"That makes me so mad." She shook her head in disgust.
"Just a minute." She pried Cody's arm from her leg.
"Go," she ordered, in an even tone of voice.
Cody didn't move.
"Right now, young man," she added, with the hint of a threat in her voice.
Cody groaned, gave her a dirty look, and shuffled off to the kitchen.
"I've been so busy moving in, I haven't noticed anything except this mess," she answered, gesturing at the boxes.
"Besides, that damn house my parents built blocks my view of the road. I swear I'm going to tear it down after they die. I just hate it. If they want to live in a house like that, they should move to Albuquerque."
"It looks well cared for," Kerney noted, trying to remain neutral.
"My father prides himself on keeping things in perfect order. But the house belongs in a subdivision, as far as I'm concerned."
"It does seem a bit out of place." Kerney took out a business card and wrote his name on the back.
"Could you have your father call me?" he asked, handing her the card.
The woman studied the card.
"Kevin Kerney," she said, looking over his shoulder.
"Bubba, get over here!"
Kerney turned. The puppy was busily digging up a flower bed. It took one short leap, then wheeled and trotted off toward the house the woman hated.
"Cody. Elizabeth. Go get Bubba before he destroys all of Grandmother's flowers."
The children tumbled down the porch steps and started chasing Bubba.
"I named him Bubba because he's so damn stupid," the woman explained.
She looked at the card again, then back at Kerney and caught him staring at her legs. Her eyes measured him directly. He was tall, with square shoulders, brown hair with a hint of gray at the sideburns, and calm blue eyes that looked back at her without flinching. His features, angular and strong, were offset by a mouth that seemed on the verge of a smile.
"I'll give Dad your card."
"Thank you," Kerney said, smiling in earnest now.
She watched him walk down the flagstone path with a limp that threw him slightly off-center. She switched her attention to her children, who had chased Bubba back into the yard and were trying to tackle the puppy as he barked and ran between their legs. She smiled as the chase turned into a game. She tapped the business card against the back of her hand and looked at it once more. Kevin Kerney. She liked the name.
She stuck the card in the frame of the screen door where she wouldn't forget it and went inside. There was an incredible amount of unpacking still left to do.
Stops at the last ranch in the canyon and at the bar, store, and two restaurants in Glenwood yielded no information on possible suspects.
Kerney drove the short distance down the highway to the district ranger station, checked in with Yolanda, the secretary, found an empty desk in a back office, and started writing his report. He was almost finished when Charlie Perry came in and stood over the desk, looking down at him.
Kerney glanced up, said nothing, and returned to his writing. The expression on Perry's face was enough to tell him that Charlie was steamed.
"I don't recall giving you permission to continue the investigation,"
Charlie said sharply.
"You didn't," Kerney allowed.
"That's right. I understand you have some law enforcement experience. I relieved you on the mesa and sent you back on patrol. You should know what that means."
"I do."
"Are you always so fucking insubordinate?"
"Not always."
Charlie scowled. Kerney locked his gaze on Perry's face and settled back in his chair to wait the man out. Charlie blinked first.
"Okay," Charlie finally said, "you're new and you're seasonal, but this isn't the Luna office. I handle all the investigations in the district."
"I understand from Phil Cox that you're good at it," Kerney replied.
"That's nice to hear, but it's not the point," Charlie shot back.
"Poaching and illegal trophy hunting are a way of life for most of the people in this district. It's part of their culture. They do it to feed themselves, to make money, or just for sport.
There are twenty-five hundred people spread out over almost seven thousand square miles in Catron County. A hell of a lot of them are poor as church mice, and they know the forest better than any ranger.
Catching them isn't easy.
"You're wasting your time canvassing. You got two kinds of people who live here-the minority who want poaching stopped, but who aren't going to snitch on their neighbors, and all the rest, who see it as a birthright. Folks poach depending on how hungry they get, how broke they are, or how bullheaded they feel. You can't approach it like a criminal investigation. It doesn't work that way. And the locals aren't going to talk to some newcomer they don't know or trust."
Charlie was still scolding. Kerney didn't want to make it worse.
"I understand," he said.
"Good. I'll be at the Blue Range burn for the rest of the day. Finish your patrol shift and report back to the Luna office in the morning.
Leave your report with Yolanda. I'll read it later."
Kerney tapped his paperwork with the tip of the ballpoint pen.
"Do you have any poaching files I can look at?" he asked.
"I'd like to learn more about it."
"You don't have the time."
"I'll do it after work," Kerney countered.
Charlie considered Kerney. He hoped to God he was never in the man's predicament. He knew Kerney was a medically retired cop from Santa Fe hired on an emergency basis by Samuel Aldrich in the Albuquerque Office to fill in for a permanent employee on extended sick leave. The rest Charlie could see for himself: a hobbled-up, middle-aged man in a temporary job that would end no matter how hard he worked or how much he tried to please-not that placating people seemed to be much of a concern to Kerney. There were simply no permanent staff vacancies, with all the budget cuts.
"Catching poachers isn't your job," Charlie said.
"I thought I made that clear."
"You did." Kerney leaned back in the chair and smiled at Charlie.
"Explain something else to me."
"What is it?"
"Why are you pulling my chain? I don't think asking a few questions has damaged the investigation."
"That's your point of view," Charlie replied bluntly.
"Is there more to this case than meets the eye?"
Charlie exhaled loudly through his nose and shook his head.
"You don't get it, do you? It's not your case. It's not your business.
End of discussion."
"Whatever you say."
Charlie left, and in a few minutes Kerney heard the helicopter lift off to take Perry back to his fire. As he paper-clipped the report together, Kerney wondered why Charlie had stonewalled him about the case. It made no sense, and dismissing Perry as an arrogant, hard-nosed son of a bitch wasn't a completely satisfying explanation.
Kerney walked down the hall and gave his report to Yolanda for typing.
She promptly dumped it on the top of an overflowing tray. A heavyset, slow moving woman with expressionless eyes, she held Kerney back from leaving.
"Charlie said for you to work a double shift," she informed him.
There was a bite to the announcement. Charlie had obviously made his feelings about Kerney known to Yolanda.
"Did he really? What does he want me to do?"
"Campground patrol." She pulled open the desk drawer and handed him two keys on a chain.
"For gasoline and the office," she explained.
"Just leave your paperwork on Charlie's desk."
"Anything else?"
Yolanda shook her head and turned back to the typewriter.
It looked like the dead black bear was going to be the high point of his day. *** The district office was dark and locked when Kerney returned from his double shift. He sat in Charlie's office reading closed poaching cases he'd found in the bottom desk drawer. It was meager stuff; mostly small-fry poachers who had been snitched off, caught taking game out of season, or found spotlighting prey at night. A few trophy hunters had been busted while transporting carcasses out of the forest.