Southard had slaughtered his entire family. He had killed his wife and his children and even the family dog. It was up to Alex Mumford to make sure that the creep didn’t get away with it.

Tucson, Arizona

Sunday, June 7, 2009, 5:00 a.m.

62º Fahrenheit

Jack Tennant’s driver’s license info with the DMV yielded a brother named Zack Tennant with an address in Catalina Foothills Estates. Brian was there at 5:00 A.M. to give Jack’s relatives the bad news about what had happened on the reservation. Hearing about it seemed to hit the brother especially hard. While her husband went to collect address information for Jack’s son and daughter, Ruth Tennant gave Brian a hint as to why.

“Zack and Jack had been estranged for a while,” she explained. “Jack and Abby had one of those hot and heavy romances. Zack and I didn’t approve. In the course of their rush to the altar, some things were said that should have been left unsaid. The rift probably could have been healed, but now it never will be.”

When Zack returned to the living room, his eyes were red, but he brought with him contact information for Jack’s daughter, Carol, who lived in San Francisco, and his son, Gary, who lived in Chula Vista.

“You’ll be in touch with them?” Zack asked. “You’ll let them know what’s happened?”

“When it comes to something like this, I don’t believe in telephones,” Brian assured him. “I’ll be in touch with the local police departments. They’ll have officers go out and speak to them in person.”

“Good,” Zack said. “When they do, tell the kids to call me. I’ll do what I can to handle things on this end.”

After leaving the brother’s residence, Brian drove to Jack and Abby Tennant’s town home in a development called Catalina Vue. On the way he phoned in the next-of-kin information he had gleaned from Zack. He had mentioned that he thought Abby had a grown son somewhere, and Brian was curious why, rather than using her offspring as an emergency contact, Abby had used a woman named Mildred Harrison, who was evidently her next-door neighbor.

Just after 6:00 A.M. that morning, Detective Fellows stood on Mildred’s shaded front porch and rang her doorbell. A bathrobe-clad woman cracked open the front door.

“Who are you?” she demanded over a television set blaring in the background. “Do you have any idea what time it is? What do you want?”

“My name’s Brian Fellows, Detective Brian Fellows with the Pima County Sheriff’s Department. Are you Mildred Harrison?”

“I am,” she said. “What’s this about?”

In reply Brian, saying nothing, held up his ID wallet.

“Just a minute,” she said. “Let me get my reading glasses.”

Before Mildred returned to the door wearing her glasses, she paused long enough to turn down the volume on the television set. Back at the door, she reached for Brian’s identification, which she examined in some detail before handing it back.

“All right,” she said, unlocking the security chain and opening the door. “It looks legit, but these days a woman living alone can’t be too careful. What’s this all about?”

“I understand your neighbor, Abby Tennant, listed your name as an emergency contact on her driver’s license.”

“Has something happened to Abby?” Mildred asked. “Yes, I know she put my name on her license, and she’s on mine, but that was back before she got married. The person you’ll need to contact now is her husband, Jack.”

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” Brian said. “Abigail Tennant is deceased and so is her husband. We’re attempting to notify Mrs. Tennant’s next of kin. We also need someone who can give us a positive ID.”

Mildred had returned to the door barefoot and carrying a porcelain coffee mug in one hand. That crashed to the floor, splattering coffee and pieces of broken cup in every direction.

“Dead?” she gasped, looking at Brian in horror, all the while backing away from the doorway. “Abby’s dead? That’s impossible! You can’t be serious!”

“I’m afraid I’m very serious, ma’am,” Brian said.

Mildred Harrison hadn’t invited him into her home, but when she wobbled and looked as if she was in danger of falling, he stepped over the threshold uninvited, took her by the arm, and led her to a nearby sofa.

“This is terrible,” she moaned. “I can’t believe it! I just can’t!”

As she rocked from side to side in a combination of shock and disbelief, Brian made himself useful. Returning to the open doorway, he began collecting pieces of broken mug. Once he had most of those in hand, he walked as far as the kitchen, where he located a trash can under the sink and a roll of paper towels on the counter. He returned to the living room carrying both of those and started mopping up spilled coffee.

“Thank you so much,” Mildred said, dabbing at her eyes. “You shouldn’t have to clean up my mess.”

“It’s not a problem, ma’am,” he said. “I don’t mind doing it at all, but I would appreciate your help.”

“Of course,” she said. “Whatever you need.”

“As I said, we’re attempting to do next-of-kin notifications. Does Abby Tennant have any near relations living around here?”

“No. Her son lives in California somewhere-I’m not sure where. His name is Jonathan, Jonathan Southard. I’ve never met the man, but he must have a screw loose somewhere. He somehow got it into his head that his mother was the cause of his parents’ divorce, even though his dad had taken up with another woman long before the divorce was filed. Jonathan blamed everything on Abby and hasn’t spoken to her in years. It broke her heart, I can tell you that much.”

“What about her ex-husband?”

“His name is Hank, Hank Southard. As far as I know, he still lives in Ohio. But tell me. What happened to them? Was it a car wreck, or what?”

Brian shook his head. “There was a shooting overnight…”

“Oh, my!” Mildred exclaimed. “Don’t tell me! Is this about those four people out on the reservation? That story was just on the news a few moments ago, but I never would have imagined in my wildest dreams that it was someone I knew.”

“Yes,” Brian said. “That’s where it happened. Out on the reservation.”

“Who did it? Drug smugglers? Usually when people around here get killed like that, you can bet it has something to do with the drug trade, although why they’d go after Jack and Abby I can’t imagine. Abby barely uses aspirin, and I can’t see Jack shooting back. I never heard of him carrying a weapon of any kind. And why drug smugglers would go around doing that kind of thing with a baby in the car! That’s more than I can fathom.”

“What baby?” Brian asked.

“That’s what the reporter on the news said-that four people had been gunned down and that the only survivor of the incident was some poor little girl who had been transported to the hospital in Sells. I believe he said she was something like four years old.”

Great, Brian thought grimly.

He had wanted to keep Angelina Enos’s presence at the crime scene out of the public eye in order to keep her from being targeted. Obviously he had been overruled by someone higher up the food chain.

“When’s the last time you saw Mr. and Mrs. Tennant?” Brian asked.

“I talked to Abby yesterday afternoon,” Mildred said. “She had just come back from having her hair and nails done. I thought for sure she’d be coming to the party at the park last night, but she told me that she and Jack had made other plans.”

“What party?” Brian asked.

“The Queen of the Night party at Tohono Chul. It only happens once a year. Abby Tennant has been in charge of that event for years. She was supposed to be this year, too, but she backed out at the last minute. She told me she had an unexpected conflict and she was overbooked.”

In a homicide investigation, Brian understood that it’s important to know everything about the victims, including any last-minute sudden changes of plans.