Michael McGarrity - Tularosa

"You must be bad luck, Sara. Both of the men you were fucking are dead." He could feel Sara's jaw tighten as she clamped her mouth shut. He released her face and patted her cheek.

"We'll keep Fred company for a while," he informed her cheerfully.

"It will give you time to think about your options." Humming to himself, he turned out the lights and returned to the couch. *** Eddie stopped the car in a parking lot on the El Paso side of the bridge. The stink from Kerney's vomit had dissipated enough to make breathing bearable. He could hardly believe all the stuff the lieutenant had told him about a secret cave with hidden treasure. It sounded like something out of the movies.

"Your turn," Kerney prompted.

Eddie told him what he knew about Benton and De Leon.

The main problem, Kerney mused, was putting the final pieces together before they ran out of time. "Did Benton mention any names when he was talking with De Leon he asked.

"No."

"We need to find out more about him," Kerney proposed as he opened the car door.

"I'll backtrack on Benton," Eddie volunteered.

"Maybe I can find out where he was staying, where he hung out-that sort of stuff."

"You need to get that arm looked after," Kerney countered.

"I will. You're not in great shape yourself," Eddie reminded him.

"I'll survive," Kerney said.

"Okay, see what you can dig up. I'll let Sara know what you're doing."

Kerney pulled himself out of the car, his hand gripping the door to keep his balance.

"Thanks."

Kerney shut the door and looked at Eddie through the open window. "Don't thank me. I owe you a lot. I'm too old to be brawling in dark alleys with guys like Benton. Leave a message with Sara Brannon if you find anything." Eddie nodded. "You're heading back to the base?"

"Yeah. Be careful, Eddie."

"You got it, Lieutenant," Eddie said, shifting the car into gear. He watched Kerney hobble to his truck. The vehicle lurched and stalled as Kerney tried to drive away. He cranked the truck engine again, eased the clutch out, and rolled slowly through the parking lot.

Kerney was some piece of work, Eddie decided. With the odds totally against him, Kerney had stood his ground and done a lot of damage before Benton had him down. Eddie wondered if he could do as well under the same circumstances. *** The living room was dark except for the weak light that spilled into the room from the kitchen and illuminated Fred's body. Meehan was behind her, and all Sara could hear was the sound of his breathing. The handcuffs were killing her, and she had lost most of the sensation in her fingers. She tried moving her hands to restore the circulation and bit her lip to keep from gasping with pain. She heard the rustling of clothing as Meehan paced behind her chair.

Was Kerney really dead? She didn't want to believe it, but the possibility plagued her. She needed to stop dwelling on it and stay focused on Meehan-stay angry. He planned to kill her, she was sure of it, but he was waiting for something to happen first. It gave her time. She made another attempt to force her finger into the back pocket of her jeans. She'd stopped for gas in town and out of habit had stuck the charge slip in her pocket. She brought her hands as high as she could and wiggled a finger into the pocket. Meehan heard the sound.

"Are the handcuffs too tight?" She froze.

"Yes. Please loosen them."

"I don't think so," he said after a long pause. He started pacing again, and she dug her finger back into the pocket. The receipt was crumpled and wedged in a corner. She inched it slowly along the seam and checked her movement when Meehan stopped pacing. In the mirror above Fred's body she could see his silhouette. His back to her, he gazed out the patio door. Slowly she wiggled the receipt free, and it fell out. She probed for it on the chair cushion but couldn't find it, so she shifted her fanny to the back of the chair, hoping to conceal it.

"Restless?" Meehan asked, turning toward her.

His thoughts were on Benton. The phone call was way overdue. Each minute added to the chance of discovery. He needed to move on.

"Bored," Sara replied. Her class ring was almost over the knuckle of her finger. She kept pressing against it with her thumb.

"You've been very patient. I appreciate that." He came around the chair and stood directly in front of her, his groin inches from her face. She pulled back her head and closed her eyes, waiting for him to touch her again. He stroked her face with the back of his hand.

"It's time to go," he announced.

"I'm fine right where I am," Sara snapped. The ring came off her finger, and she palmed it.

"Why are you always so bitchy?" Meehan inquired, as he slipped on the latex gloves.

"Nothing seems to please you." He untied the rope from around the chair and pulled her to him so she could feel his erection. She tensed up nicely. He released her, turned on a table lamp, and put the chair back in its original position.

Meehan didn't notice the credit card receipt on the cushion; he was busy rubbing the chair's indentations from the carpet with the heel of his shoe. Satisfied, he turned off the lamp, grabbed her around the waist, and dragged her out of the house.

At the Cherokee, he bent her facedown over the hood and fished the car keys from her pocket. She dug her heels in the gravel as he yanked her to the passenger door. When he reached to open it, Sara dropped the ring. Meehan pushed her inside the Jeep, walked to the driver's side, and got behind the wheel. Two clues, she thought gratefully. Enough to raise suspicion, if found. Much better than nothing. The night was warm and still. A million stars sparkled in a clear sky. Meehan smiled affectionately at her as he started the engine and drove away. She smiled back through thin lips, wondering if she would get a chance to kill the bastard. *** Kerney made it back to Las Cruces in just over a half hour, driving at top speed. At a gas station off the interstate the attendant kept a wary eye on him. Dried blood covered his suit jacket, shirt, and face, his right eye was half closed, his lip was puffy, and his pants were crusted with dirt.

Kerney smiled at the kid as he dialed Sara's number at the pay phone. The kid probably figured him for an ax murderer, he thought. The message on Sara's answering machine gave him Fred Utiey's number to call. He hung up in exasperation and dialed the number. He let it ring for a long time before disconnecting. He had a peevish thought that maybe Sara and Utiey didn't want to be disturbed; if that was true, he had become a one-night stand for the first time in many years.

Business is business, he decided, looking up Utiey's address in the phone book. If he interrupted something, so be it. The attendant seemed ready to dive under the counter when Kerney approached him and asked directions to Utiey's house. He stammered a lot but finally gave Kerney the information he needed. Kerney left a ten-dollar tip on the counter.

Utiey lived in a trendy rural subdivision in the foothills outside the city limits. Scrub-covered, waterless hills good only for rabbit hunting now had hundred-thousand-dollar homes tucked into knolls, banked against outcroppings, and standing monolithic on scoured plots. City lights winked in the valley below, fading into darkness where the rich bottomland and the irrigated farms near the river met the urban sprawl.

Utiey's house, some distance from the others, was dark when Kerney arrived. Only one car was in the driveway, a Japanese sport coupe. The thought that Sara had gone home pleased him. Ringing the doorbell brought no response. Maybe they were out somewhere in Sara's Jeep. He went back to the truck, got a flashlight, and inspected the coupe. It had a civilian employee pass to the missile range on the bumper and was unlocked. He found Utiey's registration in the glove box. He swept the driveway with the beam of the flashlight. Two grooves in the gravel, deep and closely spaced marks, caught his attention. There was a glitter of gold in the gravel. Kerney picked it up. It was a West Point ring with Sara's initials engraved inside the band. He got his pistol from the truck and tried the front door. It was locked. At the side of the house was a high wall with a locked, wooden gate. He climbed the wall and walked around the house to a covered patio. Charcoal in the barbecue pit was still warm. He stood to one side of a sliding patio door and gave it a push. The door slid open. He made a quick scan, saw nothing, and stepped into a large combination kitchen and dining area. He moved quietly to the living room. He saw a body, dropped to a prone position, and killed the flashlight. There were no sounds in the house, but he waited several minutes before shining the flashlight at the body again.