Hermit's Peak (34 page)

“Don't kill him with the gun,” Kerney said. He picked up Bernardo's butcher knife and held it out. “Use the knife. Open him up from his balls to his neck.”

Gabe shook his head and jammed the gun barrel to the back of Bernardo's throat. “Fuck the knife. Is Orlando dead?”

Bernardo's eyes grew wide and he nodded.

“Did you kill him?” Gabe asked.

Bernardo nodded again.

“You pissant little fucker.”

“Take the gun out of his mouth, Gabe,” Kerney ordered, pulling on Gabe's arm.

“Fuck you, Kerney.” Gabe's eyes bored into Bernardo. “Where is he? Where's Orlando?”

Bernardo gurgled some more.

“The gun, Gabe,” Kerney said, pulling hard on Gabe's arm.

Gabe yanked the barrel out, busted Bernardo across the nose, and kneed him hard in the groin.

Blood spurted down the front of Bernardo's bare chest as he sank to the floor. He sat holding himself, gasping in pain.

Gabe holstered his weapon and held out his hand. “Give me the fucking knife, Kerney.”

He took it, knelt down, and pulled Bernardo's hands
away from his groin. When the point of the butcher knife pricked Bernardo's balls, he started spilling his guts.

 • • • 

Arlin Fullerton brought the bulldozer out to the ranch road and started stripping dirt at the spot where Kerney had told him to start digging. Four officers, including the lieutenant who had come to the ranch with Kerney earlier in the day, stood nearby. Police cars were lined up on each side of the road, all with headlights and spotlights on.

Fullerton trenched two feet down until the blade hit a buried granite boulder. That's how Bernardo gouged the dozer's lip, he thought, as he skipped over the obstruction and started scraping away broken shale and sandstone on the other side.

The twin spotlights on the cab roof lit up the excavation as he pushed the earth into a mound at the end of the trench. It would have been faster and neater to use a backhoe or a front end loader. But Fullerton knew he could do the job. He'd logged countless hours on the 'dozer and could peel an inch of dirt away with each pass and have it be almost dead level.

The men on either side of the trench stood like statues as he worked, not talking, just staring and beaming their flashlights into the ever-deepening ditch.

Fullerton didn't want to mangle the body so it took a while to get three feet down. Even then, nothing showed. He backed up, got out of the cab, and adjusted the 'dozer spotlights to shine directly into the trench. Then he climbed down, walked to the back of the
machine, got two long-handled shovels off a jerry-rigged rack, and approached Kerney.

“Two more feet and I'll hit bedrock,” he said. “Best to dig by hand from here.”

Kerney and the lieutenant climbed into the hole and started digging. The three other officers stood at the edge of the pit and watched. When Kerney exposed the body, the lieutenant sank to his knees and started retching, his head turned away from the crushed face.

One of the officers, a sergeant, dropped into the trench, pulled the lieutenant to his feet, and hauled him out. Kerney slammed his shovel against the side of the pit and joined the men standing around the lieutenant, who quickly broke away from the group and walked into the darkness.

Kerney followed him while the other men stood fast. One by one, their flashlights went dark.

Wisely, Arlin cut off the 'dozer's spotlights and retreated into the shadows to wait.

 • • • 

Gabe didn't cry as he walked down the road but his breath sounded ragged. Kerney stayed a few steps behind, keeping his distance. When Gabe stopped, a long time passed before he spoke.

“I wanted a good life for him, Chief,” he said dully, his face turned away. “College, a decent job, meet the right girl, start a family. Make me proud. You know what I mean?”

“I do.”

“I always thought he'd be a great father. Better than me. Kids just seemed to take to him. He had a way with kids.”

Kerney didn't respond.

“Jesus, his mother is going to flip out. I need to call her. What do I say?”

“Do it later.”

Gabe's back stiffened. “He was a fucking rapist, Kerney.”

“Maybe Bernardo made that part up.”

Gabe kept his face averted and shook his head. “You know he didn't.”

“There was a lot of good in Orlando,” Kerney said.

“He was my only son. My only child.”

“I know.”

“I raised him better than this.”

“I know.”

“What the fuck did I do wrong?” Gabe asked.

“You can't take the blame.”

