“You tell me,” Mondragon said.
“Because part of the time we’ve wanted Kerney to be guilty, so we could show the world that we’ll clean our own house, no matter how far the high and mighty fall. The rest of the time, we wanted Kerney to be innocent, because he’s one of our own.”
“Go on,” Mondragon said.
“I know I bungled it badly.”
“You did get in a bit over your head,” Mondragon commented dryly. “What’s your point?”
“I want to know the truth about this case, not what some judge or jury may decide.”
Mondragon hesitated. He liked to think Kerney was innocent, but after years on the job, ugly realities still jumped up and surprised him. “What do you want from me?”
“You’re short five uniformed officers, correct?”
Mondragon raised an eyebrow. An officer retiring soon would make it six, and the next academy recruit class didn’t start until late in the year. He was stretched thin, with no relief in sight. “That’s right.”
“I’ll transfer to patrol duty effective immediately, if you’ll agree to put me on a three-day special assignment before I have to report in uniform.”
“Three days doing what?”
“What I just said, find the truth,” Avery replied. “Call it a special assignment under your direct supervision.”
Mondragon liked Avery’s vagueness. “Your transfer means you’ll have no seniority for shift preferences,” he noted.
Avery nodded. “Understood.”
Mondragon leaned forward. “Do you think in three days you’ll know the truth?”
“I’ll know that I tried.”
Mondragon ran a finger over his lips. Serrano might huff and puff at him about it, but it was within his jurisdiction to do as Avery suggested. Also, he’d be delighted to get rid of Avery. As a bonus, Mondragon would gain a uniformed officer with experience, not a snot-nosed rookie requiring months of constant field supervision.
“Turn in your transfer request to me before you leave the building tonight, and report for duty in seventy-two hours. You’ll start on the graveyard shift.”
Avery smiled. “Thanks, Cap.”
Mondragon waved him away. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”
Clayton had spent his day talking to area merchants, heavy equipment and automobile dealers, feed and fuel suppliers, veterinarians, and anyone else who might have ongoing business dealings with ranchers in Grant County and beyond. He passed himself off as a process server looking to deliver court papers, and flashed the age-enhanced sketch of Earl Page to everyone. He didn’t get one positive response. On his way to canvass the small surrounding villages, on impulse he stopped at a salvage yard on the outskirts of Silver City.
A jungle of wrecked vehicles and discarded farm machinery surrounded a tin shack that served as the sales office. A sign next to the door read PULL YOUR OWN PARTS. A decidedly different way to interpret the meaning made Clayton crack a smile.
The man behind the counter was late middle age, overweight, and smoking a hand-rolled cigarette. He introduced himself as Carl Yeager, and nodded when Clayton held up the sketch.
“Jack Page’s son,” Yeager said without hesitation.
“You’re sure?”
“That’s what my pa said.”
“Can I speak to him?”
“Dead,” Yeager replied. “Several years back.”
“Sorry for your loss.” Clayton waved the sketch in Yeager’s face. “You’re sure this is Jack Page’s son?”
“Can’t say I know it for a fact. He’s been in here many times, brought the old man with him once or twice.”
“Jack Page?”
Yeager looked at Clayton like he was an idiot. “That’s who my pa says he was. We weren’t formally introduced.”
“How did your father know Jack and his son?”
“Before my pa bought this place, he ran an auto repair shop in Duncan. He knew Jack back then when he had a small ranch.”
“Did you know the family?”
Yeager shook his head. “Nope. I came here from Barstow to help out after my wife left me.”
“Do you know where Jack and his son live or work?”
Yeager paused. “Not for sure. There was a fella in here once the same time they were. After they left he told me they ran a big ranch. He used to be a regular customer, and I was gonna ask him more the next he was in, but he never came back.”
“Do you remember the customer’s name?”
“Called himself Vic.”
“Did Vic have a last name?”
“Don’t know it.”
