cream dressing, was served quickly. He ate slowly, enjoying the food. Eating out was something of a treat, and the meal was well prepared.
He was about to call for his check when Sara Brannon entered the club with a man. Both were dressed casually. Sara, in a loose ribbed pullover shirt, a denim skirt, and a soft pair of suede boots that accented her long legs, looked very classy. Her companion, a tall fellow, dressed in chinos, hiking boots, and a blue chambray shirt, with dark, sun bleached hair that curled up at the nape of his neck, had a studious, intelligent face. Eyeglasses highlighted his scholarly appearance. Sara didn't see
Kerney as she passed by; her attention was diverted by something the man was saying as he led her by the arm to the bar.
Hoping to leave undetected, Kerney watched Sara as he waited for the waiter to bring the check. She talked with her hands and seemed much more relaxed and animated than when Kerney had met her in her office. The tendency to fidget with her class ring was a habit, Kerney decided. She unconsciously toyed with it, rubbing her thumb along the band. The waiter came with the check, and Kerney settled up immediately, hoping for a discreet exit.
Sara saw his reflection in the bar mirror and waved him over.
'Lieutenant Kerney,' she called. Forcing a smile, Kerney veered toward the bar. The man turned and eyed him with interest.
'I'd like you to meet Fred Utiey,' she said. Utiey got off the bar stool.
'Nice to meet you,' he said with a grin, extending his hand. Utiey was in his mid-thirties, about Kerney's height. His hand was calloused and his grip firm.
'Likewise,' Kerney replied.
'You must be new on the post,' Utiey said, reclaiming his seat at the bar.
'Lieutenant Kerney is with the Dona Ana Sheriff's Department,' Sara clarified. Her eyes, guarded and unsmiling, never left Kerney's face.
'Join us for a drink. Lieutenant.' She patted an empty stool next to her. In spite other relaxed veneer, it was an order, not a request.
Instead of sitting next to Sara, Keroey slid onto the stool beside Utiey, using the man as a buffer, and ordered a glass of white wine. Utiey didn't notice the unspoken exchange.
'Are you here on official business or just visiting?' he asked. Sara didn't give Kerney a chance to answer. She touched Utiey lightly on the arm.
'The lieutenant is working on a case with us.' With Utiey placated, she gave Kerney a sharp, quick look, while her voice remained unruffled.
'Fred is the chief archaeologist at the missile range.' Kerney hesitated. The lady is pissed, he thought, without a clue as to why. He smiled at Utiey.
'Your job must be very interesting.' Utiey nodded with satisfaction. 'It is. White Sands is an anthropologist's dream. There are over five thousand square miles on the base that were hardly touched by modern civilization before the Army took it over. The Apaches traversed the area, mostly to hunt or camp, and Hispanic settlers farmed on the fringes of the basin, but that was about it until cattlemen moved in from Texas, looking for free range. It was really one of the last western frontiers.
'It's a vast area that's been protected for almost half a century. That means no destruction of historical sites, no pot hunters digging for artifacts, no massive public use of the land. Some of the old ranches are still standing, with everything in them that the previous owners didn't carry away.' Utiey paused while the bartender served Kerney his wine.
'You may not be interested in all this,' he said, with an apologetic wave of his hand.
'But I am,' Kerney replied. Utiey gave him an appreciative smile. Kerney leaned back, glanced at Sara, and decided she was really pissed off. The smile on her face didn't hide the antagonistic gleam in her eyes. Utiey continued talking, unaware.
'I've been here seven years and we've barely begun to touch all the historical sites on the range. I'm excavating right now at a place called Indian Hills, north of here in the San Andres. It was part of the old Pat Garrett ranch. He was the sheriff that killed Billy the Kid. In fact, Garrett himself was murdered at the San Andrews Pass. His killer was never caught.'
'Interesting,' Kerney said, taking a sip of wine. He put the glass down, pushed it to one side, looked at Sara in the mirror behind the bar, and inclined his head toward the exit. She caught the cue, interceded by touching Utiey lightly on the shoulder, and gave Kerney a charming smile.
'I should have warned you not to get Fred started.'
'I enjoyed it,' Kerney announced as he stood up. 'Thanks for the drink and the conversation.'
'Let me walk you out. Lieutenant,' Sara said, touching Utiey again to keep him in place.
'I'll be back in a few minutes, Fred.'
'Shoptalk?' he asked her with a grin. 'Or should I say cop talk?'
'A bit of both.' After another staunch handshake from Utiey, Kerney walked outside with Sara. In silence they waited as the birthday party celebrants trailing behind them passed by, loaded themselves into cars, and drove away.
'You wanted to speak to me. Captain?'
'Your little deception didn't work,' Sara snapped.
'I know that Sammy's father once worked for you, and he's hired you to find his son. For some weird reason, Andy Baca decided to give you a badge and make you legitimate.'
'You work fast,' Kerney replied.
'Don't try to butter me up. Lieutenant. I don't like being lied to. I want an explanation and I want it now.' The irritation in Sara's eyes made Kerney break contact.
The full moon was high, projecting a glow that created hushed charcoal shadows in the basin. The distant Sacramento Mountains, blurred shapes, glistened with a satin polish. He turned back to her, looked her square in the eyes, and spoke carefully, admitting the truth to himself for the first time.
'For a long time, Sammy and his parents were like family to me. I guess I can't shake that off as easily as I thought.'
'So, you're saying this is strictly a matter of an old family friendship.' Sara's lips were two thin lines of reproach.
'I find that hard to believe, if you're being paid.'
'It's not just the money. Sammy is one of the few people I really care about.' Sara waited for more, and nothing came.
'Is that it?'
'Pretty much. I assume you've learned enough to fill in some of the blanks.' Sara sighed in exasperation. She knew Terry Yazzi had been with Kerney the day he got shot, and that the friendship between the two men had ended soon after, but there were blank pages that needed filling in.
'I'd like to hear more,' she prompted. Kerney shook his head.
'It's not relevant. Regardless of what you decide, I'm going to keep working on the case.'
Sara bit her lip. Confronted by the facts, Kerney, to his credit, didn't sulk or cave in. And Andy Baca, after getting an earful from her on the telephone, had stood his ground about Kerney's skills as an investigator.
'You don't make it easy on yourself,' she said.
'I know. It's your call, Captain. I'd like our agreement to stand.'
'All right,' she finally said, 'but the clock is ticking, and when the twenty-four hours are up, you leave.' Kerney smiled in relief.
'Thanks.' Sara nodded, her green eyes searching his face for the slightest sign of gloating. Satisfied there was none, she switched gears.
'What have you learned so far?'
'Nothing. Does Sammy's disappearance fit a victim pattern? Are there any similarities to other A.W.O.L. cases?' Sara shook her head.
'We looked at that. There are two open A.W.O.L. cases involving young single males. Neither of them has surfaced, but we can find absolutely no connection between them and Specialist Yazzi.'
'How old are the cases?'
