Serpent Gate kk-3

by Michael Mcgarity

"Did you see any traffic on the street?"

  "I heard a car, but didn't see it. I took a quick look, but it was gone. From the sound it made, it wasn't speeding, or anything like that."

  "Were you alone in the parking lot?"

  "Just me and Watson."

  "Are the investigators finished with you?"

  "Yeah, except for the paperwork I need to do."

  "Write your report at the office, then pack it in for the night and go home."

  "Thanks." The man smiled and tugged at the front of his shirt. He wore gold piping and two stripes, denoting his rank as a senior patrol officer.

  "You know what my wife is going to say when she sees this mess?"

  "Probably something about a career change."

  "You got it," the officer said as he walked off.

  The radio in Kerney's unit squawked and he went to answer it. He had two messages; one from Robert saying he was Satan and he was going away, and a confirming report from Nita Lassiter that Cordova had disappeared.

  Kerney gave the dispatcher a description of Robert, ordered a statewide APB, and suggested that the search should be concentrated in the Mountainair area.

  "That's not going to be easy," the dispatcher said.

  "We've got blizzard conditions down there, Chief.

  Heavy snow and high winds."

  "Understood," Kerney replied.

  "If Cordova is found, have him placed in protective custody on a mental hold.

  He's not a criminal."

  "Ten-four."

  As Kerney clicked off, Joe Valdez opened the passenger door and got in the unit. He had his jacket collar turned up and he rubbed his hands together to warm them.

  "It's too damn cold. Chief."

  Kerney turned the car heater up a notch.

  "Are you finished with the DA?"

  Valdez snorted.

  "While Bucky was getting himself killed, the DA was busy doing a little dance on my head- He feels his office ethically can't take action against Springer and Cobb, since both have served as special prosecutors in civil cases."

  "That's standard protocol. Who is he farming the case out to?"

  "The attorney general's office. I think the decision was made before I even got there."

  "Where are Cobb and Springer?"

  "They've walked. I didn't even get a chance to lock them up. They're both threatening to sue for false arrest."

  "Did the DA challenge the probable cause?"

  "No, but he and his chief deputy went over everything with a fine-tooth comb. I had to produce all the evidence, including the videotape of Watson's confession."

  "Did you keep copies of everything?"

  "Multiple copies. I'm not going to let this case bite me in the ass."

  "Did you get anything out of Cobb and Springer?"

  "Not a damn thing," Valdez answered.

  "Know what I think. Chief? It's gonna be years before those two go to trial, if ever. In fact, I don't think there's even a remote chance they'll be indicted. Not with the potential star witness for the prosecution so conveniently dead."

  Valdez put his hand on the door handle.

  "Gotta go.

  The AG wants to meet with me pronto."

  "Do you want someone to go with you?"

  Joe took a minute to consider the offer.

  "No thanks, but I'll call for backup if he starts busting my balls. So who killed Bucky Watson, Chief?"

  "I don't know who pulled the trigger. But whoever he is, he's damn good at his job." robbkt trudged through two feet of fresh snow down the side of the highway toward the village of Punta de Agua. Only the vague shapes of the mile marker posts and road signs kept him headed in the right direction. He was off the plains and in the foothills, and wind-driven snow obscured everything. The road was buried by deep drifts and no cars had passed in either direction, not even a snowplow.

  Cold to the bone, his feet felt frozen, and his side ached from the cracked rib. Bl Malo kept laughing at him inside his head. Everything felt heavy: his breath, his feet, the top of his head-even his eyes.

  He walked on with his head lowered. When he finally stopped and looked up, he was in the middle of the village, across from a church. Robert remembered that the Evil One didn't like churches, but Jesus did. He walked to the church door and found it locked. A side door was also locked. Next to the stoop was a small pile of firewood. Robert picked up a stick, broke a window, and crawled inside.