“How about the name of the ranch?”
Yeager shook his head.
“When was this?” Clayton inquired.
“Maybe three years ago. What’s Jack’s boy done?”
“Domestic matter,” Clayton replied.
Yeager smirked. “Yeah, I know all about that shit.”
Clayton asked Yeager to describe Jack’s son, and he guessed six-foot, medium build, and in good physical shape. He couldn’t remember any unusual scars, birthmarks, or tattoos.
On the highway heading to the state line and Duncan, hungry and thinking about dinner, Clayton wondered if he’d been lulled into thinking Jack and Earl had a small, remote ranch somewhere in the national forest because of what Bud Elkins at the veterans center had said. Was it just pure BS on Jack’s part that Elkins had swallowed?
And why was Earl so hard to identify among the locals? Robert Ripple, the aide at the veterans center, had seen him around Silver City, and the salvage yard operator knew him by his father’s surname. But nobody else?
An old hippie type with a scraggy beard and long, gray hair pulled back into a ponytail would have surely drawn his share of attention. While they weren’t an endangered species by any means, they were decidedly noticeable. But not according to all the other folks Clayton had spoken to that day.
He was less than eight miles from Duncan entering the sleepy, picturesque farming village of Virden, New Mexico, along the Gila River, when his phone rang. It was Dalquist. Sara’s plane had crashed in the mountains. She was alive and going to be okay.
Clayton made a quick U-turn and gunned the SUV back toward Silver City. His visit to Duncan would have to wait.
CHAPTER 26
Page always kept a lot of cash on hand for emergencies, and by the end of the day he’d laid off everyone except Alice Sherrell, the live-in nurse who cared for Loretta. He handed out pay packets that included regular wages, accrued vacation time, and four-figure bonuses to most staff. New employees got less, but everyone had to re-sign their confidentiality agreements before they got paid and could leave. He gave his ranch manager, Preston Higgins, who’d been with him over ten years, the ranch’s newest, one-year-old king cab pickup truck for his services. Additionally, because of all the personal stuff he’d accumulated over the years, Preston had an extra twenty-four hours to clear out.
To show his appreciation to Alice, Loretta’s nurse, he paid her in advance through the end of the year and deposited an additional fifty thousand dollars in her bank account.
Nobody complained, and nobody asked any questions. They all knew the drill. They were to leave the state, keep their mouths shut about their past employer, and never come back. The money and the threat of legal action were good enough to make the rules stick. Although in this case Page didn’t think it mattered anymore.
He’d considered selling all the livestock on the ranch and decided against it. There was enough browse and sufficient water to carry the animals for several weeks without causing any hardships. Late in the afternoon, with Preston’s help, Page moved all the ponies to fresh grass, and watched as they cantered friskily across the field. The cattle, spread out on different pastures, would do fine on their own.
To celebrate the end of a good long run, he had Preston and Jack up to the house, invited Alice to dinner, carried Loretta downstairs, and cracked open a three-hundred
-dollar bottle of single-malt scotch. On the back deck of the house looking out on a spectacular expanse of the Mogollon Mountains, he grilled up thick rib-eye steaks, roasted ears of corn, and put the final touches on one of his special salads.
He’d told Loretta about the planned cookout, and she’d insisted on attending, getting herself gussied up with Alice’s help in a fresh blouse, blue jeans, and a touch of lip gloss and eye shadow. Page told her she looked beautiful. She beamed with pleasure. Jack, Preston, and Alice chimed in to confirm it.
The conversation didn’t turn to the ranch shutdown until dinner was over and the scotch was almost gone. Logs blazed in the outdoor fireplace, keeping the chill of the evening at bay.
“I can be gone by early morning, if that’s what you want,” Preston remarked. A slow-talking man with not much to say unless it had to do with business, he was by far Page’s favorite employee.
“That might be wise,” Page answered.
