Michael McGarity - Serpent Gate

"Take off. And thanks again."

Kerney entered the office to find Nita Lassiter sitting on a small couch. She stood up quickly. She wore a black tailored jacket that broke just below her hips, a pair of double-pleated gray trousers, and square-toed black pumps with low heels. The sophisticated outfit favored her good looks. Her right arm was secured against her side by a sling.

"Ms. Lassiter," Kerney said, waiting for a reaction.

Nita nodded silently in response.

"I understand from the doctor that there is no permanent damage."

"That's what I've been told. My lawyer tells me that I'm probably going to spend die night in jail."

"That's true," Kerney said.

Nita glanced at the door.

"Let's get it over with."

"I'd like to talk to you for a minute."

"My lawyer told me not to say anything more to the police unless he was present."

"That's wise advice. But I wasn't planning to interrogate you, just ask a question or two that you may find helpful."

Nita looked Kerney up and down.

"What are your questions?"

"Has your lawyer discussed the possibility of bail?"

A worried look crossed Nita's face.

"We didn't talk about that."

"Has he ever practiced criminal law?"

"I don't think so. Just real estate and tax law."

Kerney shook his head.

"You'll need a criminal defense lawyer. I'm going to book you on a murder-one charge, Ms. Lassiter, and with your confession, a judge or grand jury will most likely find there is sufficient probable cause to go to trial. You'll be facing a pretty stiff bond for your release, if the court agrees to let you make bail at all. Do you have property to put up as security?"

"My home and my practice," Nita replied.

"I should talk to my lawyer. Is that possible?"

"Of course. You'll be allowed to call him from the jail." Kerney took out a business card, wrote quickly on the back of it, and held it out.

"But in case he doesn't know who to use as a bail bondsman, the name of this gentleman might do. He's honest and reliable."

Nita took the card.

"I'll pass the information along."

"Have your lawyer call me if he wants the name of a good attorney."

"Do you have any more helpful questions to ask?"

There was a challenge in Nita's voice.

Kerney sensed that Nita's mistrust of police officers ran deep. He let the question go unanswered.

"There are some reporters at the front of the building. To avoid them, we'll leave by way of the rear loading dock." He stood to one side of the door to let Nita pass.

"Shouldn't I be handcuffed?"

"Are you planning to escape?"

"No."

"Handcuffs won't be necessary until we get to my unit. Then regulations take over."

A thin smile crossed her lips.

"How very thoughtful."

Without giving Kerney the opportunity to respond, Nita Lassiter walked into the hallway. kerney ushered Nita into the booking area of the jail. When the electronic lock of the security door clicked shut behind them, Nita stiffened. Kerney could see panic building in her eyes, so he stayed after the booking process and waited until she returned from a strip search and change-out into a jail uniform. Even with a stiflF upper lip, she looked frightened.

He arranged for Nita to be kept in a seclusion cell away from the general population. She gave him what may have been a weak, thankful smile when he left.

He called the on-duty assistant DA and told him that Lassiter was in jail. Wesley Marshall, the ADA-a man Kerney didn't know-asked Kerney to meet him at the county courthouse. m Marshall's office, Kerney sat quietly while the ADA read the criminal complaint, the transcribed copy of Lassiter's tape-recorded confession, and Kerney's case report on the events leading up to the shooting incident.

A young man in his late twenties, Marshall had dark curly hair, thick eyebrows, and a bushy mustache. He looked up from the documents and stared intently at Kerney.

"You didn't read her rights to her prior to her first confession,"

Wesley noted.

"She wasn't in custody at that point," Kerney answered.

"Did you have the intent to arrest her at that time?"

"No. She was in her truck when she confessed to killing Gillespie. I arrested her after she attempted suicide.

I read her the Miranda rights, placed her in custody, and explained the charges against her."

"Was she coherent at the time?"

"She was."

"Was shooting her necessary?"

"It was. I had no other option. If I hadn't fired, she would have killed herself."

"The level of force may have been excessive."

Marshall thumbed through the paperwork.

"Did you perceive a risk to yourself?"

"Facing a loaded weapon is always a risk."

"When you taped her confession at the hospital, was she in full possession of her faculties?" Marshall asked.

"She was."

"Who made that determination?"

"The attending physician," Kerney replied, flipping over a page in the notebook. He read the doctor's name.

The ADA nodded, wrote down the name, scrawled his signature on the documents, and glanced up at Kerney.

"That should do it. It looks like a solid, legal bust to me."

"Are you taking Lassiter before the grand jury?"

Marshall shook his head.

"Nope. We'll do a probable cause hearing before Judge Ross-Gorden sometime tomorrow. My boss wants to move fast on this one."

"Has the DA told you to go for no bail?"

"Damn right he has. A murder-one defendant has never made bail since he took office. I doubt we'll have a problem with the request."

Marshall stuffed the paperwork into a folder and stood.

"We're going to push to go to trial as soon as possible. The defense will probably want to depose you in a day or two. I'll let you know when the request comes through."

"Good enough," Kerney said as he pushed himself out of the chair. The bum leg had locked up on him again.

Marshall's office was near the sheriff's department at the back of the building. Kerney knew Judge Willene Ross-Gorden, who had served on the bench for over twenty years. He called her at home from the receptionist's desk in the sheriff's office. After an exchange of pleasantries, he asked the judge if she would have her clerk notify him when Lassiter's hearing had been set.

"Of course," Ross-Gorden replied.

"I was surprised when I learned that you were the arresting officer in this case, Mr. Kerney. I thought you were retired."

"I can't seem to stay that way. Judge."

Ross-Gorden chuckled.

"I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. My clerk will call you."

A hand shook Kerney awake.

"Get up," Fletcher commanded.

"It's time for our morning run."

"Hump," Kerney said into his pillow.

Pletcher shook him a little harder and Kerney turned to see Hartley standing over him, dressed in sweats and running shoes. In the few weeks Kerney had been bunking with Fletcher, he had joined him on an early morning two-mile jog around the quiet streets when his schedule allowed.

Kerney enjoyed Pletcher's company on the morning runs. Before returning to Santa Fe, he'd lived alone in a borrowed house in Reserve, New Mexico, while serving as the interim sheriff. Breaking up the local militia's plans to assassinate Forest Service employees hadn't won him any popularity contests among many of the residents of Catron County.

"If you want to become an ageless beauty like me, you must remain fit,"

Fletcher said.

"What time is it?"

"Six."

"It's too early."

"Then I simply won't tell you what the very nice art theft investigator I spoke to in London told me."

"I'll get up," Kerney said.

"Give me a few minutes to get dressed."

Kerney dressed, met Fletcher outside, and the two men ran together in silence, trotting past Victorian cottages, sprawling flat-roofed adobes, and two-story homes reminiscent of Midwestern farmhouses.