“Do you think he may have?”
“It’s possible. I’ll need your key.”
“I have a spare.” Jessica reached for her purse, extracted a key chain, and gave Kerney a house key with a shaky hand. “I never should have moved here,” she said. “I hate this town.”
• • •
Kerney sent Gabe off on a door-to-door canvas of one part of Jessica’s neighborhood while he covered the other. He worked the street behind Jessica’s apartment, half expecting to find Gabe gone when he returned.
The last place he stopped was a one-story adobe with a deep portal and territorial moldings around the windows. An old hacienda that had somehow survived the neighborhood’s late-nineteenth-century conversion to Victorian architecture, it had been transformed into apartments with a series of doors that opened on to the portal.
At the last apartment, a young man, no more than five four, answered Kerney’s knock. Kerney showed him Bernardo’s picture.
“I saw him sitting in a pickup truck,” the young man said, pointing to a spot across the street.
“When was that?”
“On my way to my one o’clock.”
“He was just sitting in the truck?”
“That’s all I saw.”
“How long was he there?”
“I don’t know.”
Gabe was waiting on the sidewalk in front of Jessica’s apartment when Kerney turned the corner.
“Did you get anything?” Gabe asked as Kerney approached.
“Bernardo was parked a block over at about one o’clock. Did you?”
“Nothing.”
With Gabe at his heels, Kerney checked the front door, found it locked, walked to the backyard, and tried the rear door to the empty apartment. The doorknob turned and he stepped inside the kitchen of the empty apartment.
Gabe moved to the sink. “This window is unlatched,” he said.
“I think Bernardo is ready to make his move,” Kerney said.
“I hope you’re right, Chief,” Gabe said as he stared out the window. “What’s Orlando got to do with this?” he asked softly, almost to himself.
It wasn’t Kerney’s question to answer. By now, Gabe had to suspect Orlando and Bernardo were somehow linked together in the Luiza San Miguel slaying. Maybe Orlando had been just a witness to the rape and murder, or maybe he was an equal partner in the crime. Whatever fell out, it was impossible to dismiss Orlando’s disappearance as a coincidence.
“Let’s see what pans out,” Kerney replied.
They took a quick tour of Jessica’s apartment to check the layout.
• • •
Bernardo threw the empty beer can out the truck window and popped open another one. There were only a few old dudes fishing along the shore of the lake at the Maxwell National Wildlife Refuge. The wintering waterfowl were gone for the season and without the birds as an attraction nobody but fishermen, a few curious tourists, and occasional picnickers came to the place during the spring and summer.
Situated on the high plains a few miles outside of Las Vegas, there wasn’t much to the refuge—just marshes, the lake, cornfields planted to lure and feed migrating birds, and a view of the mountains.
Bernardo swallowed some beer, thought about Jessica Varela, and got a warm feeling in his groin. Everything he knew about her told him she was going to do exactly what he wanted, the way he wanted. Which meant he’d be able to save the best for last. That made Bernardo smile. He was going to have a real good time.
He finished the beer, flipped the can out the window, and fired up the truck. Everything was set to go. The cops were off his case, Orlando was dead and buried, and Jessica would be all alone in her apartment with no downstairs tenants for him to worry about. It couldn’t be better.
On the highway into town, a state police cruiser passed him going in the opposite direction. He smiled and waved, and the cop waved back. He watched in his rearview mirror. The cop kept heading south without slowing. Cops, including Orlando’s old man and that gringo with the limp, were stupid fuckers.
He checked the time. He had a couple of hours of work to do at home in the horse barn. Then he’d eat supper, clean up real good, and get ready for his date with Jessica.
• • •
Beasly and his prospective renters showed up late and didn’t leave until eight o’clock. Kerney and Gabe waited until they drove away before approaching the house. Ben Morfin, who’d been glued to Barela since he’d been sighted on the highway, came on Kerney’s handheld as they crossed the street.
“He’s moving toward town.”
“Shit,” Kerney said as he unlocked the front door. “ETA?”
“Traffic is light,” Ben said. “Five minutes, max.”
“Talk him in to me.”
