Kerney left Kay Murray standing on the walkway and started the drive back to Alamogordo. Just about every possible motive for murder-sex, jealousy, money, revenge, politics, adultery, and deceit was bouncing around the Langsford killing, and Kerney didn't have one hard target in sight.
He ran over some suppositions in his mind. Did Murray kill Langsford for her inheritance? And if so, was Joel Cushman her accomplice?
Money problems would have to surface for that notion to stand up. Or was the killer Penelope Gibben, who might be holding a grudge about being dumped for a younger woman by her ex-lover? That idea had some possibilities.
But in spite of an initial unwillingness to cooperate, all of them had folded easily under questioning, and none of them appeared to have the stealth or cunning needed to pull off a copycat spree killing to get to Langsford.
One question rang true: Why did every one of them still seem to be hiding something?
He made radio contact with Lee Sedillo and asked about Linda and Eric Langsford.
'Still nada, Chief.'
'I'll be at my motel room.'
'Ten-four.'
Clayton Istee took a deep breath, made a fist, and knocked on the motel room door. He heard some movement inside and then the door opened to reveal a shirtless Kevin Kerney. Low on his bare stomach was an ugly surgical scar.
'We might as well get this over with,' Clayton said, raising his eyes to Kerney's face.
'Come in,' Kerney said.
Clayton stepped inside and watched Kerney pull on a sweatshirt. 'So you're my father,' he said.
'That's what I've been told.'
Clayton scanned Kerney's face. 'I've always wondered what you looked like.'
'I hope it's not too much of a disappointment.' Kerney sat on the edge of the bed and gestured at the chair. 'Have a seat.'
Clayton swung the chair around from the desk and sat. His body felt tight and his stomach churned. 'I don't know if I'm ready for this.'
'I don't know if I am, either,' Kerney replied.
'You're willing to take my mother's word that you're my father?'
Kerney nodded. 'Why should she lie to me?'
'Maybe you think she's just some Indian slut who's telling you a story.'
'I don't think either of those things about your mother.'
'Maybe you want a DNA comparison, to make sure I'm really your biological son.'
'Is that what you want?'
'I asked you.'
'I have no reason not to trust Isabel.'
'She says you were in the army before you became a cop.'
'That's right. Two years active duty,' Kerney said. 'When?'
'Vietnam.'
'Did you see any action?'
'Enough.'
'Is that where you got that scar on your belly?'
'No, that came later. It goes with my limp.'
'What happened?'
'A gunfight with a drug dealer.'
'Did you put him down?'
'Yeah. How long have you been with the tribal police?'
'Five years. I joined right after I got my degree from Western New Mexico State.'
'You like the work?' Kerney asked.
'I like it fine. It's funny, both of us being cops.'
'It is an interesting coincidence.'
'You're married, my mom says. Who's your wife?'
'Her name is Sara Brannon. She's a career army officer.'
'But no kids, right?'
'No kids, at least until recently.'
'You ever been married before?'
'Once, when I was about your age. It didn't work out.'
'I don't want you trying to act like my father or anything like that.'
'I wouldn't know where to begin,' Kerney said.
'I just want to learn something about you.'
'That's fair enough.'
'Mom says you were raised on a ranch.'
'In the San Andres, fifty miles from here, as the crow flies.'
'Do your parents still live there?'
'No, the ranch was swallowed up by the missile range. My parents were killed in an automobile accident when I was coming home from Vietnam.'
'Where did your family come from, originally?'
'My grandfather came here from west Texas over a hundred years ago.'
'Do I have any uncles, aunts, or cousins?'
'Not on my side of the family.'
'Do my questions bother you?'
'You have a right to ask them. How do you feel about having me as a father?'
'It doesn't make me any less Apache.'
'I wasn' thinking along those lines,' Kerney said.
'I just want to make sure you know where I'm coming from. Do you like being a cop?'
'Most of the time I do, but not right now.'
'Shooting a fellow officer for stealing evidence is pretty harsh,' Clayton said.
The comment caught Kerney unprepared. 'Is that what you think I did?'
'Based on what your department released to the media, Shockley was unfit to wear the badge. But the state police officers I know are saying that you overreacted and blew the arrest.'
'Shockley gave me no choice. Let's leave it at that.'
'Okay, I understand. It's an open internal affairs investigation, and you can't talk about it.' Clayton smiled. 'So, the first time I ever meet my old man I bust him for trespassing. That's pretty weird, don't you think?'
'It has a certain irony. You could have let us off with a warning.'
'I spend most of my time working as a tribal ranger and I've learned the hard way if you just slap wrists, people think it's an invitation to come back and trespass again. What were you doing out there?'
'Looking at some land for sale. I'm retiring soon and thinking about starting up a ranch.'
'You gonna buy it?'
'No, it's pretty much worn-out, unproductive land.'
Clayton nodded in agreement. 'You're working that spree murder case. Langsford and all those other people.'
'That's right.'
'And you think an Apache did it.'
'I don't know who did it.'
Clayton blew right through Kerney's words. 'Some sneaky Apache who's going around ambushing people.'
