Free Paradise Lost by J. A. Jance

off her motherly outrage and put on her sheriff persona.
    “You’d better tell me what you know about the victim,” she said. “Any idea who she is?”
    “No,” Frank answered. “She’s naked. No ID, nothing.”
    “And no vehicle?”
    “Not that we’ve been able to find so far. I’d say she was killed somewhere else and then dumped here. Of course, Doc Winfield will be able to tell us more about that.”
    “You’ll cast for tire tracks?” Joanna asked.
    “Yes, but depending on how long ago she was brought here, I doubt if tire casts will do us any good.”
    By then, Butch had switched on his lamp and was sitting up on his side of the bed. “Do I get dressed or don’t I?” he asked.
    Joanna knew Frank Montoya was right. Driving through the night on less than two hours’ sleep made no sense. “No,” she said to Butch. “Not yet.”
    “Not yet what?” Frank asked.
    “I was talking to Butch. You’re right. We probably shouldn’t leave until morning, but I’d like to talk to Jim Bob and Eva Lou before I make a final decision. And to Jenny,” she added.
    “All right,” Frank said. “Since I’ve got a decent cell-phone signal here, it’ll probably work at the camp, too. As soon as we’re all in one place, I’ll give you a call back.”
    “Thanks,” Joanna said. “Sounds good.”
    She ended the call and then crawled back into bed.
    “So what’s the deal?” Butch asked.
    “Jenny and Dora Matthews snuck out of camp after lights-out to smoke cigarettes,” she answered. “While they were doing that, they stumbled upon a homicide victim. Jim Bob and Eva Lou are coming to pick the girls up and take them home to Bisbee.”
    “But the girls are both all right?”
    “Fine,” Joanna answered testily. “At least they will be until I catch up with them. I can’t believe it. Jenny smoking! What do you suppose got into her?”
    “She’s twelve,” Butch said, stifling a yawn. “She’s growing up, trying her wings. Don’t make a federal case out of-it.”
    Joanna turned on him, mouth agape. “What do you mean by that?”
    “I mean stay cool,” he said. “It’s only cigarettes. The more you overreact, the worse it’ll be. Think about you and your mother. What about all the things Eleanor used to tell you not to do?”
    “I couldn’t wait to go out and try them,” Joanna conceded. “Every single one of Eleanor’s thou-shalt-nots, right down the line, turned into one of my must-dos.”
    Butch reached over and wrapped an arm around Joanna’s shoulder, pulling her toward him. “There you are,” he said with a grin. “I rest my case. Now tell me all about our daughter finding a body. Cigarettes be damned, it sounds to me as though Jenny’s trying her damnedest to follow in her mother’s footsteps.”
     
    Jennifer Ann Brady sat miserably on the leather couch of Mr. Foxworth’s surprisingly spacious motor home and waited to see what would happen. Jenny’s mother got angry sometimes, but when she did, her voice was really quiet—a whisper almost. When Mrs. Lambert was angry, she yelled, loud enough for everyone in camp to hear every word. She had yelled about what an incredibly irresponsible thing it had been for Jenny and Dora to run out like that. And how unacceptable it was for them to smoke cigarettes! Furthermore, Mrs. Lambert said, since Jenny and Dora had proved themselves to be untrustworthy, she was in the process of notifying their parents to come get them. They wouldn’t be allowed to stay in camp for the remainder of the weekend.
    For Jenny, who wasn’t used to being in trouble, Mrs. Lambert’s red-faced tirade was uncharted territory. Because Jenny knew she deserved it, she had taken the dressing-down with her own flushed tic e bowed in aching embarrassment.
    Dora, on the other hand, had casually shrugged of the whole thing. As soon as Mrs. Lambert finished yelling at them, grabbed her cell phone, and marched outside, Dora had stuck her tongue out at Mrs. Lambert’s