"A cop, you stupid shit."
Jake laughed. "You know I hate cops, Randy."
"Answer the fucking question."
"I haven't talked to any cops, or anybody asking a lot of questions. I would have told you if that was happening."
"When did you move the last vehicle?"
"Four days ago," Jake replied. "Delivered and paid for. We got fourteen thousand dollars for it. Do we have a problem?"
"I'll get back to you." Shockley hit the disconnect button and punched in his ex-wife's number. "Maureen."
"I told you never to call me, Randy."
"Has anyone from the department talked to you recently?"
"I have to leave for work."
"Don't fuck with me, Maureen."
"Go to hell, Randy," Maureen said with a hint of peevish satisfaction as she hung up.
Shockley checked his rearview mirror again. Bustamante was still there. He punched in the number for the district attorney's office and asked to speak to the administrator. Nicole Prince came on the line.
"I hope you don't want to speak to any of the A.D.A. s, Randy. Everybody who isn't scheduled for court is out at the crime scenes. Isn't that something?"
"It sure is," Shockley said. "I'm checking on a warrant. Did anything come in for signature this morning?"
"One of your Santa Fe agents showed up with an affidavit approved by my boss himself. He took it to Judge Witcher."
"Thanks." He waited until he got to the edge of town before dialing Bustamante's cell phone number, and watched in the rearview mirror as Pete picked up. "I've got to swing by my place for a few minutes," he said. "I'll catch up with you."
"Okay, Sarge," Pete said. "See you there."
Shockley made a quick turn off the main drag, waited for Bustamante to pass out of sight, then floored the unit, hit the emergency lights, and cut through traffic running a silent code three. At his apartment building he did a slow drive-by, looking for cop cars or unmarked units.
From the parking lot he could see no activity outside, and no sign of Duran, Kerney, or other officers.
He stopped by the manager's office and asked if anyone had been by to pick up a key. The woman said no, and Shockley gave her a bullshit line that he was expecting a friend from out of town who was going to stay with him for a few days.
As he hurried to his apartment, Shockley tried to figure out what had gone wrong. All the weapons he'd boosted had been unclaimed for at least a year, and he'd sold them in Mexico to a Jurez dealer for shipment to Central America. Everything else he'd filched during his tenure as evidence officer had been sold at El Paso flea markets, where nobody knew him.
If he could clean out the weapons stashed in his apartment before Duran could serve the warrant, he might be able to avoid prosecution and hard time. Duran would have nothing more than a paper trail to go on. With a damn good lawyer the department might settle for his resignation to avoid embarrassment.
Shockley could live with that.
Inside the apartment he grabbed the. 38 caliber four-inch Ruger, a sweet Colt 9 mm, and his cash box. He couldn't chance stashing the stuff in his personal vehicle, so he would have to dump it. He didn't like the idea of throwing away four thousand dollars in cash and a thousand dollars worth of weapons, but there wasn't any choice.
He checked his watch. Five minutes had passed since he'd peeled off from Bustamante. He couldn't use the apartment Dumpster. that would be the first place Duran would look after searching the apartment. A trash bin at the supermarket a few blocks away would have to do.
He stuffed the guns and cash box into a half-full kitchen garbage bag, tied it off, and headed for the front door. Outside, he found Deputy Chief Kerney standing behind the open driver's door of a unit.
"Where are you going, Sergeant?" Kerney had his semiautomatic hidden out of sight behind his leg.
Shockley smiled. "I just stopped by to take out the trash, Chief. They pick it up on Fridays."
"Drop the bag and keep your hands where I can see them." Shockley kept smiling. "What's this all about, Chief?"
"Drop the bag."
Kerney stood at an angle behind the open door of the unit, presenting the smallest possible target. Shockley didn't move, and Kerney studied him. The bulletproof vest under the uniform shirt bulked up Shockley's compact frame, and his eyes scanned Kerney carefully.
"Are you hiding a gun behind your leg, Chief?" Shockley asked.