“Then who does, Chief?” Finally, Gabe turned toward Kerney. “Tell me that. Who the fuck does?”

At the trench they found Orlando's body covered by a blanket. Kerney thanked Fullerton, guided Gabe to a unit, and put him inside. Garduno met Kerney at the front of the squad car.

“I'm taking him home,” Kerney said.

“Is he okay?”

“How can he be? I want somebody with him all night and all day tomorrow. Maybe longer.”

“Every off-duty officer in the district will volunteer.”

“Have somebody standing by for us at Gabe's house.”

“Consider it done,” Garduno said. “Gabe doesn't deserve this.”

“Let's keep a close watch on him.” Kerney glanced at
Gabe. Through the windshield, Gabe stared back at Kerney with empty eyes. “A real close watch.”

“We'll stay on top of it, Chief.”

Kerney looked up at the night sky. Venus dazzled like a pendant next to a three-quarter moon. He stared at it dumbly, numbed by all that had happened. He could only wonder what Gabe was going through. It had to be a thousand times worse.

“I'll take care of this,” Garduno said, gesturing toward the body in the trench.

Kerney nodded, got behind the steering wheel, and drove Gabe away.

Kerney spent the next day in Las Vegas doing paperwork, dealing with the news media, and meeting with the ADA who had been assigned to prosecute Bernardo. Because Bernardo had lost some front teeth and sustained a broken nose, the lawyer hired by the Barelas was already making accusations of police brutality.

The ADA had questioned Kerney closely about the incidents leading up to the arrest. Without hesitating, Kerney lied about the facts. He told the ADA that Bernardo had entered Jessica's apartment armed with a deadly weapon and in the scuffle to disarm him, necessary force had been used. He knew full well he would have to perjure himself at trial, otherwise Bernardo's confession could be thrown out of court and the case dismissed.

Lying wasn't something Kerney enjoyed doing, or had ever done before in a criminal matter. But truth, in this instance, wouldn't serve justice.

The ADA seemed to buy Kerney's version of the facts, at least for the present. But Kerney needed to clue Gabe in on the spin, just in case the ADA decided to call and take a preliminary statement from Gabe over the phone.

He parked his unit, stood on the sidewalk in front of Gabe's house, and looked around. It was the first time he'd seen the neighborhood in daylight. Behind him the Las Vegas Public Library, donated to the city by Andrew Carnegie, dominated a tree-lined park that covered a city block. With its center dome, cross wings, and portico entrance, it looked like a miniature Monticello.

Gabe's house, lovingly cared for, stood directly behind the library. It was a two-and-a-half-story clapboard Victorian with a sloping mansard roof, an arched tower with circular windows, a widow's walk on the top level, and lead glass windows.

Art Garcia, dressed in civvies, his eyes ringed with dark circles, came out to meet Kerney as he opened the gate to the walkway.

Art gave Kerney a tired smile. “Chief.”

“How is he?” Kerney asked.

“Sleeping. The doctor gave him a sedative. Gabe's got an appointment to see a shrink in the morning. I sent all the relatives away about two hours ago.”

“Did his ex-wife come up from Albuquerque?”

“That was ugly,” Art said with a nod. “She made it sound like Gabe was responsible for Orlando's murder. That nearly flipped him out.”

“Is the ex-wife here now?”

“No. She checked into a motel with her boyfriend. Do you need to see her?”

Kerney shook his head. “Keep her away from Gabe if she acts up again. He doesn't need a guilt trip laid on him. He's carrying enough as it is.”

“I'll let the troops know. You need to speak to Gabe? I can wake him up.”

“Let him sleep. Tell him it's very important not to talk to the ADA until he speak with me.”

“Will do.”

“Have the funeral services for Orlando been set?”

“Not yet.” Art eyed Kerney warily. “Gabe told me he put a big hurt on Bernardo to get a confession.”

“I didn't see it that way. I told the ADA we used reasonable force to stop the action, and Bernardo's confession was voluntary.”

Art looked relieved. “I'll tell him that when he wakes up.”

“Do that, and have him call me.”

 • • • 

Bernardo looked up from his concrete bunk and stared at Kerney through the bars of his cell. His broken nose, which had been set by the jail doctor, was covered with a bandage, and two of his upper front teeth were missing.

