Michael McGarrity - Everyone Dies

Kerney’s attempt to brief Sara on the case had suffered from a stream of constant interruptions as phone calls came in from various personnel. It seemed that everybody in the department felt a need to keep Kerney fully informed about each and every new development, no matter how small.

Sara sat in a chair watching Kerney talk to Sal Molina on his cell phone. From what she’d overheard, it was clear the investigation was far from being wrapped up. The evidence seized in Socorro had raised troubling questions, as had the interviews conducted with Olsen’s friends and acquaintances. The possibility that Olsen had an accomplice was still up for grabs, as was the theory that there might or might not be another victim.

Sara had tried to keep a sunny disposition and hold back on expressing the feeling of imprisonment that continued to annoy her. Although the two state police agents remained discreetly in the background, their presence was a constant reminder that she was under guard. And Gloria Baca’s gracious attempts to put her at ease during the course of the day hadn’t diminished her growing sense of uselessness. It wasn’t a feeling Sara liked.

Half-listening as Kerney talked to Sal Molina, she told herself the situation was, after all, dangerous. When that didn’t work, she told herself that Kerney’s effort to keep her out of harm’s way was instinctual and protective. She found no comfort in either thought.

Since the day Sara had entered West Point, she’d functioned in a male-dominated world, never once thinking that she couldn’t be a man’s equal. The bureaucratic barriers didn’t faze her, nor did the chauvinistic attitudes of some of her superiors and colleagues. Eventually, the glass ceiling would be shattered and no rank or duty assignment, including combat arms, would be closed to women.

She knew Kerney wasn’t a chauvinist, or simply pretending not to be, as many men did. His endearing ability to accept her as an equal without the need to dominate or control had drawn her to him in the first place.

When Kerney disconnected, Sara decided to approach him head-on with the fact she could no longer tolerate the situation. She held up a hand to keep him from talking.

“We have to reclaim our lives, Kerney,” she said. “It doesn’t matter if a bomb goes off in five minutes, hours, or days and blows us both to kingdom come, I can’t stand being held hostage any longer. I want to go back to our own place, visit the new house, and do some shopping for the baby.”

Kerney put the cell phone down, rubbed the palms of his hands over his eyes, and let out a deep breath. “That’s not such a good idea right now,” he said as he raised his head to look at her.

“Maybe not,” Sara said, “but we’ve come through tough times before and survived them. We can do it again.”

“Under completely different circumstances,” he said.

“I’m not asking for your permission,” Sara said. “I want you to call Larry Otero and tell him we’re not to be bothered for the next twenty-four hours. Then turn off that damn cell phone and we’ll go back to our place and try to organize one day of normal living with no agents hovering around and no interruptions before the baby comes.”

Still thinking of all the reasons it was a bad idea, Kerney studied the determined look on Sara’s face. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

“It’s time to stop hiding and go home.”

“Will you accept having an officer stationed outside?” Kerney asked.

Sara nodded. “That’s agreeable.”

“Okay. So what do you want to do first?”

“I’d like to take an evening drive in my new car to see how our house is coming along.”

Kerney smiled and flipped open his cell phone. “Give me a couple of hours in the rack, and it’s a date. Why don’t you tell Gloria about our change in plans, and I’ll let Andy and Larry Otero know.”

Sara got out of her chair, kissed him, and went to speak to Gloria. Patrick Brannon gave a wiggle and something told Sara the twenty-four hours she’d demanded might not be as normal as she hoped.

Doing a comprehensive field search of eighty acres was no small task. Using the boundary fences as a guide, the three officers spread out and walked the perimeter of the property before separating at the back fence to sweep down the hill toward the house.

Shrub vegetation, mostly creosote, sage, and broom snakeweed, dominated several rocky terrace slopes, and there were clusters of hedgehog, prickly pear, and barrel cactus growing in pockets of coarse sand. Limestone, sandstone, and shale lined shallow runoff gullies, and gusts of wind raised dust swirls that dulled the pale-green, drought-stricken bunchgrass.

Halfway down the slope, Russell Thorpe spotted a series of five rock cairns arranged in a neat line on a sandy fold in the hillside. He walked to them, wondering what they signified, and noticed that one looked fairly recent. Each cairn was round and no more than three feet high.

He stepped back, knelt down, and pawed at the sand until he hit rock about a foot down. Fifty feet away from the cairns was a small quarry cut into the hillside. There he found a rock pile that matched the stones on the mounds. A wheelbarrow turned upside down leaned against the pile.

As he retraced his footsteps, marking each one with a stone, Thorpe called out for Clayton and Ramona. They converged on him from the north and south.

“The one on the south side looks to be the most recent,” he said as Clayton made a wide loop around the cairns and Ramona took photographs. “The sand gives way to rock about a foot down.”

“I make each one to be about ten feet in diameter,” Clayton said as he eyed the cairns, “and whatever is under them has drawn coyotes. There’s old scat everywhere.”

Ramona lowered the camera. “Let’s rope off this area and get the techs up here.” She slipped on plastic gloves, walked to the newest cairn, and began carefully removing rocks.

“Shouldn’t we wait for them?” Thorpe asked before he keyed his handheld.

“There’s enough work here for everybody,” Clayton said as he joined Ramona at the mound.

Within two hours, three bodies had been partially exhumed.

Two hours of sleep left Kerney feeling better. He came out of the bedroom determined to put the investigation aside and enjoy the evening with Sara, although he did plan to remain cautious and armed. He clipped the holstered. 45 to his belt.

The bulge of the. 38 in the purse on the kitchen table told him Sara was of a like mind.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked as he entered the living room.

Sara nodded, eased herself off the couch, and held out the car keys.

“Don’t you want to drive your new car?” Kerney asked.

“I do, but I’m afraid Patrick Brannon will be a distraction. He’s getting restless and acting up.”

“Maybe we should just stay here.”

Sara shook her head as she put the keys in his hand. “Not a chance. I need to see a beautiful New Mexico sunset on our land, and talk you into letting me add the pergola on the front patio of the house.”

“I’m having second thoughts about the swimming pool,” Kerney said.

“Because of the water we’d use?” Sara asked.

Since he was warned not to run on the leg, the pool was to be the alternative way to keep his new knee operating at peak efficiency. But he’d been raised on a desert ranch where water was precious, which made the whole idea of a swimming pool uncomfortable.

“It’s an indulgence we can do without,” Kerney said. “Plus, even with the recent rains, we’re still in a drought and probably will be for some time to come.”

“Besides, what would the neighbors think?” Sara said with a teasing laugh. “If we installed a pool, none of them would believe for a minute that either of us was really ranch-raised.”