Michael McGarity - Serpent Gate

Kerney nodded. A highway department snowplow came over the hill and stopped at the side of the road.

Nita smiled stiffly.

"I guess I'll see you in court someday, Mr. Kerney."

"Someday you will, Ms. Lassiter."

Nita drove away and the patrol officer brought Kerney a jacket to wear.

He put it on and went to the cruiser to get warm, while the officer talked to the snowplow operator. The driver dropped the blade and started the truck down the ranch road.

Kerney thought about the three dead men in the snow, and about Nita, Robert, Addie, Paul Gillespie, and Serpent Gate. He wondered if Robert would ever go back there again, and if Nita would be able to leave it behind for good. the morning after the gunfight at Serpent Gate, Kerney found his way to a new residential subdivision off Airport Road. The houses were pueblo-style one and two-story structures on small lots. He parked at the curb in front of the Martinez family home.

Gilbert had only recently bought the house and moved in. It had yet to be landscaped, and snow covered the raw patch of land surrounding the house. Railroad ties were stacked against the side of the garage.

Kerney wondered, now that Gilbert was dead, who would build the flower beds and plant the trees and shrubs when warm weather returned. The thought made his gut feel like a lead ball.

He got out and rang the doorbell.

Sandra Marrinez, Gilbert's widow, used the partially open front door as a barrier, and studied the stranger standing on die porch.

"What is it?"

She had dark, intelligent eyes, a grief-filled face, and spoke in a drained voice.

"Mrs. Martinez, I'm Kevin Kerney."

Sandra's hand tightened on the doorknob. She forced back a response, while the man who should have been killed instead of her husband looked at her.

"Is there anything I can do for you or your family?" Kerney asked.

"No," Sandra said.

"Thank you for stopping by." She closed the door in his face.

Kerney hesitated before ringing the bell again. After a minute, it grudgingly opened.

"Mrs. Martinez-" he said.

Sandra raised a shaky hand to cut him off, and her breath caught in her throat. She swallowed hard.

"I know you came here with good intentions."

"I liked and respected your husband very much."

She forced a thin, dry smile.

"Gilbert liked you, too."

"I feel responsible for your loss."

"You may be responsible, but you can't make amends for it, can you?"

"No, I can't."

"Then there's nothing more to say." She slowly closed the door again. andy stuck his head inside the conference room and found Kerney pecking away at the keyboard of an old computer that he'd scrounged from supply.

"Paperwork?" Andy asked.

Tm just finishing up."

"I can get you a new computer, Kerney. All you have to do is ask."

"This one will do for now." Kerney hit a function key. The printer whined as it fed a sheet of paper into the rollers.

De Leon has left Mexico," Andy said.

"Where is he?"

Andy shrugged.

"The Mexican authorities say they don't know. And if they do, they aren't telling. They did identify the two hit men De Leon sent after you."

"So quickly?"

"Both were former federal intelligence agents cashiered for being on the cartel's pad. They're wanted on multiple murder charges. It seems they assassinated a judge, a prosecutor, and a district police commissioner in Chihuahua."

"Nasty boys."

"The Mexican government is sending you a citation."

"I don't want it," Kerney said gruffly. The printer spit out a sheet of paper. Kerney plucked it out of the tray and gave it to Andy.

Andy read it. It was an official request to award the police medal of valor posthumously to Sergeant Gilbert Martinez.

"Would you like to make the presentation to Gilbert's widow?" he asked.

"That's not a good idea."

"Stop blaming yourself, Kerney. What happened to Gilbert wasn't your fault."

"That's not the way Sandra Martinez sees it."

Andy studied Kerney's face and decided to drop the subject.

"Are you planning to stick around for a while?

I've got six major cases I need you to bird-dog. And I don't want you creating a vacancy Vance Howell can fill."

Kerney cracked a small smile.

"You think the governor would dump Howell on you if I left?"

"In the blink of an eye."

"Are you catching any flak from Springer?"

"Not yet. The department has gotten too much good press lately. But the word is out on the governor's staff that I'm insubordinate and not a team player. My reputation is getting as bad as yours."

"I've worked hard to build that reputation, Andy.

Don't butt in on my turf. Are you going to stick it out?"

"Hell, yes, I am. I took this job because I wanted to do some good. I need you to watch my back while I push my budget through the legislature."

"Do you think Springer might torpedo the budget as a payback for busting his nephew?"

"That thought has crossed my mind."

"I'll think about staying around for a while."

"Good deal," Andy said.

"But I need a few days off for personal business."

"Take as much time as you need," Andy said from his door.

"I'll see you when you get back."

On the conference table was a box of five hundred freshly printed business cards that had arrived in the mail. Kerney hadn't asked for the new cards-probably a clerk had automatically ordered them when his promotion had been posted.

He took one card from the box and slipped it in his wallet. an entirely different climate greeted Kerney in Mexico. Even in the late afternoon, the day was warm, the sky a rich blue, and a dry breeze from the open truck window felt good against his face.

He drove the highway south of Juarez, and passed the turnoff to De Leon hacienda without stopping.

Since his only other visit, the access road had been paved and an electronic security gate barred entry.

Probably De Leon restoration of the hacienda was complete. Kerney looked forward to seeing it.

He traveled past a long sweep of hills that blocked the Rio Grande from view, and took a dirt road that led to a constricted basque along the river. He parked out of sight from the highway, got his gear, and started walking.

The brown, slow-moving river sucked up the fast fading light, giving back no reflection, and it stank with a foul combination of human and industrial waste. On the Mexican side, there were holes cut in the twenty foot-high chain-link border fence big enough for three men to pass through side by side.

The basque gave out where the river carved through some hills, and Kerney hiked up a rock-strewn incline.

He reached the top as the last rays of a setting sun dimmed to dusk.

Below, the bosque reappeared, not very wide, but thicker than before.

The hacienda stood nestled against the side of the hill with a view that took in the sloping river valley.

De Leon had brought the estate back to life, and the hacienda with its long, two-story sweep looked grand.

Plastered mud brown with small shuttered windows that marched along the wall on either side of massive center doors, it resembled a fortified citadel.

When Kerney had last seen it, the building had been nothing more than an adobe shell sitting above an old basement hollowed out of the hill.

As the dusk turned to night, Kerney slipped a nightvision viewer out of the pouch. He scanned the hacienda for signs of activity and saw nothing. All seemed equally quiet at the outbuildings, including the small chapel and a circular stone granary that soared like a watchtower next to the hacienda.

After an hour of watching, headlights came into view on the access road and a car parked in front of the hacienda. It was a Chihuahua federal police unit. Two uniformed officers got out, and one checked the hacienda while his partner rattled the locked chapel door and walked out of sight around the side of the building. No lights came on inside the hacienda.