'You know where the old bar is?' the towing operator asked. 'It's a curio shop now.'
'I do,' Kerney said.
'The trucker was stalled there with a busted water pump. We had to unhitch the trailer and tow the semi into Alamogordo.'
'What time?'
'I got the call about two, but it took me a while to get there. I had to go to the yard and get my big rig. I arrived at about three, three-fifteen.'
'Do you have information on the driver?'
'Yeah. He's an owner-operator out of Little Rock. Hold on, I'll get it for you.'
Kerney waited, listening to the man's breathing and the shuffling of papers.
'His name is Clark Beck.' The towing operator read off Beck's address and telephone number.
'Did you see anything unusual while you were on the call?'
'Like what?'
'Speeders, a vehicle turning into or coming out of Three Rivers Road.'
The man laughed. 'Everybody speeds at that time of night. There was no traffic on the Three Rivers Road while I was there, leastways not that I can remember.'
'Thanks,' Kerney said.
Kerney dialed Clark Beck's number in Little Rock, spoke to his wife, and explained the reason for his call. The woman told him Beck was on a run to New Orleans, then to Atlanta, and wouldn't be back for four days.
'Does he call home from the road?'
'Sometimes,' Mrs. Beck said. 'Not always on his shorter trips. Is this on the up-and-up?'
'Your husband isn't in any trouble, Mrs. Beck. I just need to ask him a few questions.'
'You're sure?'
'Positive.'
'He follows all the regulations and weight restrictions.'
'I'm certain that he does. Could you have him call me?'
I'll give him the message.'
On the off chance there had been more than one disabled vehicle along the highway, Kerney continued working the list, but nothing more developed. He hung up to find Clayton Istee standing stiffly in the doorway.
'Officer,' Kerney said.
'I brought you something,' Clayton said, sliding a manila folder quickly across the desk. He stepped back to the door as if to avoid any closer contact.
'What is this?'
'A list of the employees who worked at the tribal casino and resort at the time Langsford's wife was killed. My cousin is the personnel director. He got it for me.'
'This won't get you in trouble, will it?' Kerney asked, as he opened the envelope. 'Thanks for doing this.'
'I'm not doing it for you,' Clayton said. He rubbed his palms together and stopped when Kerney looked at him. 'My wife thinks I should at least let you meet your grandchildren.'
'How do you feel about it?' Kerney asked, eyeing Clayton's closed expression.
'I don't know.' Clayton shifted his weight. 'Would you like to meet them?'
'Only if you want me to.'
I'll have to think about it some more.'
'This isn't easy on either of us, is it?' Kerney said, trying to melt Clayton's icy tone.
'Have you told your wife about me?' Clayton asked.
'Not yet,' Kerney said.
'Maybe it's something you'd rather not tell her.'
'That's not true.'
'So you say,' Clayton replied, as he swung around to leave.
'Thanks again,' Kerney said.
'I already told you, I'm not doing it for you,' Clayton answered over his shoulder.
'Still, I appreciate it.'
'Just don't read anything personal into it, okay?'
'Whatever you say,' Kerney replied. He watched Clayton leave, wondering exactly what it was Clayton had tried to tell him. If it wasn't personal, where was the help coming from?
The employee list came with social security numbers and birth dates. Eric Langsford's name was on the books as a groundskeeper. Kerney made a copy and waited for Agent Mary Margaret Lovato to get off the phone.
Mary Margaret had inherited her given names from an Irish grandmother. She was an exceptionally attractive young woman with long jet-black hair, a creamy complexion, and soft brown eyes that hid her toughness. She hung up and started talking before Kerney had a chance to speak.
'That was Drew Randolph, Chief. He just got off the phone with Linda Langsford. He told her about her father's murder. She's cutting short her vacation and coming home right away. He said she was totally stunned by the news.'
'Where is she now?'
'Randolph doesn't know. She said she'd get back to Roswell as fast as she can. She should be there this evening.'
'Good deal,' Kerney said, handing Mary Margaret the employee list. 'Get me wants and warrants, plus state arrest and conviction records for all the people on this list. Highlight everybody from Langsford's judicial district.'
'This is going to take some time, Chief.'
'I know.'
Mary Margaret stood up, paused, and bit her lower lip.
'Do you have a question?'
'I just wanted to say that Randy Shockley was an asshole, sir. I attended a training course with him in Albuquerque last year. The man didn't understand the meaning of the word no.'
'He came on to you?'
'Big time.'
'Did you report it?'
'No, but it was pretty intense.'
'The next time you get hit on or harassed by a fellow officer, report it, Agent Lovato.'
Mary Margaret laughed. 'Would you like a daily or weekly report, Chief?'
'It's that bad?'
Mary Margaret shook her head. 'It's mostly harmless stuff. I can handle it.'
Kerney studied the young woman. Quiet by nature, Mary Margaret had a self-assurance and no-nonsense style that Kerney liked. 'I bet you can. But if it gets out of hand, write it up.'
'In a heartbeat.' She paused, looked down at her shoes and then back up.
'I hope you don't mind my asking, but is somebody stalking you, Chief? This thing with your unit is getting serious.'
'Either that or they're making a statement. I've put Duran on it. Work that list hard for me.'
Mary Margaret smiled. 'Yes, sir.'
Owned and operated by the Mescalero Tribe, the resort and its adjoining casino offered luxury amenities in a lush, tranquil setting. Guest accommodations radiated out from the sides of the main lodge, providing rooms with views of landscaped lawns that ran down to the lakeshore with forested mountains in the background. Vacationers could boat, fish, golf, play tennis, and, of course, drink, dine, and gamble.
At the main lodge, Kerney found the personnel office and met with Wheeler Balatche, Clayton's cousin and the human resources director. Built low to the ground, Balatche was thick through the chest. A droopy eyelid made his face look asymmetrical.