  Out of the wind and protected by thick adobe walls, Robert started to warm up a bit. He groped his way in the darkness to the altar at me front of the church and fumbled around until he found a candle. He lit it with a match and looked around. A woodstove stood against a wall in the middle of the sanctuary. He opened the firebox door and found that a fire had been laid. He put the flame of the candle against the kindling and sat down to watch it burn. The heat felt good against his face and hands.

  He began to feel light-headed. Did he leave Nita's house because he did something wrong? Did he hurt her? He hoped not. But what happened?

  Paul Gillespie would know, Robert thought as he curled up in front of the stove. Paul was always at Serpent Gate. He would go there in the morning and talk to him.

  "has the governor fired you yet?" Kerney asked as he joined Andy in his office.

  "There's been nothing but ominous silence," Andy said.

  "Aside from the fact that Bucky Watson was assassinated, what else can you tell me about the shooting?"

  "Not much," Kerney admitted.

  "But I'll bet Carlos Ruiz didn't pull the trigger this time."

  "This time?"

  "I've got him nailed to the Martinez murder."

  "How so?"

  Kerney told him about the Buick and getting an ID on Carlos from Ruben Contreras.

  "We have to get to Ruiz somehow," Andy said.

  "I agree. What's happening with the sanctions against De Leon "His assets are being frozen, his drug distribution network is shut down, and he's about to lose his diplomatic immunity. It may not bring him to his knees, but it will make him buckle a bit."

  Kerney nodded.

  "The DA has kicked Springer and Cobb loose and passed the ball to the attorney general.

  Joe Valdez is with the AG now. He may need you to backstop him."

  "The fucking politics never end," Andy said sourly as he watched Kerney head for the door.

  "Where arc you going?"

  "South."

  "It damn well better not be Mexico again."

  Kerney laughed.

  "Mountainair. Robert Cordova is missing."

  "That crazy guy in the Gillespie murder case?"

  "That's the guy."

  Andy looked out the window. Freezing rain was pinging against the glass, and the neon lights from the bar down the highway, usually so bright, were just a shapeless blur.

  "Be careful driving," he said. carlos had no doubt that he would be killed as soon as Kerney was dead.

  Since meeting Felix and Delfino at the airport, he'd been under close observation and never left alone. Whenever Felix looked at him, Carlos felt like he was a walking dead man.

  He still retained his pistol in the shoulder holster, but it gave him no comfort. Any attempt to reach for it would be fruitless; Delfino would cut his throat before he could dear the holster. To survive, Carlos needed some kind of opportunity and a good deal of luck- He drove the two men to the house where Kerney stayed, only to find an unoccupied state police patrol car parked in front of the residence.

  There were no cars in the driveway and lights were on inside the dwelling.

  "Is that the gringo's police car?" Felix asked.

  "No," Carlos replied.

  "He drives an unmarked vehicle."

  "This is where you killed the wrong cop, is it not?"

  Delfino asked with a chuckle.

  Carlos grunted a response as he turned the car around at the end of the lane.

  "Where is the gringo, Carlos?" Felix asked.<
br />
  "If he is not here, he's working," Carlos said.

  "Then let us go to the place where he works," Felix said.

  Carlos drove to the state police headquarters building and parked across the highway. Using binoculars, he found Kerney's official vehicle in the parking lot and pointed it out to Felix.

  "We will wait for the gringo to leave," Felix said, "and kill him on his way home."

  Within a matter of minutes, a fast-moving storm bringing wind-whipped, freezing snow made it impossible to see the police parking lot. At full speed the windshield wipers barely cleaned the glass, and visibility dropped to less than twenty feet.

  "Is there no other vantage point we can use?" Felix asked in disgust as he took the binoculars away from his eyes.

  "None that provides a dear view of the exits from the parking lot,"

  Carlos replied.

  "We cannot even see the parking lot, let alone who comes or goes,"

  Felix said as he stared into the whiteout.

  "Get us closer. Cross the highway and drive past the building."

  Carlos did as he was told, and in the vaporous light of the parking lot lamp they saw the empty space where Kerney's car had been.

  "Go back to the house," Felix said in disgust.