"This doesn't have to get out of hand, Sergeant. Do as you're told."
"What are you talking about?" Shockley shifted his weight slightly and watched for a response. There wasn't one.
"I think you know," Kerney said.
"No, I don't." Shockley moved his right arm slightly to test Kerney's reflexes one more time. The chief didn't seem to notice.
"I have a warrant to search your apartment."
"Search my apartment?" Shockley said, feigning amazement. He dropped the garbage bag at his feet and held out his hand. "Let's see it."
"I'll show it to you later," Kerney said.
Shockley had watched Kerney hobble around on a bum leg at the crime scene. Chances were good, given Kerney's physical condition and age, that the chief didn't possess Shockley's survival skills, eye-hand coordination, and speed.
He brought his extended right arm closer to his sidearm. "I have a right to see the search warrant."
"Don't push your luck, Sergeant."
Shockley laughed. "I don't operate on luck, Chief." He heard the first faraway sound of a siren. "Backup?"
Kerney nodded. "Agent Duran."
"What am I busted for, Chief?"
"Agent Duran wants to ask you a few questions."
"Why don't I just talk to him at the office?" Shockley said, taking a side step that gave him a better angle on Kerney.
"Stay put, Sergeant. Clasp your hands together at the back of your head, and we'll stay nice and calm until Duran gets here."
"Whatever you say, Chief." Shockley said, without complying.
"Hands at the back of your head."
Shockley gauged the distance. Kerney was twelve, maybe fourteen feet away. His vest would stop Kerney's rounds, and if he moved quickly, the chief might miss him completely. He heard the sound of Duran's siren closing fast.
"Don't be stupid, Shockley. Do it now."
"I think I'll just wait for Duran," Shockley said, visualizing the moves he would make. He would have to draw and fire in one smooth motion. He practiced the sequence mentally: a quick step to the left, hand to his holster, draw, fire twice, drop, and roll.
"Hands behind your head," Kerney repeated.
"How come you don't wear a uniform, Chief?" Shockley asked, eyeing Kerney's boots, jeans, and cowboy shirt as he inched his hand closer to his weapon. "You're a deputy chief, for chrissake. You should be wearing a spit-and-polish uniform with three stars on your collar. Make the troops proud."
"Don't try to goad me."
"Hell, I thought you were some sort of cowboy wannabe when you showed up this morning. I almost laughed in your face."
Shockley locked his eyes on Kerney's face and in one fluid motion he spun sideways, drew, braced his weapon as he came up on target, and fired. He caught a fleeting image of Kerney's weapon pointed at his head before white light exploded inside his brain.
Kerney walked to Shockley's body and kicked the weapon out of his hand.
The gun skidded twenty feet across the parking lot. His two rounds had torn holes in the sergeant's neck and eye, and blood was pumping out of a carotid artery, spraying over Shockley's uniform shirt.
Kerney had seen a lot of dead bodies over the years, but never one of a cop he'd shot. His gaze traveled down to the gold shield on Shockley's chest, the stripes on the sleeves, the hash marks above the cuff, the gray piping on the black trousers, the highly polished shoes, covered with a sheen of dust. The blood splatter on Shockley's face was dark brown. The sight made Kerney want to puke.
"Jesus Christ," Robert Duran said. "What happ
ened?"
Kerney turned and found Duran at his shoulder. He held out his weapon. "Take this."
Duran obliged and Kerney walked away. "Where are you going, Chief?"
"Give me a minute."
At the side of the apartment building, Kerney quickly lost the food in his stomach. He stood up, leaned against the wall, and didn't move until his heart stopped thudding against his chest.
The helicopter lifted off from the pavement and two Otero County deputy sheriffs moved their units to let traffic back on the side street behind the parking lot to the district office. A semi-truck pulling the mobile command center Chief Baca had ordered sent over from Las Cruces made a tight turn into the parking lot.
At least half the workers at the nearby Otero County courthouse were either hanging out windows or watching the action from the sidewalk.