“Copy that,” Ben said.
With Gabe behind him, Kerney hurried up the stairs. He opened the door and used his flashlight to scan the front room. It was crammed with furniture. In the middle of the room, a Victorian loveseat faced a bentwood rocker and two walls of books sat on shelves made out of bricks and boards. Under the front window, an arrangement of plants in ceramic pots filled the top of an occasional table. Magazines and newspapers littered a glass-top coffee table and spilled over onto the floor.
“ETA two minutes,” Ben said. “He’s coming your way.”
“Check the bedroom,” Kerney said to Gabe as he opened the entry closet. It was small and stuffed with coats, jackets, boots, mops, brooms, and an upright vacuum cleaner.
“Clear,” Gabe said as he came out of the bedroom.
Kerney threw an armload of coats in Gabe’s arms. “Put this stuff on the bed.” He grabbed the vacuum cleaner, mop, broom, and a few more coats, followed Gabe into the bedroom, and dumped the load on the floor.
“He parked three blocks away,” Ben said. “He’s on foot and carrying a small bag.”
“Roger that,” Kerney said, turning to Gabe. “I’ll take the bedroom. You take the closet.”
“I want first crack at him, Chief,” Gabe said.
“Do it by the book, Lieutenant.”
Gabe didn’t answer.
Kerney shined his flashlight in Gabe’s face. “Did you hear me?”
“I heard you.”
“Two blocks,” Ben said.
Kerney clicked his send button to acknowledge Ben’s transmission. “I want Barela all the way inside, understand? We don’t move until we see what he does.”
Gabe nodded, switched off his flashlight, and got inside the closet.
In the bedroom, Kerney fanned his flashlight quickly over the room before killing it. The beam illuminated a row of teddy bears on a dresser top, a desk that held a lamp, clock radio, and laptop computer, and a mattress and box springs that sat on the floor covered by a comforter. The apartment felt like a hideout from the world. Kerney doubted that another human being had been invited to the apartment since the day Jessica moved in.
“He’s in the garage at the back of the house,” Ben said.
“We’re going off the air,” Kerney said. “Two radio clicks mean you move, Gabe.”
“Ten-four.”
Kerney left the bedroom door slightly ajar so he could see into the living room. With Gabe positioned in the closet, once Bernardo gained entry, he’d be boxed in.
Kerney glanced out the bedroom window. A gusting wind buffeted branches of an elm tree against the glass. He wondered what Gabe would do once he got his hands on Bernardo. Kerney wanted answers as badly as Gabe. Should he let Gabe step over the line, or hold him back?
The sound of footsteps on the stairs made Kerney stop thinking about Gabe. He heard the rattling of tools, followed by the sound of a hammer striking metal. It made no sense until Kerney realized Bernardo was taking the door off the hinges. The first pin popped free and clanged against the wood floor of the landing.
Two more pins fell and Kerney heard the scrape of metal against metal as Bernardo pulled the locked door free. It thudded against the thr
eshold. A brief silence was followed by the sound of the hammer striking metal again as Bernardo rehung the door. Then the door closed and the deadbolt clicked into place.
Through the crack of the door, Kerney could see the beam of Bernardo’s flashlight sweep across the living room. Bernardo put the flashlight on the coffee table, dropped to his knees, took a blanket out of the bag, and spread it on the floor. He reached into the bag again, removed a long-handled butcher knife, and placed it on the blanket. He brought out two candles, placed them on the coffee table, and lit them. Then he sat on the blanket, stripped to the waist, and started sharpening the knife with a whetstone. Finished, he put the knife down, stood up, and walked to the bedroom door.
Kerney took a step back, clicked the transmit button twice to signal Gabe, and tossed the handheld on the bed. When the door opened, he stepped forward and slapped the barrel of his semiautomatic against Bernardo’s mouth. Barela reeled back into Gabe’s arms.
Gabe spun him quickly, slammed him against the wall, and stuck his weapon into Bernardo’s bloodied mouth, breaking teeth as he did it.
Kerney hit the light switch and Bernardo blinked in the glare.
