'Inheritance?' Kerney asked, thinking of Erma Fergurson, his mother's old friend who had left him a 6,400- acre ranch, which was about to be sold to the Nature Conservancy. Even after all the taxes were paid when probate closed next month, Kerney would still have more money than he'd ever dreamed possible. Considerably more than Shockley's low six-figure market accounts.
'That's unlikely, Chief. Both parents live in Carlsbad. His father works as an auto mechanic, and his mother at a day care center.
There's no family money that Shockley could tap into. Additionally, the ex-wife didn't know anything about Shockley's adventures in the stock market.'
'Do you need more time?'
'I'd rather not wait, Chief. I can always bring additional charges later. I did a quick inventory of the evidence room this morning. Two handguns that should be there are missing. I think a search of his unit and his apartment will turn them up.'
'Did you get a warrant for his apartment?' Kerney asked. 'Signed by a judge this morning,' Duran said.
Kerney knew Duran's presence at the district office wouldn't go unnoticed for long. The back channel network could have already passed on the information. 'You'd better move.'
'I'll pull him in now,' Duran said. 'Will you do the house search for me, Chief?' He held out the warrant.
Kerney nodded and took the paperwork.
'Thanks.'
'Don't talk to Shockley without backup.'
'There isn't anybody I can use. Every available agent is working the homicides.'
'Bring in a uniform to assist you.'
Duran thought about it for a minute. 'Pete Bustamante. We worked patrol together in District Seven. He's solid.'
'You're sure?'
'Yeah.'
'Okay. Under my orders, have dispatch instruct Shockley and Bustamante to report here immediately for a special assignment.'
Randy Shockley pulled onto the state highway and checked his rearview mirror. Pete Bustamante was on his tail, following him to the district headquarters. Shockley knew Chief Kerney's orders were bogus. The dispatcher had called him by cellular phone to report that Agent Duran had been snooping around in the evidence room and looking through his paperwork. The dispatcher had no further information, but Shockley knew what was up: Internal Affairs had uncovered his weapons scam.
There could be no other reason for Duran's search.
Maybe the auto theft scheme hadn't been detected. He flipped open his cell phone and called Jake's Towing Service. 'Has anybody been coming around asking questions?' he asked, when Jake answered.
'Anyone like who?'
'A cop, you stupid shit.'
Jake laughed. 'You know I hate cops, Randy.'
'Answer the fucking question.'
'I haven't talked to any cops, or anybody asking a lot of questions. I would have told you if that was happening.'
'When did you move the last vehicle?'
'Four days ago,' Jake replied. 'Delivered and paid for. We got fourteen thousand dollars for it. Do we have a problem?'
'I'll get back to you.' Shockley hit the disconnect button and punched in his ex-wife's number. 'Maureen.'
'I told you never to call me, Randy.'
'Has anyone from the department talked to you recently?'
'I have to leave for work.'
'Don't fuck with me, Maureen.'
'Go to hell, Randy,' Maureen said with a hint of peevish satisfaction as she hung up.
Shockley checked his rearview mirror again. Bustamante was still there. He punched in the number for the district attorney's office and asked to speak to the administrator. Nicole Prince came on the line.
'I hope you don't want to speak to any of the A.D.A. s, Randy. Everybody who isn't scheduled for court is out at the crime scenes. Isn't that something?'
'It sure is,' Shockley said. 'I'm checking on a warrant. Did anything come in for signature this morning?'
'One of your Santa Fe agents showed up with an affidavit approved by my boss himself. He took it to Judge Witcher.'
'Thanks.' He waited until he got to the edge of town before dialing Bustamante's cell phone number, and watched in the rearview mirror as Pete picked up. 'I've got to swing by my place for a few minutes,' he said. 'I'll catch up with you.'
'Okay, Sarge,' Pete said. 'See you there.'
Shockley made a quick turn off the main drag, waited for Bustamante to pass out of sight, then floored the unit, hit the emergency lights, and cut through traffic running a silent code three. At his apartment building he did a slow drive-by, looking for cop cars or unmarked units.
From the parking lot he could see no activity outside, and no sign of Duran, Kerney, or other officers.
He stopped by the manager's office and asked if anyone had been by to pick up a key. The woman said no, and Shockley gave her a bullshit line that he was expecting a friend from out of town who was going to stay with him for a few days.
As he hurried to his apartment, Shockley tried to figure out what had gone wrong. All the weapons he'd boosted had been unclaimed for at least a year, and he'd sold them in Mexico to a Jurez dealer for shipment to Central America. Everything else he'd filched during his tenure as evidence officer had been sold at El Paso flea markets, where nobody knew him.
If he could clean out the weapons stashed in his apartment before Duran could serve the warrant, he might be able to avoid prosecution and hard time. Duran would have nothing more than a paper trail to go on. With a damn good lawyer the department might settle for his resignation to avoid embarrassment.
Shockley could live with that.
Inside the apartment he grabbed the. 38 caliber four-inch Ruger, a sweet Colt 9 mm, and his cash box. He couldn't chance stashing the stuff in his personal vehicle, so he would have to dump it. He didn't like the idea of throwing away four thousand dollars in cash and a thousand dollars worth of weapons, but there wasn't any choice.
He checked his watch. Five minutes had passed since he'd peeled off from Bustamante. He couldn't use the apartment Dumpster. that would be the first place Duran would look after searching the apartment. A trash bin at the supermarket a few blocks away would have to do.
He stuffed the guns and cash box into a half-full kitchen garbage bag, tied it off, and headed for the front door. Outside, he found Deputy Chief Kerney standing behind the open driver's door of a unit.
'Where are you going, Sergeant?' Kerney had his semiautomatic hidden out of sight behind his leg.
Shockley smiled. 'I just stopped by to take out the trash, Chief. They pick it up on Fridays.'
'Drop the bag and keep your hands where I can see them.' Shockley kept smiling. 'What's this all about, Chief?'
'Drop the bag.'
Kerney stood at an angle behind the open door of the unit, presenting the smallest possible target. Shockley didn't move, and Kerney studied him. The bulletproof vest under the uniform shirt bulked up Shockley's compact frame, and his eyes scanned Kerney carefully.
'Are you hiding a gun behind your leg, Chief?' Shockley asked.
'This doesn't have to get out of hand, Sergeant. Do as you're told.'
'What are you talking about?' Shockley shifted his weight slightly and watched for a response. There wasn't one.