The crews of six television-station vans parked in a side lot were busy filming the chopper's departure, and the only thing that kept the assembled reporters from blitzing the district office were the barriers and uniformed officers the P.I.O. lieutenant had put in place to hold the media back.
Three passengers from the helicopter-Chief Andy Baca, Deputy Chief Elias Giron, and Maj. Kurt Hagerman-converged on Nate Hutchinson. Giron ran uniform operations for the department, and Hagerman was his zone commander for the eastern sector, which included Alamogordo.
"Where is Chief Kerney now, Hutch?" Andy asked, barely glancing at the captain and lieutenant from the Alamogordo office, who waited nearby.
"Detained by the city police. The district attorney is taking his statement." "Who let the city butt in on this?" Andy asked sharply, his normally low-key temperament worn thin from the events of the day.
"By the time we got to Shockley's apartment, the city cops had secured the area and wouldn't let us in. I couldn't even talk to Agent Duran until they'd finished with him. That took two hours."
"Has the dispatcher admitted to tipping off Shockley about the IA investigation?"
"She admits only to telling Shockley that Duran was waiting for him at the office, and that Chief Kerney had left the premises."
"Fire her ass. I want her gone within the next ten minutes."
"We can't fire her without taking progressive discipline, Chief," Capt. Willie Catanach, the district commander, said.
"I wasn't speaking to you, Captain," Andy said. "But since you've chosen to enter into this conversation, let me make a couple of things clear. I've got lawyers up in Santa Fe who will gladly defend the department against any wrongful termination suit. I'm going to let them do their jobs.
Speaking of which, let me say something about your job. What Sergeant Shockley was allowed to get away with goes way beyond misplaced trust or sloppy supervision. Chief Giron and Major Hagerman are now in charge of this district. You and Lieutenant Vanhorn are relieved of duty. My office will inform you when and if you can return to work."
Catanach flinched as though he'd been slapped in the face, and Vanhorn's expression turned to stunned disbelief. Neither man moved.
"You heard the chief," said Elias Giron, who'd been chewed out privately by Andy for not having adequate evidence policies in place.
"Lieutenant, give the captain a ride home. Captain, I need your car keys."
Catanach fished the keys out of his pocket and gave them over. As the men moved away, Andy swung his attention to Hagerman.
"Major, get a relief dispatcher in here now, and fire that woman."
"Yes, sir."
Andy put his hand on Nate Hutchinson's shoulder. "I want internal affairs to review all district evidence inventories. If this shit can happen in Alamogordo, it can happen anywhere."
"I'll get it started, Chief."
"Elias, I want you with the city police chief, right now. Hold his hand or sit in his lap if you have to, but don't let him out of your sight until Kerney is turned loose. If you get the slightest hint that he's planning to play political football with Kerney, call me right away. Tell the DA the minute he's finished with Kerney, I want a meeting with him before he does another damn thing. Be diplomatic." "I'm on it," Giron said, as he walked to Catanach's unit.
Some of the tension left Andy's face. "You can brief me inside," he said to Hutch, as he glanced at the midday sun in a cloudless sky. "I keep forgetting how damn hot it gets down here in the fall. It feels like summer in Santa Fe."
He shook his head as he moved toward the door. "Six murders and a dead dirty cop, all in one day. Unbelievable. Did Agent Duran see the shooting go down?"
"He got there after the fact."
"How is Kerney handling it?"
"According to Duran, he's hammered."
"Jesus, who wouldn't be?" Andy said.
Kerney placed his shield and commission card on the table. His blue eyes, usually so intense, were expressionless. "I'm not doing this anymore," he said flatly.
"Did you know that you're the only deputy chief in the history of the department who wasn't appointed from within the ranks?" Andy Baca replied.
"You're not listening to me."
"I caught a lot of flak for that," Andy said.
"Am I supposed to thank you for the opportunity to be a cop again?"
Kerney had been chief of detectives for the Santa Fe Police Department before a gun battle forced him into medical retirement. Andy had brought him back into harness a year ago.
His stinging tone made Andy repress a smile. "Quitting now will make a lot of people happy."
"I couldn't care less."
"It might be seen as a forced resignation."
"It's common knowledge that I'm planning to leave soon."
"Next month, under completely different circumstances," Andy said, thinking about Kerney's windfall inheritance. "Erma's estate will be settled, the land sale will be closed, and you'll be a rich man. Did you know this is the biggest murder case in the department's history? If you leave now, some people might say that you weren't up to the challenge."
"I don't give a rat's ass what people think."
"I know that," Andy said, not believing it at all, but pleased that more emotion had returned to Kerney's voice. "By the way, Major Hutchinson agrees with your theory that this wasn't a spree murder. It doesn't fit the profile. Spree murders are emotional, disorganized, unplanned, with no cooling-off period. The perp made it look good until he got to Langsford."
"I put a cop down today, Andy."
"One of the victims has to be the real target. Everyone else was murdered to cover it up."
"I know that. You're not listening to me."
"Yes, I am. You put down an armed and dangerous felon who hid behind a shield. Who refused to comply with your lawful orders, tried to kill you, and had stolen property in his possession. That's the word from the city PD and the district attorney's office. If Shockley's bullet hadn't clipped the top of the unit's door frame you'd both be dead."
"Are you saying I'm cleared?"
"For now. Because you supervise the internal affairs unit, I've asked the local DA to handle any follow-up investigation. That way we can avoid speculation about a departmental whitewash."
"Regulations require you to place me on administrative leave until the investigation is complete," Kerney said.
"Or I can relieve you from your current duties and reassign you. Give me thirty days, full time, as lead investigator on this case. Hutch will take over the division. I'm promoting him to deputy chief after you leave, anyway."
"That's not much of a reassignment," Kerney noted.
"It satisfies the regs," Andy said, as he pointed out the window at the mobile command center. "That's your office for the duration."
Kerney didn't speak for a moment.
"You still keep your rank as a deputy chief." Andy said.
"I don't give a damn about the rank. Does Hutch know about this?"
Andy nodded. "He also knows that you recommended him for your job."
"I'll do it on one condition: I leave as soon as an arrest is made w
ithin the thirty-day period. Agreed?"
"You want out that bad?"
"I'm done with it, Andy."
"Okay. You're booked into a local motel. Give me your house key and a list of what you need from your apartment, and I'll have it here from Santa Fe by morning."
"What made you so sure I'd go along with this?" Kerney asked, as he dropped his house key on the desk.
Andy smiled. "Because you're bullheaded."
"That's it? I'm bullheaded?"
"And you love a challenge. Go catch this killer, Kerney."
Kerney walked into the small office at the back end of the mobile command trailer where Nate Hutchinson was planted behind the tiny desk.
"Good deal," Hutch said, grinning at Kerney.
"Meaning exactly what?"
"Chief Baca talked you into staying on."
"Only long enough to train you for my job."
Hutch's smile spread. "Thanks for putting in a good word for me."
"You earned it on your own, Hutch."
"Thanks, anyway." Hutch hesitated before continuing. "This thing with
Shockley."
"What about it?" Kerney asked.
"He didn't give you a choice, Chief."
"That doesn't give me much comfort. I could have handled it better. What have we got on the victims?"
"So far, very little, including Vernon Langsford. The state parks use a one-page application form for camp hosts that captures almost no personal data. They don't run background checks and don't gather next-of-kin information."
"How long before we get the details on Langsford and the others?"
"We found letters from family and friends in the out-of-state victims' travel trailers. I've passed the information along to agencies in Arizona, Iowa, and California. They're making contact with people now. I've asked the Ruidoso Police Department to get me what they can on Vernon Langsford."
"Why haven't we sent an agent up there?" Kerney asked.
"Everybody's still working the crime scenes, Chief."
"What's come in from the field so far?"
Hutch stood up and waved a hand at the papers on the small desk. "Here it is. I'll get out of your way. Shockley was way over the edge, Chief."
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