“I know all that, Sara.”
“If anyone else were the target, you’d be calling out the cavalry. Do you think you can’t ask for help because you’re the police chief? Or is it because you don’t think you’re allowed to be scared about what’s happening to us?”
“I am scared. But that isn’t going to get in my way of doing the job.”
“It’s my job too. I’m going to work with you.”
“This is a police matter.”
“I’ve got a valid United States Army criminal investigator ID card in my wallet. Give me a desk, a computer, and a telephone, and I can run every potential suspect you have through the military records center in St. Louis to see if they have prior service. Under federal law, none of your people can do that. Who knows what we might learn? Wouldn’t you like to have that information?”
Kerney bit his lip and nodded. “It wouldn’t hurt.”
“Well then, shower, get dressed, and let’s go.”
Sara scraped and stacked the breakfast dishes while Kerney got ready. He returned in uniform, freshly shaved, with his cowlick now firmly under control. He stopped her as she moved toward the front door and hugged her for a long minute.
“What’s this for?” she asked, looking up at him.
He could feel the hardness of her belly against his body. He kissed her gently on the lips. “I just needed a hug.”
Outside, a state police cruiser was parked conspicuously across the street, positioned to allow the occupant a full view of the driveway to the house. Kerney got Sara settled in the passenger seat of his unit and pulled out into the road, flashing his headlights at the vehicle. The officer, a young woman who Kerney knew in passing from his time as deputy chief of the state police, got out of the unit and came around to Kerney’s window.
“What brings you to my driveway, Officer Rasmussen?” he asked.
Yvonne Rasmussen bent low to look at Kerney, touched the brim of her cap, and nodded to Sara. “Chief Baca’s orders, sir.”
“Which are?”
“Twenty-four-hour security at your house until further notice.”
Sara smiled approvingly.
“I see,” Kerney said. “What else has Chief Baca arranged?”
“I wouldn’t know, sir,” Rasmussen replied. “He did ask me to remind you that you have no authority to countermand his orders.”
“I wouldn’t think of it,” Kerney replied, as he waved at Rasmussen and drove off.
Sara laughed and broke into a big smile. It was the first genuinely happy sound either of them had made since yesterday morning.
“What?” Kerney asked.
“He knows you well,” Sara said, “and he isn’t about to let you play the lone wolf this time. I’m going to shower him with kisses the next time I see him,” Sara replied.
“That will embarrass him.”
“He’ll just have to cope with it.”
At headquarters, the parking lot for official vehicles contained an unusually large number of units, including some unmarked sheriff and state police cars, one of which Kerney recognized as Andy Baca’s. They went in through the back entrance to find cops everywhere, working at folding tables set up in hallways, filling the first-floor conference room, and spilling over into the reception area of Kerney’s second-floor office suite. Most were off-duty personnel, but Barry Foyt and two other lawyers from the district attorney’s office were there along with several sheriff’s investigators and state police agents. All were busy on telephones or reading case files.
Andy Baca, Larry Otero, and Helen Muiz were in Kerney’s office sitting at the small conference table that butted up against the desk. Sara limited her shower of kisses for Andy to one sisterly peck on the cheek while Kerney went to his desk and waited for an explanation.
None came, so as Sara took a seat next to Andy he asked for one.
“Larry and I thought it best to centralize the investigation and bring in more resources,” Andy replied, scratching a jowly cheek. “The DA and the sheriff agreed to get on board, and your off-duty personnel just started showing up this morning as volunteers. Seems like nobody wants to see you wind up dead. Although for the life of me, I can’t understand it.” He broke into a big grin. “So, we need to catch this guy, so we can get all these folks back to normal duty before we run out of money to pay for the overtime.”
Kerney shook his head in disbelief, a smile flooding his face. Of the three, only Andy had the chutzpah to mastermind this ploy. But he knew Helen and Larry had tagged along as willing co-conspirators.
“Okay, where are we?” he asked.
“We have a possible suspect that Russell Thorpe got a line on,” Andy said. “Unknown white male, thirty-something, driving a blue GMC van, who was seen twice on the ranch road to your new place. Thorpe is meeting with Jack and Irene Burke right now to have a composite sketch made.”
“They saw him?”
“Up close and personal,” Andy replied. “A man delivering adobes to the building site also spotted him on the ranch.”
“Excellent work.”
“Detective Pino found the slug that Jack Potter took in the chest,” Larry Otero said. “We’re waiting to hear if a match can be made to the bullets that killed your horse.”
“More good news.”
“The caliber doesn’t match Kurt Larsen’s gun.”
“I didn’t expect it would,” Kerney said.
“Lieutenant Molina has, according to your instructions, started a full case review,” Helen Muiz said. “With the extra manpower available, we’ve expanded it a bit to include all felony cases within the first judicial district, the county, and the state police district office, so that we don’t miss any possible suspects.”
“That’s smart,” Kerney said.
“First up for review are the people on the list you prepared last night,” Larry said. “Tafoya and Pino are working those cases. We’ve got a team pulling names of new possible suspects, another team working prisons, jails, probation and parole personnel to track them down, and Foyt is heading up the court records search.”
“Give me all those names and identifying information,” Sara said, “and I’ll cross-check them with the armed forces record center in St. Louis.”
“I’ll get that to you right away,” Helen Muiz said, smiling at Sara and writing herself a note, “and set you up with a desk and computer.”
Andy stared at Sara’s belly and gave her an uneasy look.
“Don’t say a word, Andy,” Kerney said.
Sara patted Andy’s arm. “I promise not to have the baby at police headquarters.”
Dubiously, Andy looked away.
“What else?” Kerney asked.
“You’re booked with meetings,” Helen answered. “Sal Molina, Lieutenant Casados, and the district attorney at his office, in that order.”
“Larranaga is taking the police shooting to the grand jury,” Larry Otero said.
Kerney nodded. “Has he met with the media?”
“Yeah, but he toned his rhetoric down a bit,” Larry replied, “and said he was doing it in the best interest of all parties concerned. He didn’t publically slam the SWAT call-out or dwell on the Patterson suicide.”
“Fair enough,” Kerney said.
The meeting broke up and Sara stayed behind for a moment.
“I like your Helen Muiz,” she said.
“I wonder why?” Kerney replied, knowing full well both women possessed similar attributes: natural femininity and singular tough-mindedness.
“And I’m in love with Andy Baca.”
“Stay away from him. He’s a married man.” He gave her a kiss and sent her on her way just before Sal Molina knocked at the open door.
Sal looked bleary-eyed and ready to nod off, but his head seemed to be working clearly. He sat at the conference table occasionally running a hand through what remained of his hair, and asked Kerney to come up with some more possible suspects.
Kerney added the names of a serial rapist he’d caught on the strength of nothing more than a shoe print outside a bedroom window, a stepfather who’d molested his wife’s ten-year-old daughter, and a punk who was pulling twenty-five years for murdering an old lady because she’d refused him a glass of water when he was drunk and thirsty. He dug deep into his memory and added several more names, including several individuals he’d shot and wounded over the course of his career.