“But I can help Daddy with the horses,” Patrick said brightly.
“Only until we go back to London,” Kerney said as he merged into northbound traffic on I-25.
“I don’t want to go back. I don’t like London.”
“You like horseback riding in Hyde Park,” Kerney countered.
“Yeah, but . . .”
“And you like the zoo,” he added before Patrick could continue, “and London is where your mother has her job. We promised that we would all stay together, remember? Not like the last time when she went to Iraq all by herself.”
“I don’t want Mom to be a soldier anymore,” Patrick announced. “She doesn’t even wear her uniform to work, so why does she have to stay in the army?”
“Let’s change the subject,” Kerney said, thinking his son was no slouch when it came to mounting an argument, no matter how unreasonable it might be.
“Okay.” Patrick yawned in reply and fell silent. Through the rearview mirror, Kerney saw his son’s eyes close and his head droop.
Sara turned her head and looked back at Patrick. “He’s almost asleep,” she whispered.
“Good,” Kerney whispered back.
“What’s happening with the manhunt for the killer?”
“Officially, it’s still going full bore. Unofficially, it has stalled. Larson may have gone into hiding up in his old stomping grounds around Colfax County. That’s the theory, anyway. As far as the police know, he hasn’t murdered anybody since the Muleshoe, Texas, killing. Because the hunt is concentrated up north, most of the smaller departments in the central and southern part of the state have scaled back on the search. But Andy Baca is keeping dozens of his state police officers, agents, and investigators assigned to the case. He’s even pulled central office supervisors away from their desks and sent them into the field hunting for Larson.”
“He’s lost an officer, so he’ll be a bulldog on this one,” Sara said. “What’s Paul Hewitt’s status?”
“Not good,” Kerney said glumly. “I’ve seen him once and I’ve talked to Linda by phone several times. He knows that he’ll never have the use of his arms and legs again, and according to Linda he’s been talking a lot of negative crap about not wanting to live. Clayton’s driving up to Albuquerque tomorrow from Lincoln County to see him. He said he’d call and fill me in afterwards.”
“That’s so sad,” Sara said. “It must be scary for both of them.”
“I’d hate to be facing their future,” Kerney said.
“And Jack, Irene, and Lynette? How are they holding up?”
“They’re coping in their own way,” Kerney answered in a somber tone. “Jack works himself to a nub sunup to sundown, Irene cooks frantically in her kitchen day and night, and Lynette hides out with the horses at our place and falls apart when no one is looking.”
“Have you signed on with Andy to join the hunt for Larson?”
Kerney shook his head. “Not yet. I’ve been sticking pretty close to Jack these last few days. Family and friends will be gathering at Jack and Irene’s after the burial. They’re expecting quite a crowd.”
“I’ll call Irene when we get home and offer to help,” Sara said.
“I’m sure she’d like that. Did you tell Patrick the particulars of how and where Riley died?”
“No, I thought it best not to until he’s older.” Sara reached out and touched Kerney’s cheek. “Are you still feeling responsible for Riley’s death?”
Kerney smiled tightly. “I can’t help it. I keep thinking that I put him in harm’s way.”
“Actually, you gave him a chance to do something he loved. He told you that time and time again.”
“I know I’m being illogical.”
“That’s okay. I understand the feeling.” Sara had lost soldiers in ambushes and firefights during her tour of duty in Iraq, and still felt she could have done more to save them. She looked out the car window at the brilliant ribbon of red sky on the western horizon. “I’d almost forgotten how big and beautiful the New Mexico sky is. I really miss it.”
“Maybe you should take Patrick’s advice and leave the army. Then we can all come back home to the ranch and enjoy the sunsets.”
Sara poked him on the arm. “Don’t you start in on me too.” “Okay, I take it back. London will be our home until you retire.”
“I hope you mean that.”
“I do,” Kerney said, trying to sound convincing.
At the ranch, they dumped the carry-on luggage on the couch, put Patrick to bed, and sat silently at the kitchen table holding hands and talking.
“We’re very lucky,” Sara finally said, thinking that she would fall to pieces if anything bad happened to Kerney or Patrick.
“Let’s keep it that way,” Kerney replied, remembering the moment when he’d learned that Sara had been wounded in Iraq. The thought of it made him shudder.
Sara laughed.
“What?”
“Just how do you plan to keep us safe from the perils of life?”
“By managing contingencies and limiting unintended consequences,” Kerney answered with a grin.
“My, my,” Sara replied, raising an eyebrow. “Where were you when the administration needed help planning the war on terror?”
“Serving my country on the home front as your local chief of police.”
Sara laughed again, rose to her feet, and kissed Kerney on the mouth. “I’m pouring myself a glass of wine and calling Irene,” she said. “See what’s in the garage freezer that I can thaw and cook up in a hurry to take with us tomorrow.”
“I’m sure Irene doesn’t expect you to bring anything.”
“Maybe not,” Sara replied, “but my mother would.”
Paul Hewitt’s wife, Linda, had called Clayton and asked him to meet with the sheriff as soon as he could break away and drive to Albuquerque. Clayton had promised to be there in the morning, and he left Mescalero before dawn, arriving in the city just in time to get slowed down by the last of the rush hour traffic crunch on the interstate. He had no idea why Paul wanted to see him, so as he lurched along in the stop-and-go traffic a quarter mile from the exit ramp that would take him to the hospital, he tried to avoid guessing. But it was irresistible. Perhaps Paul simply wanted to be personally briefed on the manhunt for Craig Larson, or maybe he wanted to share some encouraging news about his chances for recovery. Whatever the reason, Clayton stopped speculating as he left the interstate, drove the few blocks to the hospital, and made his way quickly to Hewitt’s room, where he found the sheriff alone.
“You just missed Linda,” Hewitt said as Clayton approached the bed. “She went down to the cafeteria to get something to eat.”
Clayton nodded. It was still a shock to see a man who had once been so vital and active now able to move only his facial muscles and eyes. “How are you doing?” Clayton asked.
“Just fine,” Paul replied with a touch of sarcasm. “As soon as I get out of the hospital and finish my rehab program, I’m gonna go skydiving without a parachute to celebrate my newfound freedom.”
Clayton raised an eyebrow.
“You’re not laughing at my little joke.”
“It’s not funny.”
Hewitt grunted. “You never did have much of a sense of humor.”
“Apaches believe that humor should never cause embarrassment.”
“Whom am I embarrassing?” Hewitt asked.
“Yourself.”
Hewitt chortled. “Damn, you’ve gotten uppity since I promoted you to chief deputy.”
“I’ve always been just another uppity Indian. Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Know what I like about you, Clayton? You’re the only person who comes to visit who doesn’t treat me like a
