Michael McGarity - Serpent Gate

"Did you get raked over the coals?"

"Big time. It's not nice to upset the governor's nephew. I told the chief of staff to put the request to terminate you and transfer Martinez in writing over Harper Springer's signature. I also told him if I was ordered to do it, he could have my shield."

"You put it on the line, didn't you?" Kerney said.

Andy grunted.

"It didn't win me any popularity contests at the Roundhouse."

"But the troops will love it when the word gets out," Kerney predicted.

He looked at the message in his hand.

"Can I use the helicopter for a quick trip to Socorro? I've got one last interview to conduct in the Gillespie murder case."

"Do it. Get out of my sight. Today, you'd be nothing but an albatross around my neck."

"You get so irritable when your butt gets chewed."

"I know it," Andy said.

"Don't waste time in Socorro.

I want these cases cleared before we both get the boot."

"Is that likely?" Kerney asked.

"Politics is the art of the possible." the state police helicopters and all the fixed wing aircraft were tied up on assignments until mid-mo ming When he finally boarded a chopper, Kerney expected to reach Socorro in under an hour. Instead, he found himself stranded at the Los Lunas Airport, fifty miles north of his destination. A winter squall had moved across the central plateau, bringing sleet, freezing rain, and wind gusts of fifty knots an hour.

By radio, Kerney asked for ground transportation, but all available units were out handling fender benders on the interstate.

The morning passed as he waited in the chopper with the pilot and listened to the sleet and rain pelt against the metal skin of the aircraft. There were no public facilities at the airport, and nowhere to go; Santa Fe and Albuquerque were socked in under heavy fog.

Every ten minutes the pilot checked by radio on weather updates. A young man with an easy, laid-back attitude, the kid had plucked two stranded hunters out of a remote canyon near the Colorado border before flying down to pick Kerney up for the trip to Socorro.

The pilot cracked chewing gum, hummed to himself, and kept looking for a break in the cloud cover.

"If the wind lets up and I see a hole, we can slip right through.

Chief," he promised.

During his tour in Vietnam-maybe about the time this kid was born, if he stretched it a bit-Kemey had decided that chopper pilots were a totally insane breed of adrenaline junkies. Over the years, his opinion hadn't changed.

"You think so?" Kerney asked.

The pilot nodded emphatically and rubbed his nose.

"No sweat. A little less wind, a little more sky, and we can cut right through the squall. Most of these low-level disturbances come in pulses. I can usually find a window to get through. But I've got to get airborne to see it."

Kerney knew that seasoned chopper pilots, aside from being crazy, were highly competent. They had to be to survive in such unforgiving flying machines.

"How long have you been a pilot?" he asked.

"Six years. Three in the army and three with the state police."

Kerney latched his seat belt.

"Find your window and get me to Socorro," he said.

"You got it, Chief," the kid replied as he hit the starter switch. after three abortive attempts and two hours in the air, Kerney arrived at the Socorro Airport a little green around the gills, where an obliging city cop waited to drive him to the hospital.

At the hospital, he almost ran over Nita Lassiter on his way to the maternity ward. She looked tired and her eyes were red from crying.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Did Addie have her baby?"

"A girl, early this morning. The adoption agency has guardianship.

Addie signed the papers." She searched Kerney's face with her eyes.

"Now, answer my question."

"Addie wants to see me."

"No," Nita snapped.

"I don't want you to see her."

"It's her decision."

"Please don't do this."

Kerney looked down at her.

"Addie can help you, Nita. Why don't you let her?"

"I don't want her damaged any more than she has been."

"Did you tell Addie that you're her mother?"

Nita bit her lip and nodded.

"How did she take it?"

"She cried a lot. We both did. Then she got angry with me."

"Is she still angry?"

"Drained. I've been forgiven. On a gut level, I dunk she already knew. I think she's glad to have the truth finally come out."

"Only part of the truth has come out," Kerney noted.

"Addie is young and resilient. Don't force her to live under another cloud."

"Let it be, Mr. Kerney Please."

"In ten or twenty years, if the parole board ever releases you from prison, your chance to help Addie make a life for herself will be long gone. Are you willing to throw that away?"

The thought hit Nita full force and her body stiffened.

"You make it so hard," she finally said, forcing a pinched smile.

"It is hard," Kerney replied.

"But I think you're up to it."

Nita searched Kerney's face with a probing look. His eyes were sympathetic, his expression concerned.

"Why do you care?"

He smiled.

"You make it hard not to."

"It makes my stomach hurt."

"You 11 doit?"

"Yes."

"Good for you."

"Only if you come with me for moral support."

"Of course," Kerney said.

In me hospital room Verdie Mae sat on the edge of the bed holding Addie's hand. Her eyes nickered from Kerney to Nita as they entered, and she squeezed Addie's hand before rising.

Addie looked pale and drained. The ruffled, high collared nightgown gave her face a touch of innocence that Kerney could only hope the girl retained.

Verdie Mae walked to Nita and touched her cheek.

"Is everything all right?" she asked Nita with a quick glance in Kerney's direction.

"Everything's fine," Nita said, looking past Verdie Mae at Addie.

"Give us a minute with Addie."

Verdie Mae held Nita's gaze with an unspoken question in her eyes.

Nita smiled tightly and nodded once.

Verdie smiled back, relief showing on her face, and patted Nita reassuringly on the arm.

"I'll wait outside."

She left the room, closing the door behind her.

"Hello, Addie," Kerney said.

"Hello," Addie replied.

"I wasn't sure if you would come."

"I got here as soon as I could," Kerney said.

"When we talked before, you said you wanted to help me."

"I did say that," Kerney replied, "and I meant it."

"Would it help Nita?" She switched her gaze to Nita.

"I mean, would it help my mother?"

"You know what your mother might be facing, don't you?"

"Maybe going to prison for a long time. You know what I think, Mr.

Kerney?"

"What's that, Addie?"

"I think rapists should be killed or castrated. Every one of them."

"The world would be a much better place without rapists," Kerney said.

"Did Paul Gillespie rape you?"

"Yes."

Kerney held up a hand to stop Addie from continuing.

"Before you say more, your mother has something to tell you."

Hesitantly, Nita approached Addie and sat on the edge of the bed.

"What is it?" Addie asked.

"A long time ago, Paul Gillespie raped me. I got pregnant and had a baby," Nita said.

"Do you know what that means?"

Addie's expression turned to stunned repulsion.

"Oh God, no."

"Yes," Nita said.

"It's true." She pulled her daughter into her arms and held her tightly.

Kerney slipped out of the room. Fifteen minutes passed before Nita opened the door and gestured for him to come in. Both Nita and Addie were red faced and teary eyed.

"You don't have to talk to me now," Kerney said.

"I want to," Addie answered flatly.

He turned on the tape recorder and started the session.