling days, too, would soon end in a somewhat different but equally tragic way. So it was hardly any wonder that when she’d turned back to writing her report, she hadn’t been up to the task.

“Well, Mom?” Jenny’s exasperated voice broke into Joanna’s reverie. “Have you heard a word I said?”

“Sorry,” Joanna replied. “Something was going on, and I was distracted. What were you saying?”

“I was asking if you and Dad would mind if I brought someone home for Christmas vacation.”

The fact that Jenny routinely referred to her stepfather as “Dad” was something that never failed to gladden Joanna’s heart. But Jenny was planning on bringing someone home for Christmas? Who? A boyfriend, maybe? Jenny had friends who were boys—most notably Nick Saunders, the kid from St. George, Utah, who was also on the NAU rodeo team. He and Jenny boarded their horses at the same place in Flag and sometimes looked after each other’s mount when one or the other was out of town. Joanna knew the two were good friends, but if there were any romantic links between them, the subject had never come up. And if this was someone else, who was he and what were his intentions?

“Who is he?” Joanna asked.

Jenny laughed aloud. “It’s not a he, Mom,” she said. “It’s a she—Beth, my roommate. That’s her name, remember? Beth Rankin.”

Jenny’s reply sent Joanna spinning down yet another mental rabbit hole. Halfway through her sophomore year, this was the first time Jenny had suggested bringing one of her college friends home for a visit. But having someone stay over for several days might be a problem. Family members were well accustomed to the many inconveniences of having one-year-old Sage and seven-year-old Denny in the house. A college student might not be up for that. And then there was the challenge of sleeping arrangements.

“With the guest room changed into a nursery . . .” Joanna began.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Jenny put in quickly. “I’ll bunk on the sofa in the living room, and Beth can stay in my room. She had a huge blowup with her folks over Thanksgiving, and she isn’t planning on going home. The idea of having her stuck on campus all alone during winter break is just . . .”

“Of course she can come,” Joanna said quickly. “Didn’t you tell me she’s an only child?”

“Definitely,” Jenny returned, “with an over-the-top helicopter mom.”

“You might want to warn her in advance that a household with a one-year-old and a seven-year-old may be a little more than she bargained for.”

“I’ll pass that along,” Jenny said. “But maybe being around Sage will do the same thing for Beth that it did for me.”

“What’s that?”

“Being around a baby made it blazingly clear that I’m nowhere near ready to have one,” Jenny answered. “Sort of like making the case for birth control without anyone having to say a word.”

It was Joanna’s turn to laugh. “In other words, delivering the ‘birds and bees’ talk by remote control.”

“You’ve got it—indirect but very effective.”

They both laughed at that.

“All right,” Joanna said. “Tell Beth she’s more than welcome. As for you? Thank you.”

“Thank me for what?”

“For being the kind of daughter you are,” Joanna said. “For making me laugh and for reminding me what the season for giving is all about.”

“You're welcome,” Jenny said, “but now that I’ve called you, I’m going to call Dad, too, and make sure my bringing home company is okay with him as well.”

“Good idea,” Joanna said. “No, make that an excellent idea, but I can’t imagine he’ll say no.”

“I know, but I’ll call him anyway. I don’t want him to think we’re ganging up on him.”

“Okay,” Joanna said. “Bye, then.”

When the call ended, Joanna felt as though she’d just been run through an emotional spin cycle. Glancing at her watch, she was surprised to see that it was after five. That meant that her secretary, Kristin Gregovich, had most likely already bailed. Just to be sure, Joanna walked over to the door Ernie had left closed on his way out and opened it. Sure enough, the chair behind Kristin’s desk was empty, as was the dog bed next to it where Spike, the department’s recently medically retired K-9, spent his days.