“Where’s Orlando?” Gabe asked, forcing the barrel deep into Bernardo’s mouth.
“He can’t talk with a gun in his mouth, Gabe,” Kerney said.
“He can move his fucking head,” Gabe said. “Is my son alive?”
Bernardo didn’t react. Gabe cocked his weapon.
Bernardo gurgled, choking on the barrel.
“Don’t kill him with the gun,” Kerney said. He picked up Bernardo’s butcher knife and held it out. “Use the knife. Open him up from his balls to his neck.”
Gabe shook his head and jammed the gun barrel to the back of Bernardo’s throat. “Fuck the knife. Is Orlando dead?”
Bernardo’s eyes grew wide and he nodded.
“Did you kill him?” Gabe asked.
Bernardo nodded again.
“You pissant little fucker.”
“Take the gun out of his mouth, Gabe,” Kerney ordered, pulling on Gabe’s arm.
“Fuck you, Kerney.” Gabe’s eyes bored into Bernardo. “Where is he? Where’s Orlando?”
Bernardo gurgled some more.
“The gun, Gabe,” Kerney said, pulling hard on Gabe’s arm.
Gabe yanked the barrel out, busted Bernardo across the nose, and kneed him hard in the groin.
Blood spurted down the front of Bernardo’s bare chest as he sank to the floor. He sat holding himself, gasping in pain.
Gabe holstered his weapon and held out his hand. “Give me the fucking knife, Kerney.”
He took it, knelt down, and pulled Bernardo’s hands away from his groin. When the point of the butcher knife pricked Bernardo’s balls, he started spilling his guts.
• • •
Arlin Fullerton brought the bulldozer out to the ranch road and started stripping dirt at the spot where Kerney had told him to start digging. Four officers, including the lieutenant who had come to the ranch with Kerney earlier in the day, stood nearby. Police cars were lined up on each side of the road, all with headlights and spotlights on.
Fullerton trenched two feet down until the blade hit a buried granite boulder. That’s how Bernardo gouged the dozer’s lip, he thought, as he skipped over the obstruction and started scraping away broken shale and sandstone on the other side.
The twin spotlights on the cab roof lit up the excavation as he pushed the earth into a mound at the end of the trench. It would have been faster and neater to use a backhoe or a front end loader. But Fullerton knew he could do the job. He’d logged countless hours on the ’dozer and could peel an inch of dirt away with each pass and have it be almost dead level.
The men on either side of the trench stood like statues as he worked, not talking, just staring and beaming their flashlights into the ever-deepening ditch.
Fullerton didn’t want to mangle the body so it took a while to get three feet down. Even then, nothing showed. He backed up, got out of the cab, and adjusted the ’dozer spotlights to shine directly into the trench. Then he climbed down, walked to the back of the machine, got two long-handled shovels off a jerry-rigged rack, and approached Kerney.
“Two more feet and I’ll hit bedrock,” he said. “Best to dig by hand from here.”
Kerney and the lieutenant climbed into the hole and started digging. The three other officers stood at the edge of the pit and watched. When Kerney exposed the body, the lieutenant sank to his knees and started retching, his head turned away from the crushed face.
One of the officers, a sergeant, dropped into the trench, pulled the lieutenant to his feet, and hauled him out. Kerney slammed his shovel against the side of the pit and joined the men standing around the lieutenant, who quickly broke away from the group and walked into the darkness.
Kerney followed him while the other men stood fast. One by one, their flashlights went dark.
Wisely, Arlin cut off the ’dozer’s spotlights and retreated into the shadows to wait.
• • •
Gabe didn’t cry as he walked down the road but his breath sounded ragged. Kerney stayed a few steps behind, keeping his distance. When Gabe stopped, a long time passed before he spoke.
“I wanted a good life for him, Chief,” he said dully, his face turned away. “College, a decent job, meet the right girl, start a family. Make me proud. You know what I mean?”
“I do.”
“I always thought he’d be a great father. Better than me. Kids just seemed to take to him. He had a way with kids.”
Kerney didn’t respond.
“Jesus, his mother is going to flip out. I need to call her. What do I say?”