“I'm not talking to you,” Bernardo said. “My lawyer said not to.”

“You don't have to talk, just listen. You're going to prison on a life sentence without parole, if they don't fry your ass. Either way, I'm going to make the time you have in the slammer very interesting.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“The boys in the joint are going to smack their lips when they hear that you're going to join them. You'll be somebody's girlfriend within a week. Maybe everybody's.”

Bernardo flinched. “You can't do that.”

Kerney smiled. “Watch me. Take my advice, Bernardo. Go with the flow. You're not going to survive in prison any other way.”

“I'm walking out of here. My lawyer said he's going to get my confession suppressed because you and Gonzales beat it out of me.”

“I don't think so. It will be your word against ours. But if by chance you ever live to see the light of day outside of a prison cell, let me tell you a secret, Bernardo.”

“What?”

Kerney gestured with his finger. “Come here.”

Cautiously, Bernardo approached the cell bars.

Kerney dropped his voice to a whisper. “I'll hunt you down and kill you.”

Kerney's bluff made Bernardo's face turn white.

“Have a good day,” Kerney said.

 • • • 

Kerney called Dale Jennings at five-thirty Saturday morning just as Sara came out of the bedroom wearing nothing but panties. She kissed him on the cheek, ruffled his hair, and moved to the kitchen, drawn by the smell of fresh coffee.

Dale answered on the first ring.

“Have you had your coffee yet?” Kerney asked, knowing full well Dale had been up for at least an hour.

“Yep. I don't have a cushy eight-to-five job like you. Gotta work for a living.”

“Are you sitting down?”

“Should I be?”

“Maybe. Sara and I are getting married.”

Dale whooped. “Well, I'll be damned. What a lucky son of a bitch you are.”

“I know it. I want you to be my best man.”

“Tell me when and tell me where.”

“Montana in a week, at the Brannon ranch. Can you, Barbara, and the girls make it?”

“Wouldn't miss it. Damn, Kerney, I'm happy for you. It's about time.”

“I'm pretty happy myself.”

Sara came back from the kitchen, sat next to Kerney on the couch, and sipped her coffee.

“You got yourself a prize, old friend.”

“My prize is nibbling on my ear as we speak.”

“Barbara hasn't nibbled on my ear in a week.”

“I hear that happens to old married folks.”

“Stop wisecracking and put the bride-to-be on the phone. Maybe I can talk her out of making a big mistake.”

“Who's wisecracking now?” Kerney held the phone out to Sara. “He's all yours.”

Sara put the coffee cup down, covered the receiver with her hand, and glanced at Kerney's crotch. “You look very sexy in boxer shorts. What's that thing that's poking out?”

“A surprise.”

“I like surprises.” She took her hand off the receiver
and sat on Kerney's lap, facing him. “Dale, can I call you right back, in about twenty minutes?”

“Sure thing,” Dale said.

“Talk to you then.” Sara dropped the phone on the floor.

 • • • 

Kerney and Sara arrived at the old stone cabin at the foot of the mesa to find the gate open and a dozen or so vehicles neatly parked in front of a cardboard sign stapled to a wooden stake that read
VOLUNTEERS PARK HERE ONLY
. Another similar sign at the ranch road read
SHUTTLE VAN AND DELIVERY TRUCKS ONLY
.

Kerney had filled Sara in on the weekend project underway at the Knowlton cactus site, and the demand Ruth Pino had made that he meet with a Nature Conservancy staffer.

“It seems she has everything well organized,” she said.

“I don't think Professor Pino leaves much to chance. I'll bet she's working her volunteers like an infantry squad on bivouac.”

“She's not your favorite person.”

“Maybe you can relate to her.”

“Are we hiking in on our own, or taking the Ruth Pino–guided nature tour?” Sara asked as she reached for her backpack and slipped her arms into the shoulder straps.

“We'll hike,” Kerney said.

He slung on his backpack and made a beeline up the side of the mesa. At the top, Sara tried to slow Kerney down. She stopped to take in the view, examine wildflowers,
and adjust the harness on her pack. Each time, Kerney waited impatiently, looking preoccupied and withdrawn, before striding off again.