Charlie perched on the edge of his desk.
'Kerney turned a smuggling bust into a murder-one case for me,' he explained, 'and for that, I owe him. I have hard evidence that exonerates him in the Steve Lujan shooting, and he has information that your sheriff may be a dirty cop. He wants you fully briefed on the situation.'
'I'm listening,' Karen said.
At the Silver City Police Department, Karen used a vacant interrogation room to meet with Kerney.
Even though Charlie Perry had walked her through the facts of the Steven Lujan murder, she let Kerney tell his story. He finished up with Amador's admission that Gatewood had ordered him to give the Padilla Canyon tip to Jim Stiles.
'Do you think Gatewood did the shooting?' Karen asked, making a final entry in her notebook.
'I doubt it. But I've been wondering if Jim was a target of choice or a target of opportunity.'
'Meaning?'
'Jim should have waited and turned the information over to me. Padilla Canyon is Forest Service land and on my patrol route. Amador knew that and probably told Gatewood.'
'So you think you were the target?'
'Maybe I have been all along.'
'That would make the trailer bombing a second attempt to kill you,'
Karen noted.
'Which makes me very nervous.'
Karen closed her notebook and stood up.
'Let's go.'
Kerney stayed seated.
'There's the small matter of murder charges against me.'
'Not anymore. The charges have been dropped.'
'Why didn't you tell me that up front?'
'We don't have time to bicker. Let's go.' Outside the police station the drizzle continued, but the sky promised a heavier rain. Rolling thunder rumbled in overcast, thick clouds. Kerney stepped off in the direction of Jim's truck.
'Where do you think you're going?' Karen demanded, standing in the drizzle.
'I've got to find a way to get to Omar Gatewood and rattle his cage.'
'Not without me you don't,' Karen said sharply.
'That's not a good idea.'
'If you're concerned for my safety, don't be,' Karen said sarcastically.
'This could get ugly.'
'Either you work with me or I'll put you back in the slammer under protective custody.'
'That's illegal,' Kerney said.
'I'll do it anyway,' Karen countered.
'Your chances of getting to Omar are nil, if you try it by yourself.
He's probably pulled in every IOU he has to get to you before you can get to him. If you want to solve this case, get in my car.'
Kerney studied Karen's icy expression and decided arguing with her would do no good.
'What's your plan?' he asked as he opened the passenger door to Karen's station wagon.
'Our best bet is to isolate Omar. I'll call Gatewood from home, tell him that I'm approving his warrant, and ask him to personally bring it by the house for me to sign. When he shows up, we'll Q-and-A him.'
'That might work.'
As they drove away, the skies opened and hail began to fall, clattering loudly on the roof of the station wagon.
'Would you mind making a couple of stops along the way?' Kerney asked, raising his voice above the din to be heard.
'Where do you need to go?'
'Jim loaned me a shirt and a pair of jeans, but I'd like to buy some new clothes and some shaving gear.'
Karen's eyes softened as Kerney's predicament hit home.
'You lost everything in the trailer, didn't you?'
'It wasn't much,' Kerney admitted.
'But it was everything I cared to keep.'
She looked at his waist. He wasn't wearing the rodeo championship belt buckle. He wasn't wearing a belt at all.
Kerney followed her glance.
'Melted,' he announced.
'That stinks. We'll stop at a couple of stores and get you squared away.'
When Kerney had finished buying what he needed, the backseat was filled with shopping bags and a large canvas carryall to put everything in.
Halfway back to Glenwood, with the skies clearing, Karen took her eyes off the road and glanced at Kerney.
'You're staying with me,' she said, 'until we get things sorted out.'
'I'm staying with you?'
'There's no other option. You haven't got a place to live, and bunking with Jim Stiles is too risky.'
'I guess house arrest is better than jail,' Kerney noted.
'You'll have to sleep on the floor.' She glanced at Kerney again.
'Where is Jim?'
'I wish I knew,' Kerney answered.
In spite of Jim's attempts to hurry Molly along, she took her own sweet time shopping for a new outfit in a Tucson clothing store that opened early.
His stomach was grumbling for breakfast by the time she finished and came out of the dressing room wearing a dark green blouse with an embroidered yoke, a pair of white jeans, and new Tony Lama cowboy boots.
'Now you have to feed me,' she announced, as she spun around to give him a full view of the outfit.
He grinned, nodded in agreement, and paid the bill without complaint.
They arrived in Green Valley in the middle of the morning, with the temperature already in the three digits. Halfway between Tucson and the border town of Nogales, Green Valley paralleled the interstate that ran through the high Sonoran Desert. Except for a few businesses at the northern end of the town and one large strip mall on the main drag, there was very little commercial development, but there were a hell of a lot of churches. Cars along the wide boulevard moved slowly in spite of the absence of heavy traffic, and most were late-model Americanmade land yachts driven by gray-headed motorists.
There wasn't a baby boomer, adolescent, or thirty something person in sight.
Molly turned off the main street and passed row after row of single-story apartment condominiums that looked like cheap budget motel units. The native landscaping of saguaro cactus, paloverde trees, desert ironwood, brittle bush, and yucca didn't completely hide the cut-rate construction of the cement-block buildings.
After the condominiums petered out, the neighborhood changed into modest single-family ranch style tract homes on small lots. Recreational vehicles, pickup trucks with camper shells, and travel trailers filled about every other driveway. Finally they entered an upscale area of multilevel homes with brick exteriors and tile roofs that surrounded a golf course. Molly parked in front of a house that backed up to a fairway. It was expensively landscaped with crushed rock, native plants, flagstone walks, and a border of blackfoot daisies that covered a low stone wall.
With Molly at his side, Jim rang the doorbell. A tall woman, about seventy years old, answered. She had an angular face, a high forehead, and a long nose that gave her a birdlike appearance.
'Yes?' the woman said, glancing from the man to the woman. The young man's face looked as if it had been peppered with birdshot, his eye was covered with a patch, and his left arm was in a sling. The young woman was wholesomely attractive with lively blue eyes that sparkled with vitality.
'Louise Blanton Cox?' Jim asked.