“Do it later.”
Gabe’s back stiffened. “He was a fucking rapist, Kerney.”
“Maybe Bernardo made that part up.”
Gabe kept his face averted and shook his head. “You know he didn’t.”
“There was a lot of good in Orlando,” Kerney said.
“He was my only son. My only child.”
“I know.”
“I raised him better than this.”
“I know.”
“What the fuck did I do wrong?” Gabe asked.
“You can’t take the blame.”
“Then who does, Chief?” Finally, Gabe turned toward Kerney. “Tell me that. Who the fuck does?”
At the trench they found Orlando’s body covered by a blanket. Kerney thanked Fullerton, guided Gabe to a unit, and put him inside. Garduno met Kerney at the front of the squad car.
“I’m taking him home,” Kerney said.
“Is he okay?”
“How can he be? I want somebody with him all night and all day tomorrow. Maybe longer.”
“Every off-duty officer in the district will volunteer.”
“Have somebody standing by for us at Gabe’s house.”
“Consider it done,” Garduno said. “Gabe doesn’t deserve this.”
“Let’s keep a close watch on him.” Kerney glanced at Gabe. Through the windshield, Gabe stared back at Kerney with empty eyes. “A real close watch.”
“We’ll stay on top of it, Chief.”
Kerney looked up at the night sky. Venus dazzled like a pendant next to a three-quarter moon. He stared at it dumbly, numbed by all that had happened. He could only wonder what Gabe was going through. It had to be a thousand times worse.
“I’ll take care of this,” Garduno said, gesturing toward the body in the trench.
Kerney nodded, got behind the steering wheel, and drove Gabe away.
14
Kerney spent the next day in Las Vegas doing paperwork, dealing with the news media, and meeting with the ADA who had been assigned to prosecute Bernardo. Because Bernardo had lost some front teeth and sustained a broken nose, the lawyer hired by the Barelas was already making accusations of police brutality.
The ADA had questioned Kerney closely about the incidents leading up to the arrest. Withou
t hesitating, Kerney lied about the facts. He told the ADA that Bernardo had entered Jessica’s apartment armed with a deadly weapon and in the scuffle to disarm him, necessary force had been used. He knew full well he would have to perjure himself at trial, otherwise Bernardo’s confession could be thrown out of court and the case dismissed.
Lying wasn’t something Kerney enjoyed doing, or had ever done before in a criminal matter. But truth, in this instance, wouldn’t serve justice.
The ADA seemed to buy Kerney’s version of the facts, at least for the present. But Kerney needed to clue Gabe in on the spin, just in case the ADA decided to call and take a preliminary statement from Gabe over the phone.
He parked his unit, stood on the sidewalk in front of Gabe’s house, and looked around. It was the first time he’d seen the neighborhood in daylight. Behind him the Las Vegas Public Library, donated to the city by Andrew Carnegie, dominated a tree-lined park that covered a city block. With its center dome, cross wings, and portico entrance, it looked like a miniature Monticello.
Gabe’s house, lovingly cared for, stood directly behind the library. It was a two-and-a-half-story clapboard Victorian with a sloping mansard roof, an arched tower with circular windows, a widow’s walk on the top level, and lead glass windows.
Art Garcia, dressed in civvies, his eyes ringed with dark circles, came out to meet Kerney as he opened the gate to the walkway.
Art gave Kerney a tired smile. “Chief.”
“How is he?” Kerney asked.
“Sleeping. The doctor gave him a sedative. Gabe’s got an appointment to see a shrink in the morning. I sent all the relatives away about two hours ago.”
“Did his ex-wife come up from Albuquerque?”
“That was ugly,” Art said with a nod. “She made it sound like Gabe was responsible for Orlando’s murder. That nearly flipped him out.”
“Is the ex-wife here now?”
“No. She checked into a motel with her boyfriend. Do you need to see her?”
Kerney shook his head. “Keep her away from Gabe if she acts up again. He doesn’t need a guilt trip laid on him. He’s carrying enough as it is.”
“I’ll let the troops know. You need to speak to Gabe? I can wake him up.”
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