Michael McGarity - Mexican Hat

We're looking at first-degree felony murder charges if we don't contain the problem now."

"Kill them both?" Phil asked.

Gatewood nodded.

"Are you all right with that?"

Phil's eyes were empty of emotion.

"Why not?"

"Good," Gatewood said, exhaling slowly.

"But it ain't gonna be me who does it. You get my meaning?"

Phil gazed at Gatewood unemotionally.

"I'll make them disappear, Omar. But we leave Karen's children alone, understood? We're patriots, not terrorists."

"Shit, Phil, I know that." He cranked the engine.

"Edgar took his grandkids to Silver City. If we get our butts in gear, we can pick up Kerney and Karen and be gone before he gets home."

"Where do we take them?"

"The Slash Z." Gatewood reached across Phil and opened the passenger door.

"I'm taking out an insurance policy on this one. I want your daddy to help you make them disappear, Phil."

Phil got out of the patrol car, stuck his head back inside, and gave Omar a wicked smile.

"He'll like that. This will all work out, Omar."

"It better. Otherwise, we'll have to declare open season on every fucking federal and state cop the government sends after us."

After treating his grandchildren to an early lunch and a matinee movie in Silver City, Edgar met briefly with Margaret's doctor, while Elizabeth and Cody waited in the hospital lobby. The doctor reported the cancer had not spread and Margaret would be discharged in the morning. The good news put a smile on Edgar's face. He took the elevator to the third floor and hurried to Margaret's room.

He found his wife sitting in the bedside chair with her hair done up in a bun, her makeup on, and wearing a pretty summer dress. She smiled and stroked his cheek when he bent down to kiss her.

"Karen couldn't come?" Margaret asked.

"She's working, and I'm looking after Cody and Elizabeth. They're in the lobby waiting to see you.

The doctor said I could take you down for a short visit."

"I can't wait to see them." She studied Edgar's face.

"You look tired."

"I feel fine," he replied.

"You look beautiful."

Margaret beamed.

"I hoped you'd notice. I had quite a bit of help from the nurses to get gussied up for your visit. Have you kept your promise?"

Edgar's smile faded and his gaze shifted away.

"Not yet. I've decided I want to talk to Eugene before I tell Karen."

"What on earth for?"

Edgar grimaced.

"I want him to know that the truth is something neither of us can avoid any longer."

Margaret stood up and took Edgar's arm.

"I don't think talking to Eugene will make one bit of difference."

"Maybe not," Edgar replied as he walked Margaret to the door.

"But that's the way I want to handle it."

"When?" Margaret asked.

"Today. After we leave here, I'll drop Cody and Elizabeth off at home with Karen and drive to the Slash Z. I'll tell Karen this evening.

Everything will be taken care of by the time you come home tomorrow."

Margaret patted her husband's hand.

"I love you very much, Edgar."

"I love you, too," he replied.

"More than you know."

The screened porch to Karen's house was filled with empty packing boxes stacked in neat piles.

Behind the porch was the living room, a rectangular space with doors opening to back bedrooms. The room held an astonishing number of books arranged in modular shelves along the walls. The only furniture was a love seat with a curved back that faced a small television and VCR on a portable cabinet next to a fireplace, and a Shaker rocking chair that sat next to the fireplace. An assortment of potted house plants was arranged on the outer lip of the hearth.

Several indoor trees, including a Norfolk pine in a large tub, sat on the floor. In front of the love seat, two sleeping bags were spread out on a Persian rug that matched the deep red color of the flagstone floor.

The room had the feel of a sheltered garden library.

Kerney scanned the spines of the books. Karen had an excellent collection of art history, architecture, biography, good fiction, and classic literature.

The wide range of interests the collection contained impressed Kerney.

He spied a biography of Vincent Van Gogh that he wanted to read.

Karen offered him the use of the bathroom to clean up. He jumped at the suggestion, and with a fresh towel and some new clothes he found his way to the bathroom. It was a cramped space in a corner of the oversized kitchen adjacent to the living room.

All the water lines running to the old pedestal sink and cast-iron tub were exposed. It was clearly a renovation done when indoor plumbing was still a recent innovation. It reminded Kerney of growing up in the ranch house his grandfather had built on the Tularosa.

He closed the door and stripped tags and labels off his new clothes while hot water filled the cast-iron tub. He shucked off Jim's hand-me-downs and sank into the steaming hot water, letting the heat work on his knee. The leg had been bothering him more than usual. He needed to get back to his daily workout and jogging routine.

Shaved, clean, and dressed in stiff jeans and a shirt that still had the package creases in it, he went into the living room. Karen sat on the love seat with her shoes off and her feet on the cushion, studying a case file. Reading glasses were perched on her nose, and an open briefcase was within arm's reach. Still wearing her work outfit, a loosely shaped wool crepe suit, she smiled at him, put the file in the briefcase, and snapped it closed.

"You look better," she remarked.

"I feel better. Did you get in touch with Gatewood?"

"He's out of town. I left a message for him to call me." She unwound herself from the love seat and stood up.

"Now it's my turn to change. Make yourself comfortable."

He browsed through the Van Gogh biography and inspected a painting on the only wall of the room not completely taken over by Karen's library.

The large watercolor had a Chagall feel to it. A woman dressed in a simple frock held a child in her arms while a small girl stood at her side, her hand clasping the hem of the skirt. All were smiling at something out of view.

Kerney looked for the artist's signature and found the initials KC hidden in a clump of flowers at the bottom of the painting.

"I did that right after I kicked my ex-husband out," Karen said as she reentered the room.

"It was a happy event, I take it," Kerney replied, turning to face her.

Barefoot, Karen wore jeans and a ribbed red-and-white-striped T-shirt.

Karen laughed.

"You noticed that."

"The feeling of the painting is hard to miss."

"I keep it conspicuously displayed to remind me how unsuited I am for married life."

"Not your cup of tea?"

"Hardly."

The painting had an accomplished feel to it.

"Did you study art?" Kerney asked.

"I was a delinquent in the undergraduate fine arts department for a time," Karen replied.

"You were very good."

"Thank you."

"From fine arts to law is quite a switch," Kerney said.

Karen cocked her head.

"I'm not very predictable.

Would you like some iced tea? The dispatcher said it would be a while before he can contact Gatewood."

"That would be nice."

Over iced tea and a platter of fruit, Karen and Kerney sat on the living-room floor and talked.

"Whatever made you take a temporary job with the Forest Service?" she asked, nibbling on a slice of honeydew.

"Money," Kerney replied.

"It can't be that much."

"Every little bit helps."

"Don't you have a pension?"

"Yeah. It pays the bills."

"So what do you need more money for?"

"Land. Enough to start a small ranching operation."

Karen picked up a piece of watermelon and cleaned out the seeds.