'You read my note about the tires?' Lee asked.
'We'll let the incident slide for now,' Kerney said.
'Unless they know the officer, most civilians don't pay any attention to who drives cop cars. Especially unmarked units like yours.'
'I've thought about that,' Kerney said.
'And you're driving an undercover unit with standard issue motor vehicle license plates, not department plates.'
'That, too.'
'So?' Lee asked, frustration creeping into his voice.
'So, I agree,' Kerney said with a smile. 'Whoever doesn't like me may be one of Shockley's buddies.'
'Maybe one of our own,' Lee said.
'I hope not,' Kerney said.
'You still want me to drop it?'
'For now. We haven't got the time.'
Back in his room Kerney watched the late news, which headlined the breaking story that Vernon Langsford had been one of the spree victims.
'Team coverage' spun off to review the unsolved letter-bomb murder of Langsford's wife and the search for Langsford's children.
Kerney killed the TV and the bedside light, hoping the media coverage would at least get Linda and Eric Langsford's attention. He needed to talk to them, and soon.
St. Joseph's Mission, the most imposing building in the village of Mescalero, stood on a hillside overlooking the settlement. It was built from hand-hewn stone and logs. Kerney had toured it as a child with his parents, and inside on the wall behind the altar an Apache Jesus looked down on the chapel.
Although the village served as the center of government for the tribe, there were no tidy rows of houses lined up along linear streets. Aside from the few business situated close together along the highway, the schools, government buildings, and tribal enterprises were sprinkled throughout the narrow mountain valley. Most of the homes were located off dirt roads that extended into the forest.
To Kerney's eye, Mescalero seemed deliberately turned away from the non-Indian world that passed through on the highway. As he pulled into the parking lot of the tribal headquarters building, he decided it would be a good idea to remember that observation. Inside, he found his way to Silas Kozine, a senior tribal administrator.
Kozine, a man well past middle age, had gray hair and wide, slightly downturned lips that gave his face a somber cast. He tapped his fingers together while Kerney explained the reason for his visit.
Silas Kozine's expression hardened as Kerney finished, and he said nothing for a long moment.
'I am sorry Judge Langsford has been killed, but I can't see how a murder spree that occurred off tribal land has anything to do with us. We went through this exercise six years ago, when Judge Langsford's wife was murdered in Roswell. No evidence was ever found that connected any tribal member to the crime, in spite of the FBI's attempts to prove otherwise.'
'I understand the tribal police conducted an independent investigation of Mrs. Langsford's murder that concentrated on possible tribal suspects,' Kerney said. 'I'd like to review the file.'
'Our chief of police made it clear to the FBI that there were no tribal suspects.'
'It might be beneficial to take another look.'
'It would have no benefit for us, Mr. Kerney. In fact, it would only give those people who think of us as uppity Indians the opportunity to point fingers and start rumors.'
'I'm not looking to politicize anything, Mr. Kozine. The killer could be someone from the tribe he sent to prison, someone who felt unfairly treated in Langsford's court, someone with a personal grudge, or a casino employee who felt Langsford's ruling against gambling would destroy his livelihood. The possibilities are endless.'
Silas Kozine consulted a paper on his desk. 'I think your request for our cooperation comes a little too late.'
'Excuse me?'
'Yesterday morning, you and a man named Dale Jennings were found trespassing on tribal land.'
'That was unintentional, and had nothing to do with the investigation.'
'Personally, I see it as a lack of respect. You can pay your fine at the tribal court offices, Mr. Kerney.'
Kerney hesitated, decided there was no use arguing further, and stood up.
'Is there something else?' Kozine asked.
'I went to college many years ago with a girl from Mescalero, Isabel Istee. Is Officer Istee her son?'
'Yes, he is.'
'How can I locate his mother?'
'Isabel is director of nursing at the Indian Health Service Hospital You'll find her there.'
Before driving to the hospital, Kerney went to the tribal court and paid both his and Dale's trespassing fines. The small, two-story hospital had a rock exterior offset by stark white window frames and an orange metal roof. Kerney announced himself at the reception desk, asked to see Isabel Istee, and nervously waited, not sure if he wanted to voice the question that had to be asked.
He recognized Isabel as soon as she stepped through the door to the administrative wing. Her small body had filled out a bit, giving her an attractive subtle roundness, and her jet-black hair showed hints of gray. Her face still held an aristocratic, almost haughty appeal, and her eyes, dark as obsidian, were still intriguing.
She walked to him with measured steps and stopped a few feet away. 'I have often wondered if I would see you again, Kevin,' she said.
'It's been a long time, Isabel.'
She nodded and gestured toward the door. 'Why don't we talk in my office.'
Once inside, Kerney sat in a chair and watched Isabel arrange herself at the desk. On the bookcase behind her was a framed photo graph of Clayton Istee in uniform. Two framed university degrees were displayed on the same shelf.
'What brings you to see me?' Isabel asked.
'I met your son yesterday.'
'You and his father must be very proud of him.'
'Every member of the family is.'
'How long have you been married?'
'You have something to ask me, Kevin?'
'Only if you have something to tell me.'
'I'm not married, and never have been.'
Kerney let out a sigh. 'You're not making this easy, Isabel.'
'Did you come here to intrude into my life?'
'Intrude in what way?'
'We knew each other when we were very young. I have no idea what kind of man you are.'
'I'm a policeman, like your son.' He placed his open badge case on the desk in front of Isabel.
Isabel picked it up and studied it. 'I've read about you occasionally in the newspapers. Weren't you going on to graduate school after the army?'
'I did. I dropped out.'
'To become a policeman?'
'Yes.'
Isabel handed back the badge case. 'What you do for a living doesn't tell me who you are as a person now.'
'Can words answer that question?'
'Probably not,' Isabel answered, looking at the wedding band on Kerney's finger. 'You're married?'
