Downfall by J. A. Jance

in a huff to go to school for a tutoring session and never came home. Based on that information, Ian concluded that it was likely she had gone missing of her own volition.”
    â€œThe school in question being the Sierra Vista School for Scholastic Excellence?” Joanna asked.
    â€œThat’s the one. She teaches there—taught there—during theschool year and held weekend tutoring sessions with students from there on a year-round basis. Detective Waters did have a patrol car go by the school to check. No sign of her vehicle. When he mentioned the situation to me, I couldn’t fault his assumption that Susan Nelson probably went off on her own somewhere to cool off.”
    â€œAnd ended up getting murdered,” Joanna observed. “As for Reverend Nelson? What did he have to say concerning his whereabouts on Saturday and Sunday?”
    â€œClaimed he was home alone on Saturday night, working on his sermon, and on Sunday morning he was at church.”
    â€œSo once the ME gives a time of death, it’s likely he has no alibi,” Joanna asserted.
    â€œNot so much,” Frank agreed.
    â€œDeb Howell is coming by the department to pick me up, then we’ll be coming your way to do the next of kin. Given the couple’s marital history, this incident may or may not have started inside your city limits. For the time being, however, we should probably consider it a joint investigation. You might want to have one of your detectives on hand at the upcoming interview. What was the name you just mentioned?”
    â€œWaters—Detective Ian Waters. When are you coming?”
    â€œAs soon as Deb gets back from Tucson, where she went to speak to someone we now know to be the other victim’s mother. Deb should be here any minute.”
    â€œOkay,” Frank said. “I’ll call Ian and let him know you’re on your way, then we’ll saddle up and meet you there. The house isn’t easy to find. It’s set way back on what looks like a vacant lot. The church is right next door, and you access the driveway to the house from the back of the church parking lot.”
    â€œSee you there,” Joanna said. She had returned to her own office by then. As she ended the call with Frank, Deb Howell appeared in her doorway.
    â€œKnock, knock,” the detective said.
    Joanna glanced down at her uniform. It was a little the worse for wear, having been through both water and mud as Joanna went back and forth to the crime scene. With her still sodden boots in the luggage compartment of the Yukon, she was dressed in a pair of shabby and very unofficial-looking tennis shoes, but at this point, she was reluctant to go home to change into anything else. If she stopped by in the middle of the night, she’d probably wake the whole household.
    â€œLet’s go,” she said. “I don’t exactly look my best, but I doubt Reverend Nelson is going to be studying my feet.”
    â€œMy car or yours?”
    â€œYours,” Joanna said. “I have a few calls to make, starting with Dr. Baldwin. She doesn’t yet know that we’ve managed to identify the second victim.”

CHAPTER 4          
    DURING THE HALF-HOUR DRIVE FROM BISBEE TO SIERRA VISTA, JOANNA’S first call was to the ME. Her second was to Chief Deputy Hadlock, letting him know that both victims had now been positively identified and that next-of-kin notifications either had been or were in the process of being done. She knew this would make a huge difference in the kind of briefing paper he was preparing for release the next morning. Tom sent her a copy of his rough draft of the press release. Feeling like one of her old high school English teachers, Joanna edited it on her iPad, going through the material sentence by sentence, correcting grammar and making suggestions to improve the flow. Butch was right, of course. Media relations would never be Tom’s strong