renovation done when indoor plumbing was still a recent innovation. It reminded Kerney of growing up in the ranch house his grandfather had built on the Tularosa.
He closed the door and stripped tags and labels off his new clothes while hot water filled the cast-iron tub. He shucked off Jim's hand-me-downs and sank into the steaming hot water, letting the heat work on his knee. The leg had been bothering him more than usual. He needed to get back to his daily workout and jogging routine.
Shaved, clean, and dressed in stiff jeans and a shirt that still had the package creases in it, he went into the living room. Karen sat on the love seat with her shoes off and her feet on the cushion, studying a case file. Reading glasses were perched on her nose, and an open briefcase was within arm's reach. Still wearing her work outfit, a loosely shaped wool crepe suit, she smiled at him, put the file in the briefcase, and snapped it closed.
'You look better,' she remarked.
'I feel better. Did you get in touch with Gatewood?'
'He's out of town. I left a message for him to call me.' She unwound herself from the love seat and stood up.
'Now it's my turn to change. Make yourself comfortable.'
He browsed through the Van Gogh biography and inspected a painting on the only wall of the room not completely taken over by Karen's library.
The large watercolor had a Chagall feel to it. A woman dressed in a simple frock held a child in her arms while a small girl stood at her side, her hand clasping the hem of the skirt. All were smiling at something out of view.
Kerney looked for the artist's signature and found the initials KC hidden in a clump of flowers at the bottom of the painting.
'I did that right after I kicked my ex-husband out,' Karen said as she reentered the room.
'It was a happy event, I take it,' Kerney replied, turning to face her.
Barefoot, Karen wore jeans and a ribbed red-and-white-striped T-shirt.
Karen laughed.
'You noticed that.'
'The feeling of the painting is hard to miss.'
'I keep it conspicuously displayed to remind me how unsuited I am for married life.'
'Not your cup of tea?'
'Hardly.'
The painting had an accomplished feel to it.
'Did you study art?' Kerney asked.
'I was a delinquent in the undergraduate fine arts department for a time,' Karen replied.
'You were very good.'
'Thank you.'
'From fine arts to law is quite a switch,' Kerney said.
Karen cocked her head.
'I'm not very predictable.
Would you like some iced tea? The dispatcher said it would be a while before he can contact Gatewood.'
'That would be nice.'
Over iced tea and a platter of fruit, Karen and Kerney sat on the living-room floor and talked.
'Whatever made you take a temporary job with the Forest Service?' she asked, nibbling on a slice of honeydew.
'Money,' Kerney replied.
'It can't be that much.'
'Every little bit helps.'
'Don't you have a pension?'
'Yeah. It pays the bills.'
'So what do you need more money for?'
'Land. Enough to start a small ranching operation.'
Karen picked up a piece of watermelon and cleaned out the seeds.
'That's what you want to do?'
'You bet. I have my eye on a section just north of Mountainair on the east side of the Manzano Mountains, south of Albuquerque. It comes with BLM grazing rights. The owner will carry the mortgage if I can come up with the down payment.'
Kerney was surprised at himself; talking about dreams sometimes vaporized them into extinction.
'Do you know the area?'
Karen finished the melon slice, licked her fingers, wiped her hand on her jeans, and nodded.
'I've driven through it. It's pretty country. What fun it would be to build a house just where you want to. I bet you're looking forward to it.'
'I am.'
'I hope it happens for you.'
'Me too.' Kerney heard a board creak and looked at the open door to the porch. Omar Gatewood stood in the doorway with a revolver in his hand and a nasty smile on his face. Kerney pushed Karen to the floor, flung himself across her, and reached for the pistol under the belt at the small of his back.
'What in the hell do you think you're doing?'
Karen snapped, her fist balled, ready to punch him in the chops.
Before Kerney could free the weapon he felt a muzzle dig into his neck.
'Don't,' Phil Cox warned, standing over Kerney.
Slowly, hands empty, Kerney moved both arms away from his body. Pinned under him, Karen's expression changed from a look of indignation to one of incredulity.
'Are you totally fucking nuts, Phil?' she yelled.
'I know exactly what I'm doing,' Phil answered.
He poked the rifle barrel against Kerney's neck, secured the handgun, and stuck the weapon in his waistband.
'Get up real slow, Kerney,' he ordered.
'The charges against him have been dropped,' Karen snarled.
Kerney pushed himself upright. Gatewood had a clear shot at him from across the room. He was boxed in nicely.
'Stay where you are, Karen,' Gatewood ordered.
He covered Kerney while Phil Cox cuffed him, hands at his back.
With Kerney secured, Omar reached down and pulled Karen to her feet.
'I decided not to take your advice, Karen. I got that warrant you wouldn't approve signed by somebody else,' he explained.
'Everything's nice and legal.'
'Are you crazy, Omar?' Karen snapped.
'Or just plain stupid? I'll have your badge for this.'
'I don't think so.'
She struggled to pull free of his grasp, but Gatewood held her tightly.
'Get that gun out of my face.'
'Can't do it,' Omar answered, wrapping his arm around Karen's waist and pulling her closer.
'You both need to come with us.'
'Where?' Karen demanded.
'You'll see,' Gatewood answered.
'Why?'
'You'll find out.' Gatewood backed up to the door, taking Karen with him.
'At least let me leave a note for my children,' Karen pleaded.
'No,' Gatewood said.
'Phil?' Karen implored.
