He felt better: Jesus had stopped talking to him. But his legs were still jittery and itchy. He needed to walk.
Robert dressed to go out. He took the laces out of the shoes-they were some kind of insulated boots-and slipped his bare feet into them.
He draped the coat over his shoulders because the sleeve was too small for the cast on his arm.
At the front door, he stopped, unsure of where he should go. Maybe if he talked to Kerney, he could go back to jail. He liked jails with bare walls, small cells, and no windows. Jails helped him relax.
Robert dug through all his pockets until he found his wallet with Kerney's phone number in it. He called, but Kerney wasn't there. A woman asked him to leave a message.
'Tell him I'm going away,' Robert said.
'May I have your name, sir?' the woman asked.
'Satan,' Robert said.
Outside, heavy clouds hid the sun and a cold wind blew in his face. He put the hood of the coat up, lowered his head against the wind, and started walking. the two men traveling with Carlos said nothing to him or each other.
Carlos knew he was way out of his league; both men were former Mexican intelligence agents who had been trained by the U.S. Army Special Forces, the CIA, and the FBI. Each had carried out a number of high-profile political assassinations under contract with the Mafiosios.
Relegated to the role of driver, Carlos cruised past the county jail on Airport Road and then up to the courthouse, near the downtown plaza.
Felix, the older of the two men, sat in the front seat, while Delfmo rode in the back.
Carlos circled the courthouse. At the rear of the building warning signs restricted parking to police vehicles only, and a single security door was the only access to the inside. Parked against the curb was a television transmission truck with a satellite dish mounted on the roof.
'Go around again,' Felix said.
'Slowly.'
Carlos drove past the church on the corner before turning down a narrow street of old brick houses used as offices. An elementary school stood at the end of the block, catty-corner to the courthouse. A row of small casitas and an apartment building faced the rear of the courthouse. A rental sign was posted on the porch to one of the casitas.
'Drive past the school and let me out at the traffic light,' Felix ordered.
'Park in front of the post office, and wait for me there.'
Ten minutes later Felix returned.
'A cottage across from the courthouse is vacant,' he said to Delfino.
'I can enter through a back door without difficulty.'
'Unseen?' Delfino inquired.
'Yes. A wall behind the alley blocks the view.' Felix handed Carlos a pair of binoculars.
'You are my spotter.
Make certain, this time, you identify the correct man.
Park across from the school facing the courthouse. It provides the best view of vehicles approaching from any direction.'
He gave Delfino a radio transmitter and stuck a receiver with an earplug in his coat pocket.
'I'll need no more than ten seconds after your signal to make the kill.
As soon as you see Watson fall, have Carlos drive slowly to the alley.
I'll be waiting.'
'And if the police should return fire?' Delfino asked.
'Only Watson dies, unless something goes wrong,' Felix replied as he grabbed his briefcase and opened the car door.
'But if necessary, we will kill them all.'
He turned back to Carlos.
'Do you understand what you are to do?'
'I will follow your orders,' Carlos replied.
They had to wait an hour before Felix could put his plan into action. nita let the telephone ring repeatedly before hanging up in frustration. She'd been calling home between appointments and Robert hadn't answered. She was worried about him, but couldn't break away from the office. After her arrest and all the press coverage that came with it, she'd expected business to fall off, but exactly the opposite had occurred. Not only were most of her regular clients sticking by her, a flood of new appointments had come in from area residents she had never seen in the clinic before. They came with their household pets, wanting annual shots, de worming or examinations.
She knew damn well they were there for the gossip value the visit would generate, but she took the cases anyway. And while none of them dared to raise questions about her status as an accused murderer, she felt their intense curiosity when they brought their perfectly healthy dogs, cats, and gerbils into the examining room. Being in the presence of an indicted cop killer obviously had high entertainment value.
Nita finished her last case for the day and called home again, with no luck- She drove west at high speed into a setting sun shrouded by clouds, worried sick about Robert. Maybe she'd made a mistake in bringing him home. But he'd seemed so coherent in the hospital, and so pleased with the idea of staying with her.
She ground the truck to a stop in front of her house and hurried inside. Robert was nowhere to be found. In her bedroom, all her underwear had been scattered on the floor. In the guest bedroom, even with the open window, the smell of cigarette smoke lingered. The bed hadn't been slept in. In the bathroom, she found a pair of her panties floating in the commode.
She had to find Robert, and she needed help to do it. Calling the county sheriff wasn't an option. She doubted any of the deputies would be willing to assist a confessed cop killer. Her only course of action was to call Kevin Kerney. He was unavailable when she tried to reach him, so she left her name, and a message reporting Robert's disappearance.
Light snow had begun to fall and the temperature had dropped by the time she got in her truck. There were hundreds of miles of back roads that crisscrossed the rolling plains between the two state highways that cut south to Mountainair. Robert could be on any one of them, or so far away that it would be impossible to find him.
If bringing Robert home resulted in his death, she would feel like a murderer twice over. buckt watson lay facedown on the pavement with his hands cuffed to the small of his back and his skull blown apart. Brain matter and blood splatter fanned out in an arc that spurted up the stairs and flecked the glass courthouse door.
Both the parking lot and the house across the street had been roped off, portable lights had been set up, and crime scene technicians were working the area. A state police agent and a city detective were talking to the officer who had brought Bucky to the courthouse.
Kerney stayed outside the police line and waited until they finished before calling the officer over.
The man came toward him shaking his head. Dried blood covered the front of his uniform shirt.
'I don't know what to tell you. Chief. It happened so damn fast, I didn't see it coming.'
'You weren't supposed to see it,' Kerney replied.
Although he had a good idea what the answer would be, he asked his next question.
'Did you hear the shot fired?'
'I didn't hear a damn thing. The back of Watson's head just exploded.
I hit the ground, rolled in front of my unit for cover, and drew my weapon. But there was nobody there.'
'Did you see any traffic on the street?'
'I heard a car, but didn't see it. I took a quick look, but it was gone. From the sound it made, it wasn't speeding, or anything like that.'
'Were you alone in the parking lot?'
'Just me and Watson.'
'Are the investigators finished with you?'
'Yeah, except for the paperwork I need to do.'
'Write your report at the office, then pack it in for the night and go home.'
'Thanks.' The man smiled and tugged at the front of his shirt. He wore gold piping and two stripes, denoting