  "We will kill him there."

  Only the police cruiser was in the driveway when Carlos drove by. Felix directed him to park on the street and wait.

  After an hour, with no sign of Kerney and the snow piling up, Carlos got anxious.

  "We will be stuck here if we don't leave soon," he said.

  "We're wasting time," Delfino agreed.

  "Where else can he be?" Felix asked Carlos.

  "I do not know," Carlos answered.

  "He has no girlfriend, he sees no one socially, and he does not go to dubs or saloons. All he does is work."

  "Check his dossier," Felix told Delfmo.

  "He investigated a cop killing in Mountainair recently," Delfmo said.

  "Maybe he went there. Where is this place?"

  "Southeast of Albuquerque," Carlos replied.

  "You have a map?" Felix asked.

  "In the glove box."

  Felix got the map, unfolded it, and, using a pen flashlight, looked for the town's location.

  "It's not too far," he finally said.

  "Let us visit Mountainair," Delfmo suggested.

  "Judging by the name, I'm sure it's very picturesque."

  "The roads could be very bad," Carlos said.

  "You are here to drive us, not advise us," Felix snapped.

  "Delfmo is right; it is better to search for the gringo than to sit here and risk discovery. If we do not find him, we will come back."

  Carlos nodded, cranked the engine, and made a U-turn. Except for a few snowplows and sand spreaders that were busy clearing one lane in each direction, the highway out of town was virtually deserted. the buzzard made Kerney's trip south unbelievably grueling. At times, he was forced to crawl along at ten miles an hour, and on several occasions his unit spun out on black ice without warning. Only the absence of traffic averted an accident.

  In Estanda, he contacted the sheriff's department by radio and got directions to Nita Lassiter's house. He turned east into the teeth of the storm, and soon the car wipers were thudding against a rock-solid ice buildup on the windshield. He had to stop repeatedly and scrape the glass, while the storm raged around him, kicked along by gale-force winds.

  The drive put him in a foul mood. Born and raised in the desert of the Tularosa Basin, Kerney didn't like snow much, and his aversion to it hadn't changed in spite of the years he'd lived in Santa Fe working for the police department.

  He found Nita's house. Facing south, it had a wall of windows running the length of the structure. All the inside and outside lights were on, creating a lonely beacon that barely cut through the whiteout of the storm.

  It was the only sign of habitation he'd glimpsed since leaving the outskirts of Estanda, Her four-wheel-drive truck was parked by the front door. He knocked and the door flew open. The look of relief on Nita's face dropped away as he stepped inside.

  "I thought you were Robert," she said.

  "You haven't found him?" Kerney replied as he unbuttoned his coat. He hung it on the rack in the small entryway.

  "No. I have all the lights on in case he's nearby."

  "He would need to be within a few hundred feet to see them. Have you searched outside?"

  "Twice," Nita answered as she led him into a large room that contained a living area, dining alcove, and kitchen.

  "Everywhere," she added.

  Kerney nodded and looked around. The house was passive solar with exposed adobe walls, insulated glass panels, a corner fireplace, and brick floors. Doors at both ends of the room led to bedrooms.

  "I have people looking for him," Kerney noted,

  "although I doubt it will do much good in the storm.

  Let's hope he's found shelter."

  Nita sank into a low-backed tufted leather chair that faced a sofa.

  "He put a pair of my underwear in the commode and rummaged through my bedroom dressers. I have no idea why he did it."

  "Where have you looked for him?"

  "I covered every back road between Estanda and Manzano, until the storm closed in and I couldn't see beyond the hood of my truck. We need to find him."

  "In the morning," Kerney said wearily as he went to get his coat. The cold weather had stiffened his bum knee, and he had to force it to work.

  "You can't possibly go back outside," Nita said as she followed him.

  "Stay here. I have a guest bedroom."

  Kerney shook his head.

  "I can't do that."

  "You looked exhausted."

  "I'll be fine." Kerney slipped into his coat.

  "Are you always so bullheaded?"

