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Joanna said. “This won’t take long.” When she put down the phone, Ted Chapman was staring at her. “What’s going on?” he asked.
    “I’m not sure, Ted,” Joanna said slowly, “but I’m afraid I may have some bad news for you. Early this morning a Border Patrol officer found an unidentified homicide victim out along Border Road. It sounds to me as though there’s a lot of similarity between him and your Mr. Evans. Reddish-blond hair. Fifty-something. Homemade tattoo on his upper left arm that says ‘One day at a time.’”
    “You want me to see if I can identify him?” Ted asked.
    Joanna nodded. “Yes, if you don’t mind. Identifying the victim would be a big help to our investigation. Without knowing who he is, we’re pretty much dead in the water.”
    It took Ted a moment to come to grips with what Joanna had said. Finally he nodded. “Of course,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’ll be glad to.”
    Ted sat quietly in the passenger seat of Joanna’s Crown Victoria as she drove the several miles from the Cochise County Justice Center, through town to Old Bisbee, and then up the winding curves of Tombstone Canyon to the failed low-cost mortuary George Winfield had converted into a state-of-the-art morgue.
    On the way Joanna considered calling Ernie and Jaime at home to let them know what was up. In the end she decided against it. If Ted did manage to make a positive ID, there would be plenty of time to send out for reinforcements.
    George was waiting in the doorway and looking pointedly at his watch when Joanna pulled in and parked under the covered portico.
    “This is Ted Chapman,” Joanna announced once she and Ted were both out of the car. “He’s head of our jail ministry. One of his colleagues from the Arizona State Prison Complex down in Douglas has gone missing. I’m thinking perhaps…”
    “Of course,” George said gravely, taking Ted Chapman by the arm. “Right this way.”
    George led them into a velvet-lined room that, in the building’s mortuary days, had been a private family viewing room. As part of the county morgue it now served a grimmer but similar purpose. Joanna stood at Ted’s side while George went into the next room, retrieved the body, and then opened the curtain.When he removed the sheet to reveal the dead man’s face, Ted swayed as though his knees were about to give way beneath him. Taking him by the elbow, Joanna eased him onto a nearby chair.
    “It is him,” Ted whispered hoarsely. “It’s Brad.”
    She turned back to signal George to shut the curtain, but he had already done so. She gave Ted a few minutes to regain his composure. “Thank you, Ted. Does Mr. Evans have any next of kin?”
    “Probably,” Ted said. “But I have no idea who they are or how to contact them.”
    “My detectives are going to need to talk to you as soon as possible,” Joanna told him. “Now that we have an ID, they’ll be able to start making progress on the case. If I call them back in, would you mind talking to them?”
    “Tonight?”
    Unlike Joanna, Ted Chapman wasn’t a cop. He didn’t grasp the urgency of getting on the killer’s trail while it was still warm.
    “Yes,” Joanna said. “Tonight. Right now.”
    “All right,” Ted said. “But I’ll need to call my wife and let her know what’s going on.”
    While Ted used his cell phone to explain the situation to Ginny Chapman, Joanna used hers to call Jenny.
    “When will you be home?” Jenny asked. “What’s for dinner?”
    “You’re probably on your own for dinner,” Joanna returned. “Something’s come up here at work. I may have to stay late.”
    “With Butch gone, I thought we’d get to have a girls’ night, just the two of us, the way things used to be.” Jenny sounded genuinely disappointed.
    “I thought so, too, sweetie,” Joanna said. “I’m sorry.”
    “No, you’re not,” Jenny replied hotly. “You’re not sorry at all.”
    With that, she hung up, leaving her mother listening