Michael McGarrity - Hermit_s Peak

"To visit, not to live. I'll let my brother and his wife buy me out as they can. They're the ones putting the blood, sweat, and tears into it."

"When will you retire?"

"I'm thinking in about ten more years. I like my career, but it's hell on any kind of personal life. I'll be forty-two if I retire with twenty years of service.

If I stayed in any longer I'd just hit the glass ceiling.

There's only a handful of women in the army who wear stars."

"You could be one of them."

"That would be nice."

"You're only two ranks away from brigadier general."

"Those are two very long steps. After lieutenant colonel, very few officers make the cut."

Their waiter brought the wine and menus, explained the house specials in great detail, and motioned for the busboy to bring a basket of fresh breads and rolls.

After they moved away from the table, Kerney lifted his wineglass to Sara.

"Perhaps you'll be the first woman to command a combat division."

Sara raised her glass in reply.

"Now, that might be worth staying in for."

"Seriously?"

"What a coup that would be. It would be hard to pass it up."

The waiter returned, took their orders, complimented them on their selections, and departed.

"This is turning into a lovely evening, Kerney. I think I'm going to have to put a star after your name in my stud book."

"Along with appropriate remarks on my performance?"

Sara smiled coyly.

"Of course. Do you know what I'd like to do after dinner?"

"What's that?"

"Show you my new lingerie."

"More research for the stud book?"

"Exactly"

In the late evening darkness, Gabe Gonzales stood at the open gate watching the district narcotics agent, Ben Morfin, load the last of the marijuana plants into a truck. The crime scene techs had left, the medical examiner had come and gone, Boaz's body had been removed, and Russell Thorpe was on his way to the district office with all the evidence that had been collected during the search.

It had been a bitch of a day. The discovery of the marijuana necessitated expanding the crime scene investigation to encompass the entire meadow and all the buildings. Gabe and the team had gone over, under, and through everything. They had even moved the firewood stacked in a room of the cabin, stick by stick, to make sure nothing had been missed.

At the greenhouse, the truck headlights flashed on and the engine kicked over.

Morfin drove to the gate, stopped, and spoke through the open window.

"That's it."

"You've got it all?"

"Exactly two thousand six hundred and seventy-eight plants," Morfin said.

"Boazjust missed a big score.

He was four weeks shy of a seven-figure harvest."

"I'll see you in the morning," Gabe said.

As Morfin drove off, Gabe closed and locked the gate and walked down the hill. The moon rose above Hermit's Peak, spreading a pale velvet light over the mountain and the valley. It made everything look deceptively peaceful.

A patrol unit at the bottom of the dirt track blocked access to the cabin. The officer inside the cruiser would spend a mind-numbing night on-site, guarding the crime scene.

He stopped, told the officer he would be at home if needed, got in the Ram Charger, called in his destination and ETA, and drove away.

It was too late to think about fixing dinner. He would get a pizza on the way home, spend a few minutes with Orlando, and then start in on the paperwork.

"Mom called," Orlando said, licking his fingers and reaching for another slice of pizza.

"She wants me to spend spring break with her in Albuquerque."

"I thought you'd be working over spring break," Gabe said.

"Yeah, most of the time. I told her I'd come down for a couple of days."

"She'll like that." The pizza tasted bland. Gabe pushed the box in Orlando's direction.

"I'm probably not going to be home much for a while anyway."

Gabe watched as Orlando nodded and chewed at the same time. He was a good-looking boy, two inches taller than Gabe, who'd inherited his mother's dark eyes and even features.

"What's up?" Orlando finally asked.

"I'm working two murder cases in San Geronimo. A drug grower and an unidentified female."

"No shit? Were they killed at the same time?"

"No. All we've got on the woman are some bones that were scattered on a mesa."

"No identification?"

"Not yet."

"Where did you find the bones?"

"Near Nestor Barela's old ranch."

Orlando wiped his hands on a paper towel.

"Think you'll be able to find the killers?"

"It's too early to say."

Orlando stood up.

"How come you keep doing this kind of work? Don't you get sick of it?

Murder and all."

"You sound like your mother," Gabe said.

"Retire, Dad. You've earned it."

"Too many bills."

"Sell the house," Orlando said, picking up his day-pack.

"I'm not going to stay in Las Vegas after I graduate from college anyway."

"You've been saying that for the last year. Why is living in your hometown so bad? You never used to feel this way before."

"I just want to get out and see the world, okay?"

"Okay, but the house stays in the family. You can have it when you get sick of seeing the world and move back home."

"I'm not coming back."

"That's what you say now," Gabe said.

"You may feel differently later on."

"I don't think so." Orlando dropped his crumbled paper towel in the empty pizza box.

"I've got to go study."

"You feeling all right, champ?"

"Just dred."

Gabe nodded toward the kitchen door.

"Go hit the books. I've got my own homework to do."

Orlando left and Gabe worked until his eyes gave out and his mind was fuzzy. He left his paperwork on the kitchen table and climbed the stairs with the ornate carved banister. At the end of the long hallway he could see light shining under the door to Orlando's room.

Except for Orlando's possessions, Theresa had taken most of the furniture when she'd moved out. Gabe had been replacing it a piece at a time, as he could afford to. He had a television and a couch in the downstairs front room. But the dining room was empty, as was the library, except for the collection of his grandfather's old books. His bedroom contained one double bed, a reading lamp clipped to the headboard, and a dresser he'd picked up at a garage sale.

He needed to buy a rug or a picture to hang on the wall.

In the bathroom he brushed his teeth, stripped down to his underwear, and dumped his clothes in the laundry hamper. The alarm dock was on the floor near his bed, next to the telephone. He set it, got under the covers, and was asleep within minutes.

After dinner, Kerney and Sara went back to his apartment. Kerney got the fireplace going, exiled Shoe to the patio, lit some candles, put a Brahms piano concerto on the stereo, and poured some brandy.

They never made it to the bedroom.

"Chilly?" Kerney asked later.

"Just a bit."

He padded into the bedroom. Lean with a small butt, a slim waist, square shoulders, and a nice chest, Kerney looked very sexy naked.

Their clothes were scattered on the furniture and the floor. They'd certainly been in a hurry; the brandy hadn't been touched.

He came out of the bedroom holding a robe and a heavy flannel shirt.

"Your choice."

Sara took the shirt, slipped it on, picked up her brandy glass, and stretched out on the carpet in front of the fireplace. She felt delightfully ravished and a little weak in the knees.

Kerney joined her on the carpet.

"Take me camping, Kerney," she said, reaching for Kerney's hand. He had perfectly proportioned fingers.

"Are you burned out on Santa Fe already?"

"I need to wake up to the smell of pine needles and the sight of a New Mexico sunrise."