  Kerney turned and looked directly into Nita's eyes.

  "Under different circumstances I would gladly accept your offer, Ms.

  Lassiter. But you are a confessed cop killer, and I'm the guy who busted you. Staying here tonight is not an option; it would be misconstrued."

  "No one needs to know."

  "My presence here is a matter of official record. Both the county sheriff's office and the state police dispatcher know exactly where I am."

  "You're right; you can't stay."

  "I'll get a room at the Shaffer Hotel in Mountainair."

  "Will you at least call me when you arrive so that I know you made it safely?"

  "I'll do that. Try to think of where Robert might be heading."

  Nita nodded and forced a smile, but her eyes were worried.

  "What's wrong?" Kerney asked.

  "I don't want anything to happen to Robert."

  "Robert is a survivor, just like you," Kerney replied evenly.

  "He'll be all right."

  "Have you always been such an optimist?"

  "I have my black moments every now and then."

  "When was the last one?"

  "The day I had to shoot you," Kerney replied.

  Kerney's unexpected response shook Nita.

  "I'm sorry that happened. You must think I'm terribly weak."

  "I think you're a woman who needs to get on with her life."

  "In prison?"

  "I hope not, Ms. Lassiter."

  "It wasn't fair of me to say that."

  "No harm done."

  As soon as Kerney said good night and slipped out the door, Nita wanted him to come back. With all the constraints that existed between them, she knew he wouldn't. But she could sense Kerney's loneliness ran as deep as her own, and that left her feeling very sad. ^ Ugly things had happened in Robert's dreams, forcing him awake. Paul Gillespie's face floated through his mind. The face changed into El Malo; horns snaked out of his forehead like worms and his eyes turned fiery red and evil.

  Robert opened his eyes, found himself in total darkness, and scrambled to his feet. He could feel the pressure of the wal
ls and ceiling gripping him-pushing him down-and his heart pounded in his chest.

  He ran, stumbled against something, groped his way toward a current of cold air that blew against his face, and found a broken window. He crawled out, fell on his knees, and ran until a pain in his side forced him to stop.

  Gasping for air, he turned and looked back. The setting moon behind the church made the spire look like a dagger stabbing the sky. He shivered in the cold, but the tension in his body lifted, and he felt better now that he was outside. Then the voices returned.

  He could only use his right thumb to plug his ears; somebody had put a plaster cast on his left arm. He tried to rip the cast off, but the plaster was too hard and thick. He gave up and started walking down the road.

  Snowdrifts buried the road and covered all but the tops of the fence poles along the highway.

  Somewhere, Robert had gotten a new coat, and it felt warm. But the air was frigid and his feet were cold.

  He looked down at the boots that flapped against his ankles, wondering where they had come from. As he walked, snow seeped over the boot tops, soaked his feet, and made it hard to move. He stepped carefully to keep the boots from coming off in the snow.

  There was no traffic on the road. Everything was silent and still. He stuck his thumb out as soon as he heard the sound of an engine and the scrape of a plow on the pavement behind him. An orange highway department snowplow slowed to a stop. Robert got in.

  "Did you go off the road?" the driver asked.

  "I didn't see your car."

  "No, I'm just walking." Robert stared at a pack of cigarettes on the dashboard.

  "Got a spare smoke?"

  "Help yourself."

  Robert grabbed a cigarette and lit it.

  "Looks like you got banged up a little," the man said, eyeing the cast on Robert's arm and his missing teeth.

  "Got in a fight," Robert replied, thinking maybe it was true.

  "No big deal."

  "Where are you heading?"

  "Mountainair."

  "I can take you as far as the maintenance yard in town."

  Robert nodded.

  "That's cool. Got any coffee there?"

  "The pot is always on." The driver dropped the transission into gear, lowered the blade, and began plowing his way toward Mountainair.

  Robert puffed on the cigarette and tried to concentrate on where he was supposed to go after he got to town. Nothing registered. The voices were gone, replaced by a noise like radio static.