“Will there be trouble?” Alice asked. She’d be a pretty woman if it wasn’t for her beak of a nose.
“Not for you,” Loretta said with a reassuring smile, snuggled in a warm blanket Alice had fetched for her. “My husband will keep you safe.”
Alice gave Page an anxious look.
“Don’t you worry,” Page said.
“If you want, I can stay on and help you keep the hostiles at bay,” Preston offered.
Page gave him a questioning look. “Why do you think there will be trouble?”
“Well, for one, you’re shutting down in a big hurry. That means trouble to me.”
“True. What kind of hostiles do you think they’d be?”
“Bankers in suits, lawyers with briefcases,” Preston replied. “Maybe the taxman or the police wanting to serve papers. Makes no never-mind to me. I’d hate to see this place get sold off piece by piece at auction. It’s the best damn spread in the state and has been a good home to me for years.”
Jack laughed. “I like your gumption.”
Page nodded in agreement. “What if it’s drug lords or federal agents with guns?”
Surprised, Preston sat up straight in his chair. “Why would drug lords or federal agents come here?”
Page laughed. “That’s the five-million-dollar question, isn’t it?” He leaned back and smiled devilishly at Loretta. He’d never even hinted about the stolen millions to any outsider before. It felt almost cleansing. He relished the feeling. Loretta looked totally astonished, and Jack completely dumbfounded. Page laughed in delight again.
“Are you serious?” Preston asked, still half believing it was a joke.
Page’s smile vanished. “Dead serious, and it’s not your fight.”
Preston stared blank-eyed at Page as he got to his feet. “I think I’ll make tracks now, rather than wait until morning.”
“Good idea.” Page rose, shook Preston’s hand, thanked him, and watched as he walked way. “That went well,” he announced sardonically.
Jack’s expression had altered to disbelief. Loretta was smiling, eyes bright.
“I can’t stay here,” Alice said, clenching her shaking hands.
“You’ll be fine, I promise,” Page replied. “You’ll have a safe place in the house, if need be.”
“What safe place?” Alice demanded, her eyes fearful.
He walked over to Loretta and picked her up in his arms. She quickly kissed him and snuggled against his chest. “I’ll show it to you in a little while.”
He kissed Loretta on the cheek. “Are you doing all right?”
“I am. Do me a favor.”
“Anything.”
She leaned close to his cheek and whispered in his ear.
Page listened and laughed. “Of course I will. After you get settled for the night.”
He carried her upstairs, helped her change into her nightie, and promised to return shortly. In the library, he showed Alice how to open the wall of books that hid the safe room. It contained all the necessities: a bed, toilet, hand sink, small refrigerator, cooktop, and a week’s supply of food and water.
“Come here if you get scared.”
“What about Loretta?”
“I’ll take care of her. You won’t get hurt, Alice. I promise.”
“What’s going to happen?”
Page shrugged. “Actually, I don’t know. But you’ll be just fine.”
He left her at the foot of the stairs and joined Jack on the deck, the fire crackling, the smell of piñon wood wafting in the night air. “You reported the downed plane, didn’t you?” he said.
“I did. Wasn’t about to let this place burn down, unless we torched it ourselves.”
Page nodded understandingly. “Why don’t you spend the night here with us?”
“Nope, I sleep better in my own bed.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Do we have a plan?” Jack asked.
“When the shooting starts, protect yourself.”
Jack nodded. “You can count on it.” An anguished look welled up. “I know this is all because of me, making you put me up in the veterans center after I busted my leg, just because I got plain lonely for some new company.”
Page squeezed Jack’s shoulder. “You did nothing wrong. I let my guard down. I should have said no.”
“I guess that’s true.” Jack pulled himself upright, reached for his walker, and started for the double patio doors at the back of the house. “I’ll come up in the morning for breakfast.”
“See you then.”
Page waited until Jack beeped his horn to signal he’d made it safely to his truck. He doused the fire and went upstairs to his bedroom. It took him a while to do as Loretta had asked. When he finished cutting off his beard and ponytail, he hacked off more of his hair to shorten it, shaved, showered, dressed in fresh jeans and a T-shirt, and padded barefooted into Loretta’s bedroom. She was in bed, half asleep with a book on her lap.
He stroked her face, her eyes fluttered open, and she stared at him in amazement, smiling delightedly. “How handsome you are. You look ten years younger.”
He squeezed her hand and grinned. “Don’t try to sweet-talk me unless you mean it. We can still fly out of here. Say the word.”
“For another hospital bed and a view out a window?”
“It would be a breathtaking view. A change of scenery might do you good.”
“What about Jack?”
“I could bind and gag him, and toss him in the plane.”
Loretta shook her head. “He’s right to stay put. We’ll stay with him.”
“Affirmative.” Page kissed her. “Get some sleep.”
“Send Alice in, please.”
“Will do.” He kissed her again and turned to find Alice entering the bedroom. He said good night and went downstairs for a nightcap.
He’d often speculated how they’d get caught, but he never thought an old murder he had nothing to do with, and Loretta’s long-lost friend, would be their undoing.
“Close the door,” Loretta said to Alice after Page left. Alice did as asked, and approached the bed with pills and a glass of water in her hand. Loretta waved them away. “Not yet. In the nightstand you’ll find my phone. Do you know how to use it?”
“Of course.”
“Please get it. I want you to video-record a statement I’m going to make.” Using the remote, she adjusted the bed so she could sit upright. Alice stifled a quizzical look, got the phone, and checked to make sure it was charged. “What’s this all about, Loretta?”
“You’ll see.” She’d left her makeup on to look better. “Do you know how to upload video from a phone to a computer and stream it on YouTube?”
“Yes.”
“Promise me you’ll do it?”
“I promise.”
Loretta smiled her appreciation. “Good. Put a copy on my tablet and the library computer as soon as we’re finished, and wait to stream it until you leave the ranch. If you can’t do that, take a copy to the police.”
“When
will I be leaving?”
“I think very soon. Ready?”
Alice stood at the foot of the bed, pointed the camera phone at Loretta, and nodded.
Sara refused to leave the hospital until Sid was stabilized and moved to ICU. He was scheduled for surgery in the morning and his doctor predicted the chances of a full recovery were good. At his bedside, Sid squeezed her hand and thanked her for saving his life. Sara gave him a peck on the cheek and told him to get well fast.
Driven back to the cottage by Clayton and Dalquist, she arrived with a bruised forehead, a stiff back, and some painkillers she promptly threw away. After sending them out of her room and calling Kerney to reassure him, she collapsed into a dreamless sleep and woke twelve hours later, groggy and still a little sore. One look in the bathroom mirror at the lump on her head convinced her that near-death experiences did nothing for a woman’s looks.
A hot shower, fresh clothes, and some makeup improved her disposition. She sat in a bedroom chair by an open window listening to the sweet sound of a songbird for a minute, before calling Kerney again as promised.
“I was starting to get worried,” he said when he picked up.
“Sorry to be so late calling,” Sara replied. “I’m just now fully awake.”
“That’s okay. How are you?”
“Except for an ugly lump on my head and a tiny headache, I’m fine.”
“I never know what fine means when you say it.”
“I’m okay, although I feel I could sleep another twelve hours. How are you?”
“Getting better every day. I’m on my feet and the physical therapy for my shoulder is helping. I’ve been thinking, maybe we should back off, give the ball to Dalquist, and take our chances at trial.”
“What made you even think something so preposterous?”
“Two men are dead, including a young police officer. I’ve been shot, and you almost got killed in a plane crash. Then there’s Clayton’s ruined career and putting Flavio in harm’s way. That’s enough. I don’t want anybody else getting hurt, physically or otherwise.”
Residue: A Kevin Kerney Novel Page 27