Kerney looked good, Bollinger decided, as he came closer. A little older perhaps, but still fit. His cold-weather gear consisted of blue jeans, a felt cowboy hat, and pair of sturdy hiking boots that showed beneath a rancher's- style three-quarter-length winter coat. He's still doing the cowboy thing, Bollinger thought to himself. Of course, he'd been born to it.
'Damn, I'm glad you called me,' Bollinger said with a smile as Kerney drew near.
'If you hadn't, Stewart's death would've been written off as accidental.
Instead I've got myself a homicide. First one since I've been here.'
'How was he murdered?' Kerney asked, shaking Bollinger's hand.
'Blunt trauma to the head, made to look like he slammed into a tree at full speed,' Bollinger replied.
'His leg hit the tree, all right; you can see little bits of bark in the gash and the blood around the wound, along with pine needles on his clothing below his waist. But the head wound shows only bruising and a deep laceration, with no foreign matter imbedded in the flesh. The new snow kept everything nice, clean, and frozen. There was nothing at the scene that pointed to a collision between Stewart's head and the tree.'
Bollinger grinned.
'To the search-and-rescue guys it looked like just another dumb skier who went too fast down a mountain, lost control, and wiped out. The medical examiner thought so too.'
'Who's your ME?' Kerney asked.
'We've got several. The guy who took the call is a former Taos County deputy sheriff. You know that department's reputation. Need I say more?'
'Any other physical evidence?'
'Nope. About a foot and a half of new snow fell starting yesterday morning, and the runs were groomed at four this morning before the search-and-rescue team started out. We found no tracks or footprints.
I've got the ski run closed and the crime scene cordoned off.'
'Was anyone skiing with Stewart?' Kerney asked.
'His wife said he went up the mountain alone.'
'Has she been told?'
'Yeah, but only that her husband is dead, not that he was murdered.'
'Where is she?'
'At my girlfriend's place with her two boys.'
'You've got a girlfriend, Glenn?'
Bollinger grinned again.
'Had to, Kerney. The winters up here are just too cold and the nights are too long. I hear you got married.'
'Had to,' Kerney replied with his own grin.
'The woman was just too irresistible.'
Bollinger gestured at the ski lift.
'Want to take a ride to the top? The view is real pretty.'
Kerney eyed the mountain. It looked extremely cold and uninviting. He had been raised on a ranch in the desert basin of the Tularosa, and while he found winter scenes aesthetically pleasing, he didn't like to do anything more than look at them from a distance.
'Just don't make me ski down that mountain,' he said.
Bollinger chuckled.
'We'll get you down safe and sound. But if you come up on your days off, I'll give you some lessons and have you skiing in a couple of hours.'
'Not on that slope or on this knee,' Kerney replied, tapping his right leg.
'That leg won't keep you from mastering the kiddie run, Kerney.'
'Thanks, but I'll pass.'
'Care to tell me what made you suspicious about Stewart's disappearance?'
'Its probably better if you don't know,' Kerney said.
Bollinger's entire contingent of three officers controlled the crime scene, which consisted of keeping a well- equipped group of searchers far away from the body at the edge of the ski run. Standing in a tight circle, the men were jawing over the homicide with a state police officer and the medical examiner, and sipping coffee out of insulated, covered mugs.
Kerney got introduced around and then trudged with Bollinger through the snow to the yellow tape surrounding Stewart's body. There were footprints all around the corpse and the body had been moved from its original position. Except where the snow had been carefully cleaned away from his forehead, Stewart's face resembled a stark white frozen plaster cast. The leg wound had been revealed in a similar fashion.
Glenn told him the scene had been photographed, including a number of close-up shots of the wounds, and the snow he'd removed to expose the wounds had been saved in evidence vials for further analysis.
With Bollinger following, Kerney stepped over the crime-scene tape, knelt next to the body, and studied Stewart's face. The hard freeze and new snow had kept swelling around the wound to a minimum, The bleeding out of one ear looked like a long solidified dark crystal droplet. The forehead laceration showed a slightly angled horizontal groove and one circular imprint in the skin. The pattern injury was unusual.
Kerney looked up at Bollinger.
'I noticed that too,' Glenn said.
'What do you think?' Kerney asked.
Bollinger unholstered his semiautomatic sidearm.
'Thumped hard with one of these is my guess.'
'Mine too,' Kerney said.
'I want the body taken to Santa Fe for an autopsy and a forensic work-up. But don't transport right away.' He handed Bollinger the small evidence kit.
'Have your search and-rescue people thaw him out enough so the ME can take hair, blood, and skin samples for me.'
'We'll put him in a toasty ambulance and warm him up,' Bollinger said.
He holstered his weapon and looked quizzically at Kerney.
'Should I even bother asking what you're hoping to learn?'
'Probably not,' Kerney said. The knee tortured him as he stood up.
'You did a good job here, Glenn. Can you hold off on telling the news media or anyone else who might be interested that Stewart was murdered?'
Bollinger shrugged.
'If I'm asked, I'll say we're waiting on the autopsy report.
How much time do you need?'
'Eight hours will do. More if you can swing it.'
'I'll do what I can,' Bollinger replied, glancing back at the group that watched impatiently from a distance.
'All of those guys owe me at least one favor. That doesn't mean that the news won't leak out. This is a small town.'
'Just try to keep the leak from spreading to Santa Fe too fast,' Kerney said.
Chapter 9
In his office at the state police headquarters, Andy Baca took a call from Melody Jordan, a senior crime-scene technician. She curtly asked him to visit her in the lab right away and hung up before he could ask any questions. Andy put the phone down and the button on his very private phone line blinked off.
Only his wife, his secretary, Kevin Kerney, the governor's chief of staff, and a few high-ranking commanders in the department had access to the number. Melody Jordan wasn't one of them.
Andy dialed Melody's extension, dropped the handset in the cradle after twelve unanswered rings